Cogitate

I am coming back through to you

There may be even more souls invited

I am thinking of a thinker’s night

Twixt thoughts, of the body almighty

I rest myself writing to the blue of you

Among those other souls who delighted

I am sinking into a contemplative night

Unwrapping the roses of dear old Blighty

I have the time that I didn't have, for either

Of the previously untrue not yet sighted

I am winking teardrops at the pleasing night

Enlisting the hopes that abound so slightly

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Cobbled Up

I wake early
But already I
Hear Peter leaving

In someone else’s
House I tiptoe
Raise myself quietly

I boil the kettle
Find the refrigerator
Make a cup of tea

There is a light mist
But already daylight
On a beautiful day

The living room
Is dark, all curtains
Are closed, it is warm

I slowly draw back
The corner blackout
New-light streams in

I begin to read Jane’s
Book ‘Too busy
To live your life’
What with the birdsong
And the cockerels
I think that unlikely

This is the quiet
Of the countryside
A good day awakening

We drank their wine
Ate their chocolates
Listened to their music

And now I gaze, let
My eyes fall, onto the
Simple vase of freesias

This is a home, and
It is what we aim at:
Joy and bonhomie

Ash still cools, in
The open fire grate
We both say thank you

For your invitation
‘A good do’ we say
‘Pity it’s time to go’

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Suit Collection

It matters less if it works
Rather that someone tried to do it
It is in the trying
Where the real beauty is hidden

The photograph of moss
On the old outdoor doormat
The recollection of the dream
In the cool light of morning

It matters more that time is taken
Rather than to let it slip idly by
It is in the action of contemplation
Where the silence might bathe us

The fading daffodils
On the half-finished shelves
The clock that no longer turns
Over the shining Roman numerals

It matters the same for today
Rather like it will tomorrow
That the bright spring day
Brings warmth to the shoulder

That the busy market town
Is open, to and for all seasons

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Inspired

The nights journey
Reflected the days journey
The creative souls of the day
Came back to warm the night

Those hours of being inspired
Landed into a few dream moments
Distillations of the sensitive people
Instilled with a sense of self-wonder

You might look up Robert Plant
Or Bert Jansch, or Antony Gormley
If for just a few of their ideas, or for their
Words, and their experiences to touch you

You may of course have your own list
But please, choose it, from just one day
For somehow I think that to go to overload
Would be a detriment to our sensibilities

Best to aim for that level
Which we may be sensibly able
To physically, and psychologically
Handle our thoughts and our emotions

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Circuits

To the sensations of the left cheek
Where I visualised all the greens of the forest
And came peacefully to the recognition
That the ambiance of those times
Had created an openness within
Such that your words, your
Guided meditations moved me
To such an extent
That I had to tell everyone

Now, here alone in Derbyshire, England
Early in the morning, a light sky breaking
With the sensation in my upper left arm
Raising a visual accompaniment
Of snow in the fields, which fall
Gradually down to the farmhouse
In the slight misted valley below

And I am taken on many special journeys
With each new part of the body I survey
I arrive at a pleasant sensation, even
At the toes, which feel to be swaddled
In bandages, as if no longer entirely free
I will write, to ask of you
To mail your script for meditation, and
Thank you in advance, for the openness
With which I hope to redeem it

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