nice message thank you.

yes I shall like to get to know your friends more, they are welcoming.

i like them. there is something special , the more I know her.

have a good time in oswestry, it is a pretty place.

hope your wrist improves.


sbm.

52.57.

something happened, something
changed inside me, the moon slipped sideways.

while all remains the same, something is different.

did you speak to me, was that you I heard in the
garden calling.

is it really such a little thing.

the connection.

sbm.

weight of the water broke it,

the jasmine lays heavy.



wire rusted it snapped.



water lays heavy.



reflect on  scented air.



sbm.

did you not know my name

when you called me.



stupid.



did you not know my name

when you left.



i know your name, how to spell it,

and will remember it

always.



it is a welsh dresser, sir.



sbm.

so we gets up early having dreamed of you,

and planned all the good work.



takes to the garden before the heat sets in hot.



done half when we hits a rock, bent our blade.



all things may come right in time, if you

loves the ones you think you don’t.



yet then, what do i know really, except the metal

twisted.



the washing is on nicely, while i takes the *******

out.



sbm.

flags to find us. decide which

petulant shadow hides

integrity.



honesty abounds yet the flags

will find us.



sbm.

winding wool.



together.



sbm.

when the world runs cold,

water freezing, eyes held

from the words.



moments with the old story,

knowing it will be understood.



each day a moment to be

shared out here.



the poetry circle is closed.



now.



do not believe all you read.



sbm.

hello, i am 89 and still in good health,

much like the queen, may i sit here?



i am waiting on a toasted tea cake.



i have not seen the garden yet and never

will. i shall sit by the bus stop later

and talk.



i worked in the motor trade.



sbm.

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.

some things need not be saved,
damp and inexclusive. only
the brave are kept.

others are filed away ready
to be disposed of some day.

some things are burned in
the garden, a small incinerator,
smoke pluming.

the photograph.

this does not mean
i love you.

sbm.

there is a mist, a cloth, hanging,
while i have seen so much. i forgot

to ask about your trip. i had driven
the mountain to see you, parked
nicely, kissed your cheek, talked

about the issues, seen the art work.

this morning is like autumn, though
still in july, softness lowering.

i am so sorry, i forgot to ask
about your trip.

sbm.

no, we did not recognise you,

had put you out of mind.



hair all pretty ,

echoing  affecting  voice.



there are some who have written

that you may be a bully.



sbm.

the bed is made, the linen clean.

bear sleeps.



yet it is not forgotten, that some

said because thier friends did.



that some lied and are deceitful.



the laundry man will come,

yet it is not forgotten.



this is history.



meanwhile

the #bear sleeps again.



sbm.

:: a book of pins ::              handwritten, copied in a day.



the drawing, the written page.

i am paint and cotton

i am pins and details

codes and reasons

calm and seasons.



i am boxes, charcoal,

fires and birds.



i am hand writing.



i am the old house,

all things considered.



i am the joker, the radio,

the music.





i am four dots.



i am the folded page,

the falling face.



i am the picture, the painting,



i am the mouse, the little bird,

a monstrous woman.



i  am a word document, a picture file.



i am the pin.



sbm.

the radio played, day eight.

land of hope and glory,

we spluttered on our tea.



later while cleaning teeth,

played for those in peril

on the sea.



day eight.



sbm.

while all around is broken, shall we mend

and tidy this little bit.



shall we change the linen, white and clean.

lean toward a better place round us, start again?



shall i sleep , stay quiet and try to understand

some things, knowing i will never know it all.



shall i love thee not in any biblical sense,

for our minds have changed irrevocably.



click here and you will find some meaning

at least.



i have started a new pattern, using a plainer

stitch for strength and stability.



#bear.



sbm.

grandma came from malta, or was it

gibraltar, anyhow dad was very dark.



his hair remained so, with help and support.



i came from england to live here with you



#thebear.



also from another country.



i hear there is trouble in the village.



yes. i am scared they will shout

and say go home.



another country.



sbm.

tried to persuade him to leave the bed.

nice clean sheets today. no, i am staying

in the raggled mess .



like our government



you know of such things, and what about

the laundry man, he comes tomorrow.

he will be disappointed.



send the cover, keep it clean so no one

notices the mess underneath.



isn’t that what  they do?

isn’t it?



yes.



sbm.

so you are still in bed?



yes



are you not feeling any better?



no. it is like a bombshell, with

the bomb left in it. boom and my



little world i loved is shattered.



all my things are the same, yet

something shifted. i am bereft.



i cannot help, i am the same.



yes i know.



sbm.

yesterday i told her of my cynicism,

my issue with predictions, using phrases

that were a load of.



she agreed heartily plus i told

you so, look at the bench marks.



so i carry on without you. it is

not about money



or recognition.



sbm.

have you collected seeds
of many years, packed,
labelled, dated.

have you died, and left
the table unprepared.

i have them now in boxes,
a gift, from those who love.

they will bring me work, joy,
an independent air, profound words,
from those who care.



sbm.

the film continues, some of the old cast,
new actors oblige, ideas on lack
of addictive ways. simple days without
receptors.

singing under breath, counting,
unpacking boxes, this is the lead.

hints are posted, and may you
believe them graciously. for

many times will you be tested.

there were substitles, out of
focus, we could not read the
other language.

the film continues….

peptides.

sbm.

mostly read on the internet,

news, politics, all the rhetoric, yet



i have my favourites.



days that lack

deep concentration.



i mentioned earth &heaven.;



not asher lev.



it remains the same.



sbm.

it is a different sort of tired,

hard to expain.



did i walk miles, yes.



that was invigorating. did i

clean the house, yes.



that was satisfying.



did i sit quietly thinking,

then place a few

things together. yes.



that was exhausting.



the star.



sbm.

patrwm is welsh for pattern.



pattern can be lovely, grand

and decorative.



some can be ugly.

repetitive.



it is part of the family.



genes.



sbm.

lift the cotton, look again.



cover the place with whiteness.



pink is pretty, white is clean.



they do not want to see it

today, a reminder of fragility.



they wish to spend freely

in this place, not care



for these things.



sbm.

the bear is very tired today,

has stayed in bed. we have

the linen sheet.



left rumpled now.



slowly we dreamed

we became homeless



again.



sbm.

growing well, so we took you out

the glass house in to air not expecting

thundrous rain. we returned to find you

battered.



our apologies……



we  will love you and  nuture you

again



back in the green house.



sbm.

. found verse .



County Wicklow is a region south of Dublin in the east of Ireland. It’s known for its namesake mountains, Irish Sea coastline, country estates and the Wicklow Way.



A herpetic whitlow, or whitlow finger, is an abscess of the end of the finger caused by infection with the ****** simplex virus.



Fancy!





31. dark & tiny hand.

a slight noise, you look up as it leans toward you,

is the floor falling?



will it crash, leave you laying there surrounded?



the books are heavy.



push it back, yet it will not stay, comes out again.



calmy hold it with one hand, remove all the objects with another,

yes all of them , avoiding disaster.



you can place them around about without letting go.



it seems a similar thing happened further north.



sbm.

there is a dead sheep in the lane.



pushed to one side away from

the passing.



traffic may have hit it, or it went

natural?



we walked on up near the copper

mine , a darker place yet

the forest came light.



sbm.

i assumed she is your mother, i watched you

both so kind to each other.



apparently.



i could not walk yesterday, was working.

the drive home that feeling came again,

after all those years.



the news was devastating. please be kind

to another.



sunday.



sbm.

on occasions we go further than we did before.



the patch of dark is from the trees, a marking

place. the field of bells beyond. we have not

walked there since her mother died. we can

hear the people talk up on the precipice, look

they move slowly.



two are wearing orange, i think that they cannot see me.

i often say we, as if there are two of me. we stood

in the darker place.



turned,



and walked home again.



sbm.

Thank you everyones x

it hurt so much we walked extra.

took the mind of it. edwin says

it usually stings a lot.



we pulled the skin back, cleaned

the grit off, then laid it carefully

back.



later i met robby’s mother

in the lane, and agreed the

forest looks dark and bogey

today.



sbm.

i wish i wrote like you guys, wish it were more direct.



it has been noted as abstract, yet i cannot see that.



he wanted a garden, this one. we  looked

at other houses, he wanted this one.



with

a garden as seed for the future.



when he died i let it grow and hid here. now

i tidy , grow seeds for the future.



sbm

it is said i write abstract, in time to save

your feelings. you asked me to explain,

i did so lightly. the other said no one else

dare ask.



i tell you it is a full and complicated story

that may upset.





i wrote it quickly using shape,colour,

metaphor and symbol.



was loathe to read it for i may cry.

you wish a pretty picture yet i cannot

make it.



i thank you for asking, where others

do not read.



the writing circled

sbm.

in time

i will leave you six

items,



like he said.



five you say you want,

one to mend some things.



the bear, the other bear,

the others plus

a pin.



encapsulated.



sbm.

rain came, seeds will grow.



watered places i cannot reach,

**** half full.



noisy day, farmer making hay,

lambs  moved from  mothers.



they say the sun will come

later to dry .



sbm.

i had the words ready.

a twist of logic.



you explained it all

to me. then the radio

stopped.



you wind the thread backward,

while some move forward.



i saw your picture again.



it means nothing.



sbm.

a small soft kiss on the cheek these days,

with a hug possibly. unless of course its

you.



not like the old days. i think that we did

not hug , kiss and remonstrate.

used the surname, all was proper.



even cabbage had titles.



then the kissing came, warm, gentle

kind.



yet i hardly know you, how nice.



sbm.

this bear appears without acknowledgement from you,

or you. not knowing the demands of an early life,

you cannot imagine the decisions, none made lightly.



you trip your tongue, then walk away. the bear arises

and sweats worry with torment until time tells.



it was  assumed that if you had not tried it,

you may still understand.



these loads are not too heavy,   the bear will find

other ways, then sleep again.



sbm.

the bear looked puzzled, sat back and said,

‘told you, no one will listen if we are quiet,

they have all lost interest’



yes.



‘do they only listen to loud folk , those that  shout

and remonstrate’



seems so.



‘do you mind’ said that bear sympathetically.



no.



sbm.

do you wish to stay in bed today?



yes



has it all been a bit much?



yes



will it be letting the side down?



yes i guess so. i will decide in a minute.



yes.



sbm.

you can pull them out one by one,

they will not grow again.



leaves a gap.



you can pull them out one by one

they will grow back and

fill the gap.



sbm.

i think i heard a night jar

up the valley here.



it was a quiet night except

for that.



we have the window open now.



sbm.

so the bear has become a companion.



of sorts in times of sress

and needlessness.



i call him darling sometimes,

not often.



some days he stays in bed ,

not often.



some people are witnesses, study

the evidence.



i prefer the bear.



sbm.

alongside a list of tasks
repair and defend, cut
small twigs with gusto
and imagination.

make conversation,
explore philospy at
the kitchen table
all gingham and pastry knives.

this was the order
of the day. thursday
the handy came, instead
of tuesday.

plans change.

sbm.

. another jacket .
Posted on May 21, 2016

i bought the jacket on tuesday
wore it on wednesday to work.

a retail outlet we likes to look
smart and proper mostly. wore
boots as it was cooler. i thought

it was blue, the girl said purple.

we all see things different.

sbm.

some days are soothing, having made a new pattern.



yet if he brings boxes we have heavy work, not minded

so much.



all those years ago when i followed  instructions



never thought that i can change them.



make my own.



sbm.