Rights And Privileges

I want now to sit in last night's room
I want to soak up the atmosphere in the Roman cellars

But in these are places
Where I want to engage
In solitary confinement
Even to scare myself
By asking the personal
Dangerous questions
Lower the facade
Of the ubiquitous
Self-important
Self-made man

Afterwards it is true I might well stumble down the stairs
Of the, glass floored, cosmopolitan, drinking establishment

Take too much liquor
Than is good for my sobriety
Or my longevity
Then contemplate
That either way these are the games played out
Or not
Wearing the masks
And deceptions
Of our forefathers
Or our ravishing maidens

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Day Off

I am and have been loved
I am and have been cared for
I am and have been given
Thoughtful, mindful, presents

Today is not my birthday
But it could be (echoes of Damon)
The sky is blue, the air is clear
I am here, with a smile

The tide is out
Out beyond the gas exploration platform
Waifs and strays stray onto the pier
To tread gingerly on the old wooden boards

Even in March people sit outside
On the benches, to look easily at the sea
From the coffee bar
Where they sip cappuccino, and swig tea

Today is not my birthday
But it could be (more echoes of Damon)
The scones are warm, the strawberries are fresh
I am here, I am sated, and I am happy

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Ambient Wind

It would have been better had she not turned around
For until that time it could have been...

There are smiles
And how good an idea was that
Is it the same for golden eagles
Or hawks as they hover over their prey

There are frowns
Must life have a balance
Is it the same for the trees
For the skies filled with rain clouds

The book had a small map
To set out the Channel Islands
In relationship to England and Europe
At the time of the second world war

Just these last twenty-four hours then
To have returned there; purge all sense
Recollect fragmented memories broken up
By falling on bare and stony ground

Slip into sleep, eyes slowly close
Breathe quiet and steady
Artificial lights dimmed
Starlight through half-drawn curtains

Warm skin by my side
Humanity, love, relationship
The power of two, yet tonight no frolicking
Build up our energies for the weekend

Earlier a conversation
About the beauty of books
And a research paper analysis
On the benefits of methadone treatment

In a shared care environment
A thousand and one statistics
Followed by a drifting departure
Away from the publisher's stated aim

Years ago
Not many years ago
Actually
I would have been impatient, disinterested

Too many of my own thoughts
Filled my mind back then
I was caught by the power of frown
I had forgotten how to smile

Overloaded
Yet a walk on the moors
Or steps pensively taken
Into cold salt-water at the seashore

More sensations
Than our senses are able to absorb
Or make sense of
Is that true or is that false

Salted air
Purer air
Soft submissive sand
Rugged frigid rarefied rock

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Country Lane

Two brothers I suppose
One quiet, with a white beard
The other far more outgoing

He waves to me
Shouts out
“Hello, good morning, what a nice day”

They had swung a blue twine across the road
More to guide the cows back into the field
Than to act as a serious barrier to traffic

The cows are probably returning from milking
Which means that these two little old men
Have already been up quite some while

Two lives I suppose
One rumbustious, with a laugh
The other more introverted

I smile
Wind down the car window
Breathe in his agricultural grace

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Storm Subsidy

Wind noise
Amplified by the valley
Enriched as it writhes
Among the farm buildings

Rain is in the offing
And the farmers want it
But it may be a day or two
Before the downpour

There is a crystal ‘lace’
Just in front of my face
An optical functionality warning
It happened once before

I am thus reminded of my own frailty
Of the vast vulnerability of humankind
I listen harder to next door's voices
Best hang on to all I can

Spots of rain replace yesterdays frost
On the automobile windscreen
It is time to roll off the dust track
And slide onto the mud slick highway

In the same mysterious way
That the three quarters halo
Appeared before my eyes
It now disappears

Only to leave heaviness
A memory of lost treasures
Which I thrust onto the howls
Of the Katabatic flow

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