A love story

 Well I once loved a woman her name it was Bess

I asked her to marry me, of course she said yes

And we had many children, and we had lots of fun

And we rested by the river when our day was done

And the windmills kept turning, and sea was a froth

And the haystacks were burning upon the hill tops

And I saw in her eyes that she loved the soldier

And I saw in her stare she wished I were older

The little ones grew up and they visited the fare

And they asked all around for the crown of the Mayor

And he came and gave out bread and fine ale

And we drank it all down until the barrels went pale

Well I knew my first love was above all the rest

I knew when I married her, I had married the best

For she never looked down and was always well dressed

And I walked proud through the town for I'd married my Bess

And she saw that I loved her, she saw it so true

But did I kid glove her, the only woman I knew?

I kept her and gave her my hand that was strong

To hold onto the plough for the whole lived-day long

I gave her a house and a coat so warm

I protected the house, battened down to the storm

But one day something changed and she turned the screw

And it blew off the roof of the only home we knew 

A finer man with a house grand and a soldier sworn

Returned to claim the title to which he was first born

And he threw out the farmers and brought in new ones

He said the old timers are over, on this land they are done

And so into the streets us tennant farmers went

To beg for our scraps of work, on the land we were spent

And our families they shivered in the houses of the poor

When the rich folk all abandoned us, to us they closed their door

But we kept on looking into that gleaming, golden sun

That rose in the the morning the same for everyone

And we knew that our time was not at an end

And that soon around the corner there must come a friend

So we waited and we worked, we whistled and we chewed

And the little ones grew stronger for their parents gave them food

And we drank our cup of ale at the county fair, 

And we yelled when crops did fail, for in truth we fought despair

And then the winter struck and we were caught in storm

The taverns were stocked with ale, but their beds could not keep us warm

And so we moved camp and trudged a while through snow fall

But God in his infinite mercy sought to keep us from biting maul

On and on relentless, the night winds did wail

Calling for our souls, but in our hearts we did not fail

Even though little Tommy fell back, and his eyes began to close

We pulled him closer to us, put him back upon the road

For only in our trust in God could our love also be strong

Together through the wilderness, our hearts they were in song

Though cold did bite, and bitterness might cause our lips to freeze

We knew full right, His merciful right was in the end to be our ease

And through trial and tribulation, there comes the victory fare

That we conquered all adversity and came out with love to spare

But never rest in complacent arrogance, that you have got somewhere

For always up the mountain we must push the thinning air

Finally my family, it came to breach the gap

Between restless uncertainty and the icy trap

We found a lodge abandoned in the dead of night

And such was our condition we entered without the right

Some matches and some fuel were left and a few husks of corn

But after fire and melted ice water we felt ourselves reborn

The corn it made for a soup, with the remainder of our provisions

And we slept well that night, though wolf pack sightst appeared in our visions

In the morning we could see our humble barn was made of strong lumber

And although the wind did blow we felt revived after our long slumber

The outside was of a scene of delicate majesty

In the background were high mountains, before us a river ran free

And salmon leapt inside the stream, as our hearts slept inside our dream

And certain then were we that this place would make our family home

I set to work teaching Tommy how to fish, we sharpened long poles

And hunted the shoals of fish trapped in artificial rock pools

And Maisy and Bess they went out to look and forage for mushrooms

They brought them back and made a soup, and soon had made up our bedrooms

The lodge looked beautiful there, it really resembled a home

And we were happy without a care, and we were quite alone

Only when night came did we fear the wolves and made our fires strong

And Tommy and I soon constructed a high fence, like the walls of Babylon

I found wild wheat and so made the feat of planting it within our compound

And within a few weeks, as the spring ice leaked, their seeds took root in the ground

And happy were we when finally we did see the first green shoots begin to grow

And that was fifteen summers back and now our wheat fields are all a golden glow

Because we had followed God's ruling hand, and followed our own hearts too

Love led the way out of shadowy lands to the promised pastures where life grew

And I look back now in memory with the wisdom of passing years

At what joy we have had and given more thanks to the good times than their due

While we remembered not to dwell too long on the bad times of tears

For they can impact and detract from the true path by which to steer

So keep up your spirits young man for the fires of heaven are raging

And they are calling you to follow the plan of God's war which he is waging

Against all evil, against all sin, against anything but the virtue to win

And fight for the right to meet the king, and live once again in his kingdom

Timeways

 If she could have waited, if she could have stopped

And seen what she was walking into

But that plate glass window

Of the future

Hit her square in the nose

She could see through it

But she could not touch the otherside

It was a bar to her outside world

And memory works like that

Memory of the event

Of the frame, the piece of time we call now

We say instant

But what is our concept of time  - but based on memory

And what is memory but an image, a sound or a smell

A taste, but what does it evoke

But a time,

So is time the conscious experience of the thing

Or the thing itself in space

And is time the bundle of emotions

Felt at her embrace

Or the unachievable other, the perfection in its place

Our idealized psychological conception

Of all the unrequited desires that we trace

Or our own projection of ourselves

Onto that other person's face

So what is time?

Why can the reality of now not be returned

Through some alchemy of science and art

To that sacred past

That hallowed space in youth

But it never can because in truth

Everything we have we lose

And yet light can travel at such a pace

That time seems not to pass through grace

And in this quantum intuition

Is where God and love can trace

And cross paths to weave a whirl wind

That connects beings across this great divide

So that feelings cannot hide

And all the martyrs who have died

Are reborn

And all the loves that ever danced at dawn

Are sworn again, not in vain

Nor in anguish or the pain of fear of loss

But to bear the cross

Of knowledge of this truth

As lightly as they bear the touch of rain

Upon their shoulders, on their roof

And in the soldier's heart

In the solders of the circuits of his brain

The electrons rearrange

And he sees her as if he always knew her

And always would in this way 

Once upon a time machine

 Once upon a time machine, I went walking 

In the bar

The bar broke bent

And shape-shifted

And time was called done

And after hours I slipped forth into the dead of night

The streets they were a dirty, empty of all the time of light

I asked the bobby on the beat could he spare the time

He looked at me from his high watch

Said I can spare you none

I asked the guard did he try hard to kill the time he had

But he was bereft for the time left

Had for him turned out bad

Next I walked along the road and met a friendly horse

He neighed and said of course I can because time is what I'm owed

I'm too long in the tooth and I'm in the knackers yard

If you are wise oh son me lad, you'll mind your time and guard

I moved on down with a whistle

Until I heard its answer spoke in vain

For I had come to the station

And at the platform stood a train

What time have you? I said aloud, the driver said quarter to eight

But I was speaking to the train said I, the driver said then you'll have to wait

This train has never been on time, this train was always late

Whether you asked it a question, whether you showed to it love or hate

The train will always arrive, just when it chooses to

And no man's watch can determine when it stops, not me, nor him or you

So with this explanation I looked up into the sky

And saw there bright circling birds above

And diamonds sparkling high

How long, how long must I wait

Before time shows me her hand

I'll hold it now said time to me

And with that time dropped her sand

And the hours seemed to pass in the glass

As I did tumble and fall

And night and day exchanged themselves

Like books upon their shelves

First I read the beginning lines

And then I read the end,

And all that I could see was time out of mind

And I knew time was my friend

So eventually the time did stop

The sand it ceased to fall

And I was stuck like a cuckoo clock

Poised, frozen upon a wall

I knew if I should step out now

My shadow would not follow

But what had I to lose,

But the lost time blues

So I did grit my teeth and swallow

The time is now said a voice

This what you must master

And know that in each time you have a choice

You may choose order or disaster

But none who know the outcome

Would have it any other way

For unless you are Cassandra

Then the future must seem a haze

Life as art

 My prediction is we will all stop wanting

To be artists, because unless you are a millionaire

There

Really is no point in even pretending

You stand a chance

Against the closeness of killing time

That comes after you like baying dogs

And the train tracks of certain logic

Lead you on

And on in inevitable perfection

If you could only stay on the tracks

But there is some self destruction that leads you off

Whether the road is cracked

Or that you have hit the road

With your hammar of art

To break up perfection

Into shattered pieces of life

You try to put back together

In your own collage of life

Then walk over these "Tombstones of damage"

That lead you onto the next precipice

And they say life is art

And Art is Life

And "the moving hand writes"

But we know not what it writes

And who holds the brush

And who paints the light

Or tells the birds to sing

Or ever wondered about anything

Bloglog 2

 14th November

Today I woke up feeling more refreshed and listened to radio 4. There was a nature documentary on Roseate Tern on Coquet island - someone who was the warden there speaking about being humbled by the force and power of the sea. It made me look up the island and the RSPB and then I saw an advert for a job on Shapwick Heath near where I come from and have lived most of my life. So I applied this morning. It was as a car park attendant, but you know actually I think that it would really suit me, I love being outside, I like meeting people and I think that nature reserve is fantastic. It did used to worry me being a local there and seeing how many cars parked up there and along the road side, but since the car park that has significantly solved the problem. There will likely be increased traffic flow along that road over Christmas, if there is not another lock down, but I also expect that people will still want to get out.

I think overall it has to be good that people visit these reserves, because we need to protect the environment, but also stop peat digging due to the carbon loss. Ironically if there had been no excavation there would be no wetland reserve probably. Also ironically there must be quite a lot of carbon emitted by all the people driving there cars to go and visit the reserves. Perhaps it would be more fuel efficient to organize a bus or coach there, but that is probably too much investment and planning. There also used to be a train track running down there, so could there not be again a network of more fuel efficient or electric trains that run on solar power or the like that ferries people along the track and saves all the cars?

Anyway, perhaps all this is pie in the sky, or pipe dream thinking since I am currently in an attic room in Budapest.

Little Hawk

 Little hawk, little hawk, little hawk

Flying between the trees

Hovering while I walk

But which one of us is more free

Am I your shadow

Or are you mine?

Little hawk, little hawk, little hawk

Through the rain and shine

Cows in stampede

Farmers call their yell

Cattle clang and ring bells

Down the slope of green

They come pell-mell

But you little hawk, just swoop up

Into the trees and watch

So content with your skill and your speed

You can stay balanced on the edge of the cup

While it spills the whole river out

And your eyes will scan for a trace of what's strange, 

You are a hunter little hawk, out on the range

The slightest movement in a field of grass

Waiting for the shrew or the dormouse to pass

And then down like a dagger, like a streak of pain

Down with your claws to strike your game

And that is the life of the hunting hawk

All ways at work, not a wing beat in vain

Making your way across the field where I walk

Little hawk, little hawk, little hawk in the rain

Roof tops

 You know that I can't shoot you down

I can't pull you down today

Yet all my life you have been hanging around

Like cloud on a rainy day

So what is it that you want from me?

To confront me?

Or make me pay?

Because I was not who you wanted me to be

Well I can't be that person anyway

So can't you leave your sky to me

You know it is my sky too

Why do you want to try to frighten me

Into trying to be somebody new

Now I look out from the roof tops

Across a city scape

And All I see are the places people stop

When from their lives they try to escape

You can reach your roots

In the garden

But only upward can you be closer to God

So hold on tight 

To the concrete thoughts that harden

And go out, follow where the angels trod