Chorus (For those you’ve left behind)

It seems to me
From the way you dress
That you are a long way
A long way from home
I also surmise, surprise
That you are lost
Lost inside, or so I find
Inside your sketchbook mind
Looking back
Back along the promenade
The turret and the tower
They are your silhouettes
The clock in the square
The coronation cross
They are your foreground,
Your definition and fine detail
This picture
Framed to the East
Framed by the faraway shores
Beyond the distance, beyond the horizon
The Jurassic cliffs crumble
Their history cloaks another kind of time
You are I surmise
A long way from home
Are you here to escape
Escaping the troubles of a mad mankind
Are you, here away, but crippled
Crippled by, by your wandering mind
The stillness and calm
Of this present situation
Aside from the wars and the warriors
Is it this that tests your patience
The injustice of your situation
Not by choice, nor in context
Simply an artist drawing, drawing
On what’s left, left of life in time
The light is fading
You have moved along
The chorus or the song has gone
The stolen lives

Of those, those you’ve left behind

 

Happy Day

By chance you happened

Upon a black lake walk
Shearwaters of reflection

Reflecting one more magical moment
The flight of the partridge

And the excited young collie
Soul refresh, soul rebirth

Underfoot the twig leafs crackled
Ethereal and eternity

Thank heaven for spontaneity
Meander among the coriander

Hands blessing vision and line
Bright light out of beauty

Splish-splash, light onto beech leaf
Sing and bring good to good times

Sing, bring good once again
Playful seeker of pleasure

Hedonism out of Ithaca returned
Bountiful protector

Of the prosaic presenter
Wish for mirth, wish

Shear essence, fluorescence of joy
Atmosphere emerging

Resurgence of energy amongst enigma
Pretend the maker of dreams

Protect the rabbits of Bethlehem
Mend, cognisance blends

Mindful of love, innocent in joy
Sorting, becoming

Of images past, captured, enraptured
Floodlights on memories

Provoking, freeing fresh thought
Waltzing Matilda

And whirling swirling dancing tunes

Runes without time

Blooms without blinds
Meditation, loves medication

Dedication, sealing, healing

Revealing feathers and plumes

Honed and groomed
Walking back along the pathways

Holding spaces, minutiae

Binding moments into aspherical wholes
Believing the fragments of fortune blessed

To fall in this particular, peculiar

Non-perfunctionary kind of way

 

Wind Band

It is, is it, just a room
Like many other
A simple carpet, bedspread
Eiderdown cover
Carved tabled
Embraced with lace
Drawers for dressing
Lathe turned legs
Listening to the Ironmonger’s Ball
Over the rolling, calling, windswept wall
It is, is it, just another room
Like, alike, alike many, many another
A space, stark, dark, dark turned light
Sounds escaping into a classical night
It’s a living, breathing, developing art

Fighting, fighting for its very future
In this room, towards Nirvana
A wind band, a wind band orchestra
Colours combining, harvesting in my mind
In this room, unlike the night

Unlike any other

 

Chronicle

The cathedral’s silent space
The blacksmith’s forging flame
The British bed and breakfast
Walking over the reservoir ramparts
Canal boat over the sky-high viaduct
Coach trip to the seaside
Scared that it could all be lost
Scared that there could be even more
Scared by the shifting sands of minds
Time is the ethereal enemy
Understanding the hour

The minute, the day
Missing by a mile the year

The generation, the life

The railway platform at mid-day
Apples and oranges on the market stall
Alehouse and alfresco foraging
Cars boarding the over-night ferry
Fishermen landing their catch on the quay
Cricket whites and willow battered ball
Scared of not meeting the cost
Scared that there could be even more
Scared by the fluidity of inflation
Money is the surrealist enemy
Understanding the pound in our pocket

Missing by a mile

The millions flowing through a lifetime

The works Christmas party
Bingo at the club
Dominoes in the pub
The aeroplane

Going from ground to cloud
The ice cream on the promenade
The surfboard cutting spray
Scared of being somewhere different
Scared there might be even more
Scared by a changing space
Place is the straight-jacket enemy
Understanding the room

The yard, the town
Missing by a mile the city

The county in the country
The cinema screen imagery
The theatrical actor’s observations
The brass band playing eulogies
Mountains of misunderstood meetings
Thousands of insincere greetings
Waiting for Murphy's law
Scared of not saying
Scared that there could be even more
Scared of listening and feeling
Communication is the free-world enemy
Understanding hello, goodbye, yes and no
Missing by a mile everything in between

 

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I laugh on my own, but I am not alone
No, you are here
You do not disappear
Is this the same
For lovers in grief
The disbelief
Shown by friends and family
Who do not
Will not understand
You have not gone
Not away
Just to another peaceful place
Where I join you
Everyday
In my own way