nice little house.

who knows what goes on there.

do we describe what we see or maybe
tell the tale inside

round the corner on the wall
are the bullet holes

some folk don’t say much
some folk manage
quite well
really
being independent

so here on the night watch,
all is quiet , no birds sing.

touched by the small thing,
softly, we drew together,
with words, and gestures
in air, in mind.

do not dignify the challenges. tread sweetly,

move on.

it is simply.

not worth fretting.

lift the cotton, look again.

cover the place with whiteness.

pink is pretty, white is clean.

they do not want to see it
today, a reminder of fragility.

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

deep holes,
cut grass and wiping stones.
there is a place.

peter, i could not make things like that either and admire those that can.

it is good to mend and keep things nice

such an achievement

he was worried over the empty barn. #metaphor .it  survives,

some

way.

moving on i feel it was a flashback
to the girl who wished for quiet and
can remember  in detail

are you afraid?

did you

wonder why some of us come private?

maybe a result of intrusion

finding letters opened or not finding them at all

until too late

that is why i am afraid

finding these memories difficult
to relate

may abstain in despair

to say it all caused great harm

really

as did your request for him to hit me for wearing old trousers

that is why i am afraid

Keith.

Thankyou for popping by again. Good to see you here.

Yes the noise goes on all day when they strim. There are three graveyards here and there are usually two working together.

They start in the lower, town council. Then the middle, village council, then the churchyard.

I am sad to say **** killer is employed for the edges as if there is not enough death already Keith.

from the windows saw,

the softest steam morning

on the mountain.

the promise of another

day in wonderland.

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.

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
yet remains as the description

in the black &
up over the mountains darkly

a simple thing,
to think sideways,
practice makes a hindrance
when others think straight.

may be best to go with whatever feels right

honey on toast suited us  while

now coffee is off the menu here

and eggs mayonnaise is back

on

today found the co -op depressing

so bought home made ice cream

yn bala

yn is possibly welsh for in

so,
must we write about it before we forget,
before  people come and disagree?

they have small waists and a  national costume

moving out into the landscape
differing thoughts with exercise

added

on hearing rain early
delay the start of it

driving the land, the songs,
carry us along, to our place,
the constant places,
we think don’t change,

drawing the child with found fabrics
watching the marks come good, no dots
intended
yet they came
without warning

admiration of hair

and delicate spot blouse

island monkeys could not

go abroad

no boat

no plane no nothing

sadly they read books on other countries

with adventures, himalayas & ranuph fiennes

pause like in breathing

I hope you don’t mind
and that is how it started

i think my work,
my soul
is in
my chest.

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

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

it seems you need to let the birds sing

old story remembered
that warm afternoon while all were playing
relaxing.
the hunted tried not to sleep
there

write of parlay

we chatted over manners and harboured edges. these things … moved the line into a place of rural contemplation.

bird in hand is drawn
rules to guide us

with stars above that have no points
at all
yet each one has a story

is not any good really

just drawings. the little people appear as company

the day sounds similar.  gardening and  drove to the garage with their payment.

walked a good way then coincided with him so chatted a while.

 may have made a temporary potting bench yet not sure. watched a film with nervousness and had a generally nice day really.

hope your day goes well

we wonder who may arrive on paper today

5
power house looms ahead. they pray for peace and family, their lovely homes and

salary. pigs. work for the people supposedly.

save old card for drawing on and bending about all messy


charcoal gets everywhere and causes coughing
so have been neater recently and careful

day of small things,

slowly steadily worked

as we rest the dust motes,


shine as gold.

we named it best eleven.        dark the day,          we are survived.

light came, we saw the green ness of it all.                          we live in the country.

some photos show nothing
while paintings can come

more personal

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

minimal
on the same paper
as before
i understand

oh no

hoping all are good

not crumpled or torn..

sun here yesterday
soft and mellow

as we drove along the coast
sparkling

we were
especially her

the carpet is cleaner

done with a soapy cloth


i see there are gadgets

indeed I have some


my mum taught me this

not knowingly

i just watched and remembered


later started the ivy clearing

that on the ground then

after coffee opened the door

to do some more and found

it was raining hard


i went to the studio and drew

myself walking

the things I saw

how it felt

your words on coffee rattle my buds while drinking tea. mine later

today brings a dryer aspect, it rained most of yesterday that light refreshing stuff

have you walked the dunes

hollowed path, coconut gorse.

have you found contentment there?

have you sat the sun, black crow bird.

have you closed your eyes at that

within, enjoyed that

without?

we watched the videos on you tube
the various methods without power

tools

just a hammer

i wonder if the age of mine was limiting

rusted screws or nails I could not tell

liked the logic yet resorted to sawing it up
now left with lumpy ends

a decision is made to store those

so will tidy the pig sty today
to make room
and designated areas

down the lane he has made a splendid bench all shiny perfect

and drilled holes in my old baking tins

thankyou

did not wish to go to sea

went just a few times

that I remembered
last evening

the crossing

cutting,
bleeding the lead
into showers,
and explosive marks.
the power house rears its head again,
pouring images down
like rain.

have you closed your eyes at that

within, enjoyed that

without?

the tin hut is still empty.

:: uncle ::

tell him he needs to focus

best eye forward to stop complaining


it is for safety purposes

the rules are made


the family all seem to have

problems with vision

even the dog


things go fast and seep into distant

beings


fairies again


or is it simply the pressure?

she was drawn again yesterday with her sibling

though it did not look quite right so

shall i tear the sister off?