His world was bounded by All Saints Church and The Prince of Wales ...

My dad walked back from church with the second Sholley this morning - 

He asked for it himself - you go with Pegs he said - you go and help her - 

My mum pushed her sholley across Boundary Road - 

Behind tall hedges were former council houses -

Signs on doors warned of German Shepherds - 

I'd waited for my mum and and dad outside the church - 

The bearded priest had smiled and shaken my hand - God bless you he'd said - 

I'd heard the choir sing - the bells had rung in the tower - 

Once my dad had sailed across oceans - now his world was bounded by Saint Faiths Church and The Prince of Wales - 

17.55

Sunday 31 January 2016

Staunton Road

Havant

The two keys ...

This morning, I got a key cut at John's Keycutting and Locksmiths - 

John's small shop was empty - the gentle town was still quiet and sleepy - 

John told me he'd started business five minutes early -

I gazed at the keycutting machinery - 

John selected a key blank from a brazen cluster, shaping it deftly with his pale cunning fingers - 

I breathed in air scented with oil and metal - 

Within moments it was done, the brass shaped to the secret of the lock - 

I thought of all the doors those key blanks might open, the interiors opened to truthful light, the covers thrown back from a feverish couch - 

I took the two keys John gave me - 

I stood outside the shop -  

Shoppers walked past me towards Sainsburys - 

The man in the Breton cap looked up at the forgiving sky - 

10.00

Saturday 30 January 2016

Wareham 

Dorset 

I smelled a headline in The Daily Mail ...

I sat with two Northerners in The Spire -  

I'd ordered leek and potato soup - 

Worn gaffers parked their mobility scooters outside - 

Young beggars sat cross legged in Falklands Square - 

I've just been to the hospital said the man - it's my lungs, but I've never smoked - 

He's always going to the surgery his wife said - 

They lived in social housing in the edgelands - 

Why are they giving money to them out there the wife said - we need it here - 

Spend money on nurses not bombs I said - 

I smelled a headline in The Daily Mail - 

Friday 29 January 2016

2016

The Spire

Poole 

 

I looked for the butterfly, as I would for a fragment of memory ...

The butterfly flew before me in fragile zig zags, sheltered from the wind by the drystone wall - it settled upon a ledge of lichened stone - 

The pale sunlight fell upon its outstretched wings - 

I could see its two antennae, casting quivering lines of shadow upon the stone  - 

The leafless trees of Polar Wood behind the wall were sculpted by winter gales -

We'd lingered there amongst galaxies of bluebells last May - I'd been dizzy with blueness - 

Now I walked on, past sheep grazing the wet grass, to stand on Swyre Head, overlooking the sea - 

White waves broke upon the Kimmeridge Levels -  

Salt rimed hedgerows divided lonely fields - 

The shadows of clouds moved over the water -

The January sun was low in the sky - 

When I turned back, walking past the drystone wall, I looked for the butterfly, as I would for a fragment of memory, the recollection of a golden hour - 

12.00

Thursday 29 January 2016

Swyre Head

Dorset 

 

I thought of the orange trees in Jane's garden ...

When the rain stopped we walked to Highwood - 

We followed the narrow road across the water meadows - 

Where I'd sunbathed in summer was now the haunt of eels - 

The quiet winding river of sultry afternoons was swollen by the floods - 

Lichened alders cast their dark reflections in leaden pools - 

Deer watched us under dripping pines - 

Ditches brimmed with rainwater - 

I longed for summer, for sweet apples hanging over my head - 

I thought of the orange trees in Jane's garden, eating figs fallen from the tree - 

15.45

Wednesday 27 Hanuary 2016

Highwood

Dorset 

Coffee by the Mekong ...

Making my coffee this morning, measuring out the Tarrazu in lavish spoonfuls, I remembered Richard telling me how he dreamed of sipping Naga Blend in Vientiane - 

Phil had gone there, whilst waiting for his visa to be renewed - 

The Mekong flowed through the city, carrying memory into the jungle - 

The ghosts of B52s still haunted the clouds - 

Richard might write some heartfelt words in a cafe by the river - 

A girl would be singing in a videoke booth - 

Looking out the window at a leafless tree,  I, too, yearned for tropic skies - 

I'd look for tuc tucs in Albert Road - 

I'd search in my pockets for unknown coins - 

14.00

Tuesday 26 January 2016

The Old School House

East Stoke 

Dorset 

Dancing to Claudio's Toccata ...

Leaden sadness left my heart when I heard the silver trumpets - 

I tore the watch from my wrist - I threw away my pale shirts -   

I put on a blue suit and danced - 

There I was, in the shadow of a palazzo - 

There was Claudio, playing a viol, dressed in black velvet - 

15.46

Monday 25 January 2016

The Old School House

East Stoke

Dorset 

The Albanians ...

When I parked the red wounded beast, I saw the Albanians - 

They were wearing bomber jackets and had large shaven heads - their black jeans were speckled with white dust - around their wrists were fastened dangerous watches - 

They stand in the street Richard said - keeping an eye on their cars - 

There was no sign of the man Phil called moth man - 

The Albanians listened to faraway voices on their mobile phones - 

They stood motionless outside a small house - 

I could half see women's faces behind the filmy curtains - 

Two black BMWs waited for their drivers - 

Later, I would sleep fitfully, dreaming of strange cities - 

I would stand in the street whilst the Albanians still slept - 

The lamp posts would cast their light under a dark sky - 

Foxes would steal past the pale stones in the Jewish cemetery - 

I would breath the air of a beautiful empty world - 

2016

Southsea 

The years have fallen away from him like withered leaves ...

Last week, I bought Ray Bradbury's Something Wicked This Way Comes - 

The paperback lay in my hand, heavy with its beautiful words - 

I knew that each page would conjure up terrors and wonders - 

I remembered my dad first telling me about Jim and Will and Mister Dark -

My dad had come home on leave - he had a copy of the book - his uniform smelled of the sea - 

*

In my dreams, I imagine us meeting the seller of lightning rods - 

A wild eyed horse is looking for a rider - 

My dad is like Will's dad, wise and fearless -  

The years have fallen away from him like withered leaves - 

15.56

Thursday 21 January 2016

The Old School House

East Stoke

Dorset 

The desire of a starling for a richer song ...

I overheard two silverbacks exchanging courtly badinage in the gym this morning - 

I listened to their rich honeyed voices, to the way they said gosh and absolutely - 

I recalled the louche Etonians I'd met whilst at University - 

One had shown me an antique gold full hunter - 

That dent he said - that was made by an assegai - 

I'd sat, bathed in charm, under a reef of journals - 

I felt, once again, the desire of a starling for a richer song - 

12.00

Wednesday 20 January 2016

Purbeck Soorts Centre

Wareham 

Dorset 

My breath left my mouth in long white feathers ...

Early this morning, I stood in the shining garden - 

Cirrus clouds floated upon the icy ocean of the sky - 

The bench was a sparkling throne - 

Bright sunlight fell upon the jewelled lawn - 

I wrapped my scarf around my throat - 

My breath left my mouth in long white feathers, drifting away on the frozen air -

09.00

Tuesday 19 January 2016

The Old School House

East Stoke 

Dorset 

My dad's shoes ...

My dad's shoes let in water - 

He wears the same pair of brown shoes everyday - 

My socks are wet he'll say - my shoes are leaking - 

But in half an hour, he'll forget all about his chilled toes - 

He'll put on the same pair of shoes when he goes out -

He'll wear the same coat, the same creaking trousers - 

He'll make the same sandwiches every day for tea - 

A bit of ham, cheese, marmite and mustard - 

Today we plan to buy him new shoes - 

We'll have to crease and age them Anne says - 

12.30

Monday 18 January 2016

Staunton Road

Havant  

A yellow feather was caught in her hair ...

I walked with my mum to Waitrose - 

She pushed her sholley -

We left my dad behind in his armchair, reading Tomorrow You Die - 

The precinct was almost empty - Wilkos doors were closed - 

It was a dark raw morning - my mum was wearing red woollen gloves - 

You're a good walker I told my mum - 

She flinched when cars went past, as if they were strange beasts - 

Earlier she'd said - I can't find my words - I've lost them - they've gone - 

I imagined her words, flying away from her - 

A yellow feather was caught in her hair - 

16.05

Sunday 17 January 2016

Havant 

Their songs would celebrate the ancient dance -

We walked along Knoll Beach, towards Bramble Bay - 

We turned back at the sign marking the start of the naturists' beach - 

There were no young gods today, jogging through the waves, rucksacks upon their backs - 

No Amazons cartwheeled across the sand - no leathery men stood, like meerkats, amongst the dunes - 

An icy wind stung our faces - the pale sun was low in the sky - 

We sat near the wood burning stove in the National Trust cafe - 

This evening, Anne would go wassailing in an orchard at Winterbourne Strickland - 

Fires would be lit under the apple trees - the waxing moon would be caught in their lichened branches - 

Later, the singers would drink mulled wine - sparks would rise upwards from the fires - 

Their songs would celebrate the ancient dance - 

The old year would clasp the new - 

12.00

Saturday 16 January 2016

Knoll Beach

Studland

Dorset 

A Spitfire's wing took root under a gentle tree ...

The church was filled with soft voices -

We'd walked from Clouds Hill to Moreton - 

We'd heard bird song in a leafless tree - above us was the icy blueness of the sky -  

We walked with frozen shadows - 

The bright sun hung in the air, promising summer -

Redwings flew before us, rising up from a field grazed by lambs - 

Bare oaks held high tangled crowns of lichened twigs - dark pines kept secrets - 

Puddles mirrored the January world - 

Inside the church, gentle babushkas admired the hand etched windows - 

A galaxy spun in a lens of glass - a spitfire's wing took root under a gentle tree - 

11.30

Friday 15 January 2016

Moreton 

Dorset 

 

I was dizzy with love ...

Today I listened again to Blackstar - 

Songs have been the waymarks of my life - 

When I bought Penny Lane I was still at school - I listened to the single on my mum and dad's Phillips radiogram - 

I was full of longing for girls and wonder - 

I listened to The Dark Side of the Moon whilst swimming in Alexandra's pool - 

Beautiful bodies shone in the water - 

I heard Mick Jagger croon Miss You whilst driving my first car - 

The interior of the blue Sunbeam Rapier was filled with cigarette smoke - 

I danced with Annick to The Stranglers - she wore a red skirt - her brown legs were bare - 

I saw joints heaped upon the cover of Peaches en Regalia - 

I saw jewelled birds after the finale of the Firebird - 

Rain beat against the windows when Jim Morrison sang poor Otis dead and gone - 

Russell put on a velvet jacket - Jay wanted some Miles Davis - 

Aldo Ciccolini played Three pieces in the form of a pear in a beautiful disordered room - 

I walked hand in hand with Maureen, down by the heartless sea - 

The moon sailed over the raffish town - 

Steve Harley sang come up and see me, make me smile - 

I danced with Richard to wild Rai music - 

Beverley played me Carole King - she counted the beats of my heart - I breathed in the scent of her dark tangled hair - 

I stood by the juke box with Frances - it was playing Road Runner - 

Frances wore a crown of words - got the radio on she sang - 

I lay upon the warm summer earth next to Anne - 

We'd listened the night before to The Band, to The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down - 

Gazing up at the cloudless sky, I thought I was the king of all the world - 

The moment was written into my heart - 

I was dizzy with love, breathless with desire - 

19.39

Thursday 14 January 2016

The Old School House

East Stoke

Dorset