yes it is slate
tipped over from higher up

the quarry is closed this side
subsidence

the other side it is still worked
though further than before
as there is now a visitor
attraction

for tourists
so we don’t go there
anymore

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

happy yellow
drawn by the name not just the colour
and oh that name come true.steve

is fading now
yet remains as the description

notice my neighbour is using coal 

as well as logs now


this is a new turn for him

a break in the routine


i use nugget things besides

the kiln dried things which

burn up bright for flame


during the day I let it glow softly

later

while relaxing let it flare nicely

for comfort 


it is not cold yet 

with so much time at home

is nice to have the stove lit


music

fruit

and a thriller or some more


sometimes we read

and sometimes  we just sit

to look out the window

out at the mountain

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.

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

write of parlay

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

from the windows saw,

the softest steam morning

on the mountain.

the promise of another

day in wonderland.

did not wish to go to sea

went just a few times

that I remembered
last evening

the crossing

:: 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?

some photos show nothing
while paintings can come

more personal

is that feeling that comes of an autumn afternoon at a particular moment just before the squirrel arrives timely

for food

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

…that

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

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

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

the sea that is rising

island monkeys could not

go abroad

no boat

no plane no nothing

sadly they read books on other countries

with adventures, himalayas & ranuph fiennes

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

salary. pigs. work for the people supposedly.

drawing the child with found fabrics
watching the marks come good, no dots
intended


yet they came
without warning

what a wonderful thing
to have

plus all that ongoing information
to talk about

tell me

is it a one story house or two

there is a need to know
for worry in retrospect

it sounds a dangerous task
with all the snow and ice about

i ate the last little chocolate
this morning and shall miss that
routine each day

at midday he video called me in error
and we both freaked out

in the black &
up over the mountains darkly

an icicle from your nose
drip down your pyjamas
traditional with stripes

touch of red

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

the same in paintings at exhibition.

all became a thing yesterday
regarding these marks of ours
a bit of a collaboration
on twitter and we finished
on this
i hope you do not mind

save old card for drawing on and bending about all messy


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

we have our favourites

mine is old
have had it thirty years

from the charity

he touched it gently
said it felt warm to touch

&

it certainly is
felted a little with wear

misshapen

ill fitting
comforting

charcoal grey
it don’t show the dirt

i wore it gardening yesterday
raking leaves

the robin came down

we spell snow plough differently

admiration of hair

and delicate spot blouse

tell you it is a full and complicated story
that may upset.
i wrote it quickly using shape,colour,
metaphor and symbol.

there are several things worth mentioning

to be spoken when the time is right

we slept the unsleeping dream which leaves us weak

offered help we agreed and cleared the ground steadily

found gratitude and overcome with the feeling of it all

tucked back inside early to gloat over the buckets of twigs

asked me who will be afraid of our ghosts

ghosts of humans
when we are gone

on looking at todays work
i see the spots are appearing

bird in hand is drawn
rules to guide us

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

she was drawn again yesterday with her sibling

though it did not look quite right so

shall i tear the sister off?

moving out into the landscape
differing thoughts with exercise

added

on hearing rain early
delay the start of it

have you closed your eyes at that

within, enjoyed that

without?

the tin hut is still empty.

hello james

you have been gone a while

since you said you would leave


all things change and we had early training here

i spoke of it yesterday


yesterday they came wearing the same dresses

saw the coincidence quickly and were shocked and embarrassed

not noticing the insect in their panic


they may soon learn these things don’t

matter, never did

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

using the light spots,
neglecting the dark,
except the margins.

so we go
dear child moving
forward.

a reflection, mirroring of last week

and we guess there will be much if it after

this time of soft living, little moving nor travelling

blimey


now we glitch with so much using

too much storage not to mention

my coaches


blimey

hear that salvage hunters were being filmed locally

and he commented

blimey

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……..

was cool there,
we learned about protection,
quiet spaces.

there is an hierarchy, yet
some words remain faultless.

some need to be remembered

numbers came suddenly soon after one.

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

"Is art a box that you climb into?”

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

“Are you compartmentalizing?”

two clouds.


brown paper
packaging…

oh.

it is decided after talking to the bear
and eating bread ends
that indeed you may take
what you wish as it is
not only ours

we want to help too
all of us one human heart

the bear noted it is a little
in these circumstances

thankyou

hopefully the bear may sleep a while

now

pinky glow

she said that it was the coldest night for years

and I forget how many

we watched it come down over the mountain spreading

slowly

as the cloud passed by the sun

after cooling indoors we went to see

the maker in the lower field

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

while the world is turning there is a small hope to always return home

saw you fallen
&
photographed you



yet could not save you
nor
any of them

you are a metaphor