The Stranger – Part 4

He sits waiting.

He wears his face with wonder

whilst smoking safe under the rowanberry tree.

There’s no hating;

grey eyes void of thunder

as he says his thanks in threes:

one for creating,

one for being torn asunder;

allowing the good part to roam free,

and now, as he builds a fire

for the night, he smiles in the knowledge

that the flames will sway to entertain,

but the constant glow  

will allows this stranger,

to finally sleep

in the present

and the presence

of honest warmth.

Tomas Bird - Pear Kindling 2017

A Homeward Journey 7#

The evening bus is silent.

The darkness holds our tongues.

The landscape passes smoothly

and is spattered sparsely by the sun.

An hour rolls by so solemn.

The black of night descends.

The landscape's pricked with streetlights;

glowing pinheads seem to never end.

Seemed to never end I thought,

until suddenly we arrived.

The evening bus still silent;

just darkness and some lives.

The hissing door it opens.

The other stand to leave.

But I just sit politely;

politely sit and breathe. 

Soon comes my turn to venture out.

I shuffle towards the cold.

The evening air is silent;

the darkness chills my soul.

Tomas Bird - Pear Kindling 2017

Take My Hand

Where are the infinite stars

to guide me home to my place with the Gods?

They are no longer she whispers,

take my hand, and we’ll skip merrily into the meadows:

your 9-5 job,

your pin stripe suit,

your liver;

it matters no more, my love;

take my hand.

Where are the infinite flowers

so we can walk bare footed all night long?

They are all dead she weeps,

take my hand, and we’ll run blind scared into the future:

your family,

your smiles,

your memories;

it matters no more, my love;

take my hand.

Where are the infinite songs

to listen to as we pass across to the other side?

They have been played, she sings,

take my hand, and we’ll cross in silence over to hell:

your soul,

your everlasting soul;

it matters no more, my love;

take my hand.

Tomas Bird - Pear Kindling 2017

Midnight

Midnight

was struck.  I awoke to its chimes.

A text full of sorrow then bestowed my tired eyes.

I learned that dark night of a new found friend's pain,

and was bitterly angered at life's twisted game.

To tailor my thoughts around the reapers grim art,

his lachrymose palette, and his canvas; our hearts.

Fury engulfed me, and I felt remorse like no other;

the world had been stripped

of a best friend, a son and a brother.

In company of loved ones; solace we take.

We dry off the tears from the cheeks they have raked.

The darkened horizon may seem heavy with rain;

but blue streaks appear to cast off grief's chains.

And so over time, the emotions will subside.

The hurt in ones soul will see fit to hide.

Our fond memories will spread wide and far,

in melodic sweet lyrics,

and notes picked from guitars.

Tomas Bird - Pear Kindling 2017

To Be or Not To Be

In early morning, on desert plain,

the armies march to fight again,

the sun rises slowly, and the dust swirls round;

the beads of fear show upon men's brows.

Chants of war and heads held high;

shields of bronze reflect battle cries.

Swords unsheathed and spears gripped tight;

the vultures circle; their meals in sight.

Thoughts of loved ones safe at home;

mask anxious dread of flesh and bone.

Commanders give one last rousing speech,

glory for all is within our reach.

I parry blows, my arm numb with tired pain.

I hold back tears for friends now slain.

The enemy comes, but I am strong;

this raging battle cannot last long.

Our swords rise and fall to blazing screams,

we cut through ranks in suns bright sheen.

With fate unleashed, the ground stained red;

the day retires with many dead.

So darkness falls on desert plain,

the heavens wash our blood away with rain.

Tomorrow we will rise again once more;

to make our names in life's long war.

Tomas Bird - Cherry Coal 2017

The Moon Sees All

I remember that Coaltown moon so well.

It hung low and creamy, with a yellow

hint of staleness.  Confined to his nights cell,

and forced to observe – with eyes of mallow –

a world stained with the actions of sad fools.

Youth marched in earnest; the old acted callow,

trying to govern with policies drooled

in a chamber of mad, rhetoric speech;

where foul wealth and evil began to pool.

The laws of thought, they seemed out with their reach

as they waste their days to garner cheap laughs.

When challenged over the harsh austere bleach,

mop-dipped and scrubbed hard by Tory quarterstaff,

vile monkeys typed day and night, bent chiefs

fuelled fires with daily rags and smashed polygraphs,

and upturned pure hatred onto the streets;

“blame who we’re bombing; they’re the cause of your grief.”

Tomas Bird - Cherry Coal 2017

The Daily Misery: Smartphone Voyeur

Swimming the streets late at night,

then the sharks come and threaten to bite.

The film makers there all gather and stare;

they're unable to tell wrong from right.

The night gleams with violence.

Loosely sprinkled across the cobbled stone

are teeth and blood tinged emeralds;

the adjacent rose-pink walls

will need scrubbed tomorrow;

the hair and streaks of cheek

will need peeled

off before the wire-brush and soap

go through the Sunday motions.

I walk past a police officer

fighting back tears of anger,

stifling the urge to vent fury

on the ten witnesses who provide

ten minutes of smartphone evidence,

all ten too ignorant to realise

that the paramedics were ten minutes

too late to save a life.

Tomas Bird - Cherry Coal 2017

The Daily Misery: Tomorrow’s Edition; Hope.

So bye-bye my friend there's no hope.

There's blood and tears in my kaleidoscope.

I've lost all that matters; my world is in tatters,

so I'm tying a noose with this rope.

There is always hope.

Regardless if this New World,

with all its power and might

has stepped forth to rescue

and liberate the old

and barbarous ways

of a redundant empire;

and even though large tracts

of our race have fallen

into the grip of warmongers

and odius apparatus

of dystopian rule,

there is always hope

and we shall not flag or fail;

we shall smile on to the end.

we shall smile on the seas and the oceans,

we shall smile with growing confidence

and growing happiness in the air,

we shall abandon the idiotic values of this island;

whatever the cost may be.

we shall smile on the beaches,

we shall smile on the dancing grounds,

we shall smile in the fields and in the streets,

we shall smile in the hills;

we shall never surrender these facts;

and anyone searching for hope;

there will always be handful of decent human beings

to welcome you.

Tomas Bird - Cherry Coal 2017

Focussed Repeat

      I’ve been reading Tim Ferriss’s “Tools of the Titans” for a couple of weeks now and have been trying to apply bits and pieces that have taken my fancy here and there.

     This is the first thing I’ve tried that I have found really works for me so thought I’d share on here.

     So, I’ve discovered that many a person adhere to something called “The Soundtrack of Excellence” which basically means listening to one song or album on repeat which acts as an external mantra for aiding focus and present state awareness.  (I lifted this directly from Tools of the Titans as it was worded too perfectly for me to change.)

     Now, I’ve been trying a number of efforts recently…from Beethoven, to Bach, and then even Paul Simon’s “Graceland” but I think the other day I discovered “THE ONE”…it is actually baffling to me as to why I never went directly to this in the first place as it is probably one of my favourite film scores of all time.

     Of course, I am talking about “Last of the Mohicans”…namely the piece called “The Kiss”.

     The rhythm drives steady, and the strings peak in all the right pieces and for me, man, I managed to crush professional and personal goals for more or less 14 hours straight on the first day I listened to nothing but this.

     I’m a week in and I’m still on it…I think I’ll need to be mindful that I don’t go insane or worse, put myself off the piece, but for the time being, this is a delightful tip for zoning in on any piece of work that requires maximum focus.

Tomas Bird

The 1st of January 2017...A Wee True Tale

     Much like most mornings over the past few months, I arose at 4am and proceeded to go through the routine I have more or less become accustomed to, i.e. I drank a pint of water, I cleared my head by writing in my journal (sometimes I work on poems or songs) and then ate breakfast whilst watching a TED talk.

     Today’s was entitled, “The Power of Introverts” by Susan Cain and the thing that resonated most with me was when she said about going into the wilderness to think, and be absorbed in our own solitude.  This made absolute sense this morning as I’d been struggling to garner my thoughts for how I wanted to tackle 2017 and in turn, how I could represent everything that is important to me visually.

     So I decided to brew a powerful flask of coffee, roll some cigarettes and set off into the pitch black of 6.20am and head towards The Cut; this is my favourite place in the world as it’s where my Grandfather and I used to walk his dogs.

     The town where I live was in complete silence; there was no traffic or people or any sort of sign that revellers were still saying their farewells to the previous year.  It took around 20 or so minutes to clear the edge of civilisation and then after a further 10 minutes of walking, I was enclosed by darkness.

     Soon the pavement disappeared so with little choice, I switched on the torch app on my phone and started walking along the road towards the woods.  Upon reflection, this was pretty dangerous and it’s not something I’d recommend however, luckily, a stranger stopped in his car with his two dogs and gave me a lift the rest of the way.  Again, probably not something I’d recommend but today felt different so I accepted his kind offer and was soon at the entrance of The Cut.

     The stars were as bright as I’d ever seen them but even their light could not cut through what felt like infinite blackness.  I have to admit, there was a deep sense of apprehension about heading completely blind into a dark forest with absolutely no way to defend myself should anything happen.  But again, today felt different so I began to take to the first of many tentative steps.

     I awoke many creatures as I plodded my way down the path that I have walked my entire life and I was frightened.  Every few steps saw me stop and almost turn back…even with the torch back on, it did nothing but aluminate a foot ahead of me; the countless inquisitive eyes that were undoubtedly surveying me remained well hidden behind the woodland shadows.

     Then my phone died, and with it, my only light.

     Luckily, I had reached an open space in the woods.  When I was a small boy, it would be this very spot that my Grandfather would stop and point out whatever wildlife was there to see.  On a clear day, you can see all the way to Edinburgh; this morning was the same, however it was only a spattering of blinking lights that were on display.

     Again fear crept in, but with it came the realisation that there was nothing I could do, for the road that leads to the main route home was just too dark and dangerous to walk, and the chances of me causing an accident were too great.

     So I stood still.  I listened to the forest stirring.  I overlooked the veils of mist hanging softly above the fields before me and waited for the winter sun to rise.

     I think this morning was the first time I’ve ever truly listened to anything.  There were no thoughts battering around in my head, there were no modern distractions; there was only silence being disturbed by the odd groan of a tree, or the hoot of an owl, or the call of a grouse or pheasant or some sort of game bird.  From going from complete fear to a final acceptance of being completely at one with myself and my surroundings is an experience I don’t think I’m ever likely to forget.

     Before too long – although I must have stood there for a good 45 minutes – the greys and blacks of early morning gave way to streaks of blue and the path was once again shown to me; this time though, I took my time for there was no apprehension; I savoured each step as I retraced the route we would walk together.

     I reached the old watchtower and there is absolutely no doubt in my mind, I could feel his presence…I heard the call of a buzzard – something we always stopped to listen for – and then after that, I wasn’t standing alone anymore.

     So we stood before the swaying silhouettes and watched as the sky was cut with ambers and ruby-gold and it was the most inspiring and peaceful sight I have ever seen.

     At one point I turned and I thought I saw him looking up to the sky, but I may have only been seeing what I wanted to see; wiping my eyes, I decided that it was time to head home; I had found the imagery and hope I had been looking for.

     I took the final path that would lead back to the one I had started on but it couldn’t be walked.  Over the years it had changed so much that it was near impossible to find any sort of traction on its muddy slopes, so I had to cut my own one back; I guess some paths, no matter how you remember them, just aren’t made for you anymore and with sensible footing and a few brave gambles though, you will find a new one suitable for your journey.

     Either way, I was heading home through a morning now bathed in the clearest light my eyes had ever received and it was beyond mind blowing.

High Valley - Afterword

     Not long after I received the proof copy back for Shallow Sea (my first collection of poems), I decided that I wanted to learn about poetry and everything about it properly, so I began a course with the Writer’s Bureua.  I’m happy to say that it’s been one of the best and probably most creatively challenging experiences I’ve ever had.

     It’s taken me just over three years later to complete the full twelve assignments and apparantly, I’m only my tutors tenth student to have accomplished this which kind of fries my mind as the amount I’ve learned – and just not just about poetry either – has been life changing.

     The way I now approach things, be it professionally, musically or even normal day to day things are all heavily influenced from this course.  In saying that though, I guess that’s to be expected given that for well over a thousand days in a row, I’ve opened myself up and forced my eyes and mind to look and think differently about the world in which I am part of.

     In HotMoon, I tried to explore the various observations I had bore witness to, and in Glass Wood, well that ended up being a very cathartic piece…in this collection, I’ve mixed in everything I’ve ever enjoyed writing about and also incorporated old pieces from the previous three collections that never made the original cut.

     If there’s one thing I’ve truly learned from the stacks of notebooks, and pots of coffee, endless cigarettes and rising at 4am each day is how to be comfortable in my own skin and say what I want or need to say…sometimes I’ve pushed the truth a little further than reality to give my writing a bit more impact, but again, that’s all fine with me as really, there are no rules when it comes to writing; only guidelines.

     So, here is High Valley and this will be my last collection for a while as although I’ve enjoyed collating this mish mash of evolving styles and trying new forms, it was important to me to round off all my past endeavours before the new year arrives, as I’m looking forward to locking myself away and concentrating on honing what I’ve learnt over the past few years and maybe even try getting published properly at some point in the future.

     Many, many thanks to Helen Taylor who has critqued my work and given me so much encouragement and advice in developing my ideas…muchos cheers also to everyone who has ever helped collate, inspired or bought my work; I’m eternally grateful.

Tomas Bird - High Valley 2016

A Christmas Blessing

Soon.

Soon

I will travel.

This journey,

though not forced,

is one that saps strength,

and it is one

I’ll return from soon;

once I’ve filled my belly

with rich food and laughter;

for I need

not company,

but isolation to reflect

on how only privileged few

enjoy the blessings that surely G*d

intended for all mankind.

Tomas Bird - High Valley 2016 

Hints of a Vision

When I return home,

the stars are never bright

enough to appreciate

what I should do next.

The contoured shadows

show a new lease of life

is required;

a defined identity if you like.

One that does not share

memories with the past;

no matter how fond they are,

for those are now only for me,

and as I fumble my keys into the door,

I envisage my grandmother,

hat wickered and golden,

sitting there enjoying her garden

whilst waiting for my Grandfather

and I to return from our walk,

smiling a stroke-crooked grin;

looking forward to hearing

about our adventures.

But the stars are only bright

enough to show what has been;

it’s the sparks in the heart

that light up the new paths.

Tomas Bird - High Valley 2016

And So the Fish Gave Away the Hook

in a way I would never have guessed.

My musings confined in song or book;

the melodies of ink laid to rest.

In a way, I would never have guessed.

Life, now mine to lose if I so wished,

with the melodies of ink laid to rest;

I toast the oceans of words still to fish.

Life; now mine.  To lose if I so wished

would be called suicide in this strange fight,

for I’ve toasted the oceans of words still to fish,

and my prayers have risen in dead of night.

For I see turning tides in this strange fight.

My musings are confined in song or book

and my prayers have risen in dead of night;

and so the fish gave away the hook.

Tomas Bird - High Valley 2016

Do I Know this Nameless Face?

I put down the cup

and let Side A play

for the fifth time;

the image – unlike this coffee –

is strong; Side B forgotten

as I stare hard:

tugged memories,

rocks of rum lifted,

driftwood of drugs scattered;

searching in vain.

Her eyes drill

into mine;

wisdom deep-pooled,

colour unknown;

my thoughts snared.

Smile quizzical;

but it is still a smile

and it knows something,

something cool;

something no-one else does –

except maybe me –

but I can’t be sure.

Maybe this image

has been drunk-captured

by a stranger?

Has a nervous compliment

passed their lips

about her beauty;

is this the look reserved

for such situations?

Maybe it’s not her that I know;

maybe it’s this look

I’m familiar with;

the look of patience

tarnished with pity

and feigned longing.


Tomas Bird - High Valley 2016

Journal + Generate + Action + Plan

     A lot of people have now approached me and asked why I get up as early as I do these days; as of January first there, Wouldn’t It Be Nice by The Beach Boys wakes me up at 3.45am.

     Many a moon ago now, I was getting up at around the 5am mark; sometimes later pending on what I was up to the previous evening.  The reason for this is that I’m more mentally awake and thus more creative; the downside was that I was regularly late for work as I was getting carried away with whatever I was working on in the morning.

     To begin with I tried to fix this by rising at 4.45am but what I found was that I used this extra 15 minutes to smoke and check social media which, in a strange sort of way, I was still buying back time…but still, this wasn’t what I was after.

    Next, I knocked it down to 4.30am and started to notice that I was finally making it in on time to work no bother as I was achieving everything I deemed important in the extra time I had created.

    It was when I went for 4am that the real tangible results started to occur as I was now beginning to factor in a bit of focussed structure to the morning, i.e. instead of smoking, drinking coffee and checking social media…I was going for a shower first; washing in hot water and rinsing in freezing cold.

     Next, I would cook a proper breakfast of smoked salmon and scrambled eggs and then watch a TED talk on whatever took my fancy to broaden my horizons.  I kept this up for two months as I didn’t want to waste precious brain power on nonsensical decisions such as choosing what to eat in the morning.  As a side note, this is actually thing; google Decision Fatigue.

     The previous evening I would have already drafted my three “absolute” tasks to achieve the following day; one would be a creative goal, one professional and the third would be to do my best to do something for someone else.

     At one point I tried to factor in exercising but then realised that this wasn’t important to me in the slightest so stopped.  It was this realisation that signalled that for any sort of routine to work then it must be flexible and if something stops working, rather than force it, figure out an alternate method and give it a try.

     So with that all said, the version I’ve started in 2017 is as follows:

• Wake up and journal thoughts at 3.45am – this is to clear my mind straight away.
• Using a tool my bro shared with me, I’ll then generate 10 ideas and their next steps on an A4 page and most likely they’ll revolve around a theme that’s revealed itself when journaling; I’ll do this at 4am – Again, this is just to get these thoughts down so they’re not rattling about in my head and distracting me.
•  At 4.15am I’ll jump in the shower, wash with hot and rinse with cold – it’s the latter that absolutely smashes any tiredness to bits and leaves your mind as sharp as it’s going to get for the day.
•  Then I’ll get dressed rather than fire my jammies back on as I’ve proved to myself that my mind operates better when the body is dressed to work; jammies usually signal down time.
•  4.30am will be breakfast time and a TED talk.  I haven’t quite figured out what I’m going to eat yet, probably cereal with a double crumpet chaser and one cup of coffee.  With regards to the TED talk themes…again, I’m not sure what I’ll be going for; I’m inclined to start watching things that inspire me to get better at things I’m already good at rather than spread myself too thin.  I’ll maybe generate 10 ideas to figure this out.
•  Then I’ll get down to work on whatever creative goal I’ve deemed the most important because per points 1 & 2 and any outstanding ideas, goals, things to do identified / started from last year, these will all be prioritised according to importance – this should allow complete focus on the task at hand.
•  I’ll then review everything at a given point of the day, re-prioritise if required and then journal again to capture my thoughts, things achieved throughout the day etc. – this again should keep my mind as decluttered as possible; plus it’s cool to keep yourself motivated by drawing a line under tasks.

     So that’s what I get up to each day at the crack of dawn…the main question I get posed to me is, is it difficult to get up that early?  The answer is mostly no because I compensate by going to bed early; currently this is around 8pm.

     On the odd occasion I’ve hit snooze, I’ve found that my body clock doesn’t like that as it goes back into deep sleep mode…when it’s roused a whopping 8 minutes later, I just feel utterly drained so anytime I do feel tired on the first alarm, I never think, I just get up…anyone who can’t do that either hasn’t had enough sleep or probably needs to see a doctor.

     As I say, this is all flexible…if something stops working – or doesn’t work at all – then I’ll have a banter with the folk I know who also operate in this manner; there could be something they’re doing that might work for me, and vice versa, something I’m doing might work for them; it’s a totally subjective thing and there’s no hard and fast rules; just hints and tips.

Tomas Bird