assumimg you are safe
i tell you about the villages
close by yet still over the
mountain

where the good grub is
for midwinter while men
buzz about hunting

while i disapprove
and eat the vegatables

where the man talks about
his toe endlessly as the other
word is rather complex & all
this with only one paid for cup
of tea

where the child lays low playing
and unscrewing the chair legs

where the night comes earlier
each day and pheasants walk

the lanes in procession. this
was a gathering
this was a confession

yesterday
was not quite
midwinter
solstice
yet

hairgrips

at asda are two pounds fifty pence

those from morrisons are one pound

all delivered

ordered the blonde ones though

wanted grey….

feels as if. the thing i was doing

has overtaken me.   wealth  has no

agenda,                nor have  capitals.

rules come away. a differing

place,  turning in the year.

it came gently.

one enjoys the names of colours here

would have liked a job in that department

ignoring the racist ones from the fifties

smiling at those from farrow and ball

heritage colours come dull

as lockdown hit here first

i painted my outsides in happy yellow
drawn by the name not just the colour

and oh that name come true
on opening jim

is fading now
yets remains as the description

a new bike
how joyful

some places we have only passed through
and if the history were told we may understand it different

than reality

these slower times I find more exploration yet only of the now with patches of this and that

some of you have mentioned the bear

the absence

yet still here though quiet

now

no more proclaiming

just whispering within these walls

or sending thoughts

there is still confusion and little understanding of the world

there is no gender pronoun

the bear is a quiet affair

there is a nice long beach and lovely views out to sea

the sea that is rising

maybe I should write beautiful

lilting stuff again with rhymes and things

like people seem to like


or tragic dark long stories

of dreadful deaths

and mourning

as before


today will say it would have been

an anniversary

for what that is worth


he asked me the year

and surprised that i remembered


of course i miss them

just pretending to be a hard *****

is all a pattern, that keeps us safely,        moves us

onward.

traces remain hidden for the most part
only to come out on particular
occasions
without  warning

she said it without  warning
& i was horrified

some photos show nothing
while paintings can come
more personal

what is it?

how will they know for thinking
comes silent inside our heads
unless we utter

numbers


they add some for emergency


dreaming nothing works

becomes seedy like rubber buttons


stitched on particular

wear


they come at us with knives


power houses

talking with tongues

with nowhere else to go


no one else to torment


i laugh at them talking in metaphors

yet I do the same


there are raindrops on the window


while I die

of laughing

fear

of this and that
of nothing in particular
that no one else  will
understand

there a little cloud with teardrops

a wash of shadowed grey

the medicine works

though leaves the passages

dry

triggers sets me thinking of cowboys

we don’t have those here either

these are the longer days, lighter days, wood pile growing, apple wood, colours of joy. believe in the world, that you can spell first time. be proud as you point out where you live, at all there is.

some things fade with time,
with sun and washings.
this one remained bright,
even glaring

seems that you are trouble, is that correct?
yes.

it seems you need to let the birds sing

Shoreline would be more an exploration of the concept….shorelines more related to actual examples…..how about that?

while out on a longer walk,

met him and he explained to me,

about walking there and back again

the challenge is rain

and we had some

had looked at the writing and chose a small one though i do like the long one

about wet days on the hill…

it has come warmer here
lately

so me and him cut the saplings
ropes pulling away from the wire

below the ivy threads the surface
to be pulled today as I tested the
method


which worked

plans are set
though news news ain’t good
any which way i look

i read about the dependency
he described
and thought he was more than that

we are not our issues nor experiences
we are more than that

each person a unique being

think i heard a night jar

up the valley here.

it was a quiet night except

for that.

we have the window open now.

have a photo here of up the valley
where they used to stook the harvest


all the family out working the fields

in the evening it came cooler
for rest

bought her tea set gently in parts
each week from woolworths and i still have
some of it

i am travelling to the end of the world

with you.



all.



unless we stop to

start again.



unless we travel more careful



we shall see

blackened lakes.



kissing the ancestors, hugging the memories presently.



now



the will of the people over rides that of the mystery.



throwing all into
misalignment

looked out last evening toward the grave

yard

saw the light

the machine making a place

it used to be manual
i know the method

bob told me back then
know the depth

he has retired
since the covid came

said he is seventy now and aches a bit
i heard

i smiled after what he said to me
after he touched my arm

he often did that

once he kissed my cheek

buried my husband

it came shiny
lovely at 45 degree angle

oh no
he said
this is the wrong one

Yet the days moved nicely. There were little troubles, nothing to diminish the beauty of it all.

looking up

see rainbows

&

the small plane still flies over

most days

should that dot be approved

and how about the predicted?

we came here early with many thoughts and remnants of the dream

it was another lockdown

with discussions on milk

that seemed important

then we heard voices distant, watched with a comma, saw the group walking the lane early

red tops and shorts

six thirty a.m.

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.

pool of fear,
the fright of interrogation,
guilt,
i hear.
from where comes the mourning,
late afternoon,
and evening…

i don’t mind it
being private

though I do dispute wiki having
opinions

i know it to be fact
and rightly so

those sell by dates are guidance
those some things live longer

we agreed to disagree only
never verbalised as such

we are still in lock down
and are locked in

metaphorically

gently

that feeling that arrives with the name of the county

the memory of your home and closeted life
now eroding slowly

that sense of belonging to the land

it is that feeling

as he left the garden
he said they may be working nearer home now.

lawns are a thing
i watched the history
been to a museum in southport

pretty place that for a town
with council gardening you know
all neat and patterns with orange
usually

here it is left longer for the wild things
to live and hide

then mowed much later
in the summer with grit
and determination

i have a real old green one
hand pushed yet I keep it safe
and use the electric mower
carefully

was the bike delivered safely?

it was
the dream

the cloud
the quarry

water flows down this valley

wind blows round our houses

sometimes we say gosh or my goodness
a phrase used much in subtitled korean dramas

which what I like

they say it ain’t seemly to cuss
at this age and present gender

though I really like
******
as a little word

they say it is safer out of doors
that it does fade after a few days
though he thought it lived forever

blimey

the second visitor in a while

later the top were sawn off
tidy

ready to balance the collected
stone

james

being corrected
being predicted

she was drawn again yesterday with her sibling

though it did not look quite right so

shall i tear the sister off?

or is it the air changing?
mood settles, or is it the
time of year?

such is the change of time
i have been around for  an
hour
extra

"Is art a box that you climb into?”

“Well, yes, I guess it is. I never thought of it like that”

“Are you compartmentalizing?”

said to come to bed quick

lay down and rest

the warm blanket cosy


make a nest

a bit ******* round

and hopefully it will all go away


i said to the bear, i said that

the washing was left out and I had not washed up yet


dear bear said it did not matter

that care will be taken

and we will not tell the little ones

for fear of worrying them


we watched the sun go down together

all ok for me here
even though my battery
gone low

writing before
it recharges

life is pleasant
even with the arrival

of

monkey pox thing
avoiding zeds all together

guess you know more about war
than most

good you have your benefits
now

he asked to be friends
with suchlike

so we replies no just pals

and he don’t understand

hahaha

am not bothered
me

maybe you will help
with the writing

it was a documentary
so i guess it is still there

james

16.26

#slabcity

oil pond mirrors the darkness the november
day                  sun draws white against the grey
this       leaf  lays on earth

think i may like to travel to small places,
old and full of history. deep aged fabrics
stained with the words of time. to touch

the fall is abrupt and possibly dramatic

related to weight & gravity

like a

black ink line ruled sharply down

ending with an abrupt grand splatter

you ask for the menu yet we do not know what you mean

please speak plain

☆☆☆

you may have

giblet soup with sherry

scrag of mutton

****** of burnet with parsley

the consistency of good cream

& fried breadcrumbs

☆☆☆

then

a melange of blancemange, yet

we mostly make woollen cloth