Journey of Words

Tag: Separation

  • Day 8

    Yellow, everywhere. Gorse, daffodils, primroses and by a flint wall, forthsythia, (the Easter Tree). Along the top road the dark oaks still lack any leaf-cover, so the setting sun bounces off the gorse on the heath through the gnarled woodland. The sky a celestial blue, the display of blooms pure gold. The pillows of colour →

  • Day 7

    At lunch I set out on my bicycle along the coast road. Pushed on by the uncompromising wind past the salt marshes to the mill by the reed beds. The thatch has been recently harvested, but there is still enough cover for a red kite to spark surprise when lifting off from the hollow stalks. →

  • On the Air

    Picture this magic Able to see you and speak I have missed you, son . n.b. Live on a hand-held screen from 5,116 miles away. This is miraculous. . CLP 24/03/2020 →

  • Day 5

    The first sounds in the grey before light come from a crow; three croaky caws that disturb a pheasant. The wind has swung round again. Now from the south-east with bitterness unabated, it takes all the heat from the air. Sky is blue; the Sun piercing bright. In early afternoon, up on the track, two →

  • Day 2

    Immersed in work online while your day with formal interaction progresses from tense to harrowing. Here grey, gloomy sky with occasional rain. I empty the compost bin into the black plastic Dalek composter that is alive with a tangle of fine, writhing, pink worms. Night comes early. Good night wishes exchanged by text. . CLP →

  • Day 1

    Separation noted, but immaterial due to the overwhelming richness and strong presence of your voice. . CLP 18/03/2020 →

  • Voiceless

    Mouth moves aping sound Single simple words suffice Nothing more to say . n.b. Selective mutism is an intriguing behaviour. Despite having the facility to speak there are some people who simply do not. “Why not?” is a question that remains in the realm of speculation until the person is able to engage in conversation →

  • In Boulogne

    Did the artist understand Hands extended across the waters of La Manche Would be a friendship So easily diluted? . n.b. This piece of ironwork is a suitably trite jokey comment on the tenuous connections between England and France that stands in Boulogne-sur-mer. Boulogne was an assembly point for the invading Romans, the forces of →

  • Fear of Flying

    It was time to go I stepped off the bridge Ice wind cut my cheeks Froze tears to my face I turned to speak And saw you waving From the opposite bank I waved too Happily Not drowning In the waters passing underneath . CLP 02/02/2020 →

  • January Road Trip (XXIV)

    Mooring bollards wait As tides, seasons, decades pass Hope for ships’ return . n.b. Glasgow’s quayside has been almost totally cleared. What next? The rusting bollards, like mariners’ widows in denial, still wait by the dock scanning the horizon for signs of home-coming sails. . CLP 27/01/2020 →