Mike Lidgley

George

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ysw_0NgumjU

The Ringing Bell

I keep a cheap Russian pocket watch in my top drawer -
she kept herself there, unwound, before -
a 1917 replica, from a Norfolk country fair -

we camped

- A lunar sunset walk through a coastal stubbled field,
the windmill stood still, while the marsh reeds rustled,
and the salt sea air rumbled and thrummed -

A battleship on her flip-up cover lid,
a Commie call to prayer -
"All power to the Soviets!"
stamped on a red flag - but the red paint's gone,
thumbed, rubbed away, pocketed too quick

I found her the other day and wound her,
and now she ticks, these silent years undone.

Remembered Home Alone Tone - he'd hide away
the long ten weeks of our long work-stay,
self-deserted, sagging, needs must,

he'd phone, not speak, to his vacant UK home
just to hear the ringing bell,
to loosen dust from his hall handset -
the distant sea whispering from her shell

Folded

You are old now
How suddenly you got old

So often there's space to the left -
so much left unsaid,
undone

- a rare flow to the right,
ahead,

And every now and then,
arms folded

There is no gate
that you pass through
but there comes a time
or times
when you realise
you're on the other side

The Blinds

Sometimes
I draw the blinds
when I don't want the world to see

the times when
I half-understand
the complex simplicities

What do you see
when the sun sets?
What is it that you see?

Is it freedom?
Is it knowledge?
Why don't you come down here to be with me?

Sometimes I wake up in the dark
and I wonder
I think about the little things you said

A new day dawns and like
the distant thunder
remind me who that man is in your bed

Sometimes
I draw the blinds
when I don't want the world to see

those times
when I half-understand
the complex reality

What do you see
when the sun sets?
What is it that you see?

Is it freedom?
Is it knowledge?
Why don't you come down here and be with me?

CGFG
CGFC

Why don't you come (down here)?
Why don't you come (down here)?
Why don't you come down here
and be with me?

FCGC

Back home

I just walked down the road for my evening shop -
on my left the ocean laps the soft sand in the dark -
on my right, from the light of an open window -
(it's a warm November night in mid-Japan)
an unknown someone tinkles the piano keys, alone -
practising her piece until her lover gets back home?

The eternal on the one side, the ephemeral on the other -
rhythm and melodies merge in a melancholic flood:
Now I'm walking up the track in the early evening sun -
the end of a day out working in the woods -
to the sound of my loved one, playing from within,
waiting for her man to come back home.

She's gone

These quiet still moments of peace
when you spend more time than you need,
preparing, spreading, smoothing the sheets,
folding fresh towels - to be clean

I spoke yesterday about Yeats
and the love of his life - Maud Gonne
He asked her in vain again and again
Though she loved him more than some

'How selfish can you get!' the old man said
Yeats, not Gonne - not to let her go
to leave the life she half-wanted -
Love's not everything you know

Typhoon (unfinished)

The hatches are battened, but the boat’s gone
The road’s flooded and blocked
Drain’s suck and manholes spew
The warm wind whips bottles and branches
Scattered skimming through the streets

The sea's let loose a raging giant
Thrashing thin breakwaters with careless contempt
Three-storey waves crash over beach houses
I'm soaked in my tracks, my trousers drenched
And my socks are full of sand

The Beast

Staggering green waves roar like thunder,
spraying salt-sequined showers in the Sun -
Pulsing like heartbeats from the dark deep.

Ecstatic small children squeal in delight -
'Daddy, can't we stay a bit longer?
Can’t we please? Let’s not go home!’

While unexpectedly fast, predatory foam
Licks at their quick back-pedalling feet,
Chasing up the beach to their smiling Mum -

And the sea seethes back, taking its breath.

A tsunami went over the horizon last night -
This savage same sea hit Samoa and Tonga,
where, satiated, she dragged them under.

The tranquil life-giver can turn from the good
to an indiscriminate bringer of death.

The Bar

I spent my careless teenage years,
and later a full-grown man,
messing about in boats in Salcombe,
South Devon, the South Hams.

Where the river finally hits the sea,
there's a sand bar across the bay -
at low tide less than a human height.
Crossed it more times than I can say -

Hundreds, maybe more, in small boats,
with friends, brothers, or alone.
We went mackerel fishing in the evening sun
- one night came home with 60 or so

Or was it 80?
And sold them round the park for 10p each.
With our father.

Years later we poured his ashes over the bar.

The Autumn Equinox

The world turns
As the ferries glide
Through the fragile night

Kids on the beach
Throw cheap fireworks
And the young girls scream in delight

Their hand-held thrills
Passing for touch
And the boy turns his back to the light

My home is in the human race

How many lives can one man live?
How we long for the bonds of attachment!
We cling to hope like limpets to a rock
Battered by the random indifference

How easily we accept love!
How willingly we throw our hearts open
to the whims of quiet strangers
though we know the solid pain

We live a layered myriad of lives
One floats to the face and then another
Through the flickering shoal we see what we can
Catch a fleeting glimpse of the soul

A constant maybe, a might have been, a could be one day,
living only in this one, this space
peering into and from this face
these faces surround us, these dark eyes

on the train to Hiratsuka this Tuesday morning
September 8th 2009

The frog in the dark well
waiting for the cold echoing drip
to ripple through his film
gulping while his thin webbed feet
paddle the depths below

The roots of a tree cast no shadow

Touched down yesterday from my mountain home
Now I'm back by the sea
You wonder where you're going, and just where you belong
Take a long look back at where you've been

(A,E)

That's you

D-A-E
There's some guy on the street says the end of the world is nigh
Someone better tell him that you just came into my life
It won't end now, no matter what he's got to say
There's only one girl now can take my breath away

G-D-C

Oh, oh - that's you
Oh, oh - that's you
Won't you fly away with me?
I'm gonna fly back home to you

D-A-E

I'm coming down the track, riding on the shinkansen
Meet me at the station, we're gonna have a good time then
Well I can't wait, to get down there to the end of the line
You know that I'm yours, and I'm sure gonna make you mine

Notes

Sometimes find myself agreeing with the emperor in Amadeus, that sometimes there can be 'too many notes', that somehow saying less, using fewer, more carefully chosen words or notes, can open up spaces in our minds, for our imaginations - or that a few detailed examples can illustrate much wider and more universal truths. The other day, for example, I was lucky to be present at a talk by a world expert on Japan, who chose as his theme the 18 months that the Swedish botanist Carl Peter Thunberg spent in Japan in 1775-6, most of them cooped up on Dejima, but he managed to get up to Edo for 3 weeks. "A fascinating, engaging and entertaining talk in the true tradition of British academic thought", in the words of the Swedish ambassador in his vote of thanks. A couple of days later I attempted to give a talk myself, and ridiculously had chosen to speak on 'A Brief History of London', and waffled away without managing to make a single coherent point, other than an awful lot of 'foreigners' had made London whatever it is. Too many notes, not enough points.

(Sometimes I think the complete opposite - talk all night - anything is better than nothing. When you are young you think you have all the time in the world. Life is so short - talk, talk, all night.)

He who seeks

I was 20, or 21
working on a farm in the West Country
driving tractors to the cliff's edge
humping hay bales high in the back of the barn

I drove 100 miles
late on a midsummer evening
to see her, blonde and beaming
fragile

the priest came in and asked me
What did I do?
I worked on a farm.
She scoffed.

Why did I come here?
To see her, I said.
I was more than welcome
he said

if I was seeking

I've been in love
I know what it means
Love as a target -
the missing link

But love
is accepting
Your love pulls out the good
in you both

Space

She gives me the space I need
to be a little boy,
to play with my toys -
so that I can become a man.

Tears

(Am, G)

All of the time
and every day
I miss you girl
in every way

This pain of mine
it won't go away
What can I do?
What can I say?

If I saw you now
the weight of the years
would drag me down
in a pool of my tears

We shared our love
we should've shared our fears
I'm drowning girl
in a pool of my tears

And it's so hard
to let you go
It's so hard
I still love you so

What you got
I don't know
but I got you
in my soul
.
C,F
C,G
C,F
C,G,C

Chorus C, Am, E, Am

Lie lie la lie ...

Fishing for compliments

Great sailing today - we took out both the dinghies and chased white horses across Isshiki bay, past Bird Island and down towards Akiya, where the sudden realisation that we were sailing over rocks forced a quick change of direction, back towards Morito and the tori on Najima. Nearly had a flying fish in the boat.

Thence to my favourite restaurant for a splendid suzuki teishoku. On leaving I am told by the waitress/cook that my ability to eat fish with chopsticks is sugoi jouzu, better than many Japanese. Rick suggests spinning for mackerel, from the dinghy, which I will do on Sunday.

Homage to Rumsfeld

Full moon on the water
Lights and lighthouses glimmer and flash
distant and close, across the bay
through our warm night space

The pacific swells roll like lovers
up the beach, then ripple back
spent, like lovers
feathered, they head back to the sea

Some of us know next to nothing
Just the drama and the news

Some know enough to know
they know nothing
They love their open minds

Some suppose they know it all
They have all the answers
and fear the unknown

Odawara

Every sunset, or most –
I look out across the bay
to Izu and Fuji-san, and
the lights coming on in Odawara,
so far far away
but still so very close

Dance

A few years ago now a great friend and I rushed across London, late for a farewell performance by a great Russian dancer, and his friends, at Covent Garden - we ran up the escalators to the gods, only to have the doors closed on us, and had to sit in the corridor watching this Russian great on the video screen for the first ten minutes. My friend wept.
We crept in and took our seats, and watched the rest of the performance - I think Sylvie Guillieme was part of it. At that time I had little or no interest in dance, and very little understanding or appreciation of the visual arts generally, or art even. But I did like music.
In the interval my friend asked me what I thought of the performance - my response was "I have to listen to more Stravinsky" - the accompanying music.

Beaches

Surprised myself today by going for a swim. I was walking along the beach, not 5 minutes from my door, somewhat overdressed, when it occurred to me that it was a glorious sunny day, extremely warm, and I was on a beautiful beach by the Pacific. So I spontaneously undressed and had a dip. Bit chilly at first but very worthwhile - will endeavour to make a habit of it from now on.I was in Iceland the other day. A huge beautiful country, with a small but very friendly and creative population of semi-bankrupt ex-Vikings, and among other things we visited the local imported beach in Reykjavik (Smokey Bay). There is a small geothermally heated paddling pool, in which the locals sit drinking beer with woolly hats on, and every now and then they have a quick dip in the almost freezing bay (3 degrees). Must be good for you.

For free

There's a sea wall at the end of my street, where I can sit and watch one of the greatest shows on Earth, every night, for free.

Mountain in the Sun

(C,G,D with a bit of Am here and there, and maybe F)

I met you on a mountain in the sun
You walked into my life and my heart began to run
The trigger in my soul somewhere in the songs we sung
My darling don't you know you're the one?

And while we sang the stars shone in our eyes
Happiness took our hands and led us to the skies
We made each other laugh as we tried to harmonise
Now we wonder can we do that with our lives?

But do you really want me?
and when will I see you again?
Are we friends and lovers?
Or are we only loving friends?

The sun was on the rise when we first kissed
Our feelings burning up with the early morning mist
And now I know what they mean when the poets talk of bliss
My girl, I wanna spend my life like this

Won't you take the time to tell me
is this love we have for real?
You had to leave before we
could work it out -
Come back girl and show me how you feel

When you fall in love everything they say comes true
Every minute of the day you know I think of you
My head 'n' heart 'n' soul, and my body's burning too
When can I hold you all night through?

You keep telling me it's imagination
But if that's true then why d'you feel it too?
You keep telling me to be patient
But I never met a girl like you

And I want you right here in my arms
I want to pull you close and know you're mine
I want to taste your tender loving charms
I want you forever girl - not just tonight

Not just tonight, I want you all the time
Not just tonight, I'll always be true
Not just tonight, I can see it in your eyes
Not just tonight, I know you want me too

And I understand the things you do
and I know just what it is you want to say
- that you're scared - well I am too
But this ain't tomorrow, this is today

I met you on a mountain in the sun
You and me we sang the whole night through
Don't you know my darling you're the one?
I never met a girl like you

Kind of busy few days, depending on your definition of busy of course. Thursday we met up in Tokyo and had a look round Ueno Park, finally - scene of one of the last internecine battles in the 1860s or so.

Interesting buskers.

Shocking number of homeless old men and women scrunched up on cold benches, waiting for night to fall so they could wrap up in their plastic sheets in the undergrowth, where they lie tonight. Up until recently they had little hovels to keep out the elements, but the government decided to solve the ever-growing homeless problem by 'moving them on', or 'sweeping them under the carpet'. Not much of a policy. Although Mugabe might concur.

Then had a look round the Tokyo National Museum, in particular some Zen masterpieces from a temple in Kyoto - Myo-shin-ji - which we translated as 'strange-heart-temple', but they termed "Temple of the Wondrous Mind" .

http://www.tnm.go.jp/en/sert/Con?pageId=A01&processId=02&event_id=5930

http://www.myoshinji2009.jp/index.html

Favourite fish restaurant Thursday night.

Friday we walked a sailing dinghy up a long wet beach in the driving rain, and were rewarded by a great lunch.

In the afternoon/evening I managed to go to the same izakaya twice, and may have confused the same waitress. Ended up in a karaoke box - five gaijin men, one Japanese woman. Two of the gaijin men sang rather excellent Japanese enka.

Saturday we went mountain-biking - my first attempt, at the age of 48. We'd just had two days of rain so the 45 degree slopes, up and down, through sludgey mud and over greasy rocks and steps was ... omoshiroi. Useful word.

That evening we, the 3 Ms, went to one of the most - no, the most mournful jazz concert I have ever witnessed (after a very welcome stop in a small izakaya run by an octogenarian with an interest in the local arts and history - really must learn how to speak Japanese). The trumpet player in particular seemed on the point of bursting into tears. I was quite relieved to see him smiling once it was all over.

On the way, M1 and I paid a visit to a run-down and out ex-bar near my house, the sole occupant of which is a very lonely (and somewhat grubby) old woman whose husband ran the bar up to five years ago. We must have been the only visitors

she'd had in those five years. The connection was the fact that the bar is called "Kenya", and M1 goes to Kenya regularly. She was clearly very happy to have customers, and to talk about her Kenya.

Today we were treated to an amazing lunch/dinner by some gourmet friends - a kind of Babette's feast. I have invited them back for a Great British Lunch, but wonder with Great Trepidation how I will live up to their standards.