The Prominente ...

We saw two of Wareham's prominente late this morning - 

We were walking along the river, on our way to Redcliffe - 

There they were, fishing from their mobility scooters, bearded and barrel chested, warmed by the autumn sun - 

They were at their ease, sharing salty gossip, rolling cigarettes with blunt yellow fingers - 

I wondered if they were old Navy men, who'd seen icebergs and frozen stars - 

Later they would have a pint of Exmoor Fox in The Kings Arms - their younger selves would dance upon the water - 

11.30

Saturday 31 October 2015

Wareham

Purbeck 

  

Lobsters in their scarlet armour ...

Yesterday, I paid my respects to the lobsters in The Salt Pig - 

A friend of Archie lay stretched out upon his bed of ice - he extended a languid claw in greeting - 

The crossword gang was there - the grand silverback told his wife if you want to go to Swanage, then you shall go to Swanage - 

I sat at my distressed table - 

I'd just started reading Curzio Malaparte's Kaputt - it was extraordinary and terrible - 

I looked out into the High Street, imagining a progrom was about to begin - 

I gazed again at the lobsters for comfort - 

There they lay, upon their ice, in their scarlet armour - 

11.30

Thursday 29 October 2015

The Salt Pig

Wareham 

Sad hotels ...

Cafe Blue was closed - I would sip my cappuccino there some other day - 

I had walked along the esplanade, past the sad hotels -  

I read their names - The Sherborne - The Edenhurst - Wenlock House - Maiden Rest - 

Each name had invoked within me a tender melancholy - 

I'd glimpsed inside their narrow hallways - 

I'd seen the empty dining rooms, the tables set for hopeful breakfasts -

Sash windows faced the sea - 

A small dog perched upon a sofa - 

Suitcases were opened in dimly lit bedrooms - 

Wind blown families explored the beach - 

A riderless white horse galloped away from an amusement arcade - 

15.00

Thursday 29 October 2015

The Esplanade

Weymouth 

Dorset 

 

Hares had danced around him, sipped water from a hidden spring ...

This morning, walking along the cliff path towards White Nothe, Penelope and I saw a kestrel - 

It hung in the air for long still moments -

Its wings were a dark drawn back bow - it was like a sign from a beautiful savage god -

Around its head was a halo of silence - 

Then it was gone - we heard the waves breaking upon the invisible shore below - 

The coastguard cottages were empty now - summer was a memory - 

I thought of Llewelyn Powys, walking this way from Chideock Farm - 

The moon had shone upon his green coat - 

Hares had danced around him, sipped water from a hidden spring - 

12.00

Wednesday 28 October 2015

White Nothe 

Dorset 

The elfin Sharon Halderthay put down her shining instruments ...

The elfin Sharin Halderthay put down her shining instruments - 

A Cliff Richard song was playing on nostalgia radio - 

I'll see you in six months time Sharon said - 

I skipped out of 740 Dental grinning like a no good boyo - 

For years and years I'd been afraid of dentists - 

I remembered the smell of the rubber mask, jammed over my face by Mr Dwyer - I'd been ten years old, wiggling fearfully in the terrible chair - 

Now though, Sharon had laid to rest the white coated ghosts - 

Marylyn was right - she's the dentist for the very very nervous she'd told me - 

I crossed Christchurch Road for a cappuccino in The Crooked Book - 

The members of the Knitting Club were knitting - 

I picked up a copy of Patrick Leigh Fermor's The Traveller's Tree - 

I read about the Taino - 

John Agard had evoked their edenic community in Roll Over Atlantic - his true words had filled my heart with melancholy - 

After the performance, standing on moonlit cobbles, Mark Andrews had said Columbus was a shit - 

11.45

Monday 26 October 2015

The Crooked Book

Boscombe

Bournemouth

Driving to Montacute to see Elizabeth Knollys ...

We'd got lost on our way to Montacute - 

Rain fell from the grey sky - tawny leaves smelled of autumn - 

Narrow roads took us deeper into an unmapped landscape - 

Villages had ancient names - 

Hares ran across silent fields - stone houses were half hidden by high laurel hedges - 

Dark woods were haunted by cawing rooks - 

I phones were useless here - 

The wounded red beast was marked with zig zags of mud - 

*

By chance we arrived in Crewkerne - we had Americanos in Bilbys - Richard placed four bets in a rough pub - 

The juke box was playing songs by Hot Chocolate - 

Antique shops were full of mysterious treasures - 

When we at last found Montacute, I showed Richard the portrait of Elizabeth Knollys - 

There she was, still beautiful and watchful - 

What secrets, I wondered, were upon her lips?

15.00

Saturday 24 October 2015

Somerset

Driving to The Square Tower ...

Emrah wished us well - he'd ordered the blue acqua car which took us through the October streets - 

We were the only diners in The Bodrum -

Hopper could have painted us, sipping the bitter coffee, looking out from light into darkness - 

The scented taxi took us to the Square Tower - 

I saw a wan barrista in The Garage Lounge - 

I remembered wild moments in The American Bar - 

Gaudy boys drank shots in the The Deco - 

Vaping girls gathered outside Bar 56 - 

Richly coloured leaves fell upon the pavements - 

Inside the Square Tower, words flew around the head of the waiting poet like brilliantly feathered birds - 

18.45

Thursday 22 October 2015

Southsea 

An Edwardian ironclad moulded out of sand ...

Walking toward The Strand, I came across a man from the Balkans, asking for small coins - 

At his feet, grounded upon the pavement, was a tiny Edwardian ironclad moulded out of sand  - 

The portholes were marked by baubles - four black funnels graced the yellow decks - bright flags were strung between the masts - 

All around was the wounded city - 

Long shadows moved over the pavements -   

Not far away, a tyrant was being feted - 

Near the river, glass towers shone in the late afternoon sunlight - 

Vapour trails faded into the pure sky above Trafalgar Square -

17.00

Tuesday 20 October 2015

London

 

This morning I imagined wearing a golden torque ...

This morning I imagined wearing a golden torque - 

I gazed into a silver cauldron - I saw strange gods - one drowned a man - another, antlered, grasped a serpent -

Musicians blew carnyces - a man sized fish bore a warrior upon its back - proud horses carried long legged riders - 

Haunting music played - 

Small gold coins were as yellow as buttercups - 

White bones were still encircled with rich ornaments - 

Beautiful symbols were as yet uncoded - 

I felt the breath of a hidden world upon my face - 

12.00

Tuesday 20 October 2015

Celts, Art and Identity 

British Museum

Walking on fallen leaves ...

Walking on fallen leaves, I felt past autumns brush against my coat - 

A wind from the sea stirred the remembering trees - 

I gazed down from the cliff top - gulls followed a yellow crabber -

The steel blue sea was calm - two ravens waited for their moment - 

We approached the Castle - quilts of cloud filled the October sky - 

Inside the gallery there were posters for art house films - 

We sat for a while, outside the Castle - 

We heard the sea - 

Future autumns flew towards us - 

12.30

Monday 19 October 2015

Durlston

Purbeck

Dorset 

The long afternoon would fill the world ...

I walked with my mum and dad to church this morning - 

It's a bit fresh my dad said - 

He leaned upon his stick - my mum bowled ahead with her sholley - 

I knew the secrets of every uneven pavement - 

Three men stood waiting outside The Parchment Makers - girls took sad selfies in McDonalds - 

The church bells were ringing - 

Sunday with my parents was just beginning - 

Later there would be chops followed by New Forest Ice Cream - 

Zowie my dad would say - dinner for the field gun crew - 

We would sit in the lounge of memory -

My mum would fall asleep - The Mail on Sunday would slip out of her hands - 

The long afternoon would fill the world - 

15.00

Sunday 18 October 2015

Havant 

We be as leaves ...

This morning, I stacked birch logs in the log store for our winter fires - 

The apple tree is almost bare - the last windfalls lie on the grass amongst withered leaves - 

Bonfires scent the air - 

Dominic told me how he saw swallows flying away from the chilled land towards the southern sun - 

In a week's time I'll light our first fire - 

I'll listen to Let England Shake - 

I'll think of those words Llewelyn Powys saw on a Dartmoor gravestone - we be as leaves -

17.51

Saturday 17 October 2015

The Old School House

East Stoke 

Dorset