Posts tagged ‘travel’

22/10/2013

Wandering

 

I took a train to see the world.

Each station brought me something new:

An angle never seen before,

A chance of colour, shape and sound.

 

I don’t suppose you saw me go:

Just couldn’t see the world like that,

Just couldn’t see the grey old dust

As tracks which led to somewhere grand.

 

I took the train and saw the sky.

You’d never know the blue I saw.

A destination never holds

The freedom of a wandering heart.

 

I don’t suppose you missed me much:

For after all, to you I’m dust.

 

 

This poem was written as a response to the photograph by artist Cheryl Garner. It is part of an on-going journey.

The photographs, with poems, can be found at:

www.thecheesewolf.co.uk/category/vicarious-journeys/

the work of Cheryl Garner can be found at:

http://cherylgarner.squarespace.com/

 

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02/06/2013

A Week in Slovenia (Part 1 – Flight Path)

 

1. Terminal Three

 

How many nations can I see?

The beautiful and elegant,

The tattooed men and sleeping girls,

The drone of talk, the hum of planes,

 

(An aircon migraine coming on),

An altered world of wait-then-move,

A place where hats are worn indoors.

There is no smell. We wait, we move.

 

The people twitch and spark with life,

They watch for signs, they read the eyes:

An underscore of doubt and fear,

An overtone of joys postponed.

 

Here sound and light have coalesced.

Here everyone seems somewhere else.

 

 

2. In Flight

 

We know outside this metal skin

We’d die before we took a breath.

A wind beyond our earth-tied ken

Would rip our lungs and heart apart.

 

The red and green of near sleep,

Of drifting in a patterned haze.

A droning engine lulls our eyes,

Our senses mingle with the skies.

 

We plunge, we sleep, whichever comes.

We roll and tip out from the edge.

Adrift are certainties and hopes:

Out there the heedless rush of clouds.

 

The end of everything is air:

Just half a foot and we’ll be there.

 

 

3. Air Flow

 

Beneath us now there may be sea,

There may be history, may be land.

We are above, we are beyond:

A netherworld of curvatures.

 

We are the Europe – light on wings –

Where sun and moon are never dimmed,

A floating swirl of immigrants,

Where every heart is foreign born.

 

The clouds stretch on to Belarus

In fragile mountains, streams of breath.

Beneath are curious, earthbound things

With buried feet and downward eyes.

 

Our continent is shrinking fast,

It’s upside down, it never lasts.

 

4. Turbulence

 

It stopped

……………..and for an instant

……………………………………..droP

……………………………………………Ped

 

a sound not far frOM God rang out

it COULD have been my heart or

…………………………………………..mouth

 

………….have been a passing

it could                                           breath

 

a rainbow MADE of solid air

a story told by broken WINGS

A

….thought of

………………….something

………………………………….something missed

or mayBE just my final spark

 

The sky had claimed another prayer

Another slip in time again

The fraud

…………….of flight EXPOSED by clouds

concrete

a                      enemy of

…………………………….grey

 

I quickly learnt the simple

……………………………………truth:

I’m made for walking on the Earth.