The night-side of life is the kingdom of the sick I have fallen into your darkness My throat is sore Unwelcome growth is infecting me Flourishing inside of me Id love some of that Calpol stuff from the spoon Today I was a Shrivel A presented face. All else lay wilting I am on the bad side Where health is a distant sun Setting away from here I want your warmth little yellow thing Find me
Filey, Yorkshire
Senses soaked by salt permit my rest Hills crunch into stretched out shores peering out to sea And as yellow spreads in the fields, people of the land meet In pubs like front rooms, where the pull of pace Has lost its grip, and dreams of equal importance Remain in the minds of honest folk Who without cause for concern go about their way With hope for the day Trusting it will come
Montmatre, Paris
I walk, without thought, upon the past beneath Grey brick cobbled for foot and wood Now rubber and road lay siege To Montmatre I think, without care, of the chattering minds Swapping tales of today Some stick in the mind Others float with the wind I care, without worry, for these people The kindness and beauty of their place I rest knowing it will repeat This love has been here before
Bong of the Bells
Bells ring In-between the regular silence That deafens this place And heals it Bong Bong Bong Bong And now the 4pm breeze Slips it’s joyous cold hands Down my waiting neck Just in time Patience Rewarded As we reach the crescendo Of a day well spent Now an evening well earned To sip On these heavenly bells Silence after silence
Lights of the Parisian night
Lights of the Parisian night Draw shapes on the ceiling Dancing fairies Who only after dark Play in the rooms of sleepy travellers And us the sun rises from the east The playful pixies Slip away to sleep Only to pause For the visitors of tomorrow
Decide
How do I know this intuition Of equal and opposite direction The push and pull of mind and heart Won’t be the undoing of me This self I am learning to hear And evaluate objectively Stands like a criminal on trial How to lead with heart And mind And clarity I question Still, the battering winds swirl ahead They make their signal A decision only I can make With no good outcome Now the procedure is complete The advice is taken It is only me Yes or no
The River Bank | Pt 2
Rachel’s house was small. It was the last house at the end of the street. A typical square building with a triangle on top. When Rachel’s dad died years ago, Jilly used the money she got from the insurance company to pay for the house in full. It was just the two of them now, but at least they didn’t need to worry about money anymore.
Jack had come over after school like he usually did. Their friendship was understated. They didn’t play together like the other kids, but it didn’t matter. Reading, watching old tv and slowly talking in the garden was enough.
‘Funny how Miss Prichard looks at you’, Rachel said. ‘I think it is to see if she’s saying the right things to the rest of us. She knows that if you don’t get it then we won’t’.
Jack learnt things quickly. He’d always liked school because it came naturally. The school part anyway. ‘I’m not sure, it’s like she watches everyone’ Jack muttered, trying to brush off the backhanded complements.
‘It’s time to go’ shouted Neil, who was in the other room with Jilly. Neil had been at Jillys house before Jack arrived after school. Jilly and Neil had become friends since Rachel’s dad died.
The door slammed behind them as they left. Rachel watched them both leave from the upstairs window. But as she turned around she spotted the work Miss Prichard had left Jack for tomorrow. Without thinking, Rachel stuffed Jacks work in a bag and raced out to catch up.
When she got to Jack’s house, the back door was slightly ajar. She used the back door to get in most of the time – but it was usually locked. She knocked, but no one answered so Rachel strode in and up the stairs to Jacks room at the top of the house.
It took Rachel a moment to understand what was going on when she got to the top. A muffled voice that sounded like Jacks was moaning into a pillow as a hard hollow sound repeatedly cracked down on what sounded like skin. Rachel froze but not on purpose. She’d never heard a sound like that before – her gut told her what it might be.
‘Jack?’, Rachel called his name from the landing – setting herself to rush in. But the sound stopped and then the door slowly opened and Jack came out. ‘Ah I left it, damn, sorry’ said Jack. Despite his bloodshot eyes, jacks voice was settled. ‘Are you ok’? Said Rachel ‘I thought I heard …’ every thing is fine thank you and thanks for bringing this over’. ‘Ok’ said Rachel.
On the way back Rachel struggled to understand it all. But about half way home, she decided she needed to go back to Jacks house to find out. She also decided she needed to go when Jack wasn’t home. Something wasn’t right and if Jack wouldn’t tell her – she’d have to find out herself.
A summer past
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
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 transported families of neighbouring towns
To lie amongst colours
Pale pinks laid across the Entrer
A sea of green hill 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
The fields are at work
Raw edges and biting temperature
Cut potential from a 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