681

At one time we thought

That we might live in Harbledown

And travelled by Green Line

To Canterbury,

Wandering around the shops

And restaurants,

Sensing all was fine

And never for a moment in our bliss

Realising that real life

Might require employment,

Or at least a steady income

The lack of which might just quench

The fire of youthful hope;

But then of course young love

Is never bothered with the thought of cash,

Assuming it will follow in the wake

Of well laid plans

Which, later, may seem rash

But at the time were strong enough to bare

Romantic visions of a future shared.

Brian Hick 23.2.10

©copyright S Hick 24.2.2022

 680

Vigil  (concerning the Long man of Wilmington.S Hick)

Slow softness of the dusk

Kind inter-change

A blur of greys and greenness

Below the comfortable half-circle of the sun

Snugging in behind the silhouette

Of Ditchling on to Firle.

Sit and wait;

For nothing can prevent

The darkness which will come

Nor yet the light

Inevitable as perfection

Rising at my back

To cut dawn's lies.

Unseen, your outline stands

Above the Yew

Leading inwards

Orpheus-like, but true.

Brian Hick Feb 2010

©copyright Sally Hick Feb 2022

 679

Five attempts today

And all I get

Is naff regurgitation

Of the stuff

I've been churning out 

For twenty years,

And even now

I realise I'm caught

Within the strictures

Of iambic form

So what looks like

Free verse is nothing but

A rearrangement

In a vain attempt

To break out of

This metric stanglehold.

But who am I kidding

For I know

Iambics are the heart

Of what I write

And if occasionally

I can create

Something different

It's an accident

And any truth

Which happens to pop up

Is simply the result

Of now't but luck.

Brian Hick 2010

©copyright Sally Hick 2022

 The hanging gardens of Princes Risborough

Princes Risborough on our way

To Stratford for to see a play

In February, bleak and drear,

And trains devoid of tea or beer,

But on the platform, two by two,

The hanging baskets shout 'Hulloo

The Spring is now a blink away

So cheer up all - have a nice day!'

Brian Hick February 2009

©copyright Sally Hick 2022

 Book launch - and nobody is here,

Until a steady trickle of good friends

Who wish me well and somehow make amends

For all those invited, but aware

That other calls upon their time outweigh

The likelihood of dropping in today.

Brian Hick 28.2.09

©copyright Sally Hick 2022

 I'm on the train

The buzz of conversation on the train

Makes it impossible to read or work,

Overhearing one end of a call

To cadge a lift or, wheedling, to shirk

A planned appointment, leaves me feeling numbed

That their lives carry on on while mine's on hold

Until a silence settles and my thoughts

Can focus on the present - yet untold

Confusions and a jumble of demands,

That early morning can't prioritise,

Raise memories of recent sleep which draw

My consciousness down to the gentler prize.

  For now dreamless oblivion, gentle death,

  Seems preferable to this babbling mobile mess.

Brian Hick February 2009

©copyright Sally Hick February 2022

 21 Feb

Snow, and endless rain, may have enhanced

The start of Spring, for walking into town

Down Newgate Road, bare gardens now abound

With tiny, vibrant clumps of new sprung plants.

Brash crocus colours clash winter's grass

While snowdrops cluster in the beach tree's root;

Dwarf narcissi, primroses to boot,

Smile up in hedgerow posies which surpass

The memory of springs I can recall,

Their frailty at odds with aging prints

Of single flowerlets, stark against the page,

Immortal, yet oblivious to life's toll.

   These fragile blossoms, sprung up overnight

   Urge my winter's soul into the light.

Brian Hick 21 Feb 2009

©copyright Sally Hick Feb 2022

Written in my Valentine's card 2016

St Valentine is here again;

See shops overflow

With cardboard hearts

And silver darts

From Eros' bright bow; 

But fifty years of Valentine's

Have gone since first we strolled

Hand in hand

Along the Strand

Oblivious to the cold.

And not a day has passed since then

That we've not been together

In mind and heart,

Even when apart,

For nothing here can sever

A marriage of true minds, becoming

Stronger over time,

Whose truth will run

For years to come -

Outliving this poor rhyme.

               xxxxx

Brian Hick 14.2.2016

©copyright Sally Hick February 2022

A haiku for Valentine

Love, love, love, love, love,

Love, love, love, love, love, love, love,

Love, love, love, love, - You.

                                        xxx

Brian Hick

©copyright Sally Hick February 2022 

Written in the Valentine's card from Brian 2015

Fifty-four years since that first Valentine -

A nonsense verse because I knew no better - 

But time does not encourage the sublime

And words are just as difficult as ever. 

Fifty-four years of unexpected love

Tentatively etched as if afraid

That any moment, like a startled dove,

It may fly off before a word is said.

Fifty-four years of constant mystery,

delighting in the day-to-day unknown,

Hidden within a lifetimes constancy,

A union which endures to make us one.

We may not be as young as we were then

But our love laughs at time - and says Amen!

B xxx

Brian Hick 14.2.15

©copyright Sally Hick February 2022

 Written after giving a talk as a guest speaker.

Most audiences help you on your way

Even if it's just a casual snort

Or nod to show they are awake and thought

What you've just said was worth what they had paid.

But tonight in Lewes, for the first time

I had a group who all seemed to have died

The moment I began and when I tried

To cheer them up with anecdote or rhyme

The words just disappeared into a stare

Of lethal silence, turning any whim

Or gentle joy anticipated in

The verse, to stone and my despair.

          Maybe I was off form today

          Or could it be because  - they didn't pay?

Brian Hick 3.2.10

©copyright Sally Hick 4.2.22

 Plain hard work and Time

It started with The Eagle of the Ninth

On Children's Hour, a million years ago,

When, sat before the fire, I seemed to grow

Into the Roman virtues that by stealth

Drip fed into me over the years

Until I was convinced the only way

To achieve a goal was simply to gainsay

The luck or privilege which my peers

Seemed to attract in shoals, and turn myself

To solitary effort, never praised,

Which slowly, etched by nightly study, raised

My school exams to doctorate, and a wealth

 Of quiet satisfaction, never prized

 Except within the sparkle of your eyes.

Brian Hick February 2009

©copyright Sally Hick February 2022