"A Viking’s Journey Through Great Britain"
(July 23-August 11, 1999)
ALL POEMS ARE COPYRIGHT OF Joel A. Knudsen
--Flight Out--
Concourse Walkway
Going Left
Rolling right
Glass partitions
Keep the airplanes out.
Well dressed walkers
Searching gates
Baggage carried
Children dragged
Watching time tick away.
Smiling service
Helping strangers
Worldwide visitors
Passage clearing
Time to board the plane.
Looking for my future
Exploring past and present
Worlds of castles and lore
Awaiting takeoff
Leaving the colonies today.
--Evening Airflight--
Cloudless sunset
Sunshine on icy metal
Rising altitude
Dotted landscape
Far below me.
Cloudbank slams me
Wall of power
Higher peaks
Reaching Olympus
Cream white fields.
Earth has vanished
Veiled in darkness
Stars pulse downward
Blanket above
Guiding us on to shore.
--Morning Arrival--
Eastern sunrise awakens me
Having crossed the widening sea
London’s just an hour away
For me it’s not a permanent stay.
Breakfast high in the air
A satisfying fare
Crowded evening flight
Rubbing eyes to clear my sight.
Chick flick on the screen
Wanting something better seen
Neighbors not making a peep
Some trying hard for some sleep.
Seats and tray are upright
Making sure my belts tight
Finally cleared for morning landing
Touching down and begin standing.
--Hotel Silence--
I want to call you today
Not sure if I should try
Sitting in my hotel room
Eating room service omelet
Staring out at a foreign city
Thinking of your calming smile.
A strange feeling surrounds me
Watching the people passing by
I feel the energy of the landscape
Not so different from home
Counterparts half a world away
Still asleep in hometown beds.
A cognizance encircles me
An aura of the ghostly past
Street sounds resound outside
Calling me to explore this land
But I am slightly empty here
I cannot feel your presence.
Walking through the park
I thought I saw you travel by
A second look revealed the truth
A mirage of substance
Far from my glassy view
Only an airflight away.
Sitting on a shade bench
Watching the children playing
Wanting to hear a friendly voice
From an old friend on the phone
And as the sun peeks near shadows
I close my eyes and think of home.
--Bus Tour--
Early morning excursion
History in review
Times a past shadow
Reflected on the cobblestones.
Big Ben’s chimes greet me
As the royal guards ride
Double-deckers open review
Vantage point with camera lens.
City rides with roundabouts
Pubs with ancient names
Churches spires to the sky
Statues for soldiers dead.
Arches and pillars bid me enter
While the tour-guides tell stories
Mazes with gardens so very green
Past and present together.
London town keeps me safe
Tourist haven with many routes
Historical makers teaching me
For an alien, a lifetime in days.
--The Tour Begins--
Lobby of souls
Diversity in waiting
Comings and goings
Lines of knowledge.
Porters play their roles
Lounging laughter awakens me
Shuffling bodies out the in door
Destinations unclear as yet.
Parents with children waiting
Older adults with canes
All awaiting information
While coffee and tea is served.
Dress for success is a style
Fashionably casual also works
Smokers and drinkers sitting still
Relaxing atmosphere prevails.
--Plane Visit--
Tourists throughout the city
Scurrying about like passioned lovers
Searching out historical reference
Souvenir hunting with pounds and cards
Counting their change once or twice.
Tourists in tubes that don’t need squeezing
Site seeing folks with cameras ready
Gravestones showing deathly fame
Cobblestones for hooves to clop
Driving on the left-hand side.
Tourists in queues for nominal fees
Going to posh places not often seen
Guides and book help shepherd the travel
Specials for all pocketbooks here
London is grand showcase.
--Journey to Hempstead Court--
London homes roll beside me
Row upon row and neighbor to neighbor
Great windows reflecting the times
Like many eyes to the past
Watching time ticking by.
Bricks and mortar are usual condiments
As the church steeples rise above me
Pubs abound with clever names
Roundabouts keep me guessing
Who’s getting the right away.
Football pitches with children playing
Cambridge boat race with higher tide
Guinness and beers are pub favorites
With traditional fish and chips on the plate
All great English classics.
Castle walls with metal gates
Satellite dishes for the BBC news
Pigeons perched on statue heads
Past and present running together
Postcards at the gate to buy.
Centuries of dust along the steps inside
Ghosts of lords and ladies filter by
Walking the paths of English kings
Manicured lawns with ducks in the pond
Staying on the proper paths.
Silent lions guard the gates
With family crest set in stone
Flowered gardens on a summer day
Snapping photos of the statues
Another tour bus approaches.
--Exeter--
Exeter and Saint Johns
Intersecting a changing world
Luncheon at the local pub
Motor cars continue by
Cameras continue clicking
Pace of people
Two by two
Cobblestone walkways
Shops full of buyers
Breathing in a simpler life.
--On The Tour Bus--
My eyes drink in
The coach traveled roads
Of towns and hills
Green flushed fields.
My gaze reaches outward
To hedgerow landscapes
Where sheep and cows
Collide with grain filled fields.
I look out upon ruins
Ancient stepping stones
Castles laid waste
Steeples above trees.
Rolling hills
Tall old trees
Flocks of birds
Watching me.
I close my eyes
Reflect on the history
Of an island country
People quite like me.
--Glastonbury--
There’s a magic
A revealing myth
An ancient text
A spirit of one
In Glastonbury.
The ghost of Arthur
Walk the ruins
A Celtic soul
Warms the air
An aura of peace.
Crumbling ruins
Pathways to follow
A simpler life
A permanent road
Into Glastonbury.
--Taking a Bath--
I slipped into Bath
One English morn
To walk across Avon
Taking a dip in time.
Strolling the streets
That was Roman rule
Ancient buildings in a row
Observing weathered wrath.
Gulls above the roofs
Tourist peak in windows
Postcards costing 30 pence
Life’s a simple math.
--Cardiff--
A journey to Cardiff
Is merely one step
That I must take
To rediscover myself
Making peace with my soul.
Myth and lore stare at me
Within a storefront window
Swords of valor
Quilts of wool
Gifts and gadgets for all.
The Goat Major stands near the castle
Trying Guinness for the first time
Sports on the televisions
Friendly smiles from the bar patrons
Greet visitors from every land.
Cardiff castle stand in the center
A shining monument to time and earth
Toured hallways and great paintings
A life of people in Cardiff’s sphere
Shining like a beacon to the world.
--First Reflection on the Journey--
I’ve fallen in love today
A Yankee in a foreign land
In a country far from home
A land with color and depth
Legends merging with present
By embracing life from other shores
Taking them to her bosom
Showing majesty and beauty
By the people who live here
Creating lasting memories.
The rolling hills rise before me
Stretching into the cloudless sky
The trees and shrubs glow of green
Roadways like a ribbon on the land
Summer sunshine in July
Tourists following their hearts
Plotted by travel logs
Castle turrets match the mountains
With sea shores flowing to the horizon
Ferry’s transport eager people
To French and Irish landscape
Training from city to city.
--Deborah--
A simple chat
For 20 minutes
A beautiful lady
And a makeshift poet
Makes me believe
God truly exists.
We stood at the bar
A broken moment in time
Talking of poets
School courses
And e.e.cummings
Sipping my first Guinness.
She with the brightest of smiles
One travels at lightspeed
Talented and conversational
Eyes warm and deep
Like space’s unknown depth.
Making a stranger welcome
Servings beers to many
With cricket and darts on TV
A picture history of the bar
Saluting the Goat Major.
One simple chat
Between Deborah and me
Making sure of proper spelling
For the poem for her
Leaving Cardiff reflective
She has held my heart spellbound.
--Harbored Journey--
To Pembroke Harbor
Off we go
Setting sail
To an Emerald Island
Casting off lines
Harbor town sinking back
Maneuvering through buoys
Quiet harbor morning.
Through the inlet out
The course adjusts
Sunshine lights our way
As small boats drift by
Breeze float over the deck
Taste of salt on my lips
Port of call fading fast
As tankers tug at lines.
Children shout and scurry about
Adults lean back and smile
Fortifications and silent docks
Roundabout in the harbor.
Mist upon the channel path
Blur the image in my eye
Harbor journey just begins
Not a moments hesitation.
Now in sight a point so clear
No obstruction, cliff or boat
Just jagged points off shore
Open water my steady course
I wave good bye to a British Isle
Coming back in several days
A veil obscures my intentions
Ireland my destination.
--Crossing Midpoint--
A western wind
Cools my journey
A moment of peace
To sit and eat
As Wales drifts away
At a ghost pace
I close my eyes
And take a breath.
High about the decks I walk
With gentle rocking
Back and forth and back
Resting within wicker chairs
I watch the sea rise and fall
Propellers churning out behind
I wonder what awaits for me
Across the Irish Channel.
--Crystal Entry--
I journeyed into Waterford
Across a watery bridge
To a town of Norse mythology
A place of glassy shine.
Cups and plates are crystal clear
Tourist river town of time
Points of entry going south
Compass pointing southward.
Hedgerows of stone and shrubs
Dark mountains overhead
Beautiful homes of many colours
Late stop to rest my head.
--On to Kilarney--
Kilarney Mountains rise ahead
A misty halo at the summit
A dark and foreboding shield
Faceless monoliths standing guard
Permission to pass along the road
Black tar passages quite narrow
Guide dog to a blind soul.
Bays and Bridges arrive before me
Signs of towns along my pathway
Stonewalls of Celtic history
Many guideposts of ancient dead
Following footsteps with motor coach
While dark clouds foretell coming rain
Helios is swallowed without a spill.
Stainglass windows drink the light
Predates the people who walked the streets
Source of solace; sources of pain
Gives the land a spire filled sky
Within each town, it does guide
Comforts all with vague memories.
--Stone of Eloquence--
Blarney Castle still stands today
From and ancient tale
Of a great queens reaction
Although showing its age
Its’ rooms and chambers
Now silent and bare
Through winding stairs and periapts
A towering over the trees.
To kiss the stone
Requires a climb
A mountainous reach
Plus a little time
Then leaning back
Trying not to fall
To pucker up
A stone in the wall.
Wandering the grounds below
Spreading outward side to side
Rocky pathways guide you on
To mystic hauntings
And young lovers steps
A druids circle in the woods
Near a fairy’s glen so wild
Far from the badger cave.
Woolen mills with scarf and gloves
With Fiona helping pick gifts
Reds and blues wooly soft
Crystal goblets sunlight capture
Too many choices and not enough time
Credit limit being pushed too far
And with my arms far too loaded
Out the door I quickly dash.
--Washing Up--
Laundry day has arrived
Soap to clean and a bag to carry
Time in the journey to wash clothes
Plus a map from the Front Desk
To guide me down unknown streets.
A refreshing walk relaxes me
Traveling the Kilarney roads
Turned around my miss-direction
But with help from a helpful matron
I find my little launderette.
Around and around the clothing spins
Ticking down the preset timer
With everything in one load
A typical college washing sequence
My need for fresh clothing nearly over
My dryer buzzer calls to me.
---A Simple Random Thought---
"A smile and faith are the only baggage you need for your journey."
--The Ring of Kerry--
The breath of God kisses Dingle Bay
As the Atlantic Ocean calls to me
An Irish Coffee warms my soul
While a fisherman trolls friendly waters
Grey cloud hangs heavy and low.
Thatched covered homes dot my view
With peat bogs for a warming hearth
Sheep and cows wander the hillsides
And rocky slopes punch the earth
Many green and reds abounding.
The sleeping giant’s watery grave
Looking up towards heaven’s gate
The Skellig islands mark a bay
Monastic memories remaining still
Across a mythic landscape’s vista.
A merry-go-round of rocks and road
Many guideposts for the journey
Celtic names and English translations
For tourists on many quests
And with a rest in valley view
We follow the coast to a rhyme.
--A Quiet Pub Dinner--
I watch the motors speeding by
Outside the Limerick town limits
Speeding back and forth
From Galway’s famous shoreline
Summer sunshine lights my path.
Cloudbanks floating high and free
Going West to East with graceful ease
Coastline in to coastline out
Catching on the mountain peaks
Softer than a wool blanket.
The great treeline rises upward
Following narrow deer paths
Scattered homes of earth and stone
Surviving the temperamental skies
Theatre of stars and moon.
--Limericking in Limerick--
There once was a sweet young lass
Who drank from a tall Guinness glass
When trying her first bitter
She said with a titter
"It tastes like fresh cut grass."
There once was a tour guide
His job he took with great pride
But for a crisp fiver
He’d harass the poor driver
Till one day he was left on the roadside.
One day at King John’s gate
The arrogant Prince had to wait
He began to fuss and rave
And continued to his grave
Shouting "Ye gods, I’m running late!"
There once was a family of four
Who never used the front door
While the youngest in their school
Learning well the Golden Rule
The parents studied Celtic Lore.
I once knew a guide from Dublin
Who one day wac nearly done in
While on a summer trip
He took a bad slip
Then wore a sling of cotton.
There once was a lass named Kathleen
Who had a twin sister Colleen
While bathing together
In water fragranced of Heather
They kept each other quite clean.
There once was a pub in Coventry
Filled with humorous commentary
But after one drink
It was hard to think
In the morninw my brain was like pastry.
There once was a driver named Jones
Who’s guide had bad shoulder bones
He maneuvered with some fakery
Pulling into a hometown bakery
And walking out with a bag of scones.
There once was a pub in Derry
Where the crowd was always merry
The old owner named Marty
Held a grand summer party
But didn’t include Father Jerry.
There one was a loud tourist
Who was really quite a purist
He would beg and beg
For a well prepared egg
Until called up as a jurist.
--An Atlantic Gaze--
I gazed out over the Cliffs of Mohair
To watch the gulls and puffin play
Near the great stone columns
Some like massive archways
Pointing outward towards Atlantis.
The tower keeps lonely vigil
Overlooking the valley clans and life
Though weathered and beaten
Solid is its construction staying
Awaiting another millennium.
--Galvia--
Cry for the goddess
Sweet Galvia today
She has been killed
In a most heinous way
With a pure silver dagger
Once hidden away
By the wise leprechaun king
In the cliffs by the bay.
Galvia walked the earthly realm
Bathed in the glow of the evening moon
In love with a piper
Who made her swoon
Enchanting the goddess
With the sweetest of tune
As they walked forest paths
During evenings in June.
But and evil warlord
Who desired great power
Grew jealous of the piper
Thus his life did sour
He kidnapped the goddess
To be placed in a tower
This victory he relished
That he began to glower.
To her high father
For deliverance she’d pray
But of her love of a mortal
He thus did betray.
Yet the piper did try
And the prince he did slay
But too late for the dead goddess
In the great turret she did lay.
The funeral procession
Was a grand sight to behold
It covered the town
And ran for hours untold.
And at the piper’s request
In areas his family did hold
On the banks she was buried
In a shroud with a golden fold.
--A Dublin Afternoon--
The pitter patter of the rain
Reflects the pedestrian footsteps
Walking left goes the crowd
Strolling with packaged tourists
I travel the Dublin road alone.
Many languages fill the air
Trinity College swells with people
Spanish, English, French, and German
All in search of Celtic lore
With books of knowledge row by row.
Shops of wool and heritage
Taverns serving pints of ale
Crisp moist air flows through the trees
An English dampness in and Irish world
A Dublin summer winding down.
--Setting Sail Again--
I waved goodbye to Ireland
As sea air refreshed my senses
Sailing off from Dublin port
Racing out through fairies mist
Past old napoleon battlements.
The great ship churns out to sea
Massive propellers turn and spin
With cool white wakes trailing behind
And a lone trawler falls back
Soon a focal point on the horizon.
Old Neptune’s World is wide and deep
With sea life silent in the cold
Traveling between neighbor shores
Dark clouds share the trip with us
They steal the sunlight away.
--On My Private Coastline--
When I travel between the shadows and light
And reflect upon my current journeys
I dream of closure and clear sight
Without the pain of loneliness
Trying not to do my best Icarus.
I dip my hands into many ventures
Certainly a Jack-Of–All-Trades
Plying my talents and gifts for all
With adjustments to the paths taken
But bundling up to battle the chill.
I’ve fought against the current’s pull
Trying to be my souls best being
I look beyond the farthest shoreline
But the weight of truth draws me back
Never forgetting my beginnings.
--A Short Thought in the Crossing--
A misty blanket covers our good ship
On our journey to Holyhead
Brave Hellios must relinquish the sky
As a pact with Poseidon is observed
To replenish his kingdom of the seas
The waves rise up to greet Apollo.
--Snowdonia--
We scaled the mountains of Snowdonia
Graham knew the proper way around
Starting low in the valley
With sheep dotting the fertile lands
We moved forward with our ascent.
The stream runs cold down slated paths
Winding through the cliffs and hills
A cool dampness kisses parched lips
As rocky images taunt my steps
I travel towards the zenith.
A fairy mist blind my road view
As trees and bushes swell to greet me
In Sir Edmund’s vaunted footsteps
We move in sequenced rolling time
The valley’s panorama unending.
Though curving roads fall before us
Through towns with ancient names
Past and present in sync with nature
Keeps mythic lore and legends breathing
In the bosom of the Wales countryside.
--Entering Scotland--
A silent crossing into Scotland
Following Wordworth’s passion
His ghost is a muse to my flame
To the construction of verse and rhyme
From a heart given to contemplation.
Our guidepost points northward
A lack of shoulder for the road
Of green and sheep along the way
And modern highways cut the landscape
While history drives a clansman’s future.
A Penny keeps our luck afloat
With many bumps along the way
Glasgow glows like a seaside beacon
With a life and pride unique
Scotland’s favorite sons rejoice.
--A Roadside Stop--
A couple pence for the piper
On the road through Glen Coe
As the wind blows through the hills
And gulls dance above me
I gaze towards the pass and out to sea.
The curves for the journey
Roadside stops spur our interests
Mountaintop perches overseeing valleys
A green and fertile carpet
Nurtured by a rocky floor.
Fleet footed sheep and goats
Dance upon the outcroppings
Clouds float between the valley walls
Sandwiched by mother Earth’s warmth
Glowing with the warmth of the sun’s rays.
--Momentary Thoughts--
Whiskey drives the Highland clans
As the spring water bubbles upward
Carried down the ancient meadows
To mix with Barley plus aging well
A drink well defined from father to son.
--Saint Andrews--
I stood upon the North Sea shore
A salty breeze rolling through my senses
The waves hit the beach like constant soldiers
A coastal mist descends on me
The gulls sing multiple tunes.
Saint Andrew’s is sprawled before me
A haven for golfs elite to putter around
Past and future Grand Masters’ competing
With visions of perfect rounds and scores
Young and old are a part of the tradition.
Tradition flies with history here
With young people college eager
The Abby’s ghost keeps vigilance
While great vessels steam eastward
To chilly Scandinavian lands.
--Edinburgh Entrance--
And evening mist falls upon the coastline
As i try to glimpse the bridge below me
The flow of traffic with headlights lit
A North Sea chill permeates the bodies
A cool reception entering Edinburgh.
A hearty walk in North Sea air
Towards Briers Fryers and dinner break
MY stomach growls for Fish and Chips
Not really new but well thought out
Hot food to settle a tired soul.
An aura of warmth pervades the room
With courtesy being quite normal
The waitresses scurry to assigned tables
Picking up and delivering to waiting patrons
Fresh made vapors invade my senses.
Refreshed and renewed by a meal so inviting
With smiles from staff so genuine
I gaze outward to the frigid sea
I zip my jacket closer for some protection
While walking back to a temporary home.
--The City Awaits Me--
Seeing Edinburgh at millennium’s dawn
I look to the history around me
Listening to the sounds of the people
In a land of hillside castles and great kings
Marveling at achievements here.
Bricks and mortar rising upward
With masks of black on the faces
Old King George left lasting impressions
While city fathers followed England’s steps
Those in the town prospered and grew stronger.
The tourists travel to this kingdom
Eyes wide to the tracks of time
Of battles, conquests and love in madness
In a world where Arthur is only legend
Britain will shine like a beacon again.
--People Watching--
People Watching at Saint Andrews Square
The North Sea awakes the Union Jack
Seagulls dancing above the statues
Plastic bags with tourist goods
Tour buses roll one by one.
Escorted ladies with husbands and lads
People at Tiles talking and laughing
Cosmos people remember the day
Graham and John pointing out the sites
The one o’clock cannon sounds off.
Buses and cars travel the square
As apple pie invades my waiting mouth
Reflecting my eyes in the tourists here
I deeply breath the city air.
I will sit here again someday.
--I Dreamed One Night--
I dreamed a Highland battle scene
Wished upon the winders of time
For the ages past have slipped away
With technology and modern life
That echoes through the lochs and hills.
I dreamed of a beautiful Highland lass
As we journeyed through a lowland pass
Hand in hand we talked and smiled
I gathered her in by strength of love
Kissing her sweetly in a valley of Heather.
I dreamed that you were here last night
Your perfume drifted to my senses
I scanned the horizon for a vision
But while my mind reeled in the truth
The pipers called me homeward.
--On the Final Leg--
A quiet Sunday morning drive
Southward to the Scottish boarder
Silence rolls down with the motorway
Small towns and historic remnants
Having lingered on the countryside
Greeting eyes that can barely open.
Grey clouds seem to follow our coach
Heavy with life giving moisture
To a land lush with many greens
No one seems to pay much heed
Even the sheep munching nearby grass
The coming moisture is part of life.
Headlights from the oncoming cars
The windshield wipers spring to life
Motorcyclists roll by in columns
Like modern day soldiers off to war
While we head towards York and home.
--Traveling the M1--
The M1 is covered by August rain
This journey of mine nearing the end
As talk of the future and flights for home
Vacationers returning to London town.
We traveled the forests of a legend
Places where the arrows flew straight
But now the deer paths have been replaced
And the cars outnumber the animals left.
On a rainy Monday morning in my seat
Contemplating the days and nights of past
More clouds blot the sun’s rays
As the coach receives a free washing.
Through industries heart we venture in
The steel of strength and china for tea
Creating patterns in constant use
We follow traffic on a rainy M1.
--Isabelle--
I thought of Isabelle today
My guardian of the Scottish Jewels
Seeing her face in a window reflection
Warmed by her smile if only a memory.
Her eyes caught me staring
Myself a touring American
But with a manner so genuine
She made a stranger welcome.
This simple poem is for book and her
From a writer through the my soul
I thank her for a moment’s conversation
And for stealing a poets heart.
--A Coach Reflection--
I’ll tell you a tale
Of a Cosmos Tour
With the wake up calls
In the sun and rain
But the sun outmatched
The rain it seemed
All thanks to the team
Of Graham and John.
We invaded these British Isles
With teachers and Texans
Families and friends
Riding along the country miles
Of rolling hills and hairpin turns
Past forests of lore
And cities of legends
No woolen mill was truly safe.
Alas this tour nears its end
With lumpy mattresses and horrible eggs
I gaze through the window
And say a silent thank you
For the dreams that grew
Through unread poems
With the friendships made
That will last a lifetime.
--Oxford--
I entered Oxford
One rainy morning
To walk the campuses
A grand tradition of learning.
Too many streets at my feet
With college departments everywhere
A city built on student life
Students with a sight to the future.
--My Final Night in London--
Final night in the city called London
I wander up past Eustis Station
As workers taking the tube homeward
And the pubs become for active
I gaze around at my surroundings.
Suits and ties flowing past me
Cell phones explaining lateness
Streetlights change as walkers need
Taxi’s and buses ferry the people
As dinner time approaches.
Pub life at suppertime increases
Friends and neighbors gathering
Football’s on from Derby’s stadium
And with Guinness in my hand
I settle back for the match.
My meal arrives then consumed
As a charming fan looks me over
Raising my glass and eyes to greet
Brings giggles and blushing retreat
As I turn away smiling softly.
With football done and sleep invading
I take my coat and make my leave
Traveling back to the Kennedy
I look to Baker Street in final thought
As the rain slowly falls to me.
--Journey Homeward--
Saying goodbye to Great Britain
I board my airline to go home
As eclipsing moments fall around me
Reflections become my bread and butter
And I smile with my memories.
As a stranger on a stranger street
I drank in the city heartbeats
Many beating as a common pulse
My footsteps reflecting many others
As my journey becomes my history.
I gaze out from rolling wheels
Traveling through the island cities
To places only read in school texts
Of kings and castles centuries old
Local pubs with colorful names.
I taxi down the runway long
English soil falls below me
In the air my soul floats aloft
While deep memories keep me grounded
In pictures and friendships made.
--British Beauty--
Let me tell you of the British beauty
Of castle towers and stainglass art
But far more lovely than rocks and soul
Are the ladies of the British Isles.
More lovely than the greenest field
Far friendlier than the rocky shores
Wisdom deep with eyes to souls
Sweetest smiles with honesty.
Neither skirt nor slack truly matters
For hearts so intimate that destroy all woes
Words to ears by poetic pen strikes
You enchant my life with merest presence.
--High Above the World--
I sailed above the snow-capped mountains
Where the wind will chill to the deepest cell
Where silence is broken by turbine roar
And birds are absent for lack of air
While I sit here all pressurized.
Earth below has disappeared
I look westward for a glimpse
A sea of cloud fills the valleys
Yet for a moment a break emerges
A glimpse of land stirs my heart.
So unbird like the planes does soar
Though flap it does though not constant
Feathers replaced with steel and wire
And with a heart mechanical
It flies by the hand of man.
--A Dream of England Soil--8/22/99
I find myself
Longing for
The green grass
Of a Scottish hillside
Staring out my window.
One week later.
I have the pictures
My memories still solid
With faces and places
Fertile mountain passes
Monuments to favored sons
Palaces to current kings.
I lay back in bed at night
Listening for the hotel sounds
The fresher air flowing free
My comfort level makes me sleep
I dream of my new home
A foreign soul’s dear wish.
My music’s here
As well is my bed
Damn sight more comfortable
But too large for solo
Looking to the growing light
A sunrise 6 hours late.
I wish I were back in England
The people, places, and foods
A dozen fragments brought as one
By an experience of a lifetime
Made possible by a wish come true
Seen by eyes wide open.
I’m still awake
Jetlag not the culprit
My life so silent in the state
My soul more restless
So I turn upon my shoulder
Close my eyes and think of you.
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