Simon Leake writes

Neusiedl am See

What is common

to you

and uncommon

to others:

this lake

its white shore ―

an awkward tree line

squeezed

between opal and grey

bath water.

Could be

the Solent; Bristol Channel;

an other other.

To you

heat and nakedness

a pizza

shared with ants

an argument

with ducks.

 

 

Simon Leake writes

Poem for Jeremy Hill

How quiet the peak,

the bone strewn cleft,

the babble of the brook

to our engines clatter,

highways of chatter

shattering ― screens of power

...and yet among us still

are some quieter even

than Nature’s humble notes.

We should steal the time

to be attentive to their peace:

subtle languages they found.

 Picking Apples -- Arthur John Elsley

Simon Leake writes

The Manufacture of Ai Weiwei (a corroboration)

A wall to my back

Played its part

Forced me to start

This blog

My father? – an exile

Telegraph poles and aerials

Competed with

Naked crowns

Of trees

Books – damaged me

A shift in the shade

The corporation

Embodied – a plan

Following

Ten thousand plus horizons

Within the eucalyptus

At twilight – magic hour

A bearded man – jaw jaws

On silence

In the high place – interned

Angry dog barks

At lazy owners

A locked door – frost

No prompt

Unconscious – a poem

Sunset unseen – a life

Made of bricks

Is any effort worth

No memory;

No imagination? – the moment acts

 Dropping a Han Dynasty Urn -- Ai Weiwei