by Simon Chinnery


Just one Breath
With the wind in my mind,
Blown out over candles
I lit long ago. 

You Remember,
In that quiet room
of soft memories & wild promises
where we fell in love
with all that was to be;
with each other.

Just one breath
with the wild wind
sucked in between cold rocks
in far away places,
I breath in,
Feel life burn inside.
Where a moment before
there was a green stillness
and love
still waiting
for redemption
from all the loss
that drowned us
all those years ago.


How can I reach you now that you are gone?
Where can we meet up to fetch up?

The zoo.
We always loved that.

Almost getting lost,
Almost saying what was really heavy on our minds.

I know you told me life kept on letting you down.
That failure woke you,
from your difficult sleep,
almost every day.

I know that you would say
almost nonchalantly,
That you knew that we loved you
and were there for you.
But really,
we had no way
of reaching you then.

And now,
I just want to tell you


There is only a glimpse,
then it’s finished.
Only a moment between moments
when the light strikes everything just so.

The sea curls against touch,
the land illuminates in love.
I could keep walking into that embrace,
that deep relief.
I could leave the land.
The trees of my truth would hold strong my story
and the sea-bird would only tell those
who really wanted to love
this edge of life impossibly.


There must be secret places,
in the woods,
in the last wilderness perhaps.
Also in towns,
in old buildings
or libraries.
Definitely in libraries.
Where there are doors,
portals to other worlds,
where life is very different. 

There must be.
We just haven’t found them yet.  


Restless early autumn twilight opens
Full of blue-cold shadows and small memories of regret.

Scattered dark silhouettes of birds on thin lines,
Stretched to breaking point,
Waiting, with migrating agitation.

We arrived here in slipping rain,
Sliding down the time left
With less and less grip on cold reality,
Holding hard to this delicate line
Carved into an ageing story.

In the face of desperate odds and accidents
waiting to happen
There is nothing to do but live fiercely
and dance to the one,
Persistent pulse.
Hard broken
in this gap between the worlds.

It Is Not

It is not about getting the perfect sunrise
In the best frame of reference
So your day becomes the best of all days.

It is not about another place where you want to be.
It is not about the light falling between the turning leaves,
The far away call of the sea,
The blue sky, honey warm song of it all.

Every moment will happen anyway
Without a single movement from you or me.

We just need to be awake to the possibilities of anything.

This will happen
In each deep breath,
Swelling each moment to burst
With whatever surge of Life there is in you,

Without doing anything at all.


The most important thing
Is not to get tangled
In the rising tide of everything.
The vital element
Is that pause,
That opening,
Where all the silence
And dangerous unknowns
Lie waiting patiently,
for your revelation
To unfold.

The Wave

Just before the next wave
A dawn tide of commuters
Flotsam drift onto the wet platform.

The wave falls.

Drags every last, lost one of them
Into the grey deep.

They don’t make a sound
As the water curls over every attempt to escape,
Drowning every dream,
drowning every hope.

To You

“You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves” (Mary Oliver)

This is a moment of hope
That may form into a vision of certainty
This time, this moment acknowledges
With sad, knowing smiles
How hard you hold those silent moments
When the noise of our lives
Drops away like gifted sleep
Acknowledges how lonely is our urge to live and how utterly necessary 

These words fly over
All the troubled landscape of your heart
To settle with blessings into the stillness
And glow with dawn urgency
Warming, forming new worlds
Trusting a life not yet imagined
That is secret and beautiful to you
And you alone. 

These words carry love
And fly with the haste of beginnings
Starting with our heart
With vivid, impossible meanings

Meeting Edward

We met to talk about work
but digressed to what matters
at the heart of life.
He said how important it is
to just let
not to hold onto Life
in fear and agitation.
I said, I am slowly, slowly
getting this.
I step into fast-flowing waters
that if I don’t mind my step
will pick me up, spin me round,
deliver me to unchartered places.
Before I know it
my life will be full of wild imaginings
and furious uncertainties.


This house is alive
It moves
every so often.
I hear it creak,
as joints crack or groan a little.
Once the cats go
All the rooms will be empty
and full of what will happen next.
If I stand perfectly still
I can hear your breath,
smell you
In the fabric of this place
and almost catch
your determined loneliness
your tenderness,
curled up tight as your will.
Memories creak and crack painfully
every now and then
and the house moves in sympathy.
This is where we were,
and this is where we are not,
and only the bones remain.


Last time, I lost my way
the wind was winter,
Light lost time and my heart
lost faith in the direction of the day.
I became unstuck
Trees became fear
Dusk unfolded unfaithful whispers
Paths lost meaning
My song sunk into shadows. 

What is it about feeling lost?
What lurks under the nursery rhymes
of childhood fears.
What is this dripping well seeping darkness?

I hear a blackbird twilight song
See a solitary deer tiptoe across a furrowed field
I am walking in between the worlds
Keeping my faltering steps faithful
Till homeward bound I am the way.


Don’t tell me
You know what you are doing
With your head full of unreasonable behaviour
And never endings.

It's all sound and fury around the craggy rocks,
It's all in the wind and whispering,
Your winter-worn out stories,
Your articulate arrangements.

Time is diminishing us.

Cut loose the tangled cords,
Burn the consequences. 

But tell me now
Before you leave again,

Why have we overlapped and stumbled
Across the same lines
and lives,
Over and over?

Just Now

I lose words now.

They slip between pauses,
Hide between shadows and doubt.

I realise,
I have never quite landed home with myself.

Never quite found the sound that says the word
Without speaking
Without thinking.

Why is there this restless ache
Inside this frame I have shaped so longingly?

Why is there no home-coming of acceptance,
No single shape of sound
That sings our broken hearts
to heal and love again?


Splashes of yellow shades
Litter the landscape.
A bright blue swipe of bench
Sits proud as you like
Against the fall of autumn light.

I have sat here before,
Searching for meaning;
in the shape of the smallest of sounds,
In the flicker of patterns
across well-worn behaviours.

And you have sat with me,

Sharing your failed relationships with life.

Sharing your desperate need
to keep fighting the odds,
to keep demanding your place
in the impossible scheme of all dreams.