‘The Long Climb’ The worst scars we have live inside our headWorst scars don’t run and hide, they follow us to bedA scar can be a memory of something you didn’t need to sayA scar can be mistaken words you should have chucked away ‘An Enlarged Pic From The Harbour – In The Distance There
Tag: Poetry to Song
A Zoolon aside: I took a few pics of the Royal Military Canal running through the town of Hythe just up the coast from me the other day. I’d often wondered what the purpose of the canal was/is. I checked out its history. It runs 28 miles more or less parallel to the sea and
I was up on the cliffs again, this time checking out a place called The Redoubt. I like the emptiness up there. I even got a few words together after the visit, but first I better tell you about the place and its hauntings. “The Redoubt is a fortress that was later reinforced with caponiers
‘Morning Sun on hottest English day’ Nothing matters this side of midnight When fading shadows go chase the moon I hope one day you’ll understand that That day can’t come too soon ‘Empty Bar, Red-hot Day’ I captured visions of the blackness Two dimensions are fine by me Up above hidden stars are restless Until
The other day, even though it was silly hot I got up high to the part of the Western Heights where very few people go. This section of the Heights doesn’t overlook the sea, it’s the backside of The White Cliffs and a safe home for the wild things. There’s no call for masks up
The writing was never on the wall It’s got to be epic or nothing at all I heard in the distance a silent call ‘There’s no point in climbing if you can’t take a fall’ Tell that to the dream rescuer Tell that to your beating heart Tell that to the big mouth Who says,
‘Drama’ Most everything we see becomes theatre A wild sea the ocean’s one-night-only stage Up above, storm clouds dancing to the gale’s orchestration And on the shoreline it don’t need any seating to engage An audience of strangers who never bought a ticket This show, the dark clouds have put it on for free Eyes
In the corner of the sky Through the window of my mind Looks to be a silver ray of light To the shiver of a nightmare Not asleep and not awake If you hang around you’ll get the last invite To the library of dreams The home of honest schemes And wild things that only
‘Charleville-Mézières Poster Display’ I guess like any art form sometimes you have to look back to places where creativity came easy – back to when words and melody were best mates – to when a hat full of songs pretty much created themselves. Looking back at photos of personal memories and things that made you
‘The Way Back Home’ Just across from me is a place called the Western Heights. It’s now just a local nature reserve, but once during the Napoleonic Wars in the 1860’s, its vast defences were designed to protect Dover from French invasion. It’s been said that the Western Heights of Dover were one of the
