To The Malvern Hills
Indeed to Great Malvern
Home of The Water Cure
In the nineteenth century
To the book on beauty
Indeed to perceive beauty
In the place of circumstance
With the sorbet of mango
The beer pump pulled
Pouring into the tilted glass
In that narrow room
Where the policemen came
On my brother’s 21st birthday
He was laid flat out
In the middle of the main road
From Huddersfield to Sheffield
I came to you
With no promise
Of making good
Though I do seek
A kindness
A calm of mind
Also that I might
Help myself
To a kinder body
Perhaps by eating less
Perhaps by walking more
Perhaps by dipping
In and out of poetic prayer
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no place to turn
where silence
might be found
no light to burn
where ashes
might be ground
into the embers
of the bonfires
of the insanities
no place to scorn
where rowdiness
abounds
no sire so forlorn
where the doubt
so so stiffly surrounds us
all that talk
of where i failed
and still fail
all that smoke
and mirrors
to contradict the truth
pointing
in at least two directions
to deflect
so anointing
the one who was
appointed
with light
and ludicrous
paranoia
in st just
lost
looking for
the artist’s gallery
sat outside
the kings arms
with an old man
who made a living
with his art
sufficient
for food
on the table
and a roof
over their heads
thrown out
of his home
by his father
mother passing
his clothes out of the window
a traveller
throughout the kingdoms
he was a painter
in the realist
and impressionist styles
