in Gower dunes
on a stepping stile
of wind-blown wood
either / side
this wire fence
of Christmas cake
with flying sand particles
on our Gortex backs
from last year
to this year
or so it seemed
avoiding the early morning alarm call
we cram ourselves into each other’s warmth
beneath the blankets and unspoken words
hovering birdlike in thought in dewy air
so, shall I sing this morning in
or wait another while?
shall I steal your dreaming
or make you smile?
but I know not what leaps through your head
what early morning hopes and fears tease you
my own are whispered hints in search of life
words that will be lost far quicker than they come
so, shall I fly this feathered nest
or further line it with my guile?
shall I remain within your rest
or flee upon the raven’s mile?
if I had a way to record each word and song
every raindrop, blood drop, tear drop fall
would I compare them or leave them hanging
this one enduring moment won’t last forever
so, shall I sow
or will I steal?
shall I go
or shall I heal?
what shall I do?
oh what shall I do?
every second counting
minute by minute
grains of sand falling
hour by hour
time slowly passing
day by day
love and hate making
it’s hard understanding
week by week
the seasons changing
month by month
clocks are ticking
our elders dying
year by year
the grass in the top meadow was cut last night
a warm breeze today will blow dry it into hay
this is the time for renewal and taking stock of our lives
for winter will soon be upon us…
(I took this photo this morning about 8.30 and messed around with it using my editing software. I like the way it now looks as if it’s from a bygone age. All that’s needed are a few people in period costume holding pitch forks next to a donkey and cart. Sometimes we find old photos that have no date, names or explanation. They are glimpsed reminders from the depths of our anonymous past. Mysterious and magical moments to celebrate)
we need to come a little closer
a little closer even still
understand what we are saying
the words the meanings
we need to talk a little softer
whispers rather than shouts
understand our brothers and sisters
their cultures beliefs
what makes them laugh out loud.
we need some more compassion
holding hands not dropping bombs
understand the fallout damage
in our minds our hearts
our children’s wounds.
we need a new revolution
in a world that sets us free
understand our future evolution
peace love and unity
a lasting hope for you and me.
(original artist unknown. From a display on Worthing pier May 2016, West Sussex, UK. Photograph by Colin Hill. I seem to have lost my thread of connections between posts and poems and lost myself in peace poetry. I guess the world needs some more of that right now. Where are all those 60’s poets when you need them most? Make love not war! Bread not bombs! Give peace a chance!)