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What Brought Us Here
We sit hereOn a memorial benchBeneath the line of ancient beechThat stands strong along the ridgeWhat brought us hereChoices? Fate?Buzzards spiral high aboveFinding lift upon a thermalOne, then two, a third appearsTheir cries pierce April’s shocking blueWhile they scour the farm belowFor rabbit, toad, mouse, small fowlWe sit and watchWithout a wordKnowing nothingOf the life →
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Symphony of Apasmara / Ignorance
AllegroAll is newSparklesColours brightThe goldfinches’ chitteringFills my headI dance, runLeap like a lambLife’s a gambolOh! Joy of birthPerpetual SpringSuch happinessInnocenceBlissAndanteNow?No!I’m happyDo not want toGrowKeep that awayI’ll growlBarkHide in shadowsFrom your knowledgeWhy tie me downTo learning?When I can playUnencumberedBy understandingScherzoCome then, “Teacher”Yahboo!Sucks!Catch meIf you canI’ll miss the busTurn up late for classBunk from schoolListen to cricketOn →
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on reconciliation
to wipe the slate cleanopen your eyes to their painwash their wounds with your tears~n.b. Coventry cathedral, blitzed and rebuilt with this sculpture ‘Reconciliation’ (Reunion), by Josefinaq de Vasconcellos (1977). It imagines a couple embracing over a line of barbed wire. CLP 11/04/2024 →
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on time
As I a child I wonderedWhat life was like beforeWar broke out in EuropeCricket played on village greensActors shining from silver screensTube trains, trams, omnibusesFull of people reading newsheetsEditorials and commentariesOn threat and riskThe rights and wrongsThe unlikelihood of something worseNo-one would be mad enoughTo fire the shot, to call a bluffTo cross the line, →
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on Primrose Corner
hedgerow’s crumpled gaproses tied to the hazelbouquet of sadness~n.b. Without which this would be just another pretty spot on a country lane. CLP 16/02/2025 →
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on 80 years
My mother was not yet tenWhen she first heard the words “Never again”She’d heard them then and sinceAgain and againI went to Krakow to visit a friendSaw the Katyn memorial to 22,000 murdered menBut chose not to visit AuschwitzWhere tourists go to see the truthTo see the place where a million and more were slainAfter →
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on passing
Cars, buses, trucksthe wheels rock as I pushthe pedals hardermy shoulders stiffenarms firmhands grip tighton top of the handle barto counter the rockingI focus on regaining balanceto direct my powerthrough the chain wheelas I am passingcars, buses, trucksa kid in Chelsea Tractorstaresthinkingman on bike goes faston cycle pathpassing plane treepassing plane treepassing plane treeacross junctionacross →
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on song
Melodies from childhood remainLyrics less secureBut the mystical imagesof stable, cradle, starare lain in rubblecrushed by aircraft, rockets, shellsfrom the Unholy LandAnd the brass band playedMerry Xmas (War is Over)“…if you want it” I recallwhat will the wise men bring this timewhen the only sensible gift might be myrrh?~ CLP 12/12/2024 →
Journey of Words 