Gossip

I brought the coffee for him today. It told me something that he let me. Neither of us mentioned it though. We talked business. Gossip of course came into it. There was as always so much I didn’t know. The stories always start with someone I’m sure I don’t know but through connections it turns out I can place them exactly. Someone I went to school with years ago or some shop owners aunt. The bar is doing well he told me and I laughed saying that I knew. I spend my every hour there or so it feels. We have been doing better than the competition in town. I know why but I keep the knowledge to myself, well to the pair of us. We don’t need to say it out loud to each other.

                Town has changed big time since I grew up here. The houses that sit to the east and the west of the High Street are islands of the old ways now. Red bricked squares of a time that went before this one. Those who can remember the carnivals live here, those who don’t have central heating live here, those whose parents lie in the cemetery live here. A small walk from the shops in the centre, convenience stores for groceries, delicatessen for the bread that used to be delivered by the bakers van, butcher but no candlestick maker anymore. The old shoe shop’s crest left to melt into legend but some of us still remember. In amongst the necessaries and the public houses sit the new galleries, glam junk shops and gift places.

                We haven’t changed. The carpet probably does need changing but you can’t get that old style anywhere anymore. The prices rise yearly alongside the budget but no more than 5p. There is no red wall, no magnolia paint and wine is less than three quid. One bar has a TV the other does not. That’s our secret.

The gossip was old today. It went back to the times long before me. A secret baby and a long time of someone pretending to be an aunt to their own daughter. No one knows still. I thought as ever that I didn’t know who it was but of course I did. A woman he has always told me was beautiful when they were growing up. Who has always kissed him gently since the illness. We didn’t make the connection together but I knew that for once this wasn’t gossip so much as confession. I should have known that this would be the last time. 

Wave (II)

We can all understand it now like we couldn’t before,

That height is not the issue just as always force.  

Screaming, plunging invading army,

From the sea, from the sea.  

Undefended north at the mercy,

Of the never again tide.  

The one that provides the nightmare and the warning,

That strikes recklessly where it can kill the most.

I have seen not once but twice the fear,

That echoes in the eyes of those who survive.

That senseless understanding cannot be ordered,

Cannot be swept away and cannot be told.

Unable to be free of the seas hold,

Even in rebuilt homes and cleaned up streets.  

But that is a long way off, a dream, a myth.  

First there comes safety, then the physical comfort,

Of blankets, food, water, baths and kind thought,

From strangers alien and unable to know,

That this ocean will never recede,

 But always dance,

Just below the eyeline waiting for it’s next chance. 

A Thai Night

Something about being away again made me come back to this-I started it in Thailand and the picture only became more vivid to me after I left.

The heat abates suddenly and becomes a memory shared with the night.

I tell it about you too so our memory can stir into one.

It feels like it holds onto you for me like a net in the water.

I like it but it only makes it harder.

This is mine to have but what is it if I cannot share it with you?

Every thought and especially the pictures echo:

A hollow photograph of someone else’s choosing.

I never could be on my own.

What I did not know before I saw this blue sky,

Was that whoever else holds me dear,

There is always a bit of me left behind to watch with you.

Making crowds and solitude blur together.

The Missing Tree

The first little taster of the book to be published on Amazon for Kindle.

The trees stretched on to an unseen horizon; to look too far ahead made your vision wobble broken as it was by so many tall, thin pillars of wood. There were fields and fields of them split into age groups; saplings separated by a thin path way from their mature future selves. This was our playground, our place of freedom, privacy, exploration and worship. It took on any purpose we could need; 40:40, catch, hide and seek, moon landings, den building that invented settlements for goodies and badies, cowboys, witches, fairies, mummies and daddies, doctors and patients and show jumping extravaganzas. There were about seven of us who met in summer evenings and weekends in any season to create our own world for a few hours. We were on strict orders of time keeping and bedtimes but I do not remember there being any fear over our playing outside, away from home. I would think twice about allowing a child out into the empty world now but maybe I am changed by what happened. We all were.

With Courage Nothing Is Impossible

I wrote this for Robbie after staying near St Davids Life Boat station. The title line is inspired by the inscription on a memorial sculpture at the RNLI HQ in Poole. 

With courage nothing is impossible,

With bloodied eye to see,

On shaking sunset inflatable,

Yellow boots to steady legs,

Chasing at briny dreams.

With courage nothing is impossible,

Trespassed on this crashing scene,

A giant’s clutch indestructible,

Gloved hands reach with certain touch,

To take back time’s last breath. 

Love Past Tense

A man perches on a half finished roof top,

On the wooden rail that holds the tarp down,

His feet up on the edge of board that marks the wall,

Smoking a cigarette and texting his girlfriend.

He should call her his ex really.

But he can’t get used to that term yet.

He stops himself from adding an I love you,

Pausing to look out across his vantage point.

To the houses that are already built,

Orange red brick from decades ago,

Square and sturdy with walls that are thick.

He presses send quick and stubs out the cigarette.

The forklift has delivered batches of roof tiles

Which he begins to move from one end

Of the scaffolding to another to make room

For more. More of the same identical humped slats.

A mate calls up a quip from the ground and he

Finds himself smiling in spite of knowing

That soon she will be round collecting her bits.

Keys on the table,  gone before he gets home.

A pause while the forklift brings another load.

He checks his phone leaning up against that roof.

Yes she says. This afternoon will be fine.

He tries to ignore that bit at the end; love past tense.

Beech Tree in February

I look through the year long leaf,

This time auburn brown and will be

Until the spring comes and new ones

Appear in a silky green

That isn’t pretend but should be

For all it’s perfect crispness.

I want just this once to see what

It looks like from above

To see what I look like when I’m not down here.

It’s easy to climb all the way to the top.

I’ve seen Dad do it before.

He used a ladder but I don’t need to.

You see I’m not taking anything away

Like he was. I’m only going up to see

What I’m missing by being me.

I swing myself up first like my brother always told me.

Get some momentum, not too much and then

Your footing comes next and suddenly you’ve begun.

It only gets easier from then on in as you pull your feet

Up after your body and find footing to reach on from.

It doesn’t take long, you’d be surprised

Maybe a minute and a bit but less than two.

Here I am at the top and I can see

Everything.

I can see you easily and out past to the other trees.

The ones that aren’t captured but are free to grow

Together on the ridge above the sheep field.

They look dirty somehow and not as pretty.

They don’t have coverings of their own yet

But are half drowned in parasitic leaves of ivy.

The houses look small and the people inconsequential

Just as you are I suppose.

I am unsure of how long it will take to get down

Of how long until you will peep and peer

Through the window or call out the door.

I don’t want to be discovered here.

Just as you don’t want me to understand.

But I know it will not be the same to know

What is up here. To pretend like before.

 I will keep it to myself this new revelation.

Just as the hawk keeps private it’s elation.

Happy not to share the airborne secrets

With any more than is strictly necessary.

Because now it has gone on too long for me

To admit that you didn’t know anything at all.