Moon
Above the field
Moon
Above the river
Field
Upon the hill
River
Around the bend
Most days I would try to write a poem; it is a practice, as I suppose is meditation, or smiling, or watching the world go by
Overnight
At Gloucester Docks
After afternoon in the sun
At SWFC
Now
In the four-poster room
Looking out
To sheep on the hillside
Outside, below the tall windows
The noise of conversation
Silence begins
At nine pm
Then
To wake to the sound
Of the ringing bell
Before Qigong on the lawn
A pair of blow torches
Signed by Veritas
Well worn chair cushions
Bearing the name Pro Bono
A glass of hand pulled beer
Black Sheep back by customer’s request
Time ticks, and takes away the minutes
Before the ringing of the bell
Red Star of Belgrade
Sporting Lisbon
River Plate
Partisan Belgrade
Ageless wisdom timeless love
Metro lands, metropolis
Let me take your ticket
Let me take your bag
Empty stadiums
Changed civilisations
Breathe on my lips
Be my first kiss
Red Star or Partisan
Once for innocent youth
Now adrift of the beautiful game
Now adrift of the wonderful life
I write of you
I think of me
I see you
I see another side of me
I talk of the reflection in your eyes
What is it there that I see
I talk of your words whispered to me
What is it there that I hear
In the distance of my imagination
What there am I to imagine
In the first instance of my fascination
Why then am I so facile
In the beauty of you beside me
I gather a smile
I think of you
I write of me