Confused by not knowing

Ashford in the Water

Daughter of somewhere on close to heaven

Under blue skies

Beside trickling streams

Sweet soulful music with a banjo

Plucked in time to the sound of the rivulet

This water flows

Along the floor of the valley

Past the doors of grand houses

And the pensioners terraced cottages

In full view of the old man in his smart suit

His dear proud lady looking serene and smiling

Who would know

Of their trials and tribulations, their summers

Their winters, the autumns of their discontent

As they stroll among the illusion of contentment

Confused by not knowing

What their future holds, or for how long

In the chapel at evensong, or on the cricket field

Mown these past few mornings

Embroidered with a loving artisan’s touch

Can you hear the trickle of fresh water

Filling up the jugs of squash, to be served

With cold cucumber sandwiches and fresh salmon

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I like me

I like chocolate

I like tea

I like coffee

I like me

Love's a game

And we're a team

Life's the same

So much you mean

I can do esoteric

I can do what's my name

I can do atmospheric

Somehow though it's not the same

With care you came

That's how it seems

Your past in flames

My shoulder leans

I celebrate

I am proud

I share your love

I share your life

We dare the same

To hold our dreams

To open our conversation

To make ours a seemingly seam

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Blood Red

Feelings

In almost everyone

With long associations

With death

With waste

With pointless suffering

Symbolic

Standing tall

Swaying and smiling

Smiling in the sun

Pressed

Stressed, transparent like tissue

Transparent

As if of memories evoked

Sharpness

Shear and in contrast

To the gentle gentleness evoked

Without hesitation to harm

With sharp swords of such irony

Backdrop to the innocent

Backdrop to the outrageous

Also to the triumphant

Wise man

He who brings flavour

Wise man

He who paints cowboys

Wise man

He who rides the barren landscape

Wise man

He who blends with shades of dominant blue

Our bodies

Our health

Our friends

Our freedom; near sparkling

Shimmering on sun-kissed seas

And the never ending sound of the tides

Gently pushing and pulling

Desirous again

To join Cousteau on Calypso

Exploring

Marvelling

Gardening

His sea, my garden

As presently

All of this is mine

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Off the main road

This is the open road

Hedgerows, brambles, hawthorns

If I knew all of their names

I could be here for hours

And trees

Windblown trees

Alone

In the middle of fields

Wragby

Although it could be almost anywhere

Is five and one half miles

Away

A lifetime's walk

For a smaller sentient being

Or for those who talk

But hardly ever leave home

Off the main road

Out into the country

Farmyards and gates

Gates named: Walled Garden

Irrigation pipes

Laid overground

Overgrown

And leaking

Coppice or

Clumps of historic woodlands

With overhanging leaf branch tunnels

Which take me out into the sunlight

Back on to the open road

To be back home way before nightfall

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Psychological warfare

Your friends talk of trauma

Of tough lifetimes

Of undue cruelty and harsh associations

They talk with love

Of how you deserve

For your care to be rewarded

That our time is here

Then no wonder

In our saddlebag a mirror

For our connections

To be so fair reflected

Past troubles

Softened with hugs

And embraces

In quiet places

Which we have found together

Where fear, the muteness of dejection

Was silently reinfected

Even without one word of reply

That was psychological warfare

For which we are all unprepared

Here our love is clear

No wonder

In our hands a cradle

For our cares

To safely be swayed away

Past doubts

Smashed with our endless action

With our energetic research

Splashed by our boundless fun

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