Castle on a Hill

A lord lived there once. The floors remain;

A high, proud place. It still stands in parts,

On a hill in the midst of a field

Where the grass is cold and dull.

This lonely tower, a wreck that bore

Storm after storm, still holds within the life

Of someone lost to time. Someone who once listened

To the singing birds in the near-by forest –

The same songs that I heard not long ago.

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Harbour.

The dusk sky on a harbour front –

Oh, it makes me drunk and happy.

The pubs are full and uproarious,

And the human sound in the air

Is footsteps, and the rhythm of the tide

Matches my breathing.

This is a land of ancient stone,

Unchanged roads, songs of autumn death

And songs of spring reborn.

I’ll Have To Go

I’m tracing animals in the water,

I’m thinking of churchyards in the sun.

I’m watching leaves cling to trees

And the silver river run.

 

I’m singing simple songs,

And considering pathways down the road;

I’m happy where I am

But I know soon I’ll have to go.

 

My white shirt is stained by the earth,

The muffled roar of cars float by.

I’m watching honey be poured

On the evening sky.

 

I lie in grass now fresh and green

That will again be covered with snow;

I’m happy where I am

But I know soon I’ll have to go.

Lust for Adventure

It is a winter of inquiry and romance

And against better judgement I read the news,

Nothing much is going on but the offers to fly

Are enticing. I’d rather gaze at the fair Italian moon

Than the crimson wash of the Manchester sky.

I’ve got excitement within my reach,

But as soon as my heart starts to pound

I retreat into the crescent arms of early night.

I’d rather feel an African joy than the woes of a northern boy,

But my hands are pale like a river

And the choirs in my town are solemn and repressed.

I’m sure I’m awake to the fire of Elvis

And the conversation of Richard Harris,

But the wind that follows the car are ribbons reaching home.

Romance

I’d take you where the sun hangs high

Where the sea birds shelter in the shade;

I’d steal you from the winter

Where the day only fades.

 

I’d give you promises I couldn’t keep

And every smile is as hollow as a jewel,

I’d let you play the master

If you’d let me play your fool.

 

I’d dance with you till the pale dawn

And tell you about our future

I’ve drawn the map, found the route

And I’ll be there with you.

 

And I’d let you stand with the stars

Leaving me on the shore;

I’d give you the chains

That don’t bind me anymore.

 

And I’d cry your tears in the morning

When I think that you’re not there;

It’s not that I want your sorrow

It’s to let you know that I care.

Biography

I want to be lazy, like an old string

On a rusted guitar or a prophet

Lounging in the Spanish sun. It would be nice

To have a clear mind, like a cat on the street –

But Coffee and inspiration makes me shake

And I can feel the weeping in my chest,

Like a Robin on the washing line.

Never mind existentialism – that doesn’t cut it,

My body is whole and wild and I imagine excess

And decadent days in which to waste away.

And then I write about them.