I will
quite like a wild rumpus here some time,
a make shift band,  straggled procession
down the lane, chanting, scaring the neighbours.

it is often quiet here, though Kenny’s voice
carries.

there will be four of us, costumes and laughing,
happy knowing who we are, comfort in skin.

we used to push you in the toy pram, your legs
spilling out, our selves the show.

it is often quiet here now, you have grown, this
is not your area.

we walk your district quietly.
wait in the shelter.

I will
quite like a wild rumpus here some time.

sbm.

Edwin Longsden Long RA was an English genre, history,  and portrait painter.

**



there are many pictures at this house, two dimensional and more. how can I love one

child above another?

I had only one, so that was easy, then questioned if I loved the late arrival more, I said no just different.



so I talk out loud instead of writing .

a new prose. I  talk of formative years, the safe place.



russell coates museum. have you been there? it was free on thursdays a haven from the rain,

the

pain.



indoor fish pond, quiet on the stairs, to the edwin long gallery. the flight to egypt. looking

back now, I never thought of it religious.  immense it covered the wall.



I use the past tense, yet it is still in place.



on googling I see  the topic is biblical, I remember the procession, the faces, the space  as

if his meaning was hidden to me.



now by choice it is.



do I make such pictures?  no.



weird stuff as if installed in a museum.



crying.



sbm.

raining day, the pram hood smelled. gabardine.



blue white edging patterned              greek style.

sound of water falling,                 puddled apron,

bread in damp paper,         taste of crust corner.



springy, bouncing down green road, my brother

weighting.                                           the other end.



a blanket to pick fluff

&

straps to bind me.



later came other fragments, the whisper of sausages for tea, the promise of marmite,

fragile gas mantles to repace night time candles.



my brothers.



sbm.

slightly astonished at the words he said, mentioning the word foreigners,

surprised she was from finland ‘of all places’. spoke to her loudly, bent

near as if she was deaf.                                    she spoke another language

&

she spoke english.



a country gentleman indeed. was not sure they came packaged this way.



the exterior smart, the interior needs changing.



sbm.

oh she has good hair, strong as wire.

sticks up nicely. did you now that dry

stuff makes it go girly.

if you see such, do say so.



see the smile and touch.



i looked round the woods, read the diary .

blocked again. it was

rather a good day yesterday.



the fear comes back early morning, passes

on cleaning the carpet.



it is human to feel these things, to have

good hair.



mostly.



there is no flood warning. today.



sbm.

it is a wonder you are not traumatised,        sitting there nicely

watching the politics again. it is a wonder you are not shaking

as you were last week.



i wonder at your welfare, so have left you in bed quietly today.



i will go to work, worry on your state of mind.



with all that is going on, and your constant

interest.



do not watch the film today.

alone.



threads.



sbm.

i cannot spell.   i can think.

i can imagine a nuclear

bom.

going off.

read the books, seen the footage.





think.

people.

think

of it.

before you speak.

sbm.

there is no photograph

bom.

june the third. the theme is imaginary

as opposed to real. who knows which

is which?

we found the coats and left, he was

not sure who he was, any more. there

is a certain style, that is not the norm.

that should not be entertained by some.

we entertain each other.

if remembered.

or

was it all imaginary. we are adults now.

life lessons.

sbm.

daily prompt isn’t it

trace, my finger along the spine. yours.

then you tortured me, until immune i

said nothing.



no more.

so, no more will i bless thee, recognise

thee  & your service.



immune i take nothing, give it to no one.



no more.



it was raining so hard we could not see

out.



now we can.



sbm.

the list.



next week, the oak revisited.



it had stopped raining an hour

or so.



a breeze stirred the branches.

water falls.



sbm.

people also ask. what is a buff in a game? how does a polisher work?
what is the color of buff? what is a buff and debuff?  how can one
divide these queries?
some are thinking of naked beings, being all in their skin with nothing
over.



some have more impending questions, and will find it may all pan out

in time.



those that think literal, the place becomes confusion. it is  a daily challenge.



words escape like dust.



we sat in the bus shelter,

a while.



sbm.

the few know how to detonate, the many don’t.

apostrophe t.



the few add bits and bobs for devastation, muliple

injuries and death. life

changing.



a few help the others, while the others suffer.



there was a picture of a bomb  in blaenau, next

to a drawing of a ****, and a passage from the bible.

hash tag.

deuteronomy.



sbm.

hear the news. say yes. make sure the full stop

is there, inserted carefully.                          #apt.



when she heard that i had been drilling fitfully,

she asked why but i could not explain really. so

i added the stop.



it seems that some like sticks, while others do

not.



there are a few of us, one of us is      leaving.



after a while i was left alone, no need to agree

or punctuate.



sbm.

sad in private, folk  will  think that no one cares.

here.

should we write on social media a lot. is this the same writing

here?

a quiet face, simple place.

the air is damp and humid, teeth

grip skin.

in the garden.

we are private here,

as before.

sbm.

what was there before the nettles?

stung, the memory creases with

the look of bones.

left in air.

who was here to write the words

on stone, the plaque.

burnished.

there is a flower festival, white. altar

snow.

did anyone come yesterday?

sbm.

#andrewbellon

some thing passed the window.

air hangs heavy here. word came.

nest intact despite the storms, despite

the news of every thing.

checked, she still sits, eyes shining, waiting

on the future.

four blue eggs.

there is no photograph

sbm.

#andrewbellon

:: :: :: :: :: …

ways to infuse paper are free. perhaps the soaking

will work, after the hand drill &   sanding. ways to

make haste are    unecessary

sometimes, one achievement

a day is enough.



you bought your home, possibly.      the largest

amount spent. ,more than those shoes, they are

in dollars.



this is enough. some days.

are meant to be easy, to drill and reflect. look

back there is a comma in the wrong       place.

the world is infused with abbreveation

&.

punctuation.

sbm.



*the only company to repace your bristles

seems the punishment is     cancelled.



pat says some folk          paid the price

already.



we hope he is right. what benefit is

suffering?



there are leaflets to explain. in the

cathedral



&



other power houses.



i visit regular without no ticket.



the formal compaint has not yet

been realised.



it was well over a week ago.

i read daily.



sbm.

i often drop in when i am passing on my way

up northish. the conwy valley.   he always asks

if i am surviving.



i try to say just yes, while thinking of the titanic.



or  thinking that



i do not make it for money, and have several

pensions.



i just say yes,



i am surviving.



they are nice lads, work hard to survive.



#titanic.



sbm

a garden in regret yesterday before the mist cleared.



leeks in bundles while a lone robin sat her eggs, soft

in moss.



sun came, so we went up to see the churchyard cleared

ready.



a flower festival.



sea fret  in by six.      today the sky has lifted early.



sbm.

riding my bicycle

round the room,

i see these things,

items.



i will forget

in time.



sbm.

most of the books are gone,    to children

or to charity. there are   watches settled

in dust.



few of the stylish garments left,  kept for

best.



an installation.



there is a cabinet, of course, with two catapults,

one bought, one home made.



kept with all the papers.



david & goliath.



sbm.

did you dream of evil last night, for evil it was.



pocked, bleeding and dead.           back broken.



this morning the garden is damp, a mole  died

peaceably.



plans for a new path are growing, yet there was

evil.



again.



last night.



sbm.

a shortened version of blackberry pips, and phillip. she made

me bread, a reject of her former days. with banana and flour.



cake is good for you it has eggs ,               not sure how many .



he seems to write different now, i wish that i did, i do try and

sometimes it works.



the pips do their job, sticking round teeth, helping us go natural.



i found one in my ear.



yesterday.



sbm.

ah the sea, the sand, it comes in bottles now, dearer than the cheaper stuff.



i had not met her before, went in on the off chance. waited a while till she

was free.



she did it different, said nice things about my skin. in a small way she gave

me confidence.



i bought the quiche, sat in the cathedral grounds.



used the salt spray, and did not die.

of it



sbm.

(adding yet.)



there is no number on my gate, the house has a name. the lane

does not.



liking labels, i also like numbers on things, denoting nothing

in particuar.



she once said that though the name sounds romantic in it’s

language,

translated

it does not. she is correct.



the box is emptied, found numbers hid to please us, come



public.



a worry is will the colour run, & if it does will we mind ?



the larger road here is also numbered, and lettered.   a470.



sbm.

i come to you each month to leave a prayer to be said. i have no faith yet live in hope. #chestercathedral



look at mosaics, oh absalom, my son, my son.

wonder where the justice is. i come to think on things. each time i am challenged as to my reasons, & do i have a ticket?

#chestercathedral

it is enough to put some off from visiting at all. only the brave. thank you.

#chestercathedral



pray for them, all is in disorder.

sbm.

archaic or dialect question, in appropriate.                         a lowly start

with slight misgivings,  i come arrived from the country, an immigrant

here.



if the task came to me unlikely, i should sew profusely.  a safe bet in that

something grows decently.



do you know how to stitch a lie, when all about grow honesty?  mine was

white last year,

now nothing germinates.



the question is irreverent, no disrespect meant.  forgive me, this is the second

time. this time,



i shall stay.



despite my nationality.



sbm.

one dot.

not two?



you say such nice things sir, while you are one in many,

many

disagree.



some struggle with the work each day, yet carry on, what

else can be done?



working in the field is good & honest.



quiet day with bread, purposeful baking, folding and pleating.

tomorrow is the run of the mill type daily.



as before, this is no metaphor.



where is the self worth sir, when we look full long in the mirror, see

darkly the things of youth, darkly those ideas & happenings not

written of here.



no guardian review.

it has not been the

experience we hoped for. we shall wear pyjamas. the book remains

tied.



sbm.

moving on from the last verse of girly looking

after girly, we stopped at the jeweller’s window.



the assistant, neat looked bore & very clean. the

rings were                  three thousands and more.



enough to take her        home and more.



“yes sir you may buy the ring, for a
thousand pounds, or choose to save
her life”

she needed the fare home,       i gave her change.



the school girl bent level, gave her the note, touched

her and left.



sometimes

we look after our own.

sbm.

i need to write that you wiped your washed hands first on the dishcloth, so as not to ***** the

towel.

I do it too, and think of you.



sbm.

you don’t remember the war do you?



no, my mother told me.



she said that they visited port sunlight,

soap works, not the lady

lever gallery.



she  remembered vividly being presented with a

small trifle dessert fitted into a paper case with

pleatings round the edge.



i would have prefered soap.



someone else remarked that her friend had a bad

left leg, which is not required whilst playing golf.



an extra ordinary morning.



i dislike trifle, i always have.



sbm.

we talk of soap at different angles, different colours.



in the war she sat in the outside toilet to avoid the

bombs. there were hits in bournemouth.



sunlight came more expensive,  washing in the

kitchen bowl.           green for the linen each day

and monday.



there were five of us including mum. gran

bought the pink.



i buy transparent.



he said that eventually he was able to join

the small soldiers brigade at five foot three

or less, and was killed three days after

landing.



short men were deemed no good at hand

to hand fighting.



at first.



( unless the enemy was short too)



rough cast.



sbm.

try not to ignore.

you have been right

so many times before.



sbm.



{talking to the bear}



daily post – qualm



#itrhymes!

#pufferfish

#warhat

had an odd woolly rat glove.

i bought at half the price of

a pair.



we named it ‘rat’.

then held a lengthy debate

regarding mice being smaller

with differing prospects.



we assumed that

they both like cheese.



sbm.

dear both,

another day, another country.



visit the steininger gallery.

fax, this number, phone

the other.



two plus three, saying

see. no travellers.



see. the scenic railway.



is it all an equation,

geometry?



topical north of here,

another country.



sbm.

where.



where does collaboration work?                  here.

with you, you, you and you, i have named you

before.

with tags and capitals,  links and other stable

placings.



i was only stitching.  a steady hand. it was an offer,

happily accepted.



i was only drawing. so we drew  together. here

& another place.



i was only writing a, yet there are       many of

us who came together.



we are alone, until we start working

together.



it comes a wider space, with mistakes and misgivings.

nothing in this world is perfect. it is raining today. the

washing is out.



neighbours    help.

writers help, drawers

line our walls with

notes & labels. a few



of us

work together.

sbm.

early it came,where there are no roads, no silent killer.

spinning. set me free. let me see  swallows return to

nest.

let us cause a reaction, turn our heads quickly. no one

is looking, there is no one here. we are not afraid of

the night.

we spin.

soft cottons, whimsy thread, mothlike.

turn about hour on hour. your time is

come.

we spin.

to spite  silent killers.

sbm.

(written for those with out understanding)

asd

gift

blind. the blinkered corridor.



lead us.

take us.



to the end.



tea and toast.



simple hospitality.



you never learned this one,

did you?



sbm.

all there in the installations.



go back to the museum,

where it all started , cabinets,

labels to define, another way.



gradually reailisation came,

that we have been here before.



collecting seeds, objects of desire,

then in our gratitude remake.



this is the falling day, the childhood

way.



this is an idea.



sbm.

a positive gift, a hobby,

unlike philately and slovenly.



it is meticulous,  and out

of doors, so very healthy.



slowly collect plants

carefully, while grading

size and colour. as they grow

regrade, dry, press in bibles

ready for the fray.



I have read of this, will

take it up, immerse and

remember. number all

the specimens adequately

until I die.



I grade, to graven, I have gradened.



sbm.

looking down,

I see.



map, a geology, marred

by that remembered.



history, beyond  one word.

that will not fade with what I see.



fifty three.



sbm.

so you cut more than intended, never mind.



there is a new area for interest & decoration.



around the compost area.



worms.



checked the toad yesterday, gone not

forgotten.



checked again today. nicely returned

under the slate.



transition was easier than expected.



we learned a thing or two in the garden.



llaneraeron.



in the company of one other. walking slowly.



sbm.

we visit, revisit. flowers

still grow.



we leave. return.



we live.we miss you.

seeds.

we visit the garden again.

there is no final time.



sbm.

the code for the forum,
works at home. the

transition has been difficult.

again.

i missed you.

again.

sbm.

watch, windows speck. days come lightly.



heavy hearts at leaving here. we remember

you. some times.



with  difficulty.

some times.



the sun shines,

some times it rains.



sometimes it looks calm when we can feel the wind.



lightly.



sbm.

what to say? friday afternoon.     some say

another life, another possibility, an episode.



some say ampersand while some say and.

another thing means the hedge goes round,

and cut quite well can lead to misgivings &

other dynamics.



my surroundings are slightly unkempt.



this does not mean that i dislike those

neatly cut. today i was amazed. it was

a topiary thing.



i think.







sbm.

the kindness that is.                                             glass reflecting.   slowly it starts.   maybe we need to check our numbers?

sbm.