Temeraire

Horizon, sunset on the horizon
Light scattered, falling from the sky
Reflections of ships on the water
Shorelines and cityscapes

Fade, fade, and fade away
Orange, yellow, ochre, rust and blue
Flames flare from her chimney
As she tugs the majestic sailing ship
Underneath a sky with both sun and moon
Did he ponder on the galley
Wondering why not a soul in sight
Could the sea have been so many colours
Would that the imaginations

Might beam so bright
From across the oceans sailors gather
Line the decks as they reach the shore
Yesterday was flags and bunting
Today is calm; good men quietly go
Storm clouds behind the night
Bring brightness to the fore
Light, a likeness to your imagination
Your sun-drenched early evening sky
Mandolin wind, you have the weight
Strings whispering, you are nearly being

Drum skins smoothed

Your brushstroke wavers
The bass guitar plays

You gently weep and cry

Promenader's right behind you
Waiting and watching your vision unfold
Your story, you gave thus on the canvas
Eight score years and more ago
Red, grey, silver, white and golden
The flickering flag atop the mast
Ropes and rigging tidier than nature
Close up close, I spy a crew
A sea of two reflections
Mirror sun and mirror moon
Painting thousands of projections
For the nation to consume
Did you say you were going nowhere
No more the sea to be a roving
The last voyage has been
And gone
We should have seen the sadness
The colour was without your joy
The smokestack racks our guilt
Cracks upon, our mistaken preconceptions

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Praxitella

Praxitella, ample fella, dynamist
Kissed by your own imagination
Kissed as a mistress
Kissed by your monumental sculptor
Beyond existence, enlisted
All fingers and fisted
Your picture is a writer
Your writer is a picture
No wonder that you missed her
Kissed her like a sister
Realism, on society’s cubist blister
But the lines they would not

And could not go away
The lipstick, the saddened eyes
The emphasised thighs and steely wrists
Enlisted gestures

And so so suddenly to be kissed

How much you must have missed her

Hair cropped and shaped
From some pyramid picture
No joy portrayed
Whoever the lear that kissed her
Tapping of the finger
Splinter in the Wyndham
My he almost missed her
Looking for her sister
Now you sit
Between the Dance Club
And Christ’s Entry into Jerusalem
Praxitella
Were you invaded, persuaded

Even confiscated
On Jacob Kramer’s Day

‘The Day of Atonement’

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Anew: A long time ago

Saturday morning

White washing

Sharp frost

Clear blue sky
Beginning of a new beauty
Doing, leading to being

Being with a new beauty
Change of font and change of style
Chance grasped, exploration espoused
Coming to calm, walking to warm
Loving the platinum-gold sunlight
Melting the bright white dewdrops
Saturday morning awaking to awakening
Smiling; a chuckle from within escaping
Joys of journeys through minds past
Change of tone and change of context
Glance clasped, interpolation allowed
Coming to calm, caressing the air
Lullaby of birdsong
Fresh new day, a fresh new way

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Hold Her Tight

Midsummer motorbikes
Leather and lace
Chasing the pace
Gliding with grace
Race, after race, after race
Gearbox grinds
Castrol GTX
Accept nothing less
Speed to excess
In your leather gear

And your carbon fibre head-dress
Donnington to Daytona
Meeting the world's best
Taking the test
Over the crest
Bury the rest
James dean
Barry sheen
Silver screen
Racing machine
Living the dream
Ride on Easy Rider
Remember those Harley Davison days
Long hot rides
Long hot lays
Where the devil blindfolds those who play

Early start
Kerb-cracking summer sunrise
Engines overheating
Fear of missing the meeting
Why does she deserve mistreating
I love my girl
I treat her right
She holds me tight
A pillion passenger’s pure delight
Wind-warm day

Sexy steamy night
Rock and roll
Hells angel’s caress
Honda Gold Wing riders overdress
First place is a short lived success
He passed the rest

With the yellow flag flying
The Jagger of a rolling stone
Inside the Sunday supplement
Sixty years of engaging entertainment
More than once

Against the wall with Marianne
Just like sussy pussy

Stood proud outside the winner’s Caravan
Dawn to dusk
Bitches and biking

The circus stalls
The chequered flag falls
Another year of mustard memories
Astride the night
Revelations in sight
Roaring and scoring
Sensual summer sojourn
Easy as the aura adorned

Two hundred miles an hour
Re-live the heroes
Beneath the wires

And the crows
Faster than the speed-cam carrier
Once more then you'll marry her
Into the garage in the half-light
It's an awful long time since midnight
You hug and you hold yourself so tight
If you pinch yourself then you just might
Believe it, you've been, you've seen

You've only gone and got the true insight

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Sputnik

The Volunteer enters
Let loose your senses
Release your defences, of navigation
Nicotine, amber and creamy stout
Blackcurrant, cider, scallywags about
Mingling in with the inn crowd
Sing along, now sing along for Tom Dowd
Unsteadily stepping on the pebble shore
Pause, for a wee, under the balustrade
Your head is already beginning to thicken
Slowly breathing

Breathing completely clean

Seaside air
In the distance, listen

The screams of delight
Shivering and shaken

Shaken out of the moonlight
Beach night, fight or flight

Starlight, summer sites
Listen to the screams

The screams of delight
Branscombe Beer

Plymouth Gin

Sip the gin and tonic
Only human

This is no Sputnik, Brojnic

Back in this hotel room

You’ve been here before
Eiderdown, radio, worn-out floor
No one rings tonight, no one ever does
Words arise from below
Conversing, wandering, escaping
Philandering along the promenade
Planning permission is applied for
To turn it into flats
The locals complain - out loud

But they have not, have they
They have never stayed here
Never crossed the threshold
Into this ancient decaying

Dilapidated space
Some say they’re business folk that run it
In it for what they can get out
But In fact that’s why I stay here
Not to be distracted

But to feel the man, to really feel

It’s closing time at the hotel

But not at the Volunteer
Close this page slowly I ask
For Lyme is a certified provider

Of localised folklore

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