Window Light

Smoke from the chimney
Blossom in the breeze
Three thousand plus mornings
Sometimes light sometimes dark
And sometimes like today with sunlight
The blue sky the fluffy white clouds
The treetops swirling and dancing

And footsteps on the floorboards
Of the bedrooms up above
And the sharp shadows caused
By sunbeams calling yes calling out
For the summer of love
To see again the days of Purple Rain
To hear again the doves
To listen When Doves Cry

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I Go There

I go there to go there
I go there to shake and to shiver
I go there to become emotional
I go there to ask the tears to flow

I go there alone
I go there to meet you
I go there to take you with me
I go there so as not to be alone

I go there to let the music move me
I go there for nature's beauty to breathe over me
I go there into the darkness into the light
I go there into the silence into the rumblings

I go there with my eyes wide open
I go there with my eyes firmly closed
I go there with my heart heavily beating
I go there knowing that nobody knows

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Recital III

I am what I am
Not what I often say I am
You can hear it in the timbre shaking

I can do what I can do
Not what I sometimes say I can
You can hear it in the words wobbling

I go on in the search of self
Not what I maybe care to call myself
You can see that in the superficiality

I don't go where I ought to go
Not where I somehow feel I ought to go
You can see it in the conceit of self-deceit

I want you to know
Your kind words helped me to more than know
I am what I am

I just need
To find the way of the certainty
To discover how to show it

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Recital II

You said
You've got a great voice for poetry
I wondered
Was it the drink which inspired me

You sang and played guitar
Everyone applauded
All night
Everyone applauded

I was ill the next day
Quite some hangover I should say
Yet a small price to pay
For having spoken publicly

I did not have a plan
I had done no rehearsal
Other than the twenty-seven years of writing
With the occasional voice recording

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Recital I

I drank a good few beers
On Kate Harrison's
First ever Acoustic Music Night

I listened to the Ukulele Band of Louth
Then to my friend Peter Conner
Sing his self-penned soul searching
Next up was Jake Newby
Singing about what he'd seen on TV
Before David with his rumbustious trombone
Joined in with Peter and Alan on drums
For a touch of jazz a tumult of improvisation
Then it was the poets turn
I read Tonight I Can Write The Saddest Verses
By the Chilean poet Pablo Neruda
I was there in the moment lapping up the applause
Before reading my own poem Spring In Winter
I was enlivened as I introduced John Scarborough
Who read his light hearted Lakeland pub poem
About two walkers losing their map then losing their dog

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