The shapes of Muckle Roe

 The shape of an animal up on the cliffs
Moving to and fro
Staring down from where it stood
There on Muckle Roe

The wind and drizzle unending
Random fat raindrops cutting through
Landing on the patches of lichen
underneath the red granite

Up a mountain and back

 The campervan catapulted
All of grandfather's tools spilled out
everything fell toward the roof
But before it couls touch fell back down

He wasn't afraid, he was anticipating more
Red faced, he was once the craftsman
A jeweller focused on the sparkle
Everything fell almost exactly back into place

The campervan followed the winding drive round and around
Until we found ourselves almost over a cliff
So into reverse following our tracks exactly
Until we were back to the known

There we found kindnesses and familiarity 
Stubbornesses and tranquil homelife

The Focus obstructed

Interrupt me
Interest deep
steel is cold
runs along the routine

The weight of life is delicious
The pull and the push
The long silences the breathing
Then the crash

Interrupt me 
As I count the days upon the hill
The one I'll occupy herein
worshipping the air so still

The weight of the land has a hold
Shedding it's debris
Leaving me with it's gold
come disrupt me

Interrupt me I'm in the middle of so much
I barely hear the whisper
That begs kiss, begs touch
push me off my crutch

The weight of the glare
pushing past the side glance
Into that dirty stare
interject shamelessly

Something does

 something moves freely
a muscle extending
A thought across the existence of the mind flexing it's power through out me

Something grows inside
A heat pretending
A will to something beyond the plate of food the world is offering

Something dissolves reality
A spell binding
A sense of direction a falling star in slow motion I'm following

Something turns and emerges
A new skin over me
A body which only listens to boldness and plans for overthrowing

Apoetseye- what is it?

 

Maelstrom of me

 In the middle of me a vortex hides.
one you can't see, veiled and wild
Only coming out in flickers through the eyes
What magnet is this that on the tornado rides

Rolling, jarring and rocking around the heart
I split apart searching the seen and unseen
Then reintegrate looking back inside
Every aspect of me together again

Something whirls and grinds inside me
words and whispers spin and spin
These messages come flooding out
Into the daylight of the page

Served like a meal
tasted and digested
thus fed back into the vortex
Of the unquenchable twisting

Hempsall- At the broken oar(Ghostlights of the fens) 1700

 
Big bog there was an old tavern near the reed patches
Joseph Hempsall spent his day cutting reed for thatch.
Checking the odd trap with his fellows over the Wicken Fen
Life was simple bright and cheery the most part to spend

He had a pretty busy morning cutting the thatch reed
Checking a few eel traps among the thick water weeds
By two he'd labored  much exhausted and sloven
So made the hour walk to the Broken Oar tavern

A bailiff, a shearer and a traveler drank cheap brandy
Talked of Lord Wentworth whom they slandered gladly
These men cursing and drinking from midday
Hempsall drank too, echoing their naysaying

Before long twilight came and darkness cast a spell
Hempsall chugged, grabbed his gear, then he said farewell
He stumbled across the narrow path within Big Bog
Tavern occupants called him back while croaking frogs

Their voices droned finally Joseph heard none
But he wasn't alone he was talking to someone
He continued his way blind across marshland half drunk still smiling
He began to shout his voice louder and louder... Then silence

The very next evening Hempsall turned up in the Broken Oar tavern
Nightfall and three distinct knocks at the door t'was his return
The bailiff opened the door to a pale wet Hempsall
Who cried ghostly mud tears and uttered appalled

"Seek my body in the bog among the cursed fens plants" 
then the apparition fell like water on the entrance
It all disappeared in an instant out of sight
Only to repeat exactly the next night