Frills (Without Embraces)

It would be wrong of me not to arrest the images of you, scantily clad, in the shortest of frilly skirts; you bring me close to you, I am unable to stop the thought processes; for miles and miles I am thus absorbed.

I even begin to wonder if I will ever be able to shake off these thoughts; what if they were always to stay with me, my eyes feel heavy, my head feels heady.

I am driving towards you, albeit, in my own version of the truth, I am driving for a quite different purpose; hours go by before I reach anywhere near your vicinity.

The sadness is scattered to the moorland, the hurt lies on the riverbed, the immense fear, for isn't it the greatest of fears, to be fearful of oneself, is inculcated into the baron landscape.

I walk the dark streets, too dark for my camera to develop the warm glow (to the naked eye) of the church clock.

As I pass the bus station I make up a story, about my B&B being just behind here, behind this very place, where three times every hour the buses will arrive.

To carry out their complicated, and seriously noisy, and intrinsically disturbing, reversing manoeuvres, before they accelerate, with loud aggression.

To depart, on their way to who knows where; the buses are empty now, and I expect that will also be the case, many hours later

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Trepidation (Without Gratification)

Quite the opposite to Emptiness Dancing
Brought on, in part, by today's destination
And last night's early disruptive dream
Neither of which I desire to expand upon
Except to say that relationships
And their dissolution, played significant parts

Not at all the synthesis
Of the sunlight, and the leaf, and the raindrop
As enveloped
On that quiet Sunday morning in the countryside

Nor as felt
On that slow drive, along narrow, puddled lanes
With hedgerows guarding the ploughed fields
With trees sprinkling, not interfering, with the view

Quite the opposite to the moorlands
With their exposed outcrops of rock
Where the blue, serially activates the doubt within

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Last Thoughts :: First Thoughts

I wrap my arms around you
Pull you close
It is the end of this day
The night is now beginning

I wrap my arms around you
Pull you close
We are the love together
Our hold is our beginning

You wrap your arms around me
Pull me close
It is the beginning of our night
The end of this good day

You wrap your arms around me
Pull me close
We are the love together
Our love is our beginning

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Straight :: And True

Thirty-one BB
Twenty four BC
One hundred and eighty-seven
Or 15 and 7/12
Twenty-two
Seventeen
Five

Nought
One or twelve
Nine or one hundred and eight
And ongoing

There are months
There are years
There was much confusion

It's not about anything
The days have been and gone
The tears left, only to reappear

Nothing is as nothing was
Yes there were firecrackers
And there are the Old Stables

You couldn't make it up
But it's true, it happened
Yes, it's true, it is happening still

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Gravestones :: And Plain Crosses

Dames and priests you took your time
When time and love was all you had
Today, in less-firm ground, you form a line
With peace and hope, abroad and glad

I'm on retreat and doing fine
There are a few rules, but none so bad
I'm up at five, to go and listen to your kind
Then I write, sometimes happy, sometimes sad

Making a few memories before I too recline
Wondering about the Italian, playing the Stradivarius
The German monk, 8 years he's sought the sign
I came with nothing, a simple country lad

It's an awful poem, without form or design
And there's no hope of rescue for it is just a fad
When you don't know where you are going
It is easier to break with the traditional

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