The Book of Remembrance ...

We spent a few moments inside the church - they were not yet ready for us at Willow Lodge - 

We sat under bright windows - Anne went outside, to ring Jane on her mobile - 

I read a page from a Book of Remembrance - 

I murmured the names of the dead young men - 

By one name were the words P.O.W Japanese Hands and the date 28 7 43 -

I closed my eyes - I heard pitiless voices - the smell of the jungle filled the nave -

16.00

Monday 18 May 2015

St John's 

Southbourne

Hampshire 

The Roman road, memory like smoke ...

There - this is the Roman road said Penny -  

I could smell May blossom - we'd walked through deep woods - two girls, sitting high on deep chested horses, had passed us on the bridleway - a deer had gazed at me with a strange gentleness - 

The straight track ran before us between banks of cow parsley - trees cast dancing shade - 

Once Eagles had been carried here - 

The wind blew long memory against my face like smoke - 

13.00

Wednesday 20 2015

Corfe Millen

Dorset

Snarfing pork pies ...

Between care homes, we had lunch in The Ship Inn - 

It was high tide - choppy water lapped salt rimed stone - rain clouds filled the sky - 

A gang of brawny oldsters joshed each other - 

A silverback wearing magnificent brogues pointed to his chum -

We're the only two under seventy seven he roared - 

Anne and I snarfed pork pies like LA cops in a steamy patrol car - 

Soon we would walk around another day room, lined with chairs - 

I would try to avoid the gazes of watery vacant eyes - 

14.00

Monday 18 May 2015

The Ship Inn

Langstone

Hampshire 

 

Sunday evening in The King's Arms ...

Richard and I sipped our tasters - 

I heard a sad jukebox - 

The young Irishman recommended Lancaster Bomber or Proper Job - 

We chose Proper Job - 

We pushed our way through ghosts to a roughly hewn settle - 

We lifted our straight glasses like half pay captains - 

Sunday evening lay its kindly cloak upon the town - 

21.15

Sunday 18 May 2015

The King's Arms

Wareham

Purbeck

We felt our years, like wings upon our backs ...

Richard and I visited the small cemetery at Moreton this afternoon - 

We'd come to see the grave of T E  Lawrence - 

Later, we would cross the river, to follow a straight track through the pines - 

Gazing at the white stone set over illustrious dust, we felt our years like wings upon our backs - 

They would carry us away, far from our precious hearths - 

15.00

Sunday 17 May 2015

Moreton

Dorset

Polar Wood ...

We parked the red Peugeot in the shade of tall trees - 

Richard spoke of walking the Camino de Santiago - I imagined him standing before the soaring Cathedral, a white shell fastened to his coat - 

We walked up to Polar Wood - fields of rape were yellow sails under a bright blue sky - nettles stung my bare ankles - 

The wood was enclosed by a lichened drystone wall - old trees were in new leaf - 

I could glimpse the sea - a yacht was sailing past St Adhelm's Head - 

We fell silent once we were inside the wood - 

We followed a winding path through wild garlic flowers and bluebells -

A red butterfly opened its dream dusted wings - 

An unseen bird sang with its sweet voice - 

16.00 

Saturday 16 May 2016

Polar Wood 

Kingston

Purbeck

The glider ...

I lay on the bright grass with Anne, reading Blood's a Rover - 

Elroy's short sentences were like pops of Old Crow -

The Count had fingernails like claws - 

I looked upwards, distracted by sweet birdsong - 

A glider was moving across the sky - I followed its silent circling flight - 

I felt the warmth of the sun upon my face - 

Too soon I lost sight of the slender visitant from the heavens - 

Ghostlike wings carried it into remote blueness - 

A kestrel waited on top of the church tower - 

Clumsy bees lolloped just above galaxies of daisies - 

16.00

Wednesday 13 May 2015

The garden 

The Old School House

East Stoke 

Dorset