Cockerels and Chiming Bells in Unison

Traffic roars
In both & all directions
Aeroplanes soar
Or at least that is my perception

I can see my foot, my tummy
I can feel the whole of my body
I see more colours
Than any camera can imagine

I am surrounded by a wider vista
Than any picture, or any canvas
A meditation space in a Japanese garden
Among all that is now

Pink poppies
Stalactites from the caves of China
And poetry
Written close on thirty years ago

Scones, with maple syrup and strawberry
Tea of wondrous fruit and herb infusion
Cockerels and chiming bells in unison
A breeze through the trees

Seeds fall; behind me a shelter
An observatory for the mind
I think of your garden, your smile
You and the sounds of music


A Poem from He waits for the Season - Her reason is clear available for Kindle from Amazon

Cleared of consciousness

I've copied so many people
I have forgot complete
Who the man I am

Even
I've forgot the man
Who I was supposed to be

I've seen a million pictures
I've chased the setting sun
On the run or in forbearance

I've been
Who the man I
Was never ever meant to be

Ranges
Of fairground firing booths
Tastes
Of caramalised fried onions
One step in front of another one

Unseen
The man who became
Is now someone other

I've dreamt so many dreams
I've become an illusion
Confused just by myself

Clean
Cleared of consciousness
Do you then believe me



A Poem from He waits for the Season - Her reason is clear available for Kindle from Amazon

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
With 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 they're future holds

In the chapel at evensong
Or on the cricket field
Mown these past few mornings
Embroidered with the love
Of an artisans touch

The trickle of fresh water
Fills up the jugs of squash
This year as last, but maybe
No more to be served
With the brown bread
Home made
Cress & cucumber sandwiches


A Poem from He waits for the Season - Her reason is clear available for Kindle from Amazon

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 dip our biscuits
In warm sweet tea


A Poem from He waits for the Season - Her reason is clear available for Kindle from Amazon

Blood red

Feelings
In almost everyone
With long associations
With death
With waste
And pointless suffering

Symbolic
Standing tall
Swaying and shining
Smiling in the sun

Pressed
Stressed transparent like tissue
Transparent as the memories evoked

Sharpness
Shear and in contrast
To the gentle gentleness we poked

Without hesitation to harm
With sharp swords of such irony
Backdrop to the
Innocent
Backdrop to the
Outrageous and 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 the shades of blue

Dominant
Our bodies
Our health
Our friends

Our freedom; near sparkling, shimmering
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
At present I see
All of this as mine



A Poem from He waits for the Season - Her reason is clear available for Kindle from Amazon