All the wide horizon

 All the wide horizon 

From early glimpsed stealing across one pane 

thirty minutes before scheduled sunrise 

the precursor, first thick slick 

expert flick of the knife

burnt orange trailing its neighbours, crimson and gold 

the bold and abstract, go with the flow of the show

this morning 

attests to an early-risen artist and all the wide horizon for a canvas 

a sky to be filled 

glide of the knife from east to west 

stripe after stripe 

hot shades across the duck egg blue. 

Now all my window’s filled, a thirty minute show 

as slow, slow, the  sun in splendour rises-  

up! 

14th November 2023 Hounoux 

To fill a room with poetry

To fill a room with poetry 

 It was a Rattlebag a rag-tag a mish-mash 

hotch-potch kind of happening 

a patchwork quilt/  a collage / piece of theatre extemporised 

as we came together each with our offering

quite randomly  a feast. 

We mixed in memories and laughter, dark and light 

plus all shades spectrum in between 

from Keat’s Autumn fruitfulness to Silver magic moon 

my childhood’s rich round Hampshire tones 

John’s poignant Irish isle 

Baudelaire and Lafontaine

those exasperated wives, long-suffering 

some smut among the beauty, leavening 

and what serendipity! Kathryn’s wondrous Welsh

How blessed we are you’d have to say 

when days are dark and all the news unbearable 

to find such friends 

to fill a room with poetry, ancient and modern 

some beautifully home grown; a grandson in his grief. 

So all the wide world encompassed 

unlooked for loveliness 

our golden treasury 

9th November 2023 Hounoux for Léran friends 

August still here

 August still here 

The Marin today, damp and salt from the sea 

swings the bird-feeders’ empty cages 

tosses the conifer boughs 

dip and dive, swish and sough 

making mischief and movement- a dance 

flutter and flap with twirls and swirls

so much onomatopoeia 

such delight for the eye and ear. 

Trailing salt from the sea and the heat of the hard-baked land 

the Marin holds sway today

cloudless blue 

Autumn long overdue 

August still here in October. 

14th October 2023 Hounoux 

That night we dimmed the lights

 That night we dimmed the lights 

That night we dimmed the lights

and watched by the east window 

the glow on the horizon, low at first. 

In brilliant gold spectacular she rose 

gilding the chiffon clouds. 

We barely spoke as August’s first full moon 

floated upwards. 

Later from my bed I saw her pause 

in the angle of the pane, framed 

silver now, unclouded 

Queen of that gorgeous night. 

6th August 2023 Hounoux 

Two friends we have

 Two friends we have 

Two friends we have, both dear, beloved 

who left us suddenly this spring 

by saddest chance their few last days, same hospital

where Devon glowed 

the lanes and fields and woods bright green 

and wildflowers in profusion 

then burials for both in poignant  beauty. 

Their two airs 

the strong songs they sang

now ended

whilst we for a while sing on 

singly and together 

their memory, our grief, now part of the pattern

our whole. 

Two friends we have, beloved 

echoing, interwoven still 

and so we know 

in no way lost, not gone. 

31st July 2023 I.M Sue Pascoe, Neil Jameson

 

Song of the morning

Song of the morning 

 In summer here, the easy-rhyming June

and soon the midpoint central symmetry, 

the silence sings 

orchestra and chorus hold the tune 

song of the morning 

before the sun’s too high and pitiless

somewhere  still in chalk a hint of moon 

waxing. 

The white sky’s still and stunned, the pallid 

landscape, lovely,  languishes. 

19th June 2023, Hounoux 

Too busy to stay

Too busy to stay

Not much past ten and already that sun’s high and hot 

but in one blessed corner honeysuckle’s dense

It’s overwhelmed the fence 

and small shade is thrown. 

Just enough for a chair and two cups, the coffee pot

and so I sit with the scent and the breath of air

as the black bees dance.

Then here’s a hummingbird hawkmoth 

too busy to stay for my camera 

his wings in a whirl,  in for nectar, out and onwards 

pinned instead in a memory 

of heat and stillness, dance and silence, blackcap song 

this Monday

magical. 

June 5th 2023, Hounoux 

May, mourning

 

May, mourning

The green high hedges of Devon’s complicated lanes 

this May after rains 

in torrents, dazzle 

for many miles a tapestry 

with yellow poppies, cow parsley

bluebells and campion. 

For our two days here

gathered the five of us in grief 

the beauty is a balm 

deep blue hot sun a blackbird’s day-long song

and him, our friend, so sudden gone 

who was our heart and core 

his light and loveliness now part of the pattern 

woven in the May

mourning. 

May 16th 2023 Hounoux. I.M Neil Jameson. 

Love’s story

 Love’s story 

Everywhere she said

I see him everywhere 

the sorrow of it howling, silent  on her face 

So strange to look and look but find him gone

sixty two years this home, the farm and fields 

together work and leisure days 

Like Gabriel Oak whenever she looked up 

but now, so strange, 

his presence and his absence silent 

ringing in the rooms. 

Love’s story 

quiet glory

tolled in desolation brimming 

unshed tears. 

January 28th 2023 Hounoux