Chosen, Not By Chance

The waves slow down
Soften their landing
The afternoon rolls on
Is this the work of the moon

And if I slept
For I can’t say that I did
If I slept
Was that to dream of the moon

If I did sleep
I slept to the sound of the waves
And so indeed
I did sleep to the work of the moon

Yet this was no natural sleep
Not a sleep
Which by chance came upon me
As I sat in my chair

No, this was a purposeful affair
With bed, and duck down duvet
Plumped up Egyptian cotton pillows
And the sounds of Gregorian chanting

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To Transcend

I read of transcendence
I write of transcendence
All around me
I have the search for transcendence

Or did we call it transmission
Or was transference our chosen word
Either way
Gather the days of our transcendence

Yet only now, here in the here and the now
Am I able to discover the truth

I read of transcendence
I write of transcendence
All around me
I go along with the search for transcendence

Or as we now call it transmission
Or did we say transference was our word
And in that way
Those were to be days, of the transcendence

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Shag & Oyster Catcher

O just to be
Beside the clouds and the sea
On this fine February day

O to step free
Onto the sands of the lea
On this week of my birthday

O to think on
Of poem and song
As I sketch out these few words

O to be strong
For all that’s gone wrong
As I mention the birds

O they’ve returned
To seas they once spurned
In the years before yesterday

O life so we burn
As if to regular confirm
That the past is in the futures way

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As It Is, As It Was

That we should know this place in February
Yet not in the middle of July
That we should shape ourselves for winter
As we wait for summers past to pass us by

The waves turn; turn, then turn again; towards
Wolf Rock, by the beach at Widemouth Bay
That Johnny Cash should be the Spotify song
After your ear wax candle day

That with kindling wood, and firelighters
The wood burner fires up first time this time
We photograph waves, rocks, and pebbles
And other geological formations quite sublime

Adam, and Eve; or at least today’s equivalent
Step up, to stride across the boardwalk
The skies, the clouds, the sun, and snow
Embrace the day, which we mark with chalk

We might be grateful, and thankful
Mindful that we share this spiritual occasion
Not a party; when more came than needed to
And only one channel of television to evade

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Who To Turn To

Where are you now my calm sea
Where is it that I will never be
How far to reach from the desert of now
How soon becalmed by the wondering of how

Nothing, or little else to say
No more prescriptions, or hopes to delay
The waves are stilled, from sand to horizon
The smiles, though feint, bring the surprise on

That all will be well some day
Pain will subside for memories to play
To sit in the armchair, listening
To Gregorian chant with thoughts whistling

Without time to stand still, hearing
The ringing, hearing the tunnel of bells
Thinking of that time, in the sauna, on Skye
With a phone call from a friend

Yes, a phone call from a friend
Moving on is what we do, and so
Began the morning poem, lend
Me your time, for I am moving on

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