Same But Not

I am not a preservationist

No, rather I am a fan of change

I have followed this path

For most of my sixty-eight years

Yet, at this very moment

I am somewhat transfixed

Seemingly unable to make a move

Or even a statement of direction

But soon it will be spring

Indeed isn’t the crocus already in bloom

Then the decisions may seem easier

With the sun and breeze to my back

For sure I will feel disposed

To walk over the sand dunes

To lay back and look at the sky

Also to acknowledge the further views

I might even take a break

Retrace my steps to the Lord Haldon

Where the late afternoon's setting sun

May well temper, or encourage, my thoughts

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Drift

Cold air flows into the room

Through the slightly open window

It brings a chill

To the start of the day

Which already

Is almost in clear light

The mind is unruffled

Easy in its awareness

Of all things past and present

With some hopes for the future

That a stream might splash

Over the rocks as it travels

Sixty years ago

Yes, it does seem like a long time

A young boy

Happy and energetic

Not quite a free spirit

But open for that to be encouraged

Eighty miles away

Yes, it does sound like a fair distance

Hardly to know a coastline

Or an oceanic horizon

That would have been further still

That would come later

The window is closed now

No point letting warm air escape

Lightness though increases

The double glazing is no barrier

Time moves ever onwards

As I believe was always the way

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Explanation

All I know is the concrete

While what I strive for is the vapour

What I am able to give

Are solid blocks of iron

Lumps of soul starved matter

Yet what I desire to say

Is let us walk in the night’s blue mist

Smoking our Gauloises cigarettes

As jazz music escapes into the ether

From the Café bars by the River Seine

The fire or wood burner is lit

The tables have been pulled together

With the Buddha statue placed on top

That I tell you this now

Is so that you might understand

What it was which interrupted the poem

As we prepare for this evening’s

Meditation Sangha

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Objectivity

That the tiredness comes is no surprise

But that I should wish to write about it, well

If only to remind myself that I don’t always wake

Feeling refreshed and ready for action

The stillness, the quietness returns

After the jet aeroplanes tours of duty

With this and tonight’s Sangha in mind

I can contrast the fighter pilot with the Buddha

The sun highlights the fibrous extremities 

On the arms of the Harris Tweed settee

All I seek then is gentleness and light

Yet still I heard the roar tearing through the sky

That the cup was dark blue rather surprised me

For I had thought it to have been black

It is from a set of four, a Christmas gift

Of endearing and enduring quality

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Tickets To Ride

If then now

Or what about later

No, don’t put it off

Do not put it off

Well that’s fine if you stay with me

That’s perfectly ok if you are onboard

But don’t forget that I am needy

And that this is just the start

Yes, there will be disappointments 

Doesn’t the rollercoaster always go up and down

Doesn’t night always follow day, dark after light

So also we can expect to see the bright side

What then if

Is there something to follow

Pray, pray tell

Is the argument ever won

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for his Collected Works