sounds settle

our trip went very well
in the greater manchester
area
with thoughts of another
place
i mentioned you and she
said why do you say with
my girl

and we discussed why certain words
come out unusually
yes she is my daughter

more like each other than we dare
both hard ******* in this
world of things

68 is not so far in this world

we all have numbers

to think also back then
they built stuff that took
a life time and many
of their lives through
belief

powerhouses never cease

today the gardener comes
so my grass will have the final cut

hopefully i will have some signal

it is a quiet village
a place to hide

the bus conversation started about lunches

sunday lunches

yet



i work on sundays.



she said that farmers work that day, shearing

so cannot go to church.



when dead ready to be buried wool is placed

in a hand



to explain their absence in church

to a mythical being at a gate.



she said i could do that.



only no, if i was not at work, neither

would i go to church.



i watch andrew marr

it seems we all have to apply

for an updated version



not prepared

for all the enthusiasm

the website went down



so phoning for a paper application

as often  easier

the assistant refers to me as

her love

as in my love



assumes i cannot use the internet



her love asks why the update

and it is explained that it is for fraud prevention



it seems



too many dead people are travelling by bus



these days



i will wait a while

she says that the paper forms are not yet printed



my love

my small voice



are you alright?

i am worried for your welfare

yet fear an intrusion



wait

234



my small voice

are you ok?



i may understand if you explain a little



look at his face

my small voice

456



my hand touched his arm

i look away & say that



i may also feel this way



look down to my hands neat in my lap as always



789



my small voice



he leans in while i allow the silence

the silence lengthens



&



my small voice is quiet



we look out and the world passing by

his finger points

an understanding

three people at bus stop
names in order of arrival

hash tag raining

open brackets
the commercial, blaenau
close brackets

2. is this the bus stop?

1.yes it is

2. is the bus due?

1. yes it is

2. have you been waiting long?

1. no not really

3. hello is this the bus stop?
is the bus due?

2+1. yes

4. etc…

1978754101529941581611774478870514302533697_n.jpg

Advert­isements
Occasionally, some of

up early
a bus trip today
with a friend

a breezy start with warm spells
radio predicts. i looks out the
window to see
and see

work came fine yesterday
not finished, then nothing
ever is really

we just says it is
and leaves it alone

then
someone likes it
dislikes it

sends a message
that they feel it is

disgusting
discussing

what they feel is fine

the winner is decorative, manipulative
romantic, nostalgic and boring

i am not in that race
i am not a winner
nor a loser then

hope your day comes good
hope your day is free from

some things
full of other things

best dash


6.08
bit excited
bit ready for the day

herrison

is near monkey jump

dorchester

i pointed it out on the coach

i don’t go there no more

see notes

he was concerned for my welfare

so we talked about dignity





i have none



they were the first he said

yet i think that was shame





i liked the colour of the room

the neatness

then



someone walked by

some times it all comes at once

full on

then later

all goes quiet here and there


there may be a need to take more sandwiches

with butter to keep the energy up

i took a yoghurt only and came very hungry

and fueled up with peppermints in the

afternoon


the note came by post

with no need to answer written

with pencil


in this  eight day period

i will say the same to you

with typing

from monday to friday next week

there will maybe be no message

from me


clean laundry from you to

help the maids

here we call them housekeepers


while the customers regard

things their own way

and my lip is buttoned



window misted

bird on the ledge

concluded in the night
with flapping, hiding,
retreating under white.

do you remember the green house,
mostly also white, i do
understand
that may be finished today.

there was a lull, no
steam left here after that
happened.

he had told me that
it all takes time

to heal.

sbm.

the blue is a prim,

and pretty room, draped

with musical games

of chance,

for settling here.



harp strings

relay the vital net,

after shakespeare.



the visitors leave.



lord byron wrote

of hours of idleness;

the letters below,

and all the while

you have no love for me,

worrying over the empty barn.



sbm.

the library intervenes
with gifts.
tomorrow we
fill more empty
cabinet shelves,
clear peripheries,
learn to spell
curiousity.

the russian is coming,
there are pianos,
at the theatre.

all pianos are special.

join me, work with me.

. cabinet meeting .
it is not mandatory to attend,
just send in a donation, gratefully
received, you see.
we cleared the cabinets, nicely,
and wish to install the installation,
before tea.

some have offered work for cabinet blog, log,
which is recorded here. now then,

if you send an object of curiosity, even antiquity,
it will be labelled for posterity

examples, could be poetry, or any item you can imagine,
this does not rhyme anymore. he thought it
was art.
quickly, do not lose momentum, please

again, i reach the upper room.

floor teetered, me the cabinet maker,
offfered another case, one of mine choice.

she had lovely hair, said the space was moving.

so it was, betwixt a little crowding there,
wilfred owen, his letters and wooden steps,
to reach further up.

below they serve liver and onions, which
i am told is very tasty,

sbm.

. cabinet .
the library intervenes
with gifts.
tomorrow we
fill more empty
cabinet shelves,
clear peripheries,
learn to spell
curiousity.

the russian is coming,
there are pianos,
at the theatre.

all pianos are special.

join me, work with me.

sbm.

i guess they were not up

there to watch the planes



they don’t fly on sundays



it may have been for the scenery



she pointed with the walking stick

i see

it is a pile of stones

not just the one

maybe not diamonds then

yet



it is



still



memorial



cairn

decided to drive to town while the sun was out



feels a long winter



pass the mountain

snow topped



thought on a challenge

how the cairns are made

one stone upon another



parked the car tidy

down the high street



noted the man with two terriers

his hair the colour of theirs

his coat camouflage

i could hardly see him



later i find the factory shop

allows dogs shopping

another cairn



a better day

one stone upon another



ˈkaməflɑːʒ/

i have cake here, tony made it me,

last year he made a wooden glove box, as my red x one overflowed, the year before a tiny clothes hanger.

only yesterday i hung the knitted clothes i bought in pickering, no room for the pants, i pinned them to the wall. he is brenda’s husband.

she likes victoria sponge,

too.

sbm.

hope you got to work on time
and did not get stopped by the
troopers this time

time goes fast and we forgets
our checks unless we gets sent
a text

automatically

i need to write about australia
the animals

how they cry out for those hurt
and lost, as do i

then

shoot the camels
from helicopters

as they like

not sure though
how to express
this

fingers tap.

can you hear the wind outside, the radio,

all things growing, I could. it was the start.



should have known this will happen,

to me, to all of us. some have had a

splendid year, while some have not.



shall i speak of crumbled cookies, of those

dice, which we collect?  no, i cannot speak,

i have no voice.



i tap the words with fingers.



sbm.

after meeting my imaginary friend, attending an important

meeting, where there was no importance at all, i drove

to see the fish, and met the capybara.



who was surprised?  its hair all needing drawing,

nose a blot, and the paw resting so. so

quiet it was, perhaps a sadness. it stood

alone, as did i.

the little capybara, there.



i took no photograph.

sbm.

after meeting my imaginary friend, attending an important

meeting, where there was no importance at all, i drove

to see the fish, and met the capybara.



who was surprised?  its hair all needing drawing,

nose a blot, and the paw resting so. so

quiet it was, perhaps a sadness. it stood

alone, as did i.

the little capybara, there.



i took no photograph.

sbm.

will not do, really,
it may have to be wood,
from ikea
after all.

he made do with cardboard
boxes, sticky tape
for sound,
another room.

i have news of mrs ciano,
looking well, in the old hotel.

i cannot get there
to see her.

history.

sbm.

it is not my village
i have lost that one

it grew

too big

carelessness

rooms full of plastic

instead of hard wood

ocean wave

carelessness

i try to be anonymous

but am found out

how careless

they ask

‘did she lose her husband?’

&

“how will she be judged now”

labelled & worn

i think i have a picture of
the car wash in betws,
model railway and vistas.

yet i cannot find it.
the little people
were waving their arms around.

so i am going with the frog car
and carbolic soap. the middle
one being imperial leather.

thank you.



sbm.

so we taps the till and tells it how they paid

sometimes we misses the correct tab while

smiling and chatting to the customer folk.



so on cashing up with the actual divisions

of card or cash

the till notes

our silly error and adjusts things accordingly

with the ups and down message. at the end

of the day i am too

weary to think of it, the logic.



one customer had that look about him.

i note and remember.

the continental way is tighter, grip

the thread, there will be no loopy

stitches, no more.

this is the way to speak, gentle, no

inuendos, benny hill or carry on films.



nothing wrong with none of that, yet

carrying on your own way is honest.



the knitting will be neater now, the

patterns more selective, we are



wool gatherers.



sbm.

it is good to move things about
to stitch and make things
stitch and mend things

harder to thread the needle
daylight helps
by the door

when we gets distracted by
trees and birds
and suchlike
natural things

i like the stitch backwards
the stretching threads

the littled dress

she is older now

he thought
it was not the centre
of the universe.
titanic.

came by chance.

i think you will
find it is sir.

it is the little things
that make it so.

the tears of all my life,
with yellow.

the colour of the day..

st david.

sbm

he thought it was

not the centre of

the universe.



titanic.



came by chance.



i think you will

find it is sir.



it is the little things

that make it so.



the tears of all my life,

with yellow.



the colour of the day.



st david.



sbm.

~ cathedra ~

he thought
it was not the centre
of the universe.

titanic.

came by chance.

i think you will
find it is sir.

it is the little things
that make it so.

the tears of all my life,
with yellow.

the colour of the day..

st davids.

sbm.

there it is in the background
as always, yet no one comes.

tea.

the end bits grey, steeped in butter,
seems the cat likes that, greedy

thing, eats all i give and more besides.

we are replacing lost notes and buttons,
cutting, stitching carefully as spoken about
yesterday.

he says it is a strange shape and form
with emphasis, he may be right. the cat

continues to eat.

sbm

it is early yet

and we think about how

it may be this winter

 

 

with the situation 

which changes daily

 

 

though no one seems to notice 

no more or perhaps they do

how would I know?

 

 

 

he told me he still looks each day

and I do too

 

 

while some don’t listen and try to

park where there is no parking no

more cones

up along the pass

and park and ride up from

the valley

 

what a thing to write about

you may exclaim 

not poetic nor romantic 

that is due to not being neither

 

 

my hair was real short back then

looked nice on reflection 

 

 

I am reorganizing the cellar

so we placed the work on censorship.



little boats,  welsh not, #bandaged

books and what nots.



they had been there

some time, yet were not noticed

i guess.



it may have been nose bleed that done

it. she censored it all, shoved in

a drawer, even the refugees

crossing.



i go to the ship now, and

i hear she threw the jazz band out



too.



sbm.

request stop. number

3

stationary.   smell of smoke come coal

excitement grinds to anxiety

4

distant repeating rhythm turns

screaming down the line



hang onto brothers      warm wool

soap hands



5



ticket tight

find the line               no crossing

train spotting



sense the future

i cannot see



blinded by naivety

during the evening after tea,

we wondered who had invented the chair,

so that we can sit, so, and sew.



perhaps the rock was too hard,

nothing to support the back,

properly.



period drama would be

oddly different without the chair.



the conversation moved on to

pumpkins, these days, and

noises made by porcupines.



seems Barry went to see the

capybara too.



sbm.

this is the first time i have lined up those particular coins,

it is also the last time .                { those coins in particular }



sbm.

all things change,
except they say, one.
changes come

squirrels and disarray.

river ebbs, flows, tidal,
otter marks erased, the lane

quiet now. locals walk, leaves stir.

in passing we remember those.

birds fly up, we laugh again.

he gave red wine, will bring logs.


sbm.

there is a feel in the air,
a change in the whether.

very place caused confusion,
pond dipping involuntary
shuddering, and delight at small creatures.

who play croquet with new rules,
we never knew the old, it proved
without flamingos
that i am not alice.

it is about a year now,
i blocked you.

sbm.

yes something feels different

that day in february

last

the day as hot as summer

the sea by there as still as

i have never seen before

transfixed

while some cooed with delight

at their luck with such a grand

day

research started two hundred years

ago

yet what do i know

except it feels different

and the rug no longer on the cellar

floor

so we carry on

we had snow yesterday

and while all stopped still

in that valley

here we were fine

and carried on

“the rain of one afternoon” … “These beautiful words look like the rain of one afternoon when we are alone watching this landscape behind the blind of water.. and their sad and lovely sound performs the luth of solitude.” – The words and the work are about Time. Time in our lives, time when we are alone, time that is a memory.Only one minute can pass, and all things change. Each one of my works is about the passing of time, the changes, and the events. Circles speak of life, and death, slate fences tell of the ancestors, power houses of cultural discord. The cruciform paintings are arduous, layers of paint carefully applied, each drying for 48 hours before the next. Then the final coat with a splash of water, and a swipe of the cloth, the image revealed in one moment. The passing of time…………..

one slip is all, one step too far, the world turns around . no control, no eating,   disorder abounds. watch the ornaments fly…..

one slip is all,

one step too far, the
world turns around .

no control, no eating,



disorder abounds. watch
the ornaments fly, we feel
like alice. one minute turned
to weeks, and wish we had
our camera to film the scene.

these are indeed the falling days.

i am not broken, maybe cracked.
if you read me, you knew
that anyway.

sbm.

charcoal.

yes

a soft substance

easily crushed,

manipulated.

must ensure,

i am not

sbm.

.charleston farmhouse screen .


criticize , critique, where is the difference?  read  google. read wikipedia and you will

see that eventually it becomes too much.                                                     that fateful day.



some say you have lost your memory,                                            think of the wrong name.



there are others remain the same.                                                  it may only be one sentence

yet is still part of the story.



an unfortunate phrase.



his name was             duncan grant.

two panels. there is no photograph.



sbm.

thanks @Nigel .

it  is a parrot made in glass

gender neutral

&

i like unicorns

too

we do not have an asda

here

am loving your wild flower planting in dolgellau and wondering if you sell the seeds
to public. seeing those flowers made my day.
will  you sell me seeds, or  advise  me where to buy?
the morning I saw them was very anxious and the flowers helped


Chat Conversation End

having eaten too much cheese, watched

surreal, tremendous film, find a head,

with headache at nine minutes to seven.



bravely drink tea, carry on until it fades,

the british way.  this is the least of the

worry in this world of ours.



ibruprofen takes this ill away.



the news is on the radio

next.



sbm.