drew quietly
my thing


while she also
at her house
drew pastel clouds


i sent photographs
for inspiration yet
continued to draw

twelve years.

i calculate the time
divided by the difference

then i pass by the village

you wave again.

look the same, only

everything is changed

again.

the miracle of modern fabric,

when the door eventually opened,

i found not red runny,

nor shrunken woolly,

but just  clean washing…..

the miracles of modernity.

covering the plainess

i give them cardigans with buttons
and sometimes dots

i looked out yesterday at the rain
on and off all day

think i heard a night jar

up the valley here.

it was a quiet night except

for that.

we have the window open now.

last time this way there  was blood

dripping

fortunately

there was a handkerchief to staunch it

this morning it felt quite like autumn

their house was

down by the stream that
ran the side of the road

nice little house.

who knows what goes on there.

single house
little house
with
pale pink

the village remembered

there were blue skies

we went by bus

it is a complex thing
to work out the best

thing to do
way to be

sometimes is best to do nothing
wait and see
let it be

some mornings the air feels clearer
than others

across the village  a dove turtles  and coos
while lorries pass on the bridge

days left,

three voices

rise, until just one is heard

there is always something
which is often nothing

to worry about

stressing over imagined happenings
which don’t  occur

she came worried about monkey pox
so made her ordinary  tea

the next day I travelled  up
walked the streets and saw

the stories there
for a change

the voices rise

the summer house is gone

destroyed some years back now due to health and safety fears from the new owner

who was opening the house back up for holidays

i suggested that i could relocate it

yet they burned it, the pretty thing with all the imagined memories

i have a modern one gone faded now

then i wonder if she wanted to see my brother instead

today i work with the imaginary

and bless all the foxes, their pointy ears upward.

you know i thought she come to see me all those years ago
i mean she was not meant to leave

although there was no section that time

i think

she had to go back
yet there  was no phone at grans

no one came for her

i have no memory
no recall

of

what happened after she arrived
except she looked small and clean

and was upset

and it was a warm day
dusty in the alley

bless all the foxes, their pointy ears upward

you know I thought she came to see me all those years ago

from the hospital

two buses changing at the square

came round the side of granny’s house
with the border of ferns and blue
hydrangeas

through the high side gate

yesterday while talking to you
i realised she may have come
to see her mother

and

i can’t remember the rest
can’t remember what happened next

he asked me who will be afraid of our ghosts

ghosts of humans
when we are gone

i replied the animals
then after i thought

it will be everything left
behind us

plants and earth
land and seascape

littered with the stuff
of us
the terrible ghosts

this time of morning i eat a bun maybe
or croissant which is french

drink coffee
watch the news

that seems to be mostly sport
so i idly look up  while writing

my blog

i have tried watching tennis
i like the clothes and think
of friends who enjoy it

there are no real spectators
due to the sick

then

sometimes i see the film reviews
with the nice presenter

i like him
I like films

i sip my coffee

it was last week then early this week
they cut the grass

two of them in the graveyard
until late afternoon

each evening the buzzard came
the cats waited

it is short now with all their hard work

yesterday  the other man came
to tidy up their tidying up

washed the stones

my side the flowers grow tall
the grass still green

she normally goes earlier
though being later yesterday

we met again
and chatted

her daughter also walks daily
with her friend and the dog

we talked about the track
and other  little things

like the mileage
and her knee

you know

then the warden came
and i thanked him for the garden

the wildlife garden

flat down there nearer by the sea
where all hope is abandoned  via the councils

voted for

where it was decided to buy the higher house
in both scenarios

with grit and slight gusto

things come in layers
and differing shades

he taught us in painting class

step by step until drowsy

so we opened the windows
decided not to return again

is flat down there  nearer the sea
we sat and watched the train come in
admired the white horses grazing afar

birds played on the fences

sometimes takes a thing of note to come dancing

yet yesterday there was none of that though highly praised for labelling

plants

that shall be saved

he told me a gentleman uses my bench at 6.30 pm most days

so I ask how he knows that he is so

is it the leather gloves that denote the status

disappointed to hear the word was merely to denote gender

I have therefore repaired the seat somewhat and left a gift

thereon

yes, sundays seem quiet . were like that when i was a kid. enjoy that yet i know some find it arduous.

like to hear you will have company in the garden again other than the cats.

when initially awake it was golden with sun yet now the softest cloud has covered.

Asda van is due today and i go to buy petrol early. except is diesel.

no more news really. except I saw a stoat thingy yesterday.

hope all is well today at yours?


the graveyard is cut, the flowers down and gone to the compost


We have changed from yellow and white to green


 again


it will grow


and they wonder over  the need for control


any how it is my sunday off again  yet I must stop  saying that for I do not work no more


hope your day comes interesting

each morning, each morning write to you
as if you are here

still

as if talking to you still

look to the window , see the grass is cut again
flowers gone

still wonder

where you are

or nowhere?

look out again , see green cherries on the tree

hope all is well today at yours?


the graveyard is cut, the flowers down and gone to the compost


We have changed from yellow and white to green


 again


it will grow


and they wonder over  the need for control


any how it is my sunday off again  yet I must stop  saying that for I do not work no more


hope your day comes interesting

little garden
with a pleasant lack
of human control

a small garden with a
backdrop of the estuary
and signal box
there

a special garden made
with nature and a loving hand

thankyou nature man

finding time to write the blog

early

soft morning

note

that meeting folk not seen a year or more

since

pre covid

commented how good they looked

for indeed they did

all pretty

noted their clothes verbally

with attractive adjectives

complements become the new hugging

pausing for their response

heard nothing.

perhaps my mother was correct in her opinion

here they are presently cutting the graveyard grass

.normal.

is what you are told

it is

until

you realise

it is

not

normal is what you know . normal is what your family is.

and then you learn different

learn different things

that others consider normal

later you make your own normal

choose

your own family

normal is what you know . normal is what your family is.

my busy day concluded with ann boleyn being decapitated

with a sword

started off with the panel over the airing cupboard detaching itself and the freezer door refusing to close.

although wearing sandals much chipping of ice ensued until the out building resembled the arctic sea.

then ann and i walked down to arthur’s stone. the best bit.

back home to much planting and hiding.

it is nuts out there so am staying home today

ten more minutes of the interview watched.

early

mist and greyness alongside a nice breeze through the window brings joy

builder is getting on fine and though the roof is mended it looks just the same only tidy

there is


one particular tile that looks quite divine.


i will hang out the window sometime to take a photograph for you



the interview felt dull, yet I will persist. 

with punctuation

some of those days come so special
we hold them in our heart

private for fear others will not understand

for each one of us
has differing delights
tailored it seems

i have such stories
and though I write here and there

those special moments
are not spoken if

for fear
of breaking the magic.

i have learned.

that was good to hear that you had company in the garden yesterday, that he visited.

all was good for me and to say the book stayed in the bag all day.

it was refreshing to be with those on the same wavelength – a relief from the other world.

the garden was beautiful, they have such a talent with planting .

today the roofers return and I go to the ******* dump early.

there was no message from you yesterday

perhaps you went visiting like me

perhaps you went over the back amongst the slate

and bright green ferns growing new

along the track we always use when I am there

down the ***** that scared  me
and my hand was held kindly

we looked in the camp
the clues then moved on

there was a beetle and passers by
who made space

and the recommended book
was never opened

perhaps you did something like that too?

there was no message from yesterday

perhaps you sat out on the sun like me

went down among the fruit trees
with shade and softer breezes

a different aspect

it was good to have the windows
the doors open
air circulating

the feel on my neck as the wind touched
lifted the hair

and a bee flew close .

over there in the hills the cuckoo called

yet I did not see my new little bird
not at all, not all day yesterday

whereas I am not fond, preferring the wild ones

tulips grouped in the borders will be interesting for you next year and something to look forward to.

yes much gardening all round yesterday I feel and more coming on today…

jim


despite the dip things are now more cheery

having followed some of the remedy


you know
the bear is settled same position all night

pillow quite immaculate


it is a tidy bed

all clean linen yesterday
with laundry markings

from before the illness


came


now it is washed at home  with no mixing

now there is time and thoughtfulness
now there is time to read on the terrace

to look up and watch the sheets blow


you know
one can tell it is dry

by appearance

some days come like that
despite all the free talking
the fixing things

it happened in one moment
reflecting the rain
and that other thing

that catches unawares

so we said to the bear

is been ok a while
now back talking to you

these things happen

good plan and hope things work out

one way or other

it has been known here to utilise
the power of thought and circumstance

to escape the box

and while you ride the rail bed
i walk the track for it is a differing

language

your vests are not ours
nor your tank tops

and while I wear neither
have the most magnificent

combinations in my collection
hanging on the bathroom door

she praised the sonnet remarked she did not fully understand though


i agree for neither do i understand why there are rules on how to convey a feeling, an idea


why there has to be a pattern
to follow


the words come easier with flow
yet it did come out different

i guess than usual and maybe
that is a thing


it took two days of dithering and rearranging


and hurt

should like to see that
do you have a photograph?

i have a drier and have noticed a touch of rust
and a clunky sound though

i don’t use it  much with having the washing
line in the garden

and a clothes horse in the outbuilding
and the other thing above
the name forgotten

occasionally I will finish off a few things on
the little toy airer by the radiator

a gift from my friend jim who lives abroad now

he is a hairdresser

you know

gob stuck painfully wide
rubber fingers probe inside

send your fourth child a
lone her gassed extraction
thinged traumatic, an insistence
on rhyme by past dictation


scared absolutely ,the bleeding
rules scraping, filling
pussed restrictions feeding
the lines gone wrong you see..


difficult teeth, poetic lines
line my painful mouth shouting
elizabeth, the ****** sonnet oh
farthingales a starchy **ing

this can be an abbreviation it seems for the era according to predicted


unlike the clothing all starchy ruff and farthingales


nothing at all to do with dental hygiene


and I understand there were lots of rats about
for fat was used for a multitude of things
besides eating


anyhow we done the draft

then turned it round about


a few more hours fiddling
and it may suffice
with a double eff

this is what i was like at the beginning before all that happened which now is past

this is what I am like now , back to that beginning and maybe a differing shape outside

yesterday i wrote of comics
free form

now challenged to talk of teeth
and dentists as elizabethan sonnet

form

we know i prefer no rules nor restrictions

with all that stopping to count
and refigure

yet will rise to it in mine notebook
first then down onto the device

today and finish tomorrow
in plenty of time

maybe you had your own money
not the exact amount  handed

to my brothers
with prime instructions

and no looking at the
forbidden places

nor loitering by the cafe

or

bought by mother
independently
as a gift

where were  the choices

you seemed to have

not here, not here.

james

remember those comics with stories on space and rockets
all dan dare and boy’s own


that we all read despite the gender


do you think they used protonmail alongside ray guns
for protection


here  we went up the hill to the little shop
for dandy and beano

sometimes the beezer

it was bigger


then occasionally she bought me sunshine stories

there is no reaching the summit here
the story changed

an avalanche of news
and wet weather

dampened the spirit
so we nipped out between the storms

to post the letters
and that was all

there is no reaching the summit here
the story changed

an avalanche of news
and wet weather

dampened the spirit
so we nipped out between the storms

to post the letters
and that was all

on warm afternoons i sit on the terrace
in the sun reading

looking up to watch the washing move

trying to concentrate
on climbing

crampons heavy

we slowly move upward

while laundry dries nicely
on the line

not yesterday though
nor today for we have a storm with no name

and you guessed it Jim , I am aiming  for the summit  of

everest

James