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Sep 2016 · 601
.sunday morning.
sunday morning is often quiet here early .the radio playing.



did you know they play music alongside bird  song. a special

moment.



we sit quiet and listen.  you see i think the swallows have gone.

i did not see them leaving.



in syria they drop bombs   to gas the children.



sbm.
Sep 2016 · 281
. yet .
is it enough that we do not write each day, that we travel on the old train sometimes.



is it acceptable to think in phrases, believe the attrocities yet do not share them

with friends.



what would they think of our diet and strange sleeping habits, we shall not tell them,

anymore.



is it a crime that we have spelled it wrong, and not go to heaven, which is okay

as our heaven is here, on earth.



the phone at the hotel was busy, and they have not rung me back.



yet.



sbm.
Sep 2016 · 290
.. these trees ..
feels like autumn now, cat is in, windows misted.

a challenge to show  three trees as suggested.



the gentle good,  dawel disgyn,  little time

left, nor funds for flying.



tiny things become intimate.



you may put them in cases, or hang on pins.



straight or safety, it becomes political.



the choice is yours.



bulldog clips.



you are the curator.



sbm.
Sep 2016 · 237
.. found ..
lodge of the desired haven , numbered 5948.



a ladies evening , patrons of

the benevolent institution. they ate



chipolata sausages while mrs harry

jones extended a hearty welcome &

trusted they were enjoying a happy

evening.



the haven found to mark the end of

the war on may 8th, read the history.



inside a small photo

tucked.



at one pound.



sbm.
Sep 2016 · 361
..oswestry again..
you may be rendered speechless

again.



i have planned the route, refered the destination.



days of memory.



sbm.
Sep 2016 · 238
.. the collection ..
they gave me free hangers, as many as i like, i chose coloured plastic, wood and padded. a few wire ones for extra with experimentation. two rooms, one for men, another for womens complete gender differentiation.



sbm. (mx)
Sep 2016 · 253
. this autumn .
the next course.



may be to meet the writer at the plas.

it is a big house, remember we walked

there this summer from the oakley.



up the drive, then back down again

later.



things change, i hope to change with

them.



this autumn.



sbm.
Sep 2016 · 217
. leon .
leon. i borrowed your apron many years ago.



i still have it and just remember you, your darkness.



it was good news from the bad, i could have lost

you all so quickly.



i am drawing trees today.



sbm.
Sep 2016 · 222
. the garage .
i do not wait for the alarm,

just the red bar on my gauge.



it is a quiet village, a name

i can’t pronounce. so i stopped

for fuel.



how nice, an attendant, probably

owner/mechanic came, took my

keys and did it all for me.



whilst chatting about the day, how

the nights draw in, and i felt cosy.



a softer voice than some, his clothes

hard working.



i asked for twenty quid’s worth

to see me home, and a chomp

at 25p.



i shall stop there next time.



comfortable.



sbm.
Sep 2016 · 255
.. yarn bombing ..
you have seen this before.

he is knitted, been bombed.

serious stuff this fine day.

bank holiday.



i dislike the term intensely,

acute, strong, & vehement,

especially these days of war.



the sight of it sets my teeth

on edge. it may be a childhood

memory.



sbm.
Sep 2016 · 722
.. slug haiku ..
he asked me to do

it. pick it up with fingers.

i did. i love him.



it was in the way

of him playing, so with no

disgust, i moved it.



we had a lovely

day. the sun was warm. he will

be nine on tuesday.



sbm.
Sep 2016 · 222
.. pinned twice ..
it is a yearly trip to mold

there and back two times.

he mentioned it was a long way,

does not know the meaning of

it for me.



twice.



the work looked pale

against the others.



pinned twice.



sbm.
Sep 2016 · 323
1910. gelligemllyn
road works have been there some time,
you came through before your diagnosis.

did you see the copper beech at gelligemlyn
where the house is for sale. i saw it yesterday,
as if it had never been. from the mist inside
it grew, leaves hanging a fragile thread. tudor
lace in air, few  fell. the light turned green.

we drove on our way, i have no photograph.

sbm.
Sep 2016 · 295
programmed
is on thirteen,  hope the ribbon won’t fray.



if it does we shall buy some other.  it is said

that in my job think lateral, i try,

for art’s sake.



yet there is still that straight line, rules

from years of brain, washing.



perhaps programme two, or one.



boil wash.



sbm.
Sep 2016 · 783
. life before food waste.
remember days before food waste,

scraps for  dog,  cat maybe

some pig.



sitting until my plate was clear,



hash. tag rationing.



peelings were taken down

the garden by the rhubarb buckets

or

aunt olive made wine from that

with tea dregs.



he came every other day, pig man as

it was acceptable in those days.



when

there was no food waste .       mum

darned socks



sbm.
Sep 2016 · 868
.. rambling ..
she came in from the rain,  walking in the hills

for hours. they come most sundays, some all legs

and boots.



very wet.



left her gear outside, still had her coat on. where

are the toilets.  i told her.



I have to go outside?



yes.



she complained.



it is raining.i shall get wet!



yes.



she has been before and had observed that she felt too old for this.



i smiled at her with fondness.



sbm.
Aug 2016 · 173
. tumbled .
nothing is as it seems.

there are enough disturbances in the world,

without another.

stay under glass.



sbm.
Aug 2016 · 225
. news .
cheese is as addictive as hard drugs,

not that i have tried it.



i like edam and do you know that

if you play at the garden fountain



it may all get wet, so you carry them

and go bare foot.



did you now there is an electric boot

cleaner there, where

we went the day after the referendum.



that was the beginning and the end.



there is no alpha nor omega on this keyboard.



sbm.
Aug 2016 · 202
. stopping.
yes.it seems to be stopping now.



it is lifting.       it has been raining

a while you know, in the bedroom,

bathroom and the cellar.



it was heavier outside, faster

than the slow drip of gloom.



sheltered here, we weave and dream

a summer palace, and silas

marner.



sbm.
Aug 2016 · 226
.meanwhile.
we talked to him at his gate,

asked him how he was.



he looked gently.



later he told me his

ears had been blasted regularly

at the quarry, so he is deaf.



now.



i told him where i was from ,



meanwhile the man at the factory

cleaned bins.



we used the scooter again.



sbm
Aug 2016 · 281
. up the next village .
they are serving teas and cake in the hall with bunting.



my interest is the bull that lives on the parkland. there.



i slows if no one is behind to look .         or stop a while



he seems to like leaning over watching the traffic, while



i fall in love.                                                  it is a pretty face.



up the road the hotel is closed down.                             now.



sbm.
Aug 2016 · 1.4k
.just stand there.
just stand and watch the season change,

note the dew and separate ideas.



remember that you stand alone. are not

alone

from criticism and contradiction. medieval

music plays, the town smells as it should

now.



stand and watch the river sing, remember the day

wind hit water.



you were not alone, neither was the grave digger.



he waved yesterday.



sbm.
Aug 2016 · 265
#rr
#rr
it is with difficulty i write this.

the bear was correct, yet he

is not the only one in the village.



i met another yesterday.



it is with difficulty as the keyboards

stick, while others have no empathy

how deep it goes.



many have drowned, drowned

dead.



sbm.
Aug 2016 · 326
. boxes .
wander into town while your back hurts

edging into breaking. meet the one who

instigates recycling for its sake and others.



suggested the items, collects and delivers.



meanwhile he eats the offered sweet and

confesses there are more boxes outside.



mostly cherry ones, quite small,made to

stack easily.



help yourself, i have organised them in two

piles, wood and plastic



yes, have four, there will be more here

everyday.



i remember how we ate  cherries every summer.



those days.



( pause)



these days.



the back feels slightly better now.







sbm.
Aug 2016 · 149
. the writers .
not thinking it comes good,

just write, share and eventually

correct, edit,delete



you like, comment.



on reading others ( pause ) regret these

simple ways



i am not clever, everyone is a writer.



she said so.



sbm.
Aug 2016 · 188
. a table for 25 .
yet i am pretty sure more came, it looked a lot.



we had moved earlier on a prompt from the owner,

curled up in the corner with chips. tasted like mum

made

on saturdays with crispy bits.



that was a long time ago. we waited for the bus

home.



45 minutes.



sbm.
Aug 2016 · 362
. film titles .
it is number 13
a thunder ball
in my mind.

who is james bond
anyway,
he is ficticious.

elephant is not.

we got up too early,

went back to bed.

with a cup of tea.



sbm.
Aug 2016 · 210
searching for thursday
yet most were in april, searched for winter

find one will have to insert it. most days are busy,

i am the only one to do it, unless i pay.



searching for meaning, it may be there is none.



loving our homes, rituals and bad spellling

we carry on, carry one.



sbm.
Aug 2016 · 457
wednesday
wake late on wednesday,

remember your fathers’ mirror.



know that when all is mud and sundries,

it can be washed clean, clean as babies are.



that brings us back to chairs, that hold fear,

secrets, yet we are lucky in that



we have paid work, and he is not in

attendance.



these are old words.



sbm.
Aug 2016 · 260
betws pie
sometimes the boy plays on his own, in water.



sometimes it can’t be helped.



the pies are warm,and full of the tenderest

meats and gravy. which helps the day when

the belling is broke.



the bags came greasy,  left in the litter bin

nearby.



nearby, the boy stopped playing

and we wondered if the water was cold.



wednesday. betws.



sbm.
Aug 2016 · 658
.the parrog .
Posted on August 11, 2016

the bank cuts by,

the path next the
sea.

air is clean here,
sailors are honest
about the weather.



it is a good idea

to visit each year.



sbm.
Aug 2016 · 286
were we dreaming?
as i passed i saw the room,  coal on your table,

spread neatly. wondering i glanced around,

saw the snowy  underwear on hangers,

the chandeliers.



it all showed pride and i know

you have seen it too. raddled

face in mirrors, knowing that we

are all much the same, without

meetings and disagreements.



so,

must we write about it before we forget,

before  people come and disagree?



they have small waists and a  national costume.



sbm.
Aug 2016 · 240
.missing .
there have been planes about, someone is missing.



the old room needed cleaning and through the cat

slide neatly framed flew two hercules, heavy bird

like.



it is a cleaner window now, rain hits the glass,

noise is monumental.



someone is missing.



sbm.
Aug 2016 · 271
.there is a hint.
of something in the air, can you feel it?

the cat has drank the milk again, while

we were busy yesterday.



much to be done, much to be read

and quantified.



and

while all this is going on we

see the news and



still find nougat wrappers

on the floor.



sbm.
Aug 2016 · 189
#others
what does this mean, about a change of bed,

clothes. everyone does it, not a big chore.



though.



when they  do not have a home

a bed. think on it. think on a

broken body, broken mind.



heart.



sbm.
Aug 2016 · 264
#refuge
flight.   imagine it white with feathers,

bird’s wings.



it is an old room and as i change the bed

i think of you.



i regret the dust and crooked floor with

fondness, then as i lay the clean sheet

not yet tucked, imagine you laying your

broken body.



think on this.



sbm.
Aug 2016 · 1.1k
. the village .
it seem there is a gardener in that village,

that will not prune, will cut every shrub

the same.



shape.



if a walk takes you slowly round.



the village.



you may see every place

he works.



someone said you need

a day out to find some

inspiration.



for verse.



sbm.
Aug 2016 · 431
. oh absalom .
oh absalom, my son, my son.

cry out,  travel miles to

worship,  purify.



pray for him, the note

says all is disorder.



travel miles to tell those who

cannot hear, nor listen.



yet. if you cannot believe all

that is told, find a place your

own.



never mind the ancestors, absalom

my son.



sbm.
Aug 2016 · 660
. darker green .
time is limited these days.

those one admired in youth

devastate us now.



can we know all things, we

only went twice ?



the back road was

littered, rather blustery.



today



clouds blow in, leaves

crake and groan.



i say again, a darker green.



sbm.
Aug 2016 · 412
. the call .
she rang me. did not leave a message.



later,

i dialled 1471 and rang her back, there

may be a charge for this.



i did not leave a message.



at 6pm she rang and left a message.



i was washing my feet. do you think



that there is a meaning to life?



sbm.
Aug 2016 · 194
. a small black car .
it is over 3k, not very far. the car stopped.

she offered me a lift. i explained that i

was out walking, not lost in the middle of

nowhere.



as she thought.



we smiled.



she lives in the garden cottage near the big

house, while i live behind the church.



a different village.



meanwhile those on the precipice

moved slowly.



she drove on while i turned and went home.



it continued raining.



sbm.
Aug 2016 · 589
. family .
she said her father was jewish and proud of it.



they visited the synagogue, i know where it

is. i stood outside.



he was a green grocer, broke his back, her mother

looked after him.



she a seventh day adventist, i went with  her sometimes,

on saturdays.



i never met her father, he died early.



she said.



sbm.
Aug 2016 · 819
hell, no
hell no. i cannot think of it everyday,

nor have regrets, ignoring memes.





held deep and private,   a way

to live.



think.



remember what you said.

to me.







hell no.



sbm.
Jul 2016 · 573
. the little pram .
i did not write yesterday.



i delivered the case, i made.

they made.



i saw a little pram for dolls.



it squeaked delightfully.



if it is not sold, when i

collect the case. i may

buy it.



sbm.
Jul 2016 · 230
#archives
having lost five years words ,  faith and truth,

i looked this morning to check that all is there.



it is, it is.



apart

from the latter two.



critical thinking.



sbm.
Jul 2016 · 280
. drains .
so we moved the water **** to cover

the drain to the soak away. we live



in the country.



now from the window i see

rain dropping, dripping, filling

rust rain bin,



draining to the soak away. we live



in the country.



sbm.
Jul 2016 · 872
. a beautiful home .
my heart leapt, when he said.



his home, he can see the beauty

there. with reality

and fiddling. films it.



forgets the language, passes

the garage and looks to me

to talk on the succulents

that grow on gabions.



my heart soars that we have

a beautiful home, with

few expectations

now.



sbm.
Jul 2016 · 225
. cross .
some of us like to be neat in some ways.



some of us draw big and messy, and

i understand both.



we have made marks a long time, since

the dawn of.



probably.



when he could not write,

he crossed and smiled.



we continue marking

time, with smudges, scrapes

plus tidyness.



the brain interpretes.



so will you listen or go on

your way, regardless.



sbm.
Jul 2016 · 177
.. youth ..
the garden smells of incense.



do you remember when i was young?

none of you knew me then, remember

that i never was.



young.



sbm.
Jul 2016 · 364
ˈpleɪdʒərɪz(ə)m/
i am tired, said the bear, everwhere hurts so dreadfully.



like the plague they copied, talked about me when

they do not even know me,

understand.



they do not know therefore what they

say…….



sbm.

note –
plagiarism
ˈpleɪdʒərɪz(ə)m/
noun
noun: plagiarism; plural noun: plagiarisms

    the practice of taking someone else’s work or ideas and passing them off as one’s own.
    “there were accusations of plagiarism”
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