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
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
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
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 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
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
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