A SHADOW FELL

‘Stalker’ . . . Photo: WHB – 2020

A shadow fell across my track
As I walked ‘neath the evening sky;
I became concerned,
My stomach churned,
As the stranger hurried by.

Just a shudder felt
In my worried step
As I caught just a glimpse of his frame
And I knew at once
What it was he wants
As he held out his hand to me.

“Think you may have dropped
Your walking stick”,
He politely said to me.
He passed it on
Then he was gone
And I felt sad to be me.

To Sleep … To Dream

To Sleep … To Dream

 

Sleep drifts across my consciousness
as I enter that make-believe world
where reality sees through a muslin mask
draped damask silk obscures truth
and a samite screen falls across my past

The difference between then and now fades
as a haze envelopes my senses
featureless clouds descend
and my dream-world begins

Reality now hijacked by myth and legend
a new world
untried
untested
a concoction distilled from my history
as unlike my waking world
as noonday is from midnight
as I am from my shadow

SLEEP

Life’s parade ground

Death’s practice ground

 

Sidmouth, Devon #3

To round off my visits to Sidmouth on the Jurassic Coast of South Devon,  I add just a few more of my photographs taken there last month . . .

 

Railway poster from the early 20th Century

The annual Folk Festival takes place in the early part of August. Ad hoc groups of musicians can be found throughout the town and seafront – just enjoying themselves

. . . and throughout the rest of the year too.

‘The Sidmouth Fiddler’ – reminder of the Folk Festival in Connaught Gardens

Splendid croquet courts along the sea front – often used for National and International competitions.

‘When Evening Shadows Fall’ … an elongated cameraman!

… To the top of Jacob’s Ladder

Views from the top of Jacob’s Ladder

The River Sid runs through the centre of the town

 

‘Another Place’

‘Autumn Leaves’ by John Everett Millais … Oils 1855-56 … Manchester Art Gallery

With my grateful thanks to John Brelstaff, painter, poet, retired art teacher, and friend, for permission to use his poem on my blog.

THE SANDMAN

 

The sandman looms

long and low in the westerly sun

on the evening shore

treading his beach

with dedicated feet

an image hunter

heir of Autolycus

searching

 for Nature’s hidden ornaments

probing with his stick

revealing the sand crabs

tempting the tide to turn

and wash away his presence

leaving no imprint

only a fleeting glance

a captured instant

of memory

of another world

arcane and mystical

beneath the sand

before the glimpse

releases him

and he moves on

into the dying day.

The Sandman was spotted on the beach beside Bamburgh Castle, Northumberland,UK, in 2003 … Photo and sketch …  WHB