I did not go to the Mountain

I did not go to the Mountain

To see the Four Colours of Rock

Neither did I walk around

The Basket Dew Pond

I did not enter the Guardian Shelter

Of woven hazel plastered with mud

Neither did I traverse by the Cuckoo Dome

Which interleaves the inside with the outside

The Shelter for Dreaming though lives on in me

I borrowed it’s name for a poetry collection

It almost became that basket

Which lies between this death and that life

The Tumulus on the Downs

Came before I walked there

Similarly the Air-Vessel Canoe

Had more space than I could hope to imagine 

A few lines

A few lines

Before meditation

Before bathing

It is Christmas Day

Chocolate wrappers

Point to last night’s indulgence

That Raymond Hurley

Plays on the stereo

Says something also

Not that peace and goodwill

Are ever frowned upon

But today, well…

For some it is a trip to the beach

Even a dip in the sea

But for me it is the pen, the paper

The sweets, oh yes, and a pot of tea 

My mind rotates, it always has

 My mind rotates, it always has

With an urgency, a desire

For a swift completeness

Of the business at hand

The buzzing bee defeats all hope

Of quiet contemplative writing

Where ample time would be taken

For reflection and deeper consideration

No, it must be done quickly

It must be put out there

Before it is anywhere near fully formed

The energy of the moment must dominate

This hectic, hurried, muddled approach

To words is my gift

It is what I must give to you

Straightaway

There is a love, if love it is

There is a love, if love it is

Which contradicts my thoughts

That trips me up, repeatedly

That love should distort

Or distract our imaginations

To gift pain intertwined with pleasure

Yes; over seas, over mountains

Feelings leap and bound

Taking all, or taking nothing

Yet I will wait, and wait

For such joy is for conquering

Such hope is unforgettable

There is love, if love it is

Which catches us out

Hits us, straight on and sideways 

That I have many chairs

That I have many chairs

To choose to sit in

And many books

In which to write

That I have these opportunities

As I listen to one of 19,800 songs

Says much about my need

To wallpaper over the doubts

Or you might say

To help me focus on the position

To dispel my thoughts

Through concentration on the certainties

Would that I could half-believe it

But for I being I, I alone know

There are frailties

And we do need to seek them out