• Bodhisattvacharyavatara
    • Introduction
    • Chapter 1
    • Chapter 2
    • Chapter 3
    • Chapter 4
    • Chapter 5
    • Chapter 6
    • Chapter 7
    • Chapter 8
    • Chapter 9
    • Chapter 10
  • collected works
    • 25th August 1981 – count Up
    • askance From Hell
    • Batman
    • The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford
    • Bob 1995-2012
    • Edward Hopper: Poems at an Exhibition
    • David Bowie Movements in Suite Major
    • Eglinton Hill
    • FLOORBOARDS
    • Granada
    • in and out / the Avebury stones / can’t seem to get / a signal …
    • Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters]
    • Miller’s Batman
    • mum
    • nan
    • Portsmouth – Southsea
    • Spring Warwick breezes / over Bacharach fieldwork and boroughs with / the occasional shift and chirp of David / in the pastel-long morning of the sixties
    • through the crash
  • index
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    • F–K, wha’ th’
    • L-P 33 1/3 rpm
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mlewisredford

~ may the Supreme and Precious Jewel Bodhichitta take birth where it has not yet done so …

mlewisredford

Tag Archives: 2014

Plumstead – Woolwich – Plumstead 220211

16 Thursday Nov 2017

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

2011, 2014, 2017, 6*, architecture, birds, birdsong, blackbird, blue, branches, breathing, brick, bus, cars, change, child, childhood, church, coat, coffee, coffee shop, crane, crows, death, echo, Eglinton Hill, evening, football, friends, green, handshake, Have, hill, houses, lifetimes, light, looking, mother, Mum, newsagent, no effort, notice, passing, pigeons, Plumstead, Plumstead common, quiet, roads, smiling, sound, step, streets, Thames, thought, time, trees, voices, walking, white, windows, Woolwich

        Plumstead – Woolwich – Plumstead 220211

        the crane holds effortlessly over from behind
        the houses and trees cables thrumming always
        cold and eventually it will all be dismantled;

        the diesel car purred slowly downhill, a pigeon
        dropped down behind it walked around a bit;
        through the leaf-clean branches of the young

        tree the Edwardian cornices and tops along
        Plumstead Common Road, don’t collect thoughts,
        t a s t e them without notice, deep and wet

        with no tice – much less effort – while walking,
        every once in a while the wall steps up a brick
        I search for being clear again … step, while

        walking stop, and breathe the beauty, stop
        and smile a little thought for you; in St. Mary
        Magdalene’s ground the mother has turned

        points to the trees, birds fly off and land, the
        toddler steps and stands among the pigeons
        while the mother brings the abandoned scooter

        but then in New Road holding the handshake
        shaking between exchange the firm friends
        look at each other only occasionally; while he

        he Had a coffee heated sandwich iced bun
        crisps water £8.89, busses passing bulbous
        over the dark green and hanging shade; up

        the hill on the coldstreet stepping downhill
        out the newsagent the bright blue padded
        jacket and the single bounce of a well-inflated

        basketball with simultaneous echo inside; the
        while on a wall opposite his Mum’s flat dead
        almost 12 years now watching a boy with a limp

        and the 53 bus working between parked cars
        and the crossing island with air suspension
        and when it was quiet the dark coat and white

        trainers crossed the road paused and into the
        newsagents but then I didn’t see where she
        went; the constant echo of boys’ voices playing

        football on Plumstead Common off Acacia
        Terrace 1890; and I can’t see 46 Eglinton Hill
        where I’m sat, conifers grow so quick, but

        `doesn’t matter, I can’t see the blackbird singing
        a different collect each time either; crows on the
        chimneys of 40/38; for a minute the blackbird

        stopped no vehicles uphill downhill, lights
        went on across the river and each house had
        the face of lifetimes in their windows;

 

Every year and a while I travel 40 miles up to Woolwich, where I grew up, to check that the journey I make started off in the write direction (HA!); while wandering I write, leaning on peoples’ front walls and making a coffee last in a cafe (and every once in a while I treat myself to an afternoon bench); walking downhill from Plumstead to Woolwich and around and back, in time; those who know Woolwich and Plumstead (all none of you across the world wide, as far as I can tell, although you have got Google maps, if you’re really interested) will [be able to] recognise as they appear: South Circular coming up to Well Hall roundabout, Eglinton Hill [childhood home], Plumstead Common Road, St Mary Magdelene’s Church, Woolwich New Road, [along A206], Waverley Crescent (top of Griffin Road), Plumstead Common (proper), back up Eglinton Hill …

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

architecture wormhole: pen and ruler
birds wormhole: open window
blackbird & change wormhole: relief
blue wormhole: low afternoon
branches wormhole: between
breathing & coffee shop & evening & sound & time & windows wormhole: amid
bus wormhole: Mark & Jon at the coffee shop III
cars & green & trees wormhole: Cocktails in 1951
child & streets wormhole: red / lacquer / door
childhood wormhole: all the sandstone / reflections in the / marble-blue troughs
church wormhole: ‘someone …’
coffee wormhole: Mark & Jon at the coffee shop I
crane wormhole: Luton // couldn’t make a poem out of it
crows wormhole: the ancient tree
death & light & Mum wormhole: good going into / that gentle night
echo wormhole: circuitry
Eglinton Hill & Plumstead wormhole: lost and city ground
Have & looking wormhole: found
lifetimes wormhole: cape and cowl
mother wormhole: mother and daughter
passing & roads & leaves wormhole: leaves
pigeons wormhole: municipal garden
quiet wormhole: the quiet whale
Thames wormhole: to rescue something
thought wormhole: ‘God, who am I …?’
voices wormhole: I keep / waiting to be discovered and get lost in anticipation
walking wormhole: cinnamon / milkshake
Woolwich wormhole: that comicbookshop … // … in dreams

 

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amid

15 Wednesday Nov 2017

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

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Tags

2014, 5*, being, breathing, circular poem, coffee shop, evening, life, practice, realisation, settling, sitting, sound, time, windows, zafu

                                                      my practice
                            anyway                      my being
                 all the time                               off the cushion
I breathe it all amid                                   starts here in the
                   to come                                      coffee shop in the
  wait for settlement                                   evening by the
           I don’t need to                               window and the fug
                 to realise that                       and the foot scuffs and the
                             spoon slinks

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

being & evening & time wormhole: good going into / that gentle night
breathing wormhole: cape and cowl
circular poem wormhole: circuitry
coffee shop & sitting wormhole: found
life wormhole: leaves
practice wormhole: tragic and archival
realisation wormhole: such such potential
settling wormhole: jump start
sound wormhole: humm
windows wormhole: glide

 

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leaves

14 Tuesday Nov 2017

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

2014, 4*, coat, hope, leaves, life, notice, passing, red, ripple, roads, scarf, texture, traffic, Wadhurst, white

                                                settling easy with the ripples and billow

                                of hope and assure leaves
                                notice of sudden texture

                by the way

                                on the other side
                                of the busy road

                                the red coat and
                                white scarf waving

                                carrying
                                shopping

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

leaves & white wormhole: Cocktails in 1951
life wormhole: red / lacquer / door
passing & red wormhole: glide
roads wormhole: a nice grey woollen picnic blanket
texture wormhole: the sitting room

 

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red / lacquer / door

12 Sunday Nov 2017

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

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Tags

2014, 5*, bay window, child, doors, Hastings, life, red, step, streets, Victorian houses, view

                                               red
                                       lacquer
                                            door

                there is much up steep street
                where Victorian double bay

                stands proud to view over all
                steps too much for child to race

                wide-steps up and up while the
                buggy is meticulously folded

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

child wormhole: lime crocs
doors wormhole: I turn to wake up
life wormhole: found
red wormhole: twilight / and parasols down / within minutes
streets wormhole: between
Victorian houses wormhole: landscape of cloud over London / with differing depths of grey

 

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glide

10 Friday Nov 2017

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

'scape, 2014, 4*, Amsterdam, boats, buildings, city, cubism, facet, gliding, kaleidoscope, passing, river, seeing, tourism, turning, view, windows

                                                glide

                                tour boats make up and down
                                across the river their wakes

                                dissipated to behold except
                                their cubist windows for

                                to sight reflect the city’s buildings
                                madly and kaleidoscopically in

                facets and stop as they turn

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

buildings & city wormhole: low afternoon
passing wormhole: cinnamon / milkshake
river & windows wormhole: humm
seeing wormhole: place

 

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humm

09 Thursday Nov 2017

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

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Tags

'scape, 2014, 4*, Amsterdam, breeze, direction, docks, memory, monolith, night, ripple, river, sound, south, west, windows

                with constant humm
                the fumes drift south

                west over the docks and
                the red lights suggest

                monoliths bigger than
                memory but there are

                no waves on the river
                just the constant

                direction of ripple

 

in October 2014 we went to Amsterdam for a short break; we stayed both in and on a botel

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

breeze wormhole: at table 21 in the garden centre thinking to / replicate Hughes’ exercise for Plath about / the Yew Tree
night & windows wormhole: good going into / that gentle night
river wormhole: low afternoon
sound wormhole: Infantino KO

 

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cinnamon / milkshake

08 Wednesday Nov 2017

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

2014, 4*, Amsterdam, cactus, cinnamon, cream, feet, flowers, love, milkshake, orange, others, passing, terrace, walking, watching

                cinnamon
                milkshake

                barely coloured
                and creamy as the
                depth of orange

                straw on the
                terrace before the
                flower stalls with

                bulbs and cacti
                watching the
                hundred different

                ways that feet
                place and lift

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

evening wormhole: the evening
love wormhole: immeasurable love
orange wormhole: pink and orange
others & walking wormhole: is there anything to write?
passing wormhole: Cocktails in 1951

 

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low afternoon

07 Tuesday Nov 2017

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

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Tags

1839, 2014, 4*, afternoon, blue, buildings, cathedral, chimney stacks, city, clouds, diagonal, height, painting, river, rooftops, shadow, sky

                low afternoon

                the diagonals
                make it work
                the shadows
                across the low
                rooftops from
                high chimneys
                and crossbeams
                of the buildings
                along the river

                but the cathedral
                behind reaches
                above itself where
                the diagonals
                converge to the
                blue sky above
                the city clouds

 


                                The Quay de Paris in Rouen; Johannes Bosboom, 1839

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

afternoon wormhole: in the Java ‘n’ Jazz
blue wormhole: all the sandstone / reflections in the / marble-blue troughs
buildings & city wormhole: clear as vista
cathedral wormhole: this aching // and spacious dichotomy
clouds & sky wormhole: Cocktails in 1951
river wormhole: walk from Castleton to Hope
rooftops & shadow wormhole: between

 

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found

05 Sunday Nov 2017

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

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Tags

2014, 4*, buying, coffee shop, conformity, finding, Have, hidden, life, looking, purposelessness, sitting, society, town, writing

                I’ve seen those looking
                for what they don’t have
                around town and flaunting
                whatever they have got    desperately

                I’ve seen those hiding
                all that they have
                in town in conformity
                and brightly-coloured trousers

                and I have sat
                in the coffee shop writing about them both and
                neither three of us have found
                what we’re looking for

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

coffee shop wormhole: immeasurable love
Have wormhole: clear as vista
life wormhole: cape and cowl
looking wormhole: is there anything to write?
sitting wormhole: ‘God, who am I …?’
society wormhole: circuitry
writing wormhole: at table 21 in the garden centre thinking to / replicate Hughes’ exercise for Plath about / the Yew Tree

 

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immeasurable love

27 Friday Oct 2017

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

2014, 5*, coffee shop, eyes, hair, Haywards Heath, identity, lost, love, mauve, portrait, table, texting

 

                immeasurable love

                thumbs texting (in her lap under
                the table at a terrace) like
                an old knitting machine,
‘I-am-at-the-coffee-shop?-I-have-too-much-make-up-on-and-my-hair-has-a-mauve-tint-but-is-dreddy-round-the-roots-and-I-don’t-know-where-I-am’
                                                                she sends and looks up
                                                                through make-up eyes
                                                                which say, ‘please come
                                                                and get me’

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

coffee shop wormhole: in the Java ‘n’ Jazz
eyes wormhole: is there anything to write?
hair wormhole: place
Haywards Heath wormhole: on
identity & table wormhole: at table 21 in the garden centre thinking to / replicate Hughes’ exercise for Plath about / the Yew Tree
love wormhole: all the sandstone / reflections in the / marble-blue troughs
mauve wormhole: landscape of cloud over London / with differing depths of grey

 

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    • Chapter 8
    • Chapter 9
    • Introduction
  • collected works
    • 25th August 1981 – count Up
    • askance From Hell
    • Batman
    • Bob 1995-2012
    • David Bowie Movements in Suite Major
    • Edward Hopper: Poems at an Exhibition
    • Eglinton Hill
    • FLOORBOARDS
    • Granada
    • in and out / the Avebury stones / can’t seem to get / a signal …
    • Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters]
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    • Portsmouth – Southsea
    • Spring Warwick breezes / over Bacharach fieldwork and boroughs with / the occasional shift and chirp of David / in the pastel-long morning of the sixties
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