Sunday 23 December 2012

Tramp or Tourist.

Here in the break of a day
high on my sunseat
the river plays stage left
passing me centre stage somewhere
round the curve stage right
playing old songs with it
like a seagulls lullabye.

But the tourist stays on holiday
now always and there seems nowhere left to go.
Tossing away those sweaty well photographed clothes
the noble tramp emerges
dressed in hair and old shoes that takes him over to a
green verge across the swamp of road
feasting his eyes upon the foxgloves there
and the high oaktrees always at the corner of his rain washed eyes,
he finds his hotel room under sad stars.
She walks with me, he thinks and throws away the currency of leaves,
then lies upon a bed of twigs soft as mown grass.

Here in the break of a day
I travel round this world just to get my footsteps in time
and a new song in my head that ryhmes.

Friday 7 December 2012

Christmas bopping

The snow earlier in the week curtailed my planned positive escape into the maws of unknowing known as Christma shopping.  I had done Christmas Shopping before the Ebenezer Scrooge Global Credit Crisis took over my wallet so instead as soon as I got up today I sallied forth into Town and soon it all came back to me. Other christmas shopping spree's had gone hand in hand with a steady pub crawl and I usually bought more things for myself, then anyone else. This time I got away with freebie nip of expensive whiskey in John Lewis' and an Emeli Sande CD, she is from Alford, where coincidently I went out for a trip on my birthday and is within driving distance of Culter if I had a car, or walking distance if I had a few spare days.
It's amazing how shopping, especially if it's not for 3 microwave dinners and a tenner on the gas card, can be such an ennervating and intense experience. I don't think I'd seen so many people, shared the same crisp air as so many people for many a moon. People dressed in the Graduation get ups and their families all smarted up and taking photies of the them, or at just about every corner homeless folk quietly waiting for some unasked backshesh or the odd busker who obviously had no idea which end of the guitar to use but seemed to be enjoying playing it anyway. Suffice to say it was almost like journeying to another country and seeing something new and beautiful with each eyefull until my thoughts were crosseyed.
If I'm lucky I'll realise that I've forgotten someone to buy a present for and get my passport stamped again.