Talk With Me

There is no stream to flow

Or meadow grass to lie upon

There is no truth to know

Or wild minds to walk among

There are no doubts to grow

Or worries to climb thereon

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Walk With Me

Crimson vermillion

The lanes are not mine anymore

Limes, lemongrass

The hereabouts are thereabouts

Cobalt sky

Summer is summer everywhere

Mustard yellow

I can’t quite be there

Rose marooned

Almost, yes almost

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Ring Back

Sunlight in the morning

Doctor returns my call

Crystals and shadows

Photograph on the wall

What it is to rise early

What it is to feel ok

Cushions on the settee

A playmaker later in the day

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Futurity Lost

So how is Paul Smith coping, or Levi Strauss

Or Lee (I don’t know his second name) or Uniqlo

Or even Marks and Spencer’ I do know

That XXXXXX went to the wall

Just after I bought my last pair of denim jeans

It’s not so clear for the shirt part of my wardrobe

Yes there is Charles Tyrwhitt and M&S

Yet ever so many without a brand name

Or a house style to draw me in; I did try

Grieves and Hawkes, but, just like Pink

Their shape was not my shape

Though I do wonder how Jeff Banks is bearing up

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Presently Lost

I found the pen, and ink, but I didn’t find the book

And I have no desire to turn the house upside down

So the first good idea of the day is shelved

Put on the back-burner, held in abeyance, until who knows when

Yet already I have started composing the verse

To go with the picture, with the shadow, with the chiaroscuro

To go with the light out of darkness, or quite the reverse

As the white ink may have said, to the black paper

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