where art collides philosoperontap

18 September 2009

5.30 am

Filed under: thoughts — Trefor Davies @ 4:55 am

It’s early but I’m up. When you’re awake you’re awake. So I’m sat here on the settee in the front room.

Although we live slap bang in the middle of town there is a silence about the place at this time in the morning. It’s an unusual contrast of noise and no noise. I can hear lorries as they drive past outside. I don’t normally notice the noise of the traffic outside. I’m used to it.

Then there’s the clock. I didn’t even know it ticked but I can hear it clearly now. At first when I heard it I thought to myself “that’s a clock ticking! It must be in another room”. Upon investigation I realised that it was the clock on the mantlepiece in the room where I was sat. Amazing! My life will probably never be the same again. Every time I walk into this room I will hear the clock ticking. I’m not sure that this is a change for the good.

Ah well. It must all point to our house being a noisy house though because I don’t notice any of these sounds during the day. Actually the traffic is now also irritating me. How dare it intrude. I don’t hear it when I’m in bed and the bedroom is on the same side of the house as where I’m sat now – the double glazing in the bedroom probably accounts for that.

At 5.44 I can hear Tom move about above me. It isn’t natural for a teenager to be up this early ?. It’s still very dark out although there are plenty of lights in town. They seem to contrast with the darkness. There is dark and there is light. No in between.

The traffic has died down again but the clock still ticks…

17 September 2009

My squeaky left foot

Filed under: poems — Trefor Davies @ 9:03 pm

My shoe my shoe, it’s driving me nuts
Alternate steps squeak, no ifs no buts
I’ve altered my gait, tried to change my tread,
Every other pace taken makes a sound that I dread,
When walking along my damn foot’s too noisy,
And oil is no option because that’s too slippery
It wasn’t like that when I tried on the shoe
It seemed perfectly fine when it was brand new
But now it’s at home and I’ve worn it around
It’s too late to take back to the shop I’ll be bound
I can’t sneak up on friends and surprise from behind
They can tell that I’m coming coz the squeak springs to mind
My shoe my shoe, I’d be ever so glad
If someone could help me, it’s driving me mad

16 September 2009

All trains delayed

Filed under: poems — Trefor Davies @ 5:58 pm

All trains delayed
Overhead line problems
At Peterborough

Huge queues milling
On the platform
At Kings Cross

It isn’t quite the same
As the spirit
At Dunquerque

Adversity has not yet
united us – we are not
At one with each other

The commuters are tired
This is the last thing they need
At going home time.

15 September 2009

The passing of a passing acquaintance

Filed under: miscellany — Trefor Davies @ 9:35 pm

I saw him in a bar in the City. He was stood on his own with a newspaper and a beer, dressed casually at a time when most others were pouring out of their offices in their city slicker suits. Although we nodded at each other as I caught his eye I made no effort to engage with him. I was in the company of business associates with a specific discussion to be had.

I had heard that he had moved on from his job with one of our competitors “to spend more time with his family” or some such motive. He was outside my threesome and suddenly it felt as if he was a total outsider. I no longer saw him at industry gatherings. He was completely out of the picture. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to him. I just had other priorities and now very little in common.

I continued with my closed conversation and when next I looked he had gone.

What happened to the lollipop man !?

Filed under: miscellany — Trefor Davies @ 9:25 pm

All last year he was there, ushering, waving, shepherding. I got the occasional nod of acknowledgement as I stopped at his polite but firm behest. Sometimes I stopped before he had even asked. I felt in tune with him. If I was early he would be there leaning against the hedge, waiting for his punters to turn up. Dressed in his bright yellow coat and carrying his lollipop he was always there. It was comforting. You felt good to be with him, albeit for the few short seconds it took to drive past, or to slow down and stop, then pass. You felt you were part of his community and that his short working day was a wonderful contribution to that community.

This morning as I drove to work it occurred to me that I didn’t see him on the first day back to school. Then I didn’t think about it for a few days. I must have been away for some of that time and so as I drove up to the traffic island opposite the school today I looked out for him. There he was, or so I thought from a distance. That bright yellow coat and black hat. However something didn’t seem right as I drove closer. It wasn’t the old lollipop man! It was a lollipop lady and not him. It depressed me. I have nothing against the lady but I felt that my links to that community were suddenly strained. I became concerned..

His was another walk on role in my life. Really a background piece of transient action as the tapestry rolled on.

14 September 2009

Lilyana – flower of the Wiltshire plains

Filed under: poems for children — Trefor Davies @ 2:03 am

Deep down amongst the grasses green
That grow on the Wiltshire plains
There’s a flower known as Lily
Who blossoms whenever it rains

It’s an odd way around I’m sure you’ll agree
But Lily’s no normal plant
Her golden petals and beautiful scent
Warm the heart of each passing ant

The beetles all love her and bees simply swoon
Each time Lily pops out of the ground
Every year in the spring when the sun comes again
In the meadows is where she’ll be found.

The cows are her friends and they leave her to bloom
Without adding her leaves to their cud
Though they have to take care not to tread on her stalks
When the ground all around churns to mud

Because Lils likes it most when the rains come to soak
– it’s the sky shedding tears of delight
At the thought of young Lily beginning to smile
What a beautiful, beautiful sight.

8 September 2009

internet dreams

Filed under: poems — Tags: — Trefor Davies @ 9:16 pm

I dream my internet dreams
asleep surfing the screens
that lay inside my eyelids,
long slammed shut.
my brain clicks,
flits its way webward
visiting the sites that,
wide awake, I meander,
pondering the theft of
my most precious days.
my internet dreams
take an ethereal existence
virtually to new heights
but all too soon I wake,
history wiped clear,
no bookmark beneath my pillow
and my journey starts again.

The harvest is in

Filed under: prose — Trefor Davies @ 7:32 pm

fill yer bellies

The harvest is in, except for a few cornfields, left for the sweet anticipation of another day. The stubble that remains provides an interesting contrast with other textures in fields adjacent. The pale green growth of next year’s early season crops. Magnetic brown, newly ploughed terrain, full of seagulls.

The farmer slumps across the wheel of his hi tech controlled-environment crop processing machine; tractor to me and you. Although the air conditioning does away with the need for sweating its soul is there, metaphorical perspiration.

Barns bulge and granaries groan. Tables bend under the weight of produce served up to open eyed families and wider circles of friends, privileged guests for the forthcoming feast. Corks pop, laughter pervades then slows to a silence. We slump into hibernation.

You are now entering the congestion zone

Filed under: miscellany — Trefor Davies @ 5:37 pm

You are now entering the congestion zone
6th form college enrolling now
High Quality Offices To Let
Marks and Spencer – Simply Food
Paul Ponsonby Specialist Distribution
The Firm – in cinemas September 18th
not completely confident female cyclist
Crouch End Number 91
London Euston
Internet Phone Booth
Dorian Grey – in cinemas 090909
Going Green for London
Mayor of London’s Skyride Sunday 20th September
OMG! my chunky just got funky?

4 September 2009

Skegness by the sea

Filed under: poems — Tags: — Trefor Davies @ 5:28 am

sand blows in my face as together on the towel, we huddle,

a solitary woman sits with a bucket and spade whilst her kids play at the edge of the waves

no sharks sneak up and snaffle

a child spouts ad hoc poetry:
armpit hair
underwear
people who don’t care
boys who won’t share

4 people sitting in a row on camping chairs facing outwards

a young mother struggles with her pushchair over the sand and shouts “Tylor James wait for me!”

windmills out at sea

windbreaks wrap around their people and red and yellow flags brace themselves in the breeze

a fairground in the background dips large, rolls along the coast, big wheel sliding off the pier

lifecrew

my hat blows off in the wind and I envisage equally windswept coasts opposite in Germany and Holland

plenty of photographic opportunities:

two red and blue kites flying in breeze
donkeys turning
towels flapping

a basketball bounces on the path behind

a man appears out of the water wearing long white swimming shorts and a white old fashioned vest contrasting with his black skin

icecream, lollipops, burgers, whelks, crab sticks, doughnuts, haddock and chips with fluorescent mushy peas, cups of tea

flat stones skimming
seagulls squatting, floating
large clouds hovering, watching
smaller clouds higher up move more quickly

children fleeing chased by brown waves

slot machines, twopenny falls, horseracing
international bowling

out of the bushes comes an explorer
he says”cor blimey mate”
and back to the car we go

27 August 2009

flatpack dreams

Filed under: poems — Tags: — Trefor Davies @ 8:48 pm

here dreams are sold
registered on the system
and brought through
for home assembly
in the comfort
of your living room

chose a colour
pick a pattern
fabric feels good

shut your eyes
sit back and relax

flatpack dreams
aaahhh!

self assembly dreams
float on by

discount dreams
50% off
for this weekend only

dream on

26 August 2009

Celestial Pallet

Filed under: prose — Tags: , — Trefor Davies @ 7:03 pm

As I drove down the Lincoln bypass last night there was a wonderful picture in the sky. It merited a 1000Megapixel photo taken with a panoramic lens. The problem was I didn’t have my camera with me and in any event I don’t think they make them yet to quite that high a spec.

I mulled over in my mind how I would describe the effect of that sky using only words. I couldn’t see how I could come close.

The rain had not long moved on and the sky showed the remnants of that activity. Shreds of clouds, strays and waifs of irregular shape and disposition. The pallet that was the sky consisted of eggshell blue, dark grey blues, clouds both grey and white and a white crescent moon suspended amongst it all but looking out of place.

I don’t think any art survives for ever. It all eventually is lost or dies. Last night the painting in the sky lasted until it was almost dark and then disappeared. On my way home it was gone. There will be another but it will never be the same.

23 August 2009

Mediterranean Dreams

Filed under: prose — Tags: — Trefor Davies @ 9:31 pm

Ten o’clock at night and it is still 24 degrees out, at least according to the dashboard of Anne’s car.

I feel as if I should be strolling down to some café near the harbour and joining in with the clink of bottle and glass. The pesky violinist is a bit of a nuisance but he knows I will give him some money to go away. There is laughter at all the tables around and we sit back quietly enjoying the atmosphere after yet another busy sun soaked day.

The harbour is strung with lights and the masts that grow in it are barely moving in what little breeze there is. In the distance the blink of a lighthouse offers reassurance. The occasional scooter scoots by hooting the occasional squeaky horn.

The smell of barbecued lamb tempts us and we tuck in, squeezing lemon juice over the meat and dipping bread into the juices on the plate. Washed down with red wine it is very satisfying and we order another bottle.

Eventually the numbers start to dwindle. The violinist has packed away his instrument and walked off up the narrow cobbled side streets to his home. We settle up and follow suit. Back at the apartment we fall asleep on top of the bed with the windows open. We will be back the next day.

I drive down to pick Hannah and her friends up from Nandos at the Brayford in Lincoln and drop them at home. I can but dream!

A Few Things You Need To Know About Elephants and Cows

Filed under: poems for children — Trefor Davies @ 2:00 am

Cows have horns in different places to elephants. Both need to be avoided.

Cows don’t have trunks, elephants do which can come in very handy especially for drinking up buckets of beer and then squirting it at whoever is sitting opposite.

Never try and milk an elephant, it could have fatal results and in any case elephant milk doesn’t go well with tea.

Cows are afraid of tigers but I don’t think elephants are, though I’m not 100% sure on this one.

Cow poo is a different shape to elephant poo and you can’t play bowls with it although it is good as a frisbee once it has dried.

Both cows and elephants can be called Nellie. Norman, however, is an unusual name for both species.

Nellie the cow packed her trunk and said goodbye to the circus – yep that works.

You would never get an elephant flying over the moon though, they’re far too big and heavy and would take too much rocket fuel to get them going.

You can get more people on the back of an elephant provided it is a fully grown adult.

Happy birthday Megsy.

22 August 2009

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Filed under: miscellany — Trefor Davies @ 6:58 pm

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