967

WNO in Brum

Is a day ever wasted? Can it be

Retrieved and reconstructed in the light

Of reflection or philosophy.

This time I've spent just waiting for the night?

The hours, though slow, slipped easily away;

I read the paper, walked across the city,

Lounged in the Big Wok, as if the day

Had purpose and was not inclined to pity

Myself because there was nothing much to do.

I wrote a little, rang you from time to time,

Then mooched to the Hippo for the new

Cosi fan tutte, which should have been sublime

          But all I got was shoddiness and dross

          And the whole day became a total loss.

Dr Brian Hick summer 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 31.7.23

 966

Proserpine

Of all the months I've come to hate September

For once moe it took you away from me,

Leaving winter's never ending scree

Of memories I'd rather not remember.

A pomegranate seed - a thing so small

It's difficult to realise the harm

It caused, so that your child's warmth and charm

With autumn's peace, were banished for us all.

Here I wait, counting the days until

The ice recedes and snowdrops push their heads

Up through the wasted weeds and flower beds,

The sun begins to warm not just to light,

The moon sits softer as I watch the night

Then, you are here again, and all is well.

Dr Brian Hick summer 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 28.7.23

 965

Birmingham Haikus

Der frohlicher Monch

Wanderkneipe;

No wonder Victoria 

Looks the other way

Have just realised

This Dortmunder Union

Could have been a Pimms.

A haiku for each

Painting in the gallery;

How long would it take?

'Never morning wore

To evening but some heart did

Break', Walter Langley.

Why does this painting

With its simple subject, melt

My heart so quickly

Will retirement be

Like this; ticking off the hours

Until the next meal?

Dr Brian Hick summer 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 26.7.23

 964

Black headed gulls turn into the light

An east wind ruffles up the estuary.

The evening sun just catches on the bright

Grey metal holders, stark against the weary

Kentish hills.  Two yachts squat at anchor

Tipping slowly in the turning tide

Oblivious to the sluggish German tanker

Slipping out into the North Sea's wide

Neutrality.  A rush of starlings coast

Above my head, brushing the evergreen

Which holds the cliff against a host

Of subterranean forces which would cream

          The life from this frail margin of the river

          Returning it to mud and marsh for ever.

Dr Brian Hick summer 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 24.7.23

 963

Wave

The sea was calm.

I was no more than an idea

Lurking in the mind of the wind

Which licked and hissed, cajoled,

Until, out of the mass of water

I started to evolve.

Gradually, without any effort on my part,

I came into being, growing even stronger.

The coast could not endure my might;

Rocks and matter smashed as I broke on them

Rolling all before me

Knwing nothing

Had my strength,

Until

On that same instant

I was gone -

A back draft and a trail of bubbles

All that for a second seemed to hang

Before the waters hid me and

The sea was calm.

Dr Brian Hick summer 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 21.7.23

 962

Southend haikus

I am surrounded

By cars and wandering tourists

Yet always alone.

Southend sea-front on

A fine June evening, but why

Is everything closed?

If you thought Hastings

Was bad, you need to come to

Southend in summer.

Dr Brian Hick June 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 19.7.23

 961

Bella Italia, Southend

A poster of the Sistine Chapel pinned above my head

As I sup my double espresso and accept that I had read

All I want to of The Independent and have eaten more

Than I expected - but that comment seems to avoid the core

Of what I need to say - How quickly we reduce perfection

To a trite souvenir, a double A3 whose intention

Is to amuse not overwhelm, as surely Michelangelo

Intended, when in sweaty haste, his immortal fresco

Took shape above his head and over time has come to mean

For more than he imagined on the intellectual scene.

Yet via internet and mobile every daub has been reduced

To a faded T-shirt or an ad for orange juice.

Dr Brian Hick summer 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 17.7.23

 960

What better way

To end the day

A long bath

With iced Pimms.

Dr Brian Hick

©copyright Sally Hick 14.7.23

 959

When Sally went to Westgate as a child

Her family took delight in getting lost.

Setting out each evening - as the mild

Mid-summer air cooled and the host

Of day trippers disappeared - they

Would search the lanes and byways, putting trust

In providence to find a different way

To an undiscovered pub before the dusk.

Today, we walked for further than we'd intended

As far as The Dog & Duck at Pluck's Gutter

But, lunching in the garden, all was mended,

For to be honest, it really didn't matter

That one of us had misread the map

Especially now there's Shepherd Neame on tap.

Dr Brian Hick summer 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 12.7.23

 958

The Grove Ferry clock

For River Trips has thirteen

Hours marked on its face.

Dr  Brian Hick summer 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 2013

 957

Rutupiae

The beach along the Saxon Shore

          Has drifted as the years have passed

          And Roman walls no longer cast

Their shadows where the tidal bore

Once carried Claudius, who claimed

          The conquest of another race,

          One more triumphal arch in place

Over the butchered and the maimed.

But looking at this tourist site

          The tidy walls, the well-clipped hedge

          It's hard to sense the cutting edge

Which decimated Britiain's right

To claim this island and its coast

          - now basking in the morning light -

          As we set off towards the sight

Of Augustine's inflated boast

That he brought Christianity

          To pacify the British tribes

          Who, left alone, would have survived

To find their way to amity.

Dr Brian Hick summer 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 7.7.23

 956

Saxon Shore Way 1

The maps are checked; the rooms booked for the night;

The route is clear; the weather whould be bright;

Emails arrive confirming all is well,

And we are ready - as far as we can tell.

And yet, I need to quieten the tide

Of thoughts that could so easily collide

With all I hope these walking hours might be-

A chance to concentrate and maybe see

Beyond the working problems and the net

Of memories, which I could shed, and yet

Which cling as if my life might not exist

Without their presence lurking in the mist.

          Will the Saxon Shore's elusive mystery

          Be enough to turn this tide for me?

Brian Hick summer 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 5.7.23

 955

Never leave until

Tomorrow what you should have

Done today. I did.

Brian Hick summer 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 3.7.23