Memoir: Three pieces from "Here is this Amalgam of Writing" by Mike Ferguson

Cloud Exploding Over Ottery

A cloud like this in the bluest skies of a calm day

explodes in the most pervasive silence; that it erupts too

makes this a Thesaurus of the Cumulus. As it has not

begun in fire, the darkness that disperses becomes ashen.

A controlled experiment on the dynamics of an ignited

cloud has no abstract for its delineation – it is the seed of

an idea waiting for a proverbial wayward scientist.

While some are precursors to other types, this formation

is exponential like a muse, and the odes and elegies will

be beautiful tall tales.

Autumn Leaves

What theme are you expecting: seasonal wistfulness /

diminution / old age / The Virus? It’s a Clapton blues,

yet not his song, though love and loss, yes, but

symptomatic of another slowing down: symptomatic –

there’s the rub, or oil and grit, take your pick, but not in

the fall, one after the other – that’s not it at all. There is

the irony too of writing this on a day in May, sun

shining, and imminent expectation of a lockdown

lightening, not that people my age want this. The wheel

turns full circle.

If Coleridge Had Driven a Morris Minor

With beauty seen as a unity in multiplicity, Samuel

would have approved its mass production, warmed to the

Germanic influence of design – a Kantian love for this

aesthetics of simplicity in the sublime – and the

Englishness of tradition with innovation: like verse that

rhymes before a run of mimesis along an assembly line.

A ‘53 phase II could have a top to put down, composing

in the passing air as if on a long poet’s stride.

Independence was in the suspension of disbelief –

because it simply was – and rack and pinion steered like

a flight of poetic feathers on the thrust of wings: STC’s

journey to the divine.

Mike Ferguson is an American permanently resident in the UK. His latest publication is a collection of poems on teaching and education 'Drawing on Previous Learning' (Wrecking Ball Press, 2021)