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

google when back at home, read about
people, and know we may after all
be twins.

bone of the soul

earthy dark
below ground

no crystals here

seeds for the future.

have you collected seeds of many years   packed  labelled   dated

do you have them now in boxes

a gift from those who love

they will bring  work  joy   an independent air

profound gifts

for those who care

seeds for the future



some say it is abstract
that only the present
exists

while others future proof their homes
in case of things that may occur



some are hoping for jam tomorrow

**

we see these  as the falling days
of autumn

for now that is everything

they say that the future is bright
the future is orange

we shall never know
for there is no microscope
here
moving on i feel it was a flashback
to the girl who wished for quiet and
can remember  in detail

remember the implications, was told the facts later.

much later.

the war house & after.

now

we dig within for solidity, solidarity, power to continue.  food is plenty.

a pinky glow

she said that it was the coldest night for years

and I forget how many

good to be out in the air
these days

good to be warm

there comes a time when buttons
take on a simple importance

taking on from hooks and eyes

stitched on card

white threads

they say it is hardy
never wears out

my skin crawls to see it on the loom

there is a sensitivity there
that came from suggesting

he was wrapped in blankets

that is how the conversation started

james

later it turned to lentils
with the addition of various
flavourings

here they forecast an awful rain yesterday
yet it came quite warm and gentle and

i shared some nougat with the delivery man

so a copy and paste

and hang the washing out


despite the storm

to spite the storm

coming


she said it would be difficult

and it was

the early days

despite predicted text


the wonder was if he came back

to talk things over

or discuss what had happened since


how would the conversation be this time


it is what is wanted

that will never happen


what if he had died that night

and

he rose the morrow morn

no words to describe the mass,
the danger of it all, the hate  that
rises.
the parallel,

power house.
bone house.

were the markers always there
left by some other
wanderer?

on paper
In the studio
that was so precise and quite particular

comes a differing hue
with duck egg blue
the ironmongers in town
at one seventy nine
we can walk there and back or there
and bus back you see
he said folk get used to anything

another visit here
how pleasant

we don’t have many now
during pandemic and

darker wetter days

went out yesterday
to port

looked out the cafe window
like a hopper painting

with wet leaves
and

bread and butter pudding

is a tangled affair
too many people talking at once

it is a messy affair
paint smudges and runs

eventually all comes clear
one having the final say

predictions come and go

sometimes heard
not seen

days of our life

james

days of our lives

**

i feel some times that

the word unreasonable

is mine


though i react through

my reason

which comes clear

with my muddled

thinking


dare i laugh here?


who said that

&

what is it?


how will they know for thinking

comes silent inside our heads

unless we utter

which in my case is not often


who defines the different

level of thought


is there a manual

with charts and graphs

a litmus test to testify


that the thought got tangled


oh what is it like?

really

oh really!

like gradually the markers came
maybe someone someday will
see them
suddenly

whisper from you came
a good idea
to stop those dreams and headaches

the moon came bright with yet another name

fail softly with a sloping line
tapering off into dots repeated
the fall is abrupt and possibly dramatic

seems that you are trouble, is that correct?

yes.

it seems you need to let the birds sing

walk the rooms in horror,
see genius in corners,
there.

realise that he may cry
all the tears of life.

what do we know of apartment

blocks with balconies

no where to play

sit quietly with the monkey

or whatever toy to sustain

and magnify

what do we know of merging paint

that frequents our mind

to describe

there was a gap in the railings where things fell through

we sat and watched it all

Awake a while I have now my coffee  and bun.

Have plans for the day yet it depends on supplies and temperature. 

No news since we spoke.  The pod cast was about the titanic yet I drifted off…..

The light is on over in the village and I wonder who it may be.

Birds sing.

the village remembered

there were blue skies

we went by bus

small thing ragged who knows all of it pieces torn away

work along the coast with thread and diligence

gather wools layer carefully

we shall have warmth this winter

wind blows around our houses

water seeps

feeling my way
through the history of this place

much of the time is spent with this or other things which pass the day nicely. linen  hangs  heavy, needles preserved. small holes ready.

it don’t work if not connected, if not tuned in, you would think the experts would know that.  we need to signal to another.

broke

shattered

broken reflections

of a former life

smashed

the kitchen is quite dark without the light on as is slightly below ground, the graveyard behind
used to leave a lamp on yet with energy prices hike, now follow her lead and wait until entry

there comes a time when buttons
take on a simple importance

taking on from hooks and eyes

stitched on card.

white threads

there was a gentle breeze going, then
the sun came through.

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

with grit and slight gusto

things come in layers
and differing shades

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

slower morning here today. the radio plays.
dove grey overcast sky. heavy they say.
maybe rain?

blows ideas into our houses

messages bring connections

a busy day with folk talking

with them being round and smooth

slipped off and rolled away.



when dry we looked and looked

yet cannot find them

anywhere yet

do not know everything

only my version

a fraction of the whole

blue sky thinking

here

should that dot be approved

and how about the predicted?

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

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

day five brought two voices

one day

same segregation

a night of stars



sickly child and predetermined words

flicker from page to

flicking the power fails

while some follow the mass

others raise fist protest



nothing was ever promised

nothing ever came fair, an invented entitlement

where no one is entitled

we have one pause

a tadpole before the jumping frog

comes wet and creaking

we forget the punctuation

we look at the pictures

only

found a new way to focus

block out the bad
the negative thought

not many liked it yet
I knew I had learned some thing
valuable

something to remember

i write in notes to double space



as i can’t figure it out elsewhere

i feel that

the pattern is as important as

the words

then copy and paste it across

and see how that works today



will report back later
after looking for james


thankyou

speech

fails us.

simple notes. none rise higher than the one next.

to you, to me, this may not be

the acceptance

expected.

listen
to the divine air now
we are starting to breath
a little

listen, repeat the
random insects.

stitch another way.

take note of the numbers,
especially those with 9, as
in 29.

the page is speckled,
left unread mostly these days,

is there a hub bub
voices chattering more than usual

will there be large makings of coffee
there and fun?

we had fun yesterday with all the deliveries
opening boxes and moving water barrels
without the water

sploshed on the garden

today here james we shall
have a hub bub and chatter

you know

we shall have coffee and buns as
always
unless they ask for tea

you know

i never asked for earl grey
while staying at the hospital

not liking to make a fuss
under such circumstances

well you don’t
do you?

it would be an adventure
like in a film of survival or
explorers

paddling against the flow

later going with it
in a new boat especially

bought as a treat
the two of you

together

we looked up the word we
thought she meant
and it became unnegated

the true meanings get forgotten
while cultural attitudes kick in

remember animal life

i reckon to go get it
and later you may find the other one

and then

buy another one

jim

4°
mostly cloudy

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

so joan will be
revered

if the pencil slips
she will remain
ignored

breaking cups    spilling tea will abuse the hospitality
please come. i have the kettle on.    this is not the time
for hostility