Thursday the eighth of February,

and eleven point seven miles I’ve walked,

a running total in defiance

of the enemy within,

of voices in my head who’d rather

I sit quiet, with nose to screen,

consuming crap made just for me,

algorhythmically designed

to rob me of humanity,

of poetry in my walking’s rhythm,

a miracle that’s in full flow,

performed by those who gave...

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Desperate to get out and exercise

My increasingly bloated physiology,

I follow advice that I’ve learned from life,

Two magic formulae, KISS and TOFFEE,

My first is: Keep It Simple Stupid!

Then: Time on Feet,-without the t!-well spent, I hope.

And I follow the wisdom undiluted,

Contained in the words of Alexander Pope:

Fools rush in where angels fear to tread!

So on Frid...

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Last week I managed to walk six miles or so.

This Tuesday I walked three miles along the canal.

My God it was warm and how thirsty I was at the end!

I went straight to the pub for a pint, to rest and reflect.

One hour and fifteen minutes to walk three and a bit miles.

And here at the bar, by my side was a man in a wheelchair.

He had had both legs amputated below the knee.

This...

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Walking

The world around me is how it used to be:

Fresh, alive, peaceful, welcoming.

Alone but not alone,

I’m part of this world again,

not fighting it

not worrying.

Not competing and being judged.

A modest meal awaits,

with good wine,

a shower

A bed.

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After the Meseta,

after the heat,

after the stones.

The green hills

the shady paths

the views.

The way is rocky and steep.

Don’t stumble,

keep your balance and

Breathe.

Peace around you.

And then there it is – La Faba.

I have arrived

And part of me will never leave.

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The walking

The peace

And You.

Just you, in a foreign land.

Remembering what its like to be you.

No agendas No pressure

No deadlines.

Time only matters when you are leaving in the morning and when you need to sleep.

The walking

Seeing things and feeling again.

Around you no-one is rich or poor,

everyone has a story and a reason to be there

to be shared and reco...

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Kicking through the moss
in the cooling evening air
I’m staring down the barrel
of a living Rivelin Valley

Crickets clicking in the tall grass 
bramble searching for a shin
I stoop to flick away
the tickle of a nettle
caught under my tongue

O, why could I not have felt this way
at twenty one
To know myself
my capabilities, my limitations
to feel this comfortable
in my own skin 
...

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each day I went for a walk in the woods

with COVID you look after your ticker

you tend to see the same folk each day

they smile as I offer the faintest flicker

I'd copped a wan couple making the circuit

a pair regular as clockwork out every day

then I saw the woman strolling on her own

had her partner upped and gone away?

a week later I caught her eye and stopped

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Pen devoid of poems
adventure long overdue
living room carpet
growing long in the tooth
I’m pining for movement
so keen to get out
I’ll go walking down
to Holly Hagg

Little glimpses at normality
haloed by golden rays
There’s no poison 
in the idle river
no politics
in the quiet horse
cantering to 
another chew

The clouds of working day
part while I’m out walking
bathed in nat...

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Flogita - 13 September 2019

It stands

a great sail fin of rock

high towering - dominant

cloud mazed

haze hidden seat of hidden gods

and we,  yes,

we would rise to their heights,

stand in their pantheon

to observe the tiny world

beneath.

For from this seat

Prometheus set forth

and with Athena

set us in that tiny mortal world -

yet now we stand

proud o...

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stone, stone, shell, flint

the rattle of a beach

of beach steps

on stones

the endless stone rattle

walking

beaches

groyne divided

beaches

And the waves

of a leaden sea

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I walk to clear my mind,
Why must I have all these thoughts circulating in my head?

I walk to get away.
Why is everything getting to me?

I walk to forget.
Why does the past loom behind me?

I walk...
I walk...
I walk...

I walk because that is the only thing I know to do. 

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As we pass through this Autumn realm,

See the valley bound wraiths of mist

Withdrawing like a tide from the willow

Islands of the marshland

With their starkly black boughed trees

Damply dripping with the mist's remains,

Chill air swirls in the rising breeze, and

Black starlings line the wires beyond a barn

But the red kite in his higher flight

Is lost to sight

       ...

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We came upon

A mystic way leading nowhere but the hills.

Floored in leaves, tree roofed, bank-bound

Untrodden but by wanderers for centuries past.

What lay beyond, worthy of such industry?

Perhaps a long forgotten hearth tenured by shepherd or crone.

Or did this tended track pass on to a hilltop way:

Miles now lost to grass and sheep,

A one-time druidic path to some time-er...

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Walking, I discover

Hills I never knew in thirty years of passing;

Valleys, deserted, hidden in folds and time:

Mair says once there was a community here

Self contained, sufficient unto itself

Walking, I find

Landscapes we could have seen before, perhaps shared

Their riches, dreamed their past, known their present:

I'm told these Druid hills sing history itself

Sing...

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Been there

Done it

Eaten it

Drunk it

Almost drowned in it

Nearly died

Praised it

Cursed it

Dodged it

Traversed it

Just you name it

I’ll have tried

Smoked it

Snorted it

Been traumatised by it

Reduced to tears by it

Laughed and cried

Run it

Walked it

Chased it

Caught it

Wished I hadn’t bothered s...

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