Symmetry satisfies us

Symmetry satisfies us 
And coheres for our need for meaning 
and shelter in the world.
John O’Donohue:
Divine Beauty - The Invisible Embrace

This is today’s Monday morning shelter
Where I will either write or transcribe
Then taste bacon, on brioche rolls for hot dogs
Read out something which I have worked on
Then listen to others read out
The pieces which they have worked on

It won’t be all peace and calm
There may be disagreements
To counterbalance the joviality
I will be encouraged, even motivated
To build in more effect or innovation
To make more of my poetry
Than the poetry it once was

Of course sentimentality will hold sway
For we all do like to hear our own stories
But no memoir work from me today
Although I have found the once lost book
Misplaced as it was recently

During my trip to the monastery
With some shot at unification
I will keep things moving along
Preventing any fall
Into obsessive dialogue
Or worse into meaningless diatribe

Which satisfies no one at all
Better then to pour out the creativity
Create an ambiance to the work
Develop constructive interaction
With a sound ear for the especial
Which does dwell within everyone
Seeking, for its own sake, a safe outlet valve

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John O’Donohue Speaks:

John O’Donohue Speaks:
Divine Beauty - The Invisible Embrace
The traditional structures of shelter are shaking,
their foundations revealed to be no longer stone but sand.

One more fire grate
One full set of clay formed sculptures
One bottle of garden flowers
One more memory from the rose

One M is for Mayhem
One bowl of daisies white and yellow
One trip out to the Tarot reading
One more memory from the rose

One perfect chair for the writing
One assembly
Of temporary pop-up tables
One more memory from the rose

One tablecloth topped off
With seasonal preserves
One bookstall filled by avid readers
One more memory from the rose

One sun up high in the blue sky
One meadow for white clouds to hover over
One fly inspecting the introverted writer
One more memory from the rose

One conversation about the use of buildings
One deposition by the Ukulele Band of Louth
One buying of the plants and climbers
One more memory from the rose

One time to be in the simple time
One stroll from here to there and back again
One breeze through the trees and grasses
One more memory from the rose

One embrace among the many
One more need to say a slow goodbye
One more thanks for ever being
One more memory from the rose

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In my rightful righteous spot

In my rightful righteous spot
At the end of willow way
Where the Alpaca walks by
To stretch its legs

In that time, from the morning a while ago
To this time, in the here and now
The willows have grown considerably
Although I knew it in that previous moment

Today’s representation, or incarnation
Or maybe even manifestation
Would be a better word; no matter
For I know this to be a shelter

In much the same way
In which it makes me think
Of the mediation seating
In our own tended garden

Will it ever be joined over the top
Someone asks
As though always
We have the need to raise questions

I hadn’t thought on that
But of course, because
Once the seed is planted
I have no choice but to look at the sky

And wonder
How it would feel
To become enclosed
For my words to be hemmed in

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Beside the pond

Beside the pond
Which is today’s shelter
At the Open Garden in aid of
Cruise Bereavement Counselling

Who provide someone to talk to
When death comes along
Which it will
When your time, as mine also, must be called

Meanwhile England reach three hundred
In an important game against India
Where a win would be most welcome
When a victory could even be celebrated

I have been to this place before
In quieter times
With not quite so many folk
Milling around in conversation

Back then I sat at the far end
Of the meadow grass
To write about the peace of it all
Where the interwoven willow

Was beginning to provide
A most seasonal shelter
But today it is in full-on sun
With no hints of music in this minstrel’s habitat

No rhythms to disturb or still the chatter
Soon I will have a pot of tea
Perhaps with a scone
Or a cucumber sandwich

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I have moved

I have moved
From the seat with a dedication
To a bench not yet with a name

I have asked myself
What right do I have to say
That this whole place
Has been stolen from Yorkshire

Just as St Ives
Flattered our own Barbara Hepworth
With its bright Atlantic light

Schoolchildren and pensioners
Of which I am one or the other
Make up today’s
Spread out attendance

I too then a trespasser
Having found my shelter earlier
In the grounds of Orchard Cafe

There, or nearby, to see
A cast of Rupert Brooke
Also his good looking portrait
Hung on the wall in the tea rooms

All is very well here in these grounds
But it is a respite, or a swift retreat
Rather than truly being my shelter

I may visit again, to study in the archives
There to sit, to dwell calmly
And let the perceived truth
Erase my, wilder, first impressions

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