Meavy

Crystal clear spring water

Moss covered trees

Sharp sharp sunlight

Pictures by the stream

A place of respite

A place for solitary escape

Except, every now, every then

Shared by the joy of the boy

But it’s just not true

As some might have you think

That together we did not care

For the moorland brooks or leats

Indeed a part of our

Very Dartmoor beginning

Was beside moonlit fords

With roaming herds of ponies

No wonder then that my magnetic energy draws me

To Sampford Spiney or to Whitchurch Down

The granite, the compass also, they so so attracted me

They so so firmly chose to direct me to places about you

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No. 4

The not so silent house

Is pushed, pulled, from pillar to post

Floorboards extracted

Joists replaced

New tongue and groove timbers installed

Before the conservatory was constructed

Even for a project manager

It takes some working out

How the normality of life

How the minutiae of life

Could have continued

Around such disruption

Dust did indeed beget dust

All of loss lost its way

All of excitement

Became buried or thwarted

By the devastation

By the missed directions

Stillness is as stillness never was

Yet, so I hear, you go on building

Was I the foil, were you in reality, the constructor

Knocking down all that you could

In search of all of which you felt

You nowhere near ever had; not ever

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Says It All

A small front room in a 1930s house

Plain Roman blinds in the bay window

Sculptures, paintings, vases, books

Two, small red leather settees for show

Lost at Sea is the message on TV

Vulnerability, in each, in all I see

Although occasionally, a tease

Though not yet in my direction

Correction, there was a one corner-smile

With style enough to bare her belly

Mother, daughter, son, potential future son in law

Me, an infrequent visitor, taking snaps, watching telly

It does not sell itself to me now

It didn’t sell it to me then, when

Neither frame, nor image were inclusive

When, at best, I could be called intrusive

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January

So cold

There must have been a reason

Frozen ground

There may be underlying treason

No child

Where did we leave him

Mute of joyful sound

Where were we yesterday evening

The trees

Still taller with a statue

Bare knees

Barer still if I could catch you

Scaffolding pole

Spans across two pillars

Plays a supportive role

To your, unsuited, emotion killers

Check it out

Look up the hotel reservations

Go walkabout

Find the solace of the deserted patients

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Dream Steps

I dreamt of the young woman

With sun-tanned thighs

In a short white skirt

Just as the Prince Regent’s

Royal Pavilion had reopened

Along the south coast

I dreamt of the same woman

Talking excitedly, with my

Leather jacket over her shoulders

Just as the first evening

Drew to its end

On the university campus complex

I dreamt of this young woman

Asking should she and her family join me

She probed in an enquiring yet positive way

Just as the money was running out

Before the new cheques

Had begun to land

I dreamt of that young woman

Never once coming to my works

Nor to our Christmas parties in London

Just as the time was nigh

To close off

The latest chapter

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