Chile Here We Come

Watch this space! The writer (myself) and the artist (my wife) will be heading off for our honeymoon adventure in Chile – the other side of the blue planet. We’ll be travelling down to Patagonia, the most remote landscape left on earth, as pristine and desolate as a Martian landscape. We’ll also be travelling to…

Waters of Memory

  Waters of Memory   In the fields that spread before us Lies shyly hidden the waters of Mnemosyne.   Like lovers reunited after ash-cloud wars We set off journeying to the waters.   Through titanic clouds and spikenard winds We travel the fields of manifold lives.   When we arrive we will let lay…

Dreams of a Wayfarer

    I Walk in the Shadows   I walk in the shadows And the shadows follow. The moon lights the sand ablaze And I feel the life of dying days. As the lyre of Orpheus conquered hell So the shadows revolt against midnight’s swell, I take sides then change again Swaying like air between…

An Ode to Travel

  “Journeys are the midwives of thought.” This quote from Alain de Botton’s The Art of Travel goes a long way in explaining why almost everything I’ve ever written has been tinted with wanderlust. Human beings are lofty animals because we, uniquely, have a name for happiness. Other animals can only ‘do’ happiness – be…

Mono no aware

Mono no aware   All day long the sky dreams of stars. Yet when the stars begin to sing The sky is filled with regret.   A sparrow leaps across the old sky, The Medina sinks in the pond of violet dusk And there is nothing but the morrow.   The capers crawl into the…

Epicurean Realism

  Ever since I was small I was fascinated by the big role little things played in people’s lives. Being an argumentative sort I always pitted imaginary battles in my heads: food vs. career; football vs. relationships; mementos vs. ambitions. Of course now that I’m older and presumably wiser I know it’s not a case…

Numinous Childhood

From Childhood to Eternity Those eyes, still so fresh with the dew of youth, Will see things no poet’s pen could ever entrap; Noble Mexican tapestries, French vineyards of olden silk, Azure domains, verdant realms, celestial weaves, Waves without ships or men, races of a thousand hues, Greeks, Kurds, Quechuan and the ancestors of man….

Carnival of the Dead

Carnival of the Dead Today is the dawn of an old winter. Death, so friendly and chatty, descends Like a pregnant ash cloud to kiss the roofs of our mouths. A carnival of life mocks the dead, Their dancing further burying the black corpses Until their remains lie so far buried That we are allowed…

Inner Landscapes

Childhood   What world is this With so many blues? Birds fly like planes And houses Have balconies for faces. Olive trees Shake hands With palms. And beaches Drown with the tide. Oh mother, I don’t know!     The Pen   Like snow To a mountain, Or the cocktail To the man who screams…

The Origins of Travel: Grace Under Pressure

  We are often told that travel is freedom. It’s a romantic view of what is essentially leisurely migration. I don’t see it that way. Not anymore. Wanderlust: one of the most beautiful words in the English language (and typically of Germanic origins) is an evocative word that breathes mountain air and wistful breezes. But…