The festival ...

Dancers clothed in strange rags danced through the seaside town - 

Dreadlocked boys leapt high into the salty air - 

Men wore hats decorated with bright feathers - 

Women wore bells upon their shoes - 

Rain fell upon painted faces - 

A procession wound its way through the narrow street - 

Long memory was woken - 

Ancient voices were heard in the music - 

15.30

Saturday 8 September 2018

Swanage 

Dorset 

Picking blackberries ...

When I saw the blackberries, I remembered an afternoon in Staunton Road - 

We'd taken my mum for a walk around the lock up garages - 

Beyond the wall were the hidden kingdoms of allotments - 

We left my dad inside the lounge of memory - 

There were tangles of brambles, heavy with ripe blackberries - 

We picked them together - 

My mum's poor fingers delved into the thorny greenery - 

There we said - let's pick the blackberries - 

18.37

Friday 7 September 2018

Redcliffe

Dorset 

My clothes are made of shadow ...

I listen to The Lucid Dream -

The Peugeot carries me through the night - 

The dark road is at one with the song - 

Strangeness falls from the air - 

My face is no longer mine - 

My clothes are made of shadow - 

22.00

Wednesday 5 September 2018

Dorset 

Walking barefoot to Bramble Bay ...

We walked barefoot to Bramble Bay - 

I remembered the sunburnt world of the dunes -

We swam in the dazzling sea - 

11.22

Wednesday 5 May 2018

Bramble Bay

Studland 

Dorset 

Each colour would have its song ...

I'm reading Marc Chagall's My Life - 

His gentle town could be mine - 

I might walk down South Street to see him there - 

He'd paint Paul the barber -

He'd paint me, too, flying over the rooftops - 

Anne would wear a dress as blue as the summer sky - 

The river would flow in the moonlight - 

Each colour would have its song -

19.30

Tuesday 4 September 2018

The Old School House 

East Stoke

Dorset 

Thinking about the poet ...

After swimming, we ate ginger snaps - 

An Amazon crewed an ice cream boat - 

My crocked back was better - 

I sat in the Southsea Deckchair - 

I thought about the poet in his dark suit - 

His first wife - 

The bridge across the river - 

The sun was lower in the sky - 

Words were like sharp beaked birds - 

I wondered if I should wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled - 

16.30

Monday 3 September 2018

South Beach

Studland 

Dorset 

A crocked Judah Ben Hur ...

I've done my back in again - 

I scuttle across the room - 

I ease myself, tetchy and crabbed, from the pristine Peugeot - 

I'm becoming a gaffer, I think - 

Soon I'll be drinking Barleywine, like my Uncle George - 

I'll have to wear shoes that do up with velcro - 

I'll ride my mobility scooter like a crocked Judah Ben Hur - 

16.43

Sunday 2 September 2018

The Old School House

East Stoke

Dorset