This is the week, in Sheffield, when the blossom is at its best.
As you drive past
the hanging blossom of the cherry tree,
you are moving too fast.
Their pale luminescence an unnoticed glory,
a promise, year by year, you fail to keep.
But one day soon you will stop,
Yesterday would have been my Father-in-Law Donald Malcolm's 90th birthday, what a man. Here is the poem I wrote for him remembering the day we fist met.
Meeting My Father-in-Law
Your warm and bearlike hand
grasped my slim, collegiate palm
more turned to turning pages than
industry and grind. At
There is a Stage
There is a stage
called the present moment
that you are constantly stepping onto.
If you concentrate you can sense
its curtain call just under your navel,
that union of courage and instinct.
A breathing anchor
that keeps you right here
in the present action of your life.
A whole cast
You want to rush, get to the end
work it out and have it solved.
Who wouldn’t? But the cost,
who pays the price of all this haste?
A friend of mine knew Mirabehn
Gandhi’s English companion.
Her story; when the Mahatma
found himself without a pencil
she tore off to find it,
In 2012 I went to see the Royal Academy Exhibition called 'A Bigger Picture' by David Hockney. It had an accompanying DVD. It made a deep impression on me and I wrote this. I felt part of a wonderful and challenging BiggerPicture!
A Bigger Picture