The latest in my series of articles entitled "A Rural Calendar" which month by month explores the significance of important dates, festivals, customs and traditions practised by the inhabitants of the British Isles in the past.

Today, I examine the Month of September

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Eat or heat my stiffening bones

Like demons in the night on paid vacation

Aesop dons his tanning lotion

Admires his Trumpian colour and prays

For constancy with his New Look.

Golden girls, clicking high heels, sweeping, swaying hair

An oasis of ambiguity in the desert, for the parched

And for us all.

Unsure how we feel in response to a death

And twelve lo...

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WILL KNOW IN SEPTEMBER

Will know in September

Just heard today but it won't be long

Stare out above daylight passing

Will I always be there?

Covering back daring to face

Encroachment of night?

I watch the flying birds

Sense panic exert towards light

You keep staring towards

We must get back to house

The encroachment displayed receipts

You wrote a letter to ...

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You need to play blue guitar at this interview Miss.

while sitting back to the sea

Put on your red shoes and dance to Nigel’s blue guitar

strangers humming the songs of tomorrow's vocals

Shadows of sinners dancing across the years

as Nigel's guitar gently weeps

the boom and the base of neighbours shouting from next door to turn the noise down

You won't believe what just h...

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Soft swathes of September wind

stroke my welcoming skin,

its warm touch offers solace

to my stationary form.

A slow slight cadence

and a flighty rhythm,

this wind it soothes me.

Eyes closed shut so tightly

that sleep begins its

slow inward stroll

to silently steal my waking world,

and deliver me to the dream domain

where the calming wind

continues to hold me ...

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Don’t pick up hitch-hikers

Whether at high noon

Or covered in red petals and blood

Dreaming of American skies

Trusted positions to make you relax

Be careful not to mention the Karma Sutra

Or a mobile phone will ring

Or a bluebird sing

Basildon bonds & lined paper

Snowflakes fall between the lines, melting

Oh Walter, dear husband of mine

Stiff as...

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I, dreamlost,

wake

to golden leaves of beech

sunlit

from my bed

as airdew clouds over the hedge

rise and vanish

as the eastern horizon above the valley

is lost, sunk

beneath dawndrifts of mist

not yet warmed to fade

beneath the clear blue sky;

the uncut grass of the dew-wet lawn,

droplet bent:

cool promise as

I, barefooted,

explore

the cusp of the...

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Strange seasons clip and slash new life

The hot sand blows into my soldier’s rations

The robot newsreader sounds like comical Ali

Bacon butties served under sniper fire

World’s end to wellies, flip-flop relief for Achilles

Do I deserve to be loved?

Drowning in an eternal sea of despondency

I rise up and say no

The season changes the earth burns

Naked ...

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Boxes of snore, law and war

Old soldiers in days of yore

Endless revising for the school dance

Go West across the park and guess

Who Fred could be

The black lab drags behind

Whilst a parrot swears

The social workers say it's OK

Not that I'd wish it on his people

But isn't it a shame that Kim

Can't have the wrath of Irma -

Or was it him that caused it...

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White nights,

white nights...

I'm colourblind.

Kind of like to think I know

why we stand solid,

struck dumb by perennial sadness;

and the salient points,

burst like bubbles in smoked air;

clasped to the breast

that sinks as seconds lengthen

even beyond reason for purge.

Beyond the clouds that fall,

in spirals, now thick moistened rope;

we are given base,

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We’re pleased to announce the following promotions for our 24th September OpenMind event at Fuel Cafe Bar.

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Take a look at the poster for our OpenMind: Slamming September event at Fuel on Monday 24th September.

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There’s something about April -
  the way she wears her clothes:
    loosely fit. One button more
      and September is exposed.
        The veil removed, her flesh reveals
          December’s naked trees;
             Springtime lurks behind the bark
               and drags me to my knees.
 
               I kneel upon her dewy cloak
            And make her moss my bed;
...

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