Another Poem

First Date

We shared a bench for lunchtime
Miss Amanda Trott and I
she had a pot of salad,
And I had Grosvenor pie
I really liked her company
but couldn't help wonder why
She'd asked if she might share a bench
with me.

The sun was very pleasant
neither too hot, nor too cool
and childrens voices cracked the air
down by the paddling pool
Amanda chatted easily so
I didn't feel a fool,
I just answered all her questions and
we smiled

I could feel the threads between us
building layers like a rope
Her easy manner helped me,
made me feel that I could cope
and although I wasn't confident
It really gave me hope.
that we might do the same again
tomorrow

My watch relayed the message
it was time for us to part
but I really felt attachment
by these strings from heart to heart
so I blurted out the question
"Do you think that we could start
to see each other when we aren't
here working?"

She looked at me quite kindly
and then she gave a wink
and she said "I'm doing nothing
Sunday lunch-time - do you think
that if I gave you my phone number,
you could take me for a drink?"
and I just sat there with my eyes and mouth
wide open.

Well, we couldn't leave the park through
separate gates now, that was clear
although that was the way we entered
when we first came here
so she took my arm,(the rope intact)
and I grinned from ear to ear,
and we walked back to work again
Together.

Butterfly Mind

I've grown so tired of busy-ness
all my life to work and slave
to have, to make, to grow, to own
is how I was taught to behave

But was I meant to be tied down?
My mind is as a butterfly
from this to that, uncharted course
in nectar search, no question why

I find a flower, I dip my tongue
to find sweet sustenance within
I taste new flavours, fill myself
with pleasures new, just mine to win

I seek the sun, I search for warmth
I rest and spread my wings to dry
then sensing breeze, I lift again
as others watch me flutter by

I was a caterpillar once
and all I did was eat and sleep,
Now memories of that trying time
would, if I cared, just make me weep.

I know my days are numbered now
and winter soon will vanquish me
but 'til it does, it's my intent
to share my beauty, and just be!

January 11th 2012

I can't believe it's January
the sun has shone all day
the thrush is singing in the Ash
there's not a hint of grey
and though the day is still so short
it makes me want to say
that Spring is only just around the corner.

The catkins hang like lambs' tails
in the nutbush by the hedge
The moss is looking brighter
where it grows upon the ledge
and though I know there's plenty time
for Nature's snowy dredge,
it feels like spring is just around the corner.

Not three weeks yet since solstice
yet it feels we're halfway there
the garden has an air to it
that doesn't have a care.
Let fill-dyke February come try her,
but still she'd best beware
even though it feels like Spring is round the corner.

A poem about my poetry.

Sometimes I like to write in verse
sometimes I favour prose
I’ve no idea why which I choose
it’s random, I suppose
but it seems the poems start themselves,
but do they? Heaven knows.
It matters not, as long as both
the word and feeling flows.

Occasionally
my Muse will take the day off
and I’m completely bereft of worth.
No words to lay,
no rhyme to play,
I have to wait another day
before the things I want to say
will all come tumbling forth.

Oftimes, I’m thinking,
Where is this poem
going?
Sometimes I write
without an end
in view.
but rarely
am I left with
no conclusion...........

except
this time.

Art Exists

I woke up in the middle of the night with this poem forming in my mind, so got up and let it happen. I have no idea what prompted it - maybe a dream.


Art exists
as in that thinnest ribbon
between the sand
and the sea;
that point of constant flux
twixt ebb and flow,
foam laced
or rivulet,
catch as can catch,
one second here
the next begone.
Too often the pundit
feels need to explain
but alas
has already missed
the moment
for the want of
his own existence.
Art requires nothing of you
other than the
need to be
that you might see
and enjoy,
that you might feel
and be changed by it.
Absorb it!
Love it or hate it!
But feel it!
Art Exists!

My favourite things

I'm not a very materialistic person. Apart from my computer, and my music and instruments, there are very few material things in my life that I value, and most of them are small, relatively valueless items.
Here are some of them.

This is a beautiful rosewood pot that was given to me 40 years ago by my good friend Russ, who sadly is no longer with us. The dragon carving is in deep relief, and is very beautiful.
Russ was Gay with a capital G, and outrageously camp at times, and I never look at this pot without smiling.  Thanks Russel - thinking of you.

This little oddity is something I've had for about 20 years. It's a travelling-clock case, without its clock ,and I love it. It is leather, and the detailing on it is beautiful .
and talking about detail:-

 These nail scissors once belonged to my grandfather Alec. He wasn't a man I knew very well, as he worked nights when I was a child, so he was always asleep during the day when we visited. He was a man small in stature, but deep in voice, and when he spoke it sounded like dark chocolate would sound if it could speak.
The scissors are Victorian, beautifully fine, of the best steel, and I still use them. They are far better than any modern ones I've used.  They seem to have just the right angle on the blades to cut my hard nails without sliding, which is what happens with newer types of scissors. I have great admiration for Victorian craftsmen, who it seemed reached the very pinnacle in design for so many ordinary things. There is nothing about these scissors that you could fault, and there is not a scrap of material wasted.

This next item is my favourite piece of original artwork.

 I bought it from the artist Clare Crouchman  at a craft fair nearly 10 years ago. It is a ceramic tile and is very tactile. I cannot resist touching it, and the colours and lines are just stunning to my eyes. Love it to bits. An inspirational piece of art. Thank you Clare.

 Now a piece of my own work.

I made this mobile about 35 years ago, in an idle moment while working at the telephone exchange. It is made of springy tinned copper wire, and the slightest breath will allow it to move. It's nothing special, I know, but it has been with me ever since I made it, and I really love to watch it moving.

This last item is my piece de resistance - my real treasure.
It looks like a lump of steel, fit for no purpose, but it ain't.
It is my rapping iron, or basketmaker's hammer, used to beat down the weave on baskets as they are made.
It's made of wrought Iron, which is softer than steel, and it fits in my hand perfectly. It is around 100 years old, and has been used by many basketmakers. The polish on it has just been put there by the skin of the hands of the craftsmen who have used it throughout that time. No modern rapping iron comes anywhere near this in simple beauty and practicality.
I believe it may have had an iron ring at its narrow end. This was called a commander, and was used for straightening sticks.
I'm really proud to own this tool, and I hope those that follow me are too.

If I could carry these pieces with me wherever I lived, I would want for nothing.

Wonder what I'll get for Christmas ?  ;0)

In a nutshell

It was a tedious journey
fraught with complications
several changes
and long stops.
I took my seat
on the various trains
and worried all the way
that I was on
the wrong train
at the wrong time.
I even worried
that I was on the right train
at the wrong time
I studied the time tables
of where I had been
and where I was going
trying to make
everything
tie up.
I met new people
on every train
and worried about
their journeys
for them too.
By the time I arrived
I was a nervous wreck
and I realised
I'd forgotten
to look
out of
the
window.

You know how it is when a person becomes totally engrossed in what they are doing, to the exclusion of all else?
I've seen it time and time again, but I'm afraid I wasn't built that way. I've got an in-built Lazy gene, which tends to take over unless it's really, really important to get something done, and then I'll do it, but grudgingly. But there can be advantages to not piling in and doing stuff. Sometimes, the stuff you did wasn't worth doing, and could have been avoided, saving you a whole lot of anguish ;0)

Good job were aren't all the same isn't it?

Anyway, this poem sort of spilled out of me.

Driven

What is it that drives you?
What is it makes you tick?
That makes you single minded,
that gives you such a kick?
When you set yourself a project,
how do you set your mind
to shut out every other thing
and leave this world behind?
You forget about your breakfast
your mug of tea not drunk
and if you're asked a question
you retreat into a funk
where do you get this vision
that this thing must be done
before you will allow yourself
to go and have some fun?
I'd really like to understand
what goes on in your brain
but it's really quite unstoppable
and not unlike a train
whose course is fixed and charted
and cannot be undone
until it reaches journey's end
with nowhere else to run
I'd like to have just some of this,
this feeling that you get
the desire to see things progress
to see the deadlines met.
but I'm not sure I could cope wth it
I couldn't drive this rig
but that's OK 'cause I'm a poet
and I don't give a fig.

I do really but it's horses for courses ennit?
Carry on the good work

Twig

Norfolk & Norwich

 
These days its very fashionable to slate every aspect of the National Health Service in Britain, and the media are often joyful in their reporting of its failures.
I just thought I might redress the balance a little.

Today, I went to the Norfolk & Norwich hospital to have an inguinal hernia repaired. I was already very pleased that the hospital were agreeable to my deferring the operation until my work load would allow it, so I was able to continue working through the busy Summer period.
The whole experience was incredibly smooth, and nothing about it was unpleasant.
I had to be at the hospital before 7am, as I was first on the surgeons list. There were 90 other day surgery cases that day so, the staff were very busy, but at no time did I feel neglected.
From the first moment of checking in, to the moment I checked out, I was treated with the utmost respect and care.
The job was done quickly, but efficiently, as far as I know (I was under general anaesthetic) and I woke an hour later in the recovery room. When the nurse was assured that I was OK and compos mentis, I was wheeled through into the low-dependency ward, where I was allowed to catch up on a bit of sleep.
I felt ready to come home at 11 o/c, but the staff said they didn't think so yet. I was fed a decent lunch, which was far better than I expected - both hot and tasty.
By the middle of the afternoon, I was considered well enough to leave, and given all the aftercare advice that I needed.Having been home 5 hours now, I am really comfortable, and have nothing but praise for the staff of the Norfolk and Norwich.

Thank you all.