Sunday morning

24th Feb 201925th Feb 2019 / Rugby Lion / Leave a comment

A picture sent to me my one of my students

Complacencies of the night,
tears of an ancient sacrifice.
I dreamt a little,
a small spill
of things to be cherished
like the thought of a heaven.

Eubank wins on points,
England loose to Wales,
passions of rain and a fading empire.
Bob Seger sings of a ‘fire inside’,
emotions on wet roads on winter mornings.

Looking through open widows,
smiling through memories.
Xinxiang distracted by the self,
a soft breeze blows in
The way you are always near
and coffee already cold,
the joy of this Sunday morning.

A New Term

23rd Feb 2019 / Rugby Lion / Leave a comment

My Picture

Miles Davis blue…..
back again.
Girls holding hands,
still seeking affirmation.
And I could not help thinking
of the wonders of the mind.

The dance…..
an uneven edge
in early spring.
Another re-birth of an awful promise,
bound into a whole.

A big sky…..
with uncertain legs.
And a death poem,
waiting to be given life
all over again…….
in this unknown place .

A place I know well

22nd Feb 2019 / Rugby Lion / Leave a comment

My Picture

Down side streets,
fog turning the sky in and out.
There is only one love
. …. to enlarge the circles
and read the poems.

Let it be you
in the spring of the year.
Startling me from this spiders life
and trumpeting red flowers.

Dancing Queens of Harbin

21st Feb 201921st Feb 2019 / Rugby Lion / Leave a comment

fznor

nor

My Pictures: Some of the ‘ Queens of Harbin’

At night in Harbin
the queen’s come to dance.
Nowhere to hide,
nothing better to do.
If you can wait,
silent in the cold
you can join them….

…..spinning top and dreams pervade,
a few shimmering droplets of a legacy left….

Wasting their days away,
a dance existence.. here and gone.
But a flash of time on this cold night.
And whispered echoes
that scream aloud once more.

Silent Moments No 3

20th Feb 201920th Feb 2019 / Rugby Lion / Leave a comment

hdrpl

My Pictures: Harbin. Heilongjiang, China.

Old church doors
across the street.
Not creaking for anyone.

The Songhua River,
quite through bare trees….
never quite full.

Yet faintly, between the space,
a dutar plays a song.

A small patch of grass
surprises me as I turn.

Pain of yesterday, today and tomorrow.

19th Feb 2019 / Rugby Lion / Leave a comment

My Pictures: Some thoughts from my students from a class on ‘Psychopathology’

United in pain.
A midlife sadness,
louder than a scream.
Take me away from this winter,
and voices cancelled by the rain.

When stillness descended,
the night…..ours to decide.
And what I loved
was the idleness of a moment with you.
Gathering words and stolen kisses
under candle – light.

Winter is going

18th Feb 201918th Feb 2019 / Rugby Lion / Leave a comment

My Pictures: Reflections of Harbin

Even in solid cold

I just can’t leave you.

Lonely lonely me.

Age of hope

17th Feb 2019 / Rugby Lion / Leave a comment

My Picture: Harbin Snow.

The sky was black last night,
and so afflicted.
Stars stung to irritated gestures,
so unsleeping…..

Seeds of love scattered
from Manchester to Xinxiang.
Giving me an endless longing,
and hope for a fresh grace of an early dawn.

Xinxiang Blue

16th Feb 201916th Feb 2019 / Rugby Lion / Leave a comment

My Picture: Poetry and coffee this evening.

Back in Xinxiang
the coffee tastes good.
‘The Carpenters’ are signing about love,
which becomes lost in time.
Never to be smooth again.

Deep inside, a spring longing.
A shadow still wedged between the rocks, and the rising spring river.
Seared into my aching bones.
Always to linger,
and never to be free.

The music stops, it always does.
Vaguely, I hear a sound….
….. a sweet voice
….. a distant voice
“Come close, and follow me…..”

Pulled into a violet world,
surrounded by the noise of our origin.
I see you…
and my unfinished flight.

No snow in Harbin.

15th Feb 2019 / Rugby Lion / Leave a comment

My Picture” Yesterday at Harbin Airport – due to snow in Henan…delays, delays and delays…..

They are calling for passengers to Pudong, those to Shenzhen are already too late.
One more person to be found for the flight to Quingdao….
…..still searching.

Complacencies of the night, tears of an ancient sacrifice. I dreamt a little, a small spill of things to be cherished like the thought of a heaven.

Eubank wins on points, England loose to Wales, passions of rain and a fading empire. Bob Seger sings of a ‘fire inside’, emotions on wet roads on winter mornings.

Looking through open widows, smiling through memories. Xinxiang distracted by the self, a soft breeze blows in The way you are always near and coffee already cold, the joy of this Sunday morning.

Miles Davis blue….. back again. Girls holding hands, still seeking affirmation. And I could not help thinking of the wonders of the mind.

The dance….. an uneven edge in early spring. Another re-birth of an awful promise, bound into a whole.

A big sky….. with uncertain legs. And a death poem, waiting to be given life all over again……. in this unknown place .

Down side streets, fog turning the sky in and out. There is only one love . …. to enlarge the circles and read the poems.

Let it be you in the spring of the year. Startling me from this spiders life and trumpeting red flowers.

At night in Harbin the queen’s come to dance. Nowhere to hide, nothing better to do. If you can wait, silent in the cold you can join them….

…..spinning top and dreams pervade, a few shimmering droplets of a legacy left….

Wasting their days away, a dance existence.. here and gone. But a flash of time on this cold night. And whispered echoes that scream aloud once more.

Old church doors across the street. Not creaking for anyone.

The Songhua River, quite through bare trees…. never quite full.

Yet faintly, between the space, a dutar plays a song.

A small patch of grass surprises me as I turn.

United in pain. A midlife sadness, louder than a scream. Take me away from this winter, and voices cancelled by the rain.

When stillness descended, the night…..ours to decide. And what I loved was the idleness of a moment with you. Gathering words and stolen kisses under candle – light.

Even in solid cold

I just can’t leave you.

Lonely lonely me.

The sky was black last night, and so afflicted. Stars stung to irritated gestures, so unsleeping…..

Seeds of love scattered from Manchester to Xinxiang. Giving me an endless longing, and hope for a fresh grace of an early dawn.

Back in Xinxiang the coffee tastes good. ‘The Carpenters’ are signing about love, which becomes lost in time. Never to be smooth again.

Deep inside, a spring longing. A shadow still wedged between the rocks, and the rising spring river. Seared into my aching bones. Always to linger, and never to be free.

The music stops, it always does. Vaguely, I hear a sound…. ….. a sweet voice ….. a distant voice “Come close, and follow me…..”

Pulled into a violet world, surrounded by the noise of our origin. I see you… and my unfinished flight.

They are calling for passengers to Pudong, those to Shenzhen are already too late. One more person to be found for the flight to Quingdao…. …..still searching.

Under a concrete overhang I keep a stiff – upper lip, waiting for the call for Zhengzhou.

The lady with the beautiful voice tells me 16:55…. and to wait…. but she talks to anyone who will listen.

And now the people to Beijing are arriving, with great expectancy and snowstorms behind them.