Kelham Hall

I am sat alone, on the balcony in The Dome
The place of my older brothers second wedding

I have a recollection
Of a walk to a hotel
To see if we could find accommodation
For my younger brother

Another memory is of a bus;
My father, before he died, was a coach driver
And our family had a fondness for buses
But I can’t recall why there was a bus

Outside the ceremonial room
I remember a river, bottles of champagne
And one of my brothers friends
Spilling a drink all down his suit

I only called in because I saw a sign for coffee
Then all of this came tumbling by

KINDLE LINK

Into Season

The square table is set:

A clean, white, and heavy cotton cloth
With crossflow, geometric patterns
Sheffield stainless-steel, knives and forks
Laid in military rank, with precision

English oak chairs, with raffia seats
And open, upright slotted backs
We are in the bay, with a view
Across the promenade, to the sea

I have been out already; an early walk
To collect my thoughts, also to daydream
And I picked up a first edition of the paper
The daffodils are a nice touch; fresh life

Especially in springtime

KINDLE LINK

Aubade

These are the sounds
The moments of daybreak
Witnessed reverberations
Songs with silent pauses

Rattles that signify
The disappearance of love
Rumbles that sanctify
The reappearance of love

A time that I may plead
Just as when I lost you
A time that I may rejoice
Just as when I found you

A place where fallen stars
Rise again from the ashes
A place where springtime
Surges with your snowdrops

KINDLE LINK

Spread

Sometime today I will complete that book
Also I will take out time for meditation

Sat here in corduroy, and cardigan, I am content
There is a blue sky, and soft shadows on the paper

A quiet Sunday morning, in our small market town
Yesterdays birthday celebration was at the Italian

Today I rise to the warmth of well-set central heating
Earlier we made love, and wished each other well

I hope the photocopies turn out ok

KINDLE LINK

Son et Lumière

I feel the need to write
I have a desire to write
To write of the sunlit passions that consume me

Such light that falls on the bookshelves of poetry
Such a light which also casts a flowers shadow
Onto the magnolia wall

Light that reaches me, slumped in my armchair
Light that I know to be ever stronger
Creeps up behind me

Passion that caught me through yesterdays music
Passion that makes the heart beat
And then the brow sweat

Passion which says: what cannot be cannot be
Passion that consumes more than the sunlight
That you once deigned to fall upon me

KINDLE LINK