Summer haze came and went Too fast Only with time can flowers of youth Bloom the colours of age Only now can I know What was lost Simple rise and fall Gave cadence to days In the endless sun That rolled into weeks Faster than we Could care to notice The landscape Bore ponds of fish Fields of tall horses And nestled in woods A hut Our summer home This place Revealed my colours Good and bad Self-discovery of another kind Far from home No shade to hide The contradiction That my inexperienced hands of time Could not grip events passed Tortures todays waking hours What cruelty To suffer How might I use this experience In my future Other than to note Understanding That cannot be taught But must be learnt
Author Archives: benhenleysmith
Tracks
Behind the doctors house I used to play In woodland empty of adult thoughts A space for this curiosity To uncover secrets of the forest I’d follow tracks of hidden creatures Left for me to follow until The scent ran out And the game was up Our travels were silent back then We came here long ago Searching village to village For place Until the swap Caravan for bits of brick To settle was to Stop Now I follow The trail of creatures Who roam this place As I once did
Dur Jardin
These gardens tell stories of times past When nothing but trowel and hand Laid the spine of petals In the hardening earth Our arrival by car is abrupt in this peace Out of place amongst the shoes and legs That has transported families of neighbouring towns To lie amongst these colours Pale pinks laid across the Entrer Balance a sea of green hill that rolls down to the dark river An uninviting strip of wet habitat Left to rats of the water patrolling up and down Broken benches and old ornaments litter the river bank And contrast the sweeping paths tying the gardens hard work To its veins These are fields at work Raw edges and biting temperature Cut potential from this jardin Of perpetual thirst We settle in the shade of two great trees Baring the brunt of this sun so we may rest But not for long We disappear across the uneven path Cut out through an open gate And return to our boiling car Under the church spire Watching our every move
The River Bank | Pt 1
Jack found these days hard. Hot days by the river where he might have to take his clothes off in front of his family and Rachel. It didn’t make it any easier that Rachel knew something was wrong.
‘What’s wrong jack?’ Asked Rachel. ‘Nothing’ said jack. But there was something. Not eating had been his safety. Within his control. When everything else felt like it was changing, only jack could say what he could eat. Being 14 wasn’t easy at the best of times. The small town where jack lived had one big school and that big school didn’t work well for boys like jack. Now ‘Sticky Jacky’ or ‘Skin Thin Jacklin’ might be seen without his trademark dirty black T-shirt.
‘Come in it’s not deep’, said Rachel. ‘I can swim you know’, said Jack. But jack stayed on the ground next to the tree that the 4 of them had settled near.
Rachel lived next door to Jack in their small town near Doncaster. Her mum, Jilly, was the kindest lady he’d met. She was always wearing a dress and always smiling. Rachel had never met her dad before, but it didn’t matter because Jacks Dad offered to spend lots of time with Rachel and Jilly.
‘Is something wrong jack?’ Rachel was in the water now and looking for someone to be with. ‘I’ll race you to this tree if you are quick enough!’. Jack wasn’t concentrating on Rachel. He wasn’t even looking at the river. In fact, for such a young boy, the only direction jack seemed to look was inward. But despite whatever was going on in Jacks mind, he took his shirt off slowly and walked towards the waters edge.
The spot they’d picked was away from the others people who had parked their cars. They’d walked further along the track to a green square in between trees that created shade on the nearest side of the river. On the other side, yellow and green fields spread themselves into the distance. The shallow water of the river shone light blue. You could see stones through it. It was a like a postcard. Like a place Rachel and Jack might go someday.
Jacks feet touched the water edge and the chill made its way up Jacks body. His arms were crossed far enough that he cradled both elbows with his hands. The structure of his body served its purpose – a sort of crumpled protection. And as the sun shone down through the sprinkled leaves overhead, jacks pale white skin seared in the red heat.
Rachel, always thinking of others, made an effort to keep talking to jack as normal – without looking at him or his body. Rachel always did this type of thing. She knew how to do the small things that could make people feel better without them knowing. But as jack got further into the water and began to uncross his arms, Rachel couldn’t help but notice the streaks of red across his stomach. They looked like lashings, bruising too. If jacks frame had been any larger – there is no way his arms would have covered up the damage.
The day would pass slowly. Jack crouched over the trunks of trees and Rachel chatting and exploring nearby. All the while, Jilly and Jacks dad Neil spent time on their own too. They seemed to enjoy letting Jack and Rachel do their own thing. It wasn’t the first time the 4 of them had come here, and it wouldn’t be the last. But it would be the only time Jack remembered this piece of grass and river with happiness. The coming months would reveal what he had been most afraid of and what he hoped Rachel would never see.
Scorched
The tarmac road carving up this landscape Spits up dust and dirt on our travels A fiery beast of the road Ignited by rolling rubber travelling through Yellow stain soaks this earth Baked by the pounding orange sun Brown fields splice into wilting triangles Deadened crops deserted by all living things The greying trees in the far distance Itch beneath their bark in the heat Nothing can flourish here But the soul that will stay its course For as Autumn arrives These deadened lands will perish on their own accord And will shed their skin With dignity and purpose What makes these late august days trying Is the inevitability of a great power Sheering its mite from above Upon an unwilling recipient A landscape raped Bereft of it’s place Now learns to survive These punishing summer days
Our spirit
Light bounces between us As we swim around This square of river In circles together Just us And the waters chill To throw back the years And play I am happy Just being here With you No more The sound of water falling on rocks beneath Won’t distract from this heart Beating to a rhythm I know Our spirit Lives Wisps down the streams Up the hills and tracks Across the sweltering fields Inside sunflower heads Bursting its yellow From its bud It’s no wonder I make peace in gardens now Sparking shoots And the blooming petals Remind And bring me back to us To this place We left Long ago
Underwater
Submerged beneath the surface My bubbling mind dunks down Under this water I find it’s gift This French sun cooks the waters lips A wine region in need of rain Now too hot for grapes Suffers from the august heat To escape In the rivers that share their waters Creatures of the land visit For a cool sanctuary I have travelled far to this place From the city smoke Now underwater I arrive Deliberately now Pressures from above The waters crust Can’t reach So I drink this peace Down here My source of refreshment Underneath
This self
So why is it That this life is best lived Out of context I pull at the threads And they unravel In my ageing hands What if I had known My self In this The echoing truth That Humms it’s tone Next to my ear The hidden truth Found in plain sight That I’ve missed If only id known Being this was ok If only I’d known Only this was ok Would I have felt This chewing My empty Would I look back With no regret And smile
Lemon vomit
I retch acid Sharp tastes from the night before that My toothbrush with bristles hard as brush Can’t scratch from this soured breath Two fingers flick my throat Unlocking a channel for liquid flow The putrid stench falls As my mind clears Drink My blessing and curse Bewitches an aching body With spells of pretend confidence For those hours I dazzle My paws ooze life Until they don’t And it’s sweat 2am, again Outside where no one can hear My body produces lemon vomit The moon my only witness
Stretch
A stretch These marks on my hips Slits of blood Valleys of red They stretch My capacity for work Is beyond the limit I stretch This love For more and for depth Is stretching and killing What’s left My tank Depleting it’s load Until it’s dry And then …