The pretentious prattlings of a piss poor poet
Eagles cry, eagles haunt
Above moorland
Of grouse
And heather
And life
Myriad sheep trod paths
Lead me deeper
Into this delightful, deceptive freedom
On the edge
Of my existence
Fresh, cold, sharp winds
Buffet me
And roar
Deep gullies
In my soul
Cutting deep
They wound
And cleanse
And drive cobwebs
Long grown
From my being
And once again
I am me
And I am free
18/09/1998
Leave a CommentThere where the grey mountain
Holds its head against the sky
There lies my heart in joy
There where the wanton sea
Its waves against the rocks does break
There lies my heart in joy
There where the green Earth
Its face in the Sun does bare
There lies my heart in joy
There where the salt laden air
Assaults my breath
There lies my heart in joy
There where the city lights
In the sky like stars does shine
There lies my heart in joy
27/01/1988
Leave a CommentThrough the chill mist comes the honk of lonely goose
From an island over in the stream
Somewhere out of view
In the grey light of early day
In the field cattle stand
Lowing, guiding the days bright entrance
Chewing cud and grass
Viewing world with watchful eye
From nowhere the wheezing whoosh of wings
Tells us of swans arising
On tall columns of milk frothed air
Ahead on dewy bank
A heron statued stands
A grey sentry to our approach
Along path
Sided sometimes by sloes
In their season
Distant comes the whispering
Watery sound of weir
And mill and stream
And the church bell tolling
This hour of dawn
At the gate in the corner we turn
And homeward head
To a world more frantic
Than this timeless place
22/04/1998
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