Locii

Starting Out

Like many journeys there is often a back story before it begins proper and so it is with my poetry which got underweigh as a 'mature' student. As part of our English professional studies we were required to try our hand at writing a poem. I had already set down some notes about things from my childhood, I was concerned that I might forget them in years to come. Strangely these notes had a poetic tone. Once I got started I found myself writing odd pieces.
Here are a couple of my childhood memories and the piece from college.

Canal

Sun worn tow path
High shouldered we walked
My father's head between
My knees, my hands
Firm on his forehead.

One of my first memories from about the age of three.

Shop

it stands
yet time has passed it
gone with clock and watch
of my granfather's craft

it endures
in childhood's shroud
of filtered memories
half alive

Room Dream

a cuboid
cold blue and sterile white
but for tiles of mottled green
sitting impersonal in the light
harsh rigid friday dream

the dream
room tossed sat petrified
by the fumbling fettered void
and deep a warming thought cried
awaken softly solid cuboid

A Case in Point

I see 'Orange'and a 'Reddish' colour which I guess as 'Brown'. I can't be sure. Last year one of my photos was featured in a show by 'Festival of Brown'
http://festivalofbrown.blogspot.com/

http://www.flickr.com/groups/1151349@N25/discuss/72157622030836284/

http://http//www.flickr.com/groups/1151349@N25/


I can never be sure if my shots meet their criteria, evidently this one does.

Colour Blind

Colour Blindness' is a misnomer. True mono-chromatic vision is rare in humans and usually the result of trauma. What is true is that 'colour blindness' varies both in degree and in form and you are only aware of it in three circumstances. Naming, matching and discriminating. As I understand it, for me there is a low light colour shift- primary colours, no problem, seconday gets tricky, tints and hues - confuse.


Yes, I know it is pink.

The red of a rose
Is a succulent sight
Scientifically defined
By its wavelength of light

But
Is what you see
The same as for me?

My guess
Well, probably
Yes

But
If it were purple
I doubt it.

Dimpsey

On a whim
Late afternoon sun
Drew us to the sea

Cirrus laced its slow
Incandescence
Gold, orange,cherry.

We watched the sea
Flatten out
In the twilight

Then the horizon
Sharpen briefly
Under the streaks
Of night

Unseen
The naked moon
Full, soft and blushing
Rose behind the ridge
As we turned homeward
Before she regained
Her composure

German Soldier

6th June 1944 - 2004

Lonely man among men
Facing the sea
You waited, watching
Faceless the invisible enemy

Six decades on
No reunions
No gratitude
No parades
No pride
No end

Just
Night visions filled with
They that grow not old

And the job you had to do
The foe, a harvest to scythe
A shell’s length on the beach
Until bloody and blunted
They found a way to relieve
You of your duty

And the faces took on form
And the waiting was no more
And the survivor’s guilt began
And the wrench of thanksgiving

Soldiers, humans
But for geography
Brothers in Arms
Recognise the other

Like them, your deeds
Haunt the days and
The nights, the fallen

You return
To remember before
You too cease to age
And take the hand
Of an American
Who once faceless
On that beach faced
You, lone man

Sixty years break down
And sharing more than
That which held them apart
Lone men no more.

Kimmeridge

Like the anty tourists
Dull sleepy clouds withdraw
Leaving us the warm remains
Of the sun tipping towards
Tyneham Cap

We chase the last rays
Up the hill
Up knee buckling steps
To the watching Folly Tower

We watch the fire dance
Scorching off to the West
Then the hard descent
Into the slow still twilight

Sight gives way to sounds
Owls start to resonate
Distant voices over fields
Night closes moonlessly

Then
Bursting from the scrub
Overwhelming Nightingale song
Lapping on every inbound wave
Reflecting on every cliff fold
Transforming everything.

Intersection

Dolphins

All day
We watched the sea
Each mood a promise
Nothing like it could be

All day
Taunting waves
Odd ships and sea birds
With sun dried eyes.

Then –
Joyous
Headlong
They came
Sewing the sea
Stitching the waves
Into the dusk of our vigil.

19:55 hrs, 11 July 2001 Bay of Biscay, ‘Pride of Bilbao’

A journey with this memorable intersection.

Journeys

Sometimes starting with the obvious enables an overview, an opportunity to examine the scope and breadth of a topic or issue, so let’s state the obvious. Everything has a journey simply because everything has a place in time and in space and every journey can be mapped with their starts, stops, diversions and intersections. All journeys mesh into the layers and webs of other journeys to form networks. It is these layers, I suspect which give rise to the concept of ‘degrees of separation’.

Quote: George Braque

"Art is meant to upset people, science reassures them."