Most days I would try to write a poem; it is a practice, as I suppose is meditation, or smiling, or watching the world go by
Monday, 26 September 2022
Weston
Sunday, 25 September 2022
Llanthony Secunda
Hundreds, thousands, millions
Of plimsoles, shoes and boots
Have eroded the ground
In front of this bench
Which I have to say
Is well secured
With concrete and steel
In case there are thieves about
The sky is bold and blue
Yet the plumes of jets
Criss-cross, above where
Cargo ships would once have docked
The Light-Ship hotel
Waves the Ukrainian flag
Offering a special deal
If you should wish to stay
McCarthy Stone have built
Right up to the flyover
Their ubiquitous multi-storey
Accommodation with balconies
Saturday, 24 September 2022
Dockside
Disturbed
By the disturbance
To the Leaves of Grass poet
Gifted to me (is it a gift)
By Maria Popova
Disturbed
By the book entitled
The Unconsoled
Gifted to me (is it really a gift)
By Friar Amos
Disturbed
By all the wrong turns taken
In the van without satellite navigation
Gifted to me (she said so)
By the girl at central reservations
Not disturbed, at all
By the service and selection
At Wagamama
Gifted to me ( though I paid princely for it)
By the waitress with the engaging smile
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Friday, 23 September 2022
Natural Divergence
The cloud hangs
Or drifts
Imperceptibly slowly
As if on a stage set
Or a film
About negative capability
So still are the trees
As if renewing the view
Of that Tuscany horizon
Here, with different fruit
It could be for hmm…
But no, I know not what
Except that now
It stretches directly upwards
Whereas before it leant, slant
Thursday, 22 September 2022
Prinknash
Fresh flowers
In the window by the table
My back nestles
Into the chair
With its plain but curved back
Monastic music plays
In this well-populated café
I settled on
The Tunisian Orange cake
Plus a Benedictine slice
With a strawberry milkshake
Halfway through the cake
I decided that a black Americano
Was also in order