you fetch the bus to town

& be home within the hour



shopping & conversation



boys at bus stop

talk of parents

show

off on skate boards badly

nearly miss the bus



pay gently while i go free



buns come from many countries

& towns ; i had the london ones

two a pack; just out the oven with

sugar



i ate them

so there is no photograph

cooler now,    spiders come heavier.

it is decided to use boxed cotton to

inscribe.



dead father

dead husband

dead son

dead brother

all



dead soldjers

boxed and rotting.



chemical invasion.



sbm.

ants come in the kitchen usually in february
leave at easter. it has not happened this year
yet

they scurry

yesterday i looked out and thought how nice
i have always wanted to live near water.

there were floods as far as i could see, my
neighbour said we could have a boat.

wind skittered across the surface like it
did when he died

despite this beauty i feel for those damaged
with water this year

i live on the rise and look out across

some one wrote to enquire and we
agreed it seems this is all our own fault

i had cherries yesterday
real nice

i like ants



1

then the words came clear, and I will keep them just as they are.

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.

how small.



how white

the child,

skin rinsed

with tears.





salt in the wind.

©sbm

stand back to spite the craving, look on as from afar.   people, some write hymns & mantra others watch tv, not the news.               oh no not the news, the truth is too depressing, a bit near the mark.





i guess yours sleep in bed, loved and cherished.                                              others love and cherish , yet their families sleep in mud,                                                                                                   on streets.



the words came suddenly. an odd day, no gentle people to woo thee, day of stress,      and horror, you watch the news.                                                         a day of reality, the reckoning that nowhere is safe.



come in dreams, the shape of your face remaining. there is a line now,        dreams and aspirations.   words and degradations.                                                                                   lines deepen, water etched.







the rain falls round our houses.







how small.

how white

the child,

skin rinsed

with tears.

salt in the wind.

©sbm

they come with bells, snow bits & pretty bonnets



this time of year brings changes

midwinter

a leonardo collective



sweet



it seems so innocent

still

look, though



there are implants in his hands

the days are numbered



boxed

an illustration of the boy

created

with implants in both hands



nothing moves

early, the crowd came to see

yellow, the famous arch .

laburnum.

i came to see the kitchen garden,

seeds growing, chives flowering.

humble plant sprout small mauve flowers,

bees come early.

yesterday mostly yellow and mauve then.

bodnant garden.

sbm.

a small thing, ragged.



who knows all of it,                   pieces

torn away.                                 framed.



an exhibition again.                 Christine.



only you know most of it.       Christine.



sbm.

who knows her name now,

times passes.  why do you



paint her?







how to say a name.

one syllable or two?



we were all young then, sliding

about in troubles, growing out.



how to say a name in pictures.



christine.



they wrote of you

in public interest, fact

with fiction.



christine.



who loved you

those days in wraysbury,

london.

who loves you now?







what shall I call you now,

christine?



sbm.

regarding labelling.

we are not what people think of us, it goes deeper than that,

we are not the words people say, it goes deeper than that.



we are not made by our history, it is something,

deeper than that.

then  in a picture, it is not what you see on the surface,

it is far deeper than that.



#repeated.



sbm.

so there will be a delay,       yet the work will continue.



we shall think of you fondly, as we think of our own past,

our misdemeanors.



how the shapes fit together, somewhat randomly and form

the creatures we are today.



there is no reason, no purpose to it all. just us. you and me,

christine.



sbm.

frozen, the code will not work, nor will the counting with interruptions, all things moved about. there is a discount, on top the discount, so a discussion ensued on buttons.

now there is an understanding.  the season of it all fits, the picture is made the pieces are in place. left on the tray, photographed for all to see.



talked in numbers and rhythms. a train passed, gulls flew the heat haze. on return, no one spoke.



i have written of them before, now in sign and symbol, i regard, that ‘again’ brings a sense of permanence, that familiarity does not always mean contempt , yet continuity.



spring comes round, and we keep the litte things, again.



sbm.

passed over by accident, the
thing occured naturally,
without clerics. without beatitude.

given by friendship, yet
piety slowly eroded.

they come now with learning,
holding large words, a different language.

the charm now gone,
perhaps they did not need it any more.

once again, it is said, that,
they speak latin. made
the word bleed.

sbm.

they play a different tune,

yet i can still sing it. they ask

for a melody, i found

i can  sing that too.



badly.



make it up generally, is

what we do here, it is

mostly acceptable, except

when it is not, yet i  don’t

often hear about that.



they wish i write different,

yet i do not.



i listen to john rutter.



sbm.

the road is closed
at monkey jump
dorchester

radio news

have you a storm predicted
did I see signs on social media?

i have seen the little creature
though it usually comes out at night
rustling in the knapweed patch

as you know I built a little house
yet I am sure it remains empty

so I cleared the ash from the
garden fire. used the token for
clay pots

as it was my first trip for many months
took things easy

have seen family
visited the recycling

and packed away my public studio

i work here now
quietly

find it
suits me

decent . good manners may be retrospective.          breeze soap defunkt.



an error occurred, meanwhile back in the bathroom, soaps and dentifrice.



look you, this is an older place, where there are instruction books. it runs

through the family.                                                                                         now.



we wash our face each morning and before bed at night.                   some

things are worn clean every day .                                                      don’t you?

sbm.

Early awake for a day at Bala. The sky comes dark along side wise texts from friends.

Regarding discrimination and lack of inclusion in this country still. Folk do not seem aware of the impact of their words.

The cat came in early and back out after food.

Yesterday I missed the dog intensely after all this time. I half expected to see her at the door.

I am watching the news slightly while I write.

How many bikes have you? I enjoy that the Amish man exclaimed at your shopping bike. I exclaim often while others judge me for that, maybe. I exclaim over planes and trains a lot.

It looks like rain. I shall only take a jacket as I go by bus, as it is a free ride now and so pleasant and complete.

I shall buy a bed sheet from the charity
for the big table at the home studio, it will feel righteous.

Such a lot of strawberries. They used to be sold here per punnet, small wooden basklets which were useful after for all sorts.

I shall look at mine later and eat a few under the sky. The wild words.

I best go to the bus now. The school bus comes first, then mine and I hope it is a double decker.

we left early to visit

clear pools of water,

the mountain sloped.

here we wandered,

among sheep.

watched the bug

glide the water,

****** down

the fish leap.

storm past, this

was a day of sunshine.

we are good friends.

we got better.

so it goes.

sbm.

we imagine huge plastic hands

sleeves pulled down

funny



what if leaves were cornflakes

all crisp like frosties



he used two shovels



the wind will take the rest

away

google, i get pictures of the amazon and related places,

being scoured, and a dead

horses head.



he said that some are lying on their ages.



I expect sir if you were there, so  would

you.



the politician.



the jungle in calais.



sbm.

she was ever precious

came here first



the others wild

came later



darling

sweetheart



clear open faces

it must be tiring
with all the heat
of summer

it was cool here yesterday
down the estuary

and rain came about 7.30

refreshing while walking

no use when your job is baling
when the baler is jammed

so we had a break in the back garden
six feet apart and talked about policemen

remembering earlier times

later a friend rang and said it was good
to hear a different perspective on things

i also was interested to hear a different

perspective on things

we come lately
we come with more
promise

with bird song
this morning

so why the darkness
some days

is that natural?

there is a clear pool up by the mountain
where recently visitors have left litter

dark clouds gathering

ran cold, constant
sound of wind and heaven.

streamed the house with sound,
music of the years, laughing,
singing. into
the house next door, whistling.

i explained, he came and
fixed the washer.

he is the gas man.

sbm.

my clocks have not gone anywhere,
yet moved the hands as suggested.
tick happily round the house,
chiming out of time.

unlike most things in the house, they
need a flat surface.

radio and telephone are correct, other
things here are not.

three years to mend the mantleclock
in porthmadog.

sbm.

so we panned the work, stitches.
while before they panned
for gold.

all much the same.

peoples’ values.
sbm.

no she never bought dishcloths

my mum.



that does not mean she did not use them.



remember

she was a single parent of four

and things were still rationed



after the war.



we asked the butcher for meat cloths alongside pig's heads

and liver.



i hated asking for breast of lamb

rude to mention private bits.



later mum boiled the cloths in the pan with persil

&

possibly bleach.



it got the fat meat out.



cut them neatly for dishcloths.



old vests were not wasted nor discarded, underwear

was useful for cloths and dusters.



never a yellow one at our house

though we did have candy stripe

formerly a pillow case.





you make speeches, you rally while i remember my mother.

it is the cloth

that bears the stain.



sbm.

password for the forum, works at home          transition has been difficult



cold/ frozen the code will not work nor will the counting with interruptions

all things moved about

things were googled yesterday                      now there is an understanding



seasons fit                    a picture is made                              pieces are in place

left on the tray, photographed for all to see



fuss and dress code

laundry day is tuesday, it is collected.

brought back clean on friday, a card
label, cloth number, stuckt.

he uses the stable to deliver, not
disturbing anyone.

when all is unpacked, white and ironed,
we change again. it is another week.

the pattern continues. cloth numbers.

sbm.

laundry day is tuesday, it is collected.

brought back clean on friday, a card
label, cloth number, stuckt.

he uses the stable to deliver, not
disturbing anyone.

when all is unpacked, white and ironed,
we change again. it is another week.

the pattern continues. cloth numbers.

sbm.

laundry day is tuesday, it is collected.

brought back clean on friday, a card
label, cloth number, stuckt.

he uses the stable to deliver, not
disturbing anyone.

when all is unpacked, white and ironed,
we change again. it is another week.

the pattern continues. cloth numbers.

it came warmer yesterday
while i hung the washing
outside
a wind

flew the leaves
from the oak brittle and light

up and over the hedge so
pretty

the clouds waiting as you
say

there are many to fascinate
give them names and fluff

becomes fact
a place one can recognise

my keys are old and tricky
i am used to them that way

so i sense your anguish

i had a visitor yesterday
and cooked & cleaned

autumn passes
winter waits

5
time is limited these days. those one admired in youth devastate us now



2
they saw clouds imagined it was heaven
i saw it on the stairs



to wander, hoping not for repetition, hoping to find little journeys



rather blustery.   today   storms blow in, leaves crake. …



clouds.   we stood together working pushing rags through to make things neater.

they hunt the four leafed clover, they look

at sensation

big things.



they miss those held in cages.

this thing

out of shyness

& that no one will respect any thing serious

from me while i am outside



that is where i feel to be



i notice that i stood a space away

and drawn in will joke & play



hoping to look happy that

all will like me



having been a dancer

taught to smile

whatever

to carry on



then a waitress

taught to smile

to carry on whatever



never serious



do not make that mistake

show them who you really

are



though



the joker has ten nominations



really oh really!!

maybe it was the lack of empathy,

the first sign in yellow. the others

were hidden, yet confessed deeply.



in red, the diagnosis, no doctors here,

we have common sense in blue.



understand the fear, the

need to lay and weep over all things.



legion, there are many.



sbm.

the bear looked at me

when i got home, shocked.



so very ill, he said, how can that

be?



do not worry, i was already emotionally damaged



bear.



sbm.

90p, smells of road repairs,
winter fires at home.

decoration only,
adds colour to the bathroom.

gentle room, probably
needs a splash of orange.

traditional soap suitable
for all ages.

contains mainly things,
naturally antiseptic.

sbm.

. coat hanger .
google brings strange memories.
my friends talk of the coat hanger
effect. hanging our wares on each others’
shoulders, bearing us all down with the weight.

share it out they say, with friends and family,
loose and flowing, mind your engine does
not pink, we must have finer fuel. not feeling

our true self can be an infliction, the grave digger
reminds us of our years, our sense of humour.

we stare at icons, hoper for a better price,
i went to the theatr the other day

sbm.

i often wonder if i              should recognise you

in passing,                            or are you gone now?



should i remember your name & your brothers.



would i laugh at the experience,      as happened

yesterday.



he walked straight past me without       blinking.



i guess i am plain now, without no fancy hair style.



blinking.



sweet heart.



sbm.



daily post



sbm.

is gone.



old

ancient

he died



buried



his house

is now



the log shed



tidy stacked

good



he did not prance about

stood on one leg

lonely





the hens had gone

a long time



we all miss cocky.



there is no photograph.



sbm.

can you make coffee, make
it last two hours? can you

talk?

when there is solitary, when
thoughts are enough to blend,
when all you thought you needed
was supplied, it takes encouragement
to talk.

hear yourself chat on and on
about nothing in particular,
or is it something, i can’t remember.

i am not sure that talking says anything.

really.

learn to care.

sbm.

quiet day yesterday
there was a mistake so we did not go
out for the day as planned

nice day at home so all
is clean and tidy; the green

gloves found and put with others
ready

i bought them expensive in gretna

we seem to focus on that which we deem
dearer
a luxury to buy

maybe i think i do not deserve
an overlap from former days

i hope you are enjoying your coffee
pods

the word here is coffi
it comes natural now

she had the one/ now i own it

i have many         it is a thing



she said that they invented one

along with numerals & sandals



i think there is a gregorian all

out of date and         chanting



yet



you can’t strain vegetables with those

nor can julian



sbm.

i tap the block of ice to hope for a reply
to dread that you are inside

&

not by the fire thawing or in a warm bed

will

an icicle from your nose
drip down your pyjamas
traditional with stripes

in the holiday cottage
there are floral duvet covers
with frilled edges in abundance

i ask who is staying there, she says
contractors. i imagine them in fancy
flannel nighties and smile widely

of couse this is not true, just a thought
which stayed some time and folk
wondered at my happy countenance
not knowing i made it all myself

not so cold here and while the mill day
ends with fiddling locks in the black &
up over the mountains darkly, i find
that the next times we are let go early

then january break
to ponder our next move

while watching

here in my house we will
remain personally european.

neatly.

some things are inevitable, old tea

sips badly, after all the work is done.



stains the cup if left standing,

remember the hotel, 1964,

we used to scour them especially

round the handle, then the base.

we peeled the tomatoes, and waited

for our boyfriends on the high wall outside.



the whitehall hotel. bournemouth.



sbm.

sits prettily, the starched mat
is frayed a little now.

it was an evening of festivities over
poetry, regarding god, diana, the queen
of hearts. catch phrase, a moderate game,
played better standing close, somehow.

the books were cheap, stock  sale in the library,
he left his life to live

in alaska. chapter two

sbm.