Things Poetic

 Rain rain rain whispering, it softly drifts through the air, softly coating leaves on trees, blades of grass slowly bending as the drops coalesce  falls with a soft splash, barely heard Wind drifting the mist across the fields in the distance air slowly cleaning itself refreshed for the new day

Life and living                                                                                           “To be alive at all is to have scars.”                                                                              John Steinbeck,  The Winter of Our Discontent

 A poem for today I just got home from a holiday and was reading  "The Peace of Wild Things" by Wendell Berry, and as I was flicking through it I saw this poem

 Farewell Cornwall Freshness I the air, catching your breath morning quiet, sounds of water against sand Soaring seagulls, calling to the wind, to their peers, to the sky risen sun glistens off feathers, splashing off the water rippled colours, twist around ropes and boats early swimmers out, braving the coolness as the sounds of boats returning starts to wake the town summer continues Car packed, keys returned....and off

 Infinite Skies disappear into the mist, sails drop, slowly flapping until bound knots tested, tied anchor dropped tidy ropes, decks change into dry clothes gin o'clock  as the sun sets

 Sandcastles The cries of joy layer the evening air with fun and laughter, Sand covers the feet, buckets ready with spades rush off to find the bestest place to build safe from the water, and the stones Slowly it rises, reaching upwards,  some damage from a poorly placed bucket yet continues Water and wet sand follow the Sagrada Família of sandcastles rises up stones and shells decorate it, with sticks as flag posts water into the moat They dance around it, laughing and excitedly pointing it out to us as the tide gets closer and the moat fills further till the sea wins and the castle is no more until the morning

 Imagination Sitting, listening to the birds, songs, chatter, whistles, chirps, cheeps a universe of wonder Talking about what's occurring watching watchful the air thickens, takes on form, light and dark glowing, moving on its own accord I should be fearful but im not I know this place Ive seen it before, here, at the time between times when the living and the passed meet and dance that dance again where hands meet, both solid and whips of air swirling around, warm, heavenly music almost choral Closing my eyes I still see and feel it I can smell the warmth and taste the sound I feel every breath on my skin, every swirl in my blood All too soon, drifts away the birds continue as if uninterrupted peaceful

 Seagulls Making a joke of themselves, the strong neck turns the head, fixing a stare looking at the food in my hand claiming it, in its mind, even if not in reality 'Mine, Mine' they call their chicks, brown and gly, crowd around whilst the adults look around calling to the winds the sound of the sea soaring effortlessly across the sky, lifting and falling returning my soul to the sea after so long

 Something daft This is something daft I wrote today after I got to Mousehole Peaceful and relaxed reading about worlds unformed unthought something watched the thoughts snags it as it calmly leaves what, I wonder I ask im not sure but its there a pebble in a sock in a shoe interrupting, disturbing s portent  s promise

 Dreaming Swirling, images and feelings caught on thorns in the air deep colour, as rose blossoms bursting through thorn bushes moving images in deep colours with feeling and taste almost some joined together, some not linked repeating, flowing into each other hurt, joy, pain, laughter screaming, laughing, calm, shocks The usual confusion is clearer the blooms fit together makes sense hurt

 Potential Holding the envelope, sealed,  name on front Results... Heart thuds, shaking everything through, breathing, movement, soul damp hands mark the paper, tear, open where's that results page ? reach inside..... draw it out into the light Pavlovian, hands get damper, eyes unfocused,  tunnel vision 'My name' Scores the ups and downs reading through them, some better some worse than expected and then its over screeching, dancing, back slapping hud friends, family time for a celebration before....the next step university, travel, work whew !!

 A Poem in the letter A Actually, the abiding thought is it remains an achievement attaining a peak arriving at a arc of decision anyone would ascertain a ring of truth,  a hopeful asked for reality amusing almost and yet an unsurmountabkle abyss when its free , almost it remains an albatross around all not only about my neck  and abruptly  again, alone an  archetypical death symbolic, assuredly

 Evening Delight Pushed my chair away from my desk,  stretched, groaned,  closed my eyes, listening to the fan of the laptop time for dinner Creaks and cracks, is that just my knees ? Stepping around papers tossed across the floor Bleary eyes Stir fry again Not a take away,  ready meals not sought after eyes refocusing on anything other than the screens  surrounding me on the desk no escape but, now relax

 The Greatest Sport Neither round ball, nor tennis ball nor red or white ball cricket Not even the kings sport, equine giants charging for a fence, sweat streaming behind its the emotional, exhausting, invigorating and painful oval ball game Rugby Union, not league albeit league drags the blood from lungs far quicker car crashes of bulk hitting each other serious assaults for 80 minutes blood, sweat, tears ... and tears through flesh laughter at the end, amongst the cheering and happiness drinking together laughing with each other brutal but gentlemen and women

 Old Older  Is that wiser, peeling off the layers of idiocy from the years finding that owl, learned and far thinking ? Considering meaning in the confused meanderings of the mind wondering If only, maybe, surely that... Instead Its the peeling off the layers of understanding and intelligence losing the owl and finding the pigeon, meandering in rush hour traffic pecking the dust near the table Always looking down and missing the sparrow hawk  eyes set on your form considering little, understanding less, forgetting all Oldest

 Dreams In my dream...Im a good father In my dream....Im a useful part of society In my dream.....my art is good In my dream....it's a world where the ignorant and mosogynistic are not feted, where rapists are not allowed to direct but are separated from society In my dream....I don't put flowers down every few weeks In my dream....

 Its Enough When you've given everything, when you've held nothing back in reserve when your soul is naked and bare when your hidden depths are open  when there is nothing hidden Then you've reached the world of enough That place where acceptance sits, where your aim is to be present not just there

 Reality I read this poem in a book about Love called "The Universe of Us" by Lang Leav "When did you stop caring?" he asked "When did you start noticing?" she replied So true and echoes completely for me

 With determined eyes Furrowed brow Typewriter/ pen/ pencil/ keyboard ready Let the creative juices flow……. “Lunch time darling” you say “How’s the writing going” you ask Staring at the page with its additions Additional  “The “  I’ts going really well” “No you can’t read it yet”  Let’s dream of the afternoon  And hope

 Silence Nothing stirs, even the birds keep their counsel in that I can hear the background tinnitus  The crows call in the silence,  combines trundle across the fields seemingly eternal dust, choking but spreading seeds and goodness opening the ground to the birds Sunlight streams where it didn't Silence returns