5 November haikus

Secrets lie within

the overlooked and ugly

magic and beauty

             ***

What is imperfect?

whose judgement can be valid

in this shifting world?

             ***

All is lovable

even the dark and broken

when you stop and look

           ***

Sit with the broken

let them open their voices

softly shattering

           ***

Nothing is complete

flowers become pods for seeds

seeds become flowers

Ainsdale 6th November 2020

To the Sand Lizard

 I have never seen you

yet feel your presence

in expectation, in hope

You hide for good reason

And part of me says

stay out of sight, stay safe

 

While another craves

to meet your wild colours

my need for magic

searching the sand

I think you are whispering

through the marram, magic is faith

Letting It Be Where It Lands

I recall the tideline trickling all along the shore. 

The memory of a ripple fading into distance 

in the shape of the sea edge, dried out, stranded. 

Close up, it's another way to read the tide, 

the remains of stories swept up and thrown together,

waiting to make sense.

This confusion of parts has been waiting a long time, 

separated by their names; old bones parted from their boats,

feathers adrift from any flight path, seaweed and shells 

thrown from their element. Broken and beautiful, their voices 

continued to call, saying "look, look". 

When the ink falls onto the page it runs through the water 

and becomes something new, ready 

to be picked up by the eye, the pen. Things are left as they fell

but even seeing is art; a new element gathering the pieces together, 

becoming a new whole within the frame, a new way of being, 

another turn of the endless tide.

Drawing the Tideline

Here is another collision

of what is blown out with what is washed in

The tense grasp at control and the watery slip of giving up

It's like the sea

gathering all that is lost and drifting

and giving us what we yearn for

a second chance 

a fractal big bang creating a fault line 

feathered, fragile, already collapsing

You have to trust the materials

and let them define themselves

it just falls apart when you try too hard

There is a moment when it all seems perfect

like that evening, walking the tideline

It will be different next time you look

Waxcaps Remembered

Joy returns through the lens

a third eye connecting

to grey matter becoming green

and white and red

Senses revive salt winds and slopes

The mind zooms in

and feels the relief of receiving

a gift of inks, willing

to take on the task of remembering

Sticky miracles greet the eye

Joyful, nonsensical

Life as expression, bursts into being

A kind of return

As I have been unable to visit the dunes because of the pandemic guidelines, I have been exploring the landscape in a different way over the last few weeks. Relying on my photographs and memories of my walks there I have created some paintings and some new poems reflecting on the process. In this way I've kept a connection with the  coast and made some new discoveries about my relationship with the place. I'm hoping to return in person soon as I'm longing to feel the wind coming in from the sea and to hear the brushing of the marram . . .

Two Poems

Wreck

It begins as a thin black line

appearing out of nowhere

thickening in the sand

The shore is a trickster

seeming flat

until you join it

piece it together with your perspective

Black shapes rise

out of a deep pool

forming a vessel by being seen

Full of oyster shells and starfish

The boat’s belly

is defined by its ribs

This low tide is an inhale

Just time enough

to make a story from the pieces

It could be a tale of loss and ruin

of storms gouging ships

out of the sea

Or perhaps a parable

to remind us that an ark

is made, not found.

 Ainsdale 14th February

Floods and Thorns

The dunes are flooded, sky-grey       

pools seeping along paths,

gullies overflowing, all the sand

sodden, black stalks damp.

Bodies of buckthorn catch us

on their needle-points but

they are pale and weak, softening

their defences as if their roots

are letting them go. Inside

and out we find our way

between the floods that could

drown us and thorns that protect

so adamantly they hurt.  Yet ease

is near, down in the dark and out

beyond the hectic skies; the calm

strength of a wise world.


Ainsdale 14th February

Returning to the Dunes

I’m happy to say I’m returning to the dunes this Friday. It’s a relief to find a little space during a very busy phase, crammed with work and obligations. I’ve also put some time aside in March so if you too want to take an hour or two to experience the dunes please feel free to join me.  I’ll be setting off at the following times with my notebook, open to what I might discover and how it might be expressed in words.

Friday 14th Feb -  Starting 10am at Ainsdale Discovery Centre

Friday 6th March - Starting 2pm at Birkdale Weld Road car park