a recluse but I really
fancy being one!
Seaside
Like an artist with a paint brush
'cross a canvas,
Paddle boarders stand proud
like cathedral spires across a city-scape.
Children splash.
Groups head across the beach staking claims on sections,
set up camp they build kingdoms with invisible walls.
Each family grouping keeps to themselves,
marking out their territory,
they unpack.
BBQ's, chairs, fishing rods and beach tents.
From coolboxes they produce banquets and set a match to the BBQ.
Rummaging in the coolbox for
Sausages; Burgers; Chicken,
the bag of brown finger rolls won't open.
Man cooks.
Like the rain on a stormy day when you couldn't find your overcoat,
the smell of freshly cooked food soaks into every last pour of you.
Chairs circled round the developing feasts,
hungry people expectantly waiting for food,
plates clasped in hand.
they eat!
When did a trip to the sea become so involved?
When did we decide we must take everything with us?
And what's wrong with a sandwich?
Perhaps I'm getting old!
Beirut - Hope
"We don't just want hope.
We don't want to have to believe in hope,
hope there will be better times to come,
hope for better days ahead.
Nor do we want to just dream of hope,
there in our minds as we sleep,
but not in our reality,
not there at our waking.
We need to see hope!
We need to taste it,
drink it,
see it light our nights and power our days.
We need to see it in our bank balances,
on the shelves at the stores,
and in the eyes of our children.
We need a tangible hope for;
without hope,
we have nothing...
we have absolutely nothing"
Mr Bit
Mr Bale the Thatcher.
Mr Green the grocer.
Mr Cooper the barrel maker.
Mr Curry the chef.
Mr Flint the dry stone waller.
Mr Bacon the butcher.
Mr Brush the hairdresser.
Mr Smith the blacksmith.
Mr Ring the jeweler.
Mr Driver the delivery man.
Mr Jack the mechanic.
Mr Fish the skipper.
Mr Pipe the plumber.
Mr Wood the carpenter.
Mr Glass the glazer.
Mr Bone the undertaker...
Mr Bit the terrible window cleaner.
Cemetery
As a kid,
I thought a cemetery a creepy place.
All those bodies...
DEAD!
The ashes of thousands of; DEAD people - creepy!
I mean,
as a kid you're afraid of that 'thing' that might be under your bed,
or that 'thing' that might be hiding in your wardrobe,
Cemeteries?
Anyway,
why would anybody want to buy a house next door to a cemetery?
I mean; all that going on next door to your house!
Isn't life creepy enough?
So cemeteries...
NO!
Now that I am older I find them fascinating places,
peaceful places,
almost comforting.
They sort of lend credence to the story of an afterlife,
maybe?
They pose many questions; like
"Who were these people?",
"What did these people do?" and,
"How come they ended up in here?".
Questions flash through my head.
"Who are the people who come to tend to some graves?"
but more to the point,
"Who are the people who don't come to tend other graves...
and why don't they come?!"
Cemeteries are now comforting places to me.
There's nothing I like more than an early morning visit to a cemetery,
quiet and peaceful.
With a low morning sun,
maybe some mist,
I like to walk around,
chatting to the people lying there,
so they're not being totally forgotten,
and of course this eases me into my own; inevitable demise.
Anyway; if I walk 'round and chat to these people...
maybe someone will come round a chat to me!
Maybe!
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