Memoirs In Verse

This poem is dedicated to my belovèd. Written in  sonnet form, the poem invites the reader to consider ageing by the extended metaphor of nature's tidal rhythms, to arrive at a place of acceptance and even anticipation for what each new ‘tide’ of life might bring. Listen to:  A Sonnet on Ageing No longer will I heed my years advancing, But measure life by what I’ve done instead, For deeds, like tides, usher in my future, To leave my past exposed upon their ebb. For the flooding tides that shape this life lived, Will turn heedless of my hopes or damage wrought, And by their rhyming touch, the tides demand  No celebration but relentless change.  Such tides convey my fortunes, and scour  My shore, until by subtle shift each ebb   Reveals new gifts, of soft grained golden sands, The sea-worn shingle, and perhaps a pearl.  So walk with me along the high tide mark, We'll see what gifts this morning's tide has brought.

 Listen to: A Sonnet On Reunion This free verse poem in sonnet form was written following my reunion with three of the seven other cadets with whom I first went to sea in 1975. I left life's fuss outside, like muddied shoes, And stoked the embers of my memory To spark with laughter at our meeting, How bittersweet it was to greet old friends. Barely familiar were those life-lived faces, And yet, by smile or turn of phrase or look, I swiftly sped through fifty fleeting years, To find those men the decent friends they were. We lived hard lives and lived so brightly then, Yet though I've lived more full and vibrant since, Those friends gave meaning to my restless youth, Far more than anyone or place I’d known. We went to sea as boys and they remain As men, the friends I knew and know once more.

Listen to:  Autumn Takes My Hand Autumn takes my hand to meet grim winter, Northward, far from where the sultry tropics lie; Winds stir and wake the grey, slumbering sea, For now, their foul temper holds sweet and fair. At sea no turning leaves or autumn fruits Gild my way to a looming twilight hearth; No playful seeming nuthatch hides a hoard, But sunset draws her sullen shadows in. Like summer now, my life at sea is done, Though loath to leave I shall not linger long As winter’s night is loath to leave the day, And shall leave this ship before winter bites. With luck to watch migrating birds fly south, And to sleep without danger’s gnawing doubt.

Listen to: A Sonnet for Thomas As surely as your compass holds true North, My love for you is constant as the stars Are present, even by the light of day; Heed well Polaris, mind my faithful friends. Fear not the rough and rising seas ahead, Brought by the winter season's winds that rage, For as the scudding clouds that hide the stars, The skies will clear and heavy seas abate. Take care of all you need and learned from me, When like the outbound ship your course is set; For when I leave you at the fairway buoy, No longer shall you have this pilot's hand. My steadfast friends shall keep my love for you, They know you are this loving pilot's son.

Listen to: A Sonnet for James Oh you are life to me, as spring's flood tide Does bring to feeding birds; where rising airs Of salt and seaweed greet their hearts with joy, For feeding then they are, like me, content. As sure as the flooding tides bring plenty, And help our laden ships homeward bound, My constant love for you does so endure; But how the daily brimming tides bring change. For at the reach of flood, the ebb must come, And life and love like mine be swept away. Grieve not, your wife and child have bounty brought; They shall sustain you as the tide does turn. Let each coming tide remind you of my love, And how I loved and lived, and lived complete.

Listen to: An Elegy for an Old Friend Once loved, yet faded like a well-read book, Its woven linen cover marked by use, With pages stained by passing years and loose, You became my cherished and trusted friend. How you with grace and gentle manner’s key, Unlocked the cloistered halls of civil power, And thus fulfilled my pressing need to know, If there the seeds of honest purpose flowered. As lively prose springs from the favoured book, Your cheering words brought light to gloomy days, With keen wit you unlocked my cool reserve, And as does well-wrought prose, enriched my life. Death doubtless claims your lifeless body's soul, But he'll not dare your Yorkshire wit control!