JULIAN IS WRITING A POEM
"The thud, thud of a horse's hoof
does not alarm fish."
MIND UNDER WATER - 1883
Richard Jefferies
Fishes flee him.
They can feel his thoughts
touch them.
Here, Creux Harbour
on the Island of Sark.
Mummy fish tries not to laugh
as her little darlings dart...
It's only a poet!"
she tells her younglings
"thinking thoughts
they won't hurt you.
Julian's vibrations
pass through them.
"It's what poets do
before they turn the world into words"
The little fish listen
with open mouths.
"As far as I can tell...it's a Julian
one of the cleverest kind one can find
a man composed of equal parts
wit and charm
an all shall be well and
all shall be well type of guy."
Julian is thinking
of nothing
but horses.
Horses.
The fish don't
even get a look in.
He sees the great shires
being swum in the harbour.
Such a magnificence
of being
decanted from land
to sea
the great hooves
treading water
free to be themselves
enjoying their day at the sea's side.
Julian is alive
with this image
the sheer
awe of it all.
The fishes think
nothing of it.
They are used to horses
galloping among them.
It's the vibrations
of the poet's thoughts
that tickles them.
"But our Mam..?""
a small fry ventures
"...there are no horses
here....and now?"
"Ahhh that doesn't bother poets
ya see...they see
both what is there and not there
or what may be!"
She quotes the great 16th century fish
"Nothing is so but thinking make it so!"
Later, at the Candie Gardens
on another island altogether
Julian sits, sips...
a double espresso.
And again.
A double espresso..
We see the words flow
onto the page
charged with the grandeur
of the great shires
as the little fishes look on
amused at the poet's
coffee coloured thoughts.
**
We left Julian Stannard at the table as we went to pursue the museum that awaited us inside. I jokingly commanded Julien to use the time to write a poem. And when we came back to him...indeed he had. A great poem about writing with the sun and horses swimming in the bay at Sark. One felt humbled by his ability and the ease with which over a double expresso he could write so brilliantly. I was hoping that some of that ease would rub off on me but alas no.
I was like a little raft watching an ocean liner pass by in the night.
All hail the Julian who shall be 'the poet' for ever hereafter.