we thought about the things my brother

said about the tea plantations

in india

he does a big trip somewhere each each year

except last year and probably this year too

we touch the wall
where the car crashed
that time back
remember how it was


how my friend tried to
help

so while out on a longer walk,
met him and he explained to me,
about walking there and back again

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

is it the same as ash die back
i know I should research this
and will
just not now

she sings
i remember

he told me you can burn it
anytime and chanted a verse

that I do not remember

he cannot come a while for

you should only mix indoors or outdoors with members of your own household or support bubble

see
she sings
i remember

some things come easy for some
even pleasant
impossible for others

i did look and see it is a fungus
rather than a borer james

i do not have all the particulars like you
james
and my roof is higher

she sings

we thought about the things my brother

said about the tea plantations

in india

he does a big trip somewhere each each year

except last year and probably this year too

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

have you closed your eyes at that

within, enjoyed that

without?

the tin hut is still empty.

she was drawn again yesterday with her sibling

though it did not look quite right so

shall i tear the sister off?

paper covers history.

bent on layers
of time, pretending.

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

was dark blue with a little red added

lasted two weeks and still prominent

yes james it is white stone
colour so pure you can feel it

there have been a couple
of incidents but now she
is in disguise
with different
hair

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

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

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

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

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

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

so we go
dear child moving
forward.

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

they  do not know the darkness

how the light can fade into latin

& all things unreasonable

fortunate to live in this place where no bombs will take us.

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……..

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

white dress.

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.

has beautiful spots james
while i like any pattern that includes spots
and any embellishment that is bows you
know
yet
i don’t know why
only as i say that
i think i may do
i guess that is a story for another morning
james

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

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

gently go forward, then gently back
recreating past deeds and misdemenours
you thought forgotten.

gently go forward knowing we are mostly
all the same, with motes not spoken of,
except disorder.

gently it passed behind you

:: tides are higher now, flooding the paths. he walked the mud, bringing the footsteps back to us ::

now that sounds cold
i remember mum leaving the water tap running
in winter

the pipes were lagged in the outside toilet

and I hated that place both waiting outside
and the feel inside

the conversations about such a thing
at all

the cold when there was no heating
anywhere

except the fire
reserved for drying the clothes
mainly

gran’s house much the same
though folk got preference

one each side
me by the radio

changing the thread to tell you
it all came lovely with onions
fried tasty, mushrooms and the
last
big tomato then cheese
on home made bread, fried
over

there are difficulties with tomatoes
large as a substitution

when only small are required

not wishing for waste
we eat them anyway

i feel it is another psychological
challenge

overcome

who knows what lies underneath

here the land goes up and down

water drains

into rivers

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

asked me who will be afraid of our ghosts

ghosts of humans
when we are gone

Main Entry: niche
Part of Speech: noun
Definition: place all one’s own

:: niche ::

i gave the words away.

wrote them,

published them

shredded and pickled them,

and gave them away.

left in a niche.

yet, still they rattle,

and will always

be a part of me.

my words

the power house rears its head again,

pouring images down

like rain.

while gavin bryars plays

on and on

repeated.

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

there is not much more to add, it is lighter
now.                                       birds sing early.

once again we come back to ourselves.

metaphor.

having swiped away those unwanted pages
and moved the car from the church car park
with it being sunday

come to read your message regarding bicycles

like and yesterday

a cyclist stopped before a bend in the road
to allow the bus to pass
except the driver couldn’t see

and words were exchanged
a fist raised

while I looked at the flowers

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.

what is it?

how will they know for thinking

comes silent inside our heads

unless we utter..

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

it has beautiful spots james

while i like any pattern that includes spots
and any embellishment that is bows you
know

yet
i don’t know why
only as i say that
i think i may do

i guess that is a story for another morning
james

i write it here now amused to it

with all the predictions and quality spacing


or am i used to it

putting words in my mouth
like sweet sultanas in chocolate


they come in twos

the sentences
as if they may rhyme

only instead of except they don’t
do they jim?


we have light rain here

with worse predicted
that all came wrong too

earlier this week as we had sun
and a good book

early for some, late for others, we came. different reasons.

danzÓn.

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.

drawing the child with found fabrics

watching the marks come good, no dots
intended

yet they came
without warning

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

well hello

you see I did write back to you

in

a different format


more like a letter now
it is not on the poetry

site

to behold
so cold

we swept it
the twigs and debris

micro gardening
here