we find it when the rain stops,

light comes through.                       yesterday morning

looked nice.



find it in the leaves scattered in piles waiting for the wind

to scatter



hope in the plane flying over

run out to see



i found hope in the mountains here

a home, a refuge plain



and simple things, the ordinary

become as sacred in our life

and brings a sort of hope



we can hold onto

cherish inside of us



without

there may be

nothing……..



small birds sing

a beginning
part 1

the words hit our hearts, and sink in to stay, to pledge another stage set, small life…….

part 2

the ending of a tortured love affair
would have been easier

no

i will rather have cold…

part 3

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.

part 4

passed over by accident, the thing ocured 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,…

part 5

exhale.

Epilogue:

a ragged poem because it’s not focused. the concept is lost in the wrapping.

liking rags
i move on
with differing
music

the trial by glass

it has come out in a rush of words, i do not wish to offend.



i have been studying history lately, and though i cannot spel

correctly always

i have to say that i am ashamed of my country too.



and the effect all these things have on people

who do not offend.



sbm.

the girl who stands up



Elin Ersson, 21

jo *** was killed in june.



today is not a general thing,

it is a silent day, while apples fall

naturally.



we could not reach them,

how

they drop. drop

to the ground.

drop to the slurry.

drop.

today is apple day.

generally speaking.







sbm

#aberfan

#brexit

pare thin

stew slow

&

smooth

stir with thickest

cream & sugar

as mum did

delivered while i made the appointment

an early drive to aberystwyth

the days will be lighter,

i will be poorer



yet my teeth will be cleaner

checked and tuned ready

for the summer to come



each one makes a separate       note



i could have written about the holes

in the garden.         that can wait for

another time  &                        place

the appointments carefully

with a clip

the second drawer down

spring cleans marks
from winter…

stained with thought, imagining. i will not know them. he said that i was useless

never had a red dress made of paper cloth, now i have two.

.

let us look at things, differently.

often, we do things, no one ever sees.

that is you and me. two of us
dancing in the dark. it came
and went,

quickly.

will come again
in autumn, then

all can see.

this time,
it was a
private view.

sbm.

. a private view .
let us look at things, differently.
often, we do things, no one ever sees.

that is you and me. two of us
dancing in the dark. it came
and went,

quickly.

will come again
in autumn, then

all can see.

this time,
it was a
private view.

sbm.

tennis elbow

wimbledon week

a small village, mayhap a hamlet, named,

one forgets the rules with all that has happened.



domestics done, we walk over to buy two pots

of pansies, a pound  for both , money for charity.



nice to be out, to see the neighbours’ houses,

to see what has changed while i have been working.



not much.



late light brings photographs, wandering  the graveyard,

yew berries abound. bird bones ready to gather, to box.



i thought of your disorder.



did you leave your hat?



sbm.

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.

it is said. tick the box.
i have a quiet day here today, preparing, making work.
i have found a freedom with the residency which is very precious.

next week, we shall clean
the cabinets.

relational, it is marked.

synchronised crossing

in orange.

so they deleted dunoon in november,

not enough were interested. well

i was.



never mind i shall not have to

decide.



shall go back another time. i am

always interested.



they have the sweetest cinema

there.



opposite the supermarket.



sbm.

tell us things, take us without consent. there are no records.



mine are all destroyed. ask them.           there are no answers.



so we attended regularly, varied             chancel houses, over

time.       sit up, stand up, sit down, recite, remember, stand.



up for yourself at last.



do not believe all that you are told, all that you like         to.

think about it.



you wanted  to believe that you believed that.



the truth is.



you did not.



sbm.

as a child
Posted on March 14, 2014

come in dreams, the shape
of your face remaining.

there is a line now,

dreams and aspirations.



words and degradations.



lines deepen, water etched.



window open, birds sing.

mostly foggy here today.

sbm

stairs go up

stairs go down.



pedestrian.



sbm.

i thought it was tarmacadam as did the passer by

who remarked upon it.



it is not mine, it is the neighbour’s

drive.



i know now it is ashphalt

a stronger surface allegedly. the former surace cracked

in danger of breaking up like mine which i prefer.



more country

where flowers seed.



i know that pitch comes from a lake in trinidad

and  i like the words bitumen and tar.



i like the aroma and  stickiness to poke with sticks



set now

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.

it is a small room full of gifts

now.



wrapped in plain paper, tied with string

or cotton, held with pins.



we have a water heater, we have family



and friends.



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.

we think of , write of fish heads,
cut off.

placed in a dish we wonder.

the cat walks off, not understanding
the urge for recycling of some sort.

we know fish bone is good as fertilizer, yet cannot bear
to grind them. they float, stare at me ******.

smelly, not fit for the bin, nor paper, nor glass,
eyes blurred deathly.

as suggested, throw to the night creatures.

she said that some thing will eat them.

sbm.

she said it twice

spelled it

hissing sounds

snakes spitting





**** the word, savour the smell

i have told you my darkest secrets
sounds and sights.

say it again with four s’s

plural we will have more.

sing the sin
then **** it
dead

or pay someone to do it

easy assassin

1030724310152492171516177982969328552394904_n

Advert­isements
Occasionally, so

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.

slower morning here today. the radio plays.

dove grey overcast sky. heavy they say.

maybe rain?

all cooked out yesterday. i feel sad that the veg box contents may prove to much for me and there may be waste

i will compost if necessary or leave for small creatures

nice the bike thing worked, i remember stuff regarding brothers, bikes & cables resulting in greasy hands.

upside down bikes resting on saddle and handles

when i was a kid i was fascinated by one legged men cycling , the foot clamped to the pedal somehow

i had no idea. it was after the war
i had no idea. they stopped by a lamp post to get off, holding on

i had no idea

asters are garden flowers here and i never thought of them wild
until you said

my mother liked them and i am reminded

have pushed the window wide and see the back garden gone quite pretty

by chance most of the planting came varied shades of pink and all is long and wild

birds balance on the stems
birds eat the seeds i leave

i left the water heater on all night by forgetfulness
look forward to a deep bath

then later

walk over the hill to a friend who is clearing some stuff
i have permission to look in the skip and choose if i like

i hope
your day goes will

i have a wooden box for
little wings that came away
easy

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.

mrs ciano is home, well one of them.

some could say this is a forgery, yet

she was invited, mrs ciano is multiplied,

the answer is clear, may the fourth be

with you today.

we will empty the basket, put our things

back in place. mrs ciano is at home,

today.

sbm.

http://mrs-ciano.weebly.com/

suggested at dinner, to make
a photograph splendid, i noticed
the same in paintings at exhibition.

looking out, the grave yard, noticed
a touch of colour by the white.

walked down to find a new grave.

then, i tidied yours.

you, who disliked a touch of red.

sbm.

suggested at dinner, to make
a photograph splendid, i noticed

the same in paintings at exhibition.

looking out, the grave yard, noticed
a touch of colour by the white.

walked down to find a new grave.

then, i tidied yours.

you, who disliked a touch of red.

sbm.

. a touch of red .

suggested at dinner, to make
a photograph splendid, i noticed
the same in paintings at exhibition.

looking out, the grave yard, noticed
a touch of colour by the white.

walked down to find a new grave.

then, i tidied yours.

you, who disliked a touch of red.

sbm.

takes us back to castle walls.

there is free parking there, you know,
just above the council one at probably
£4 a day. This is not a bad charge, is
cheaper than some places here.

we did not stay, wanted to be home.

followed the trail of black feathers,
saw those birds nesting, watched the train.

thought of you.
drove home.

sbm.

i missed it here while away
this safe place despite
the car failing

i called recovery
watched the trees
a while while waiting

got it fixed

came back here again

there is always that wish
to return home these days

not always
in those troubled times

here we need no black days
no more, not in this house

seen too many troubles
so an easy day today
&
naturally shall call the garage
for a check over

it is an old thing now
& liking old things
carry on again
back home

for you i hope the laundry smells good
blasts the eyes with white, that music

continues repeatedly
that the snow is crispy
with small birds singing

with mid winter just ahead

ceilings, automatic doors. tread carefully the red carpet.
watch.                                                the landscapes quietly.



the



building where I lost myself, found one    worn stair,

walled words                                                  on bravery.



we laughed at his phone         vibrating the glass table,

automatically.                           there are no  heros here.



just quiet and responsibility.



books bound in leather.



©sbm.

later i am today

the darkened room

resonates still with

all the goings of the night

things come backwords

and

while i felt all was well

perhaps it was not

news startles

we shared it at the meeting

i find i am a small part of

the worrying

yet what can we do?

some were busy, then

they were stopped so

i may not see them

drew the curtians early last eve

while waiting and through the *****

left saw one golden tree

autumn cameo

each little thing

while some things break

.part one.



soft morning rise as linen cloth



dogs bark the distance



curtains closed  ; a village sleeps



one person walks early

noting

the air with simplicity



flaxed dress ; hair not combed



newly widowed

she starts anew

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

there is no need for politics when choosing your sweater,

is there sir? no need to have an embargo on scottish goods,

they are only asking, so far.



it is best not to speak your mind when working, to have

woollen garments dry cleaned to            avoid shrinkage.



i understand democracy, yet we  have our own feelings.



we fold the fabric tidy, colour code and talk of our lives

together.



look at the new coins, aren’t they pretty. will the machines

still work?



closing.                        music blesses us home. listen and you

may cry too.



Max Richter.



sbm.

more than that when birds sing.



when the water lowers, seeps away.



twigs are left, shattered .



farmers out, later

neighbours chopping logs, stop to talk

of other days, bled from a photo.



still a solitary thing, except for a wren.



our minds may be the same.



sbm.

i like wool, and tidying it,
notice the flecks and textures,
sneezing once again at the mohair,
with no news, no more
of sahara dust, move on

to admire couture of the linen dress,
the bias cut, and tucking, quite a feat

in these days of mass produced.

the duchess wore a coat like no other,
my daughter says it makes no sense
these days, when all others just
grab clothes ******, and get to work.

we reckon her mother in law’s brooch
will be sewn on preventing loss.

we all experience this in some way,
loss that is, not the queen’s jewellery.

i like a working day

sbm.

it is a long time since the sun shone in long and low

like that, says the bear.



does this mean it is spring now? it is such a pretty

room.



yellow.



sbm.

yes in the summer the tourists come from the coed y brenin trail, they do not have bells

i buy my wood from the farmers’ supplies , it smells good

i have coal too i like a fire, it sounds nice. it is company
sbm.

each day , each day.



a boy told me there is something

different each day.



i speak of the back lane, the

memory, a ritual as paper

and string, sounds like a

simple thing. yet it has



been different each day.



shall i write of it, or simply

take photographs?



sbm.

light bulbs and cotton hankies .

all things are useful, bulbs

bring light , denote ideas,

good intentions, spent,

collected.



cotton hankies, frayed hold the books,

yet those with nylon, stretch the skin

resulting in red and soreness.



shy away from dangerous commodities,

use the best, those tradtional artefacts

which are gentle on your soul, bring light.



wipe your nose clean.



sbm.



today we have added notes for your interest.

light bulbs and cotton hankies .
all things are useful, bulbs
bring light , denote ideas,
good intentions, spent,
collected.
cotton hankies, frayed hold the books,
yet those with nylon, stretch the skin
resulting in red and soreness.

shy away from dangerous commodities,
use the best, those tradtional artefacts
which are gentle on your soul, bring light.

wipe your nose clean.

sbm.

today we have added notes for your interest.

A HANDKERCHIEF (also called handkercher or hanky) is a form of a kerchief, typically a hemmed square of thin fabric that can be carried in the pocket or purse, and which is intended for personal hygiene purposes such as wiping one’s hands or face, or blowing one’s nose. A handkerchief is also sometimes used as a purely decorative accessory in a suit pocket. When used as an accessory to a suit, a handkerchief is known as a POCKET SQUARE. There are a wide variety of ways to fold a pocket square, ranging from the austere to the flamboyant.

The material of a handkerchief can be symbolic of the social-economic class of the user, not only because some materials are more expensive, but because some materials are more absorbent and practical for those who use a handkerchief for more than style. Handkerchiefs can be made of cotton, cotton-synthetic blend, synthetic fabric, silk, or linen.

Historically, white handkerchiefs have been used in place of a white flag to indicate surrender or a flag of truce; in addition to waving away sailors from port. King Richard II of England, who reigned from 1377 to 1399, is widely believed to have invented the cloth handkerchief, as surviving documents written by his courtiers describe his use of square pieces of cloth to wipe his nose.

imagine  at night. bold silences.



held  thread, gathered thoughts.



gently fray the wrong side,

allow the cotton the carry

sadness out.



knot.



sbm.

it is not his tunnel, and he has

not googled it. the rest of us, mostly

google everything, to find a result.


she talks to me nicely, when i ask

her most things. astonished

when she does not know.


he will get it fixed in rochdale

i went there once

for sunday lunch

on monday.


never mind the predictions,

wait and see.


sbm.

(notes: - a bad hand refered to, when holding a sandwich.)

dreamed of devastation,           flew miles        low

over concrete .   skeletons,      bones of the thing.



all is dust, as dust we have become.                 slow.



grey.    nothing moves here no more.          no sighs.



they have forgotten us.        we have forgotten them.



are we  now the bones of what we were?



bad night dreaming.



sbm.

power and beauty
stone and steel.
rise above
mud and wood.
swarmed by
worker ants.
world without end.

wyn is a poet.

a visionary.
monkeys and tigers
stalk welsh hills
the
satanic mills
of his imagination.

he is the blake
of the a470.

did he once see
angels on peckham rye
too?

i expect he did, i expect.

we will not know
unless i ask him.

he will tell.

yet not when
his colleagues
are listening.

he may be shy.

balfour beatty.

sbm

ann.

it changed the shopping habits.

the medication aisle, opposite

hair products, held responsibility.



so this is written past tense,

when   badges  were awarded for bandage

folding, tied neatly round heel, supporting

the essential ankle, without that feet

would hang in space.



noting the itallics.



there were crepe, support, cotton

slings, all quite cheap, yet not as

free as rags.



the next shelf was tablets for aches

and belly hurts from eating stuff too much.



folk are proud of how they talk, while in the

present tense.



and so they should be.



sbm.