..blue sky..

she said she liked the stories

except I did not tell them
i never tell you much
nor all of it

there are bits left to fill in
yourselves

So we survived another storm more gentle than the predictions. 


I am here cosy with a heart drawn in my diary where the word mill used to be.


I never minded going yet pleased today that I am not.


I shall miss the customer conversation if any customers there are.


Yet not the guilt at judgement which may have come involuntary.  My mothers shadow.


So a nice day here with all that entails.
I hope the same for you.

my goodness
such a thing to see while out
and about

such a high up place to be

has beautiful spots james

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

he called early with the news

later ian came and we felled

the last of the saplings

kenny helped pulled the last one

away from the telephone line

that connects to his house

some make mistakes
i do and avoid the capitals

main thing is to weather the storms
and visit daily
i too lean slightly

has been a long time coming, it lasted many years,
now is gone.

all of it, all the straight ideals and weathered work.

when you say gray, do you mean grey, as in lady jane or earl as in tea. when you say grey, do you mean gray, as in mary, my friend? do you mean that we all come from different countries.

sleep comes different
with the variety of fabrics

here

linen is dense and natural

as is cotton
only lighter

this cover was not chosen
with the full blown roses
and darkling pink

nestling in the airing cupboard
lower I found it and thought a

change may be nice
and so it is
we sleep lovely

only

i cannot find the pillowcases
that are remembered for being
flouncy

perhaps were discarded with no
design merit

there is no remembrance of the
gathering

yet will remain here as a sleep aid

7°

whereas I am not fond, preferring the wild ones

tulips grouped in the borders will be interesting for you next year and something to look forward to.

yes much gardening all round yesterday I feel and more coming on today…

seems yesterday I forgot to press
the reply tab

seems yesterday started with mist
again that turned to heavy rain all day

an indoors day

dried out the clothes
we settled in till tea

had it all been different i may
have taken further education
you know.

taught as required for copying  so we all looked the same

though some added bits and embellishments which caused remark

while the space between lines was so immense

days come darker still

considering the night

white they peer

sadly into empathy

faces cloud

shoulders bowed

lady on the bus told me her sister kept lots of soap and what did I think.

I says she sounds like me.

we were there early

and so were the others

with snacks and extreme tiredness

from shopping,

unused to,

we live in the country.

dropped crumbs

impossible not to

snacks all crunchy for mouth satisfaction.

after we left, when all went quiet, the mouse came

they talk about the news

current affairs

and i wonder if it is their anger

that keeps them going james

while i drink tea and look at birds

daily

they captured him because they could,

then told him he was free to go.

as he walked away

they shot his face off.

was supposed to be an uneventful day

yesterday

guess it was to some standards

in these quiet days of isolation
combined with bad weather

was all a bit of a thing

moved the garden bags to their
collection point to find

the bags of slate delivered by the lane
so move the garden waste again to bring the

wheelbarrow up
to carry the slate to the bottom
and spread

two bags as spare in the store bins
lift and sweat
swear as we tip the fence over

to be fixed and reassembled
while the rain came in some more

later the groceries delivered
the man said quite a work out
as his baskets were emptied
hurriedly

i have a tiny chocolate each morning now

and got a card from the vicar

difficult knowing what to say

or whether to say anything

so bear whispers in my head

regarding the injustices, the

things not said

that he is now on a fifty pound note and being praised years on and no one mentions that he was treated like ****

ahem

that those coming here in fear will be treated like ****

ahem

what happened to the mantra on the sociables

to be kind

ahem

bear is ashamed to be of this country

prefers a different tribe

..adding pink..

oh unsuitable paint you
covered lovely with no
comments as all are at
home

light is wonderful
lifts the brain and limbs
beyond

sparkles rain the morning
once again we have the repetition

listen to the server, who

clasping the teapot,

tells us revelations

of those who live, who divorce

and warm the ***.

let us look at things, differently.
often, we do things, no one ever sees.
that is you and me. two of us
dancing on the sand.

it came
and went,
quickly.

pale words a clue in the breathing
the stone set left in barns

caught the words hopefully in burning hands thinking that the sky was clear

though in the past
never so far away

this morning i find in my diary
that the glass house is closed
and that some sort of comment
shall be afforded.

.this will take place later today
or maybe tomorrow depending
on all sorts of things.

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 to photograph

to lean and wonder

there is a mist in the valley and pink in the sky
the promise of a pretty day ahead

hopefully

as always

thankyou
for your offered help
and saying you care for my welfare
all very much appreciated
i thankyou and say it is only temporary

he asked about the father
the answers came in language of that time
the terminology of the fifties

words that indicate dislike

not of choice

a mantra
remembered correctly

transfer of ideas

later unpicked to my delight
into another story
edges left bare

there is a box with papers
snippets and tickets

are these the codes and reasons
are these the stories of their lives?

flat down there nearer by the sea
where all hope is abandoned  via the councils

voted for

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

with grit and slight gusto

things come in layers
and differing shades

he taught us in painting class

step by step until drowsy

so we opened the windows
decided not to return again

is flat down there  nearer the sea
we sat and watched the train come in
admired the white horses grazing afar

birds played on the fences

yes i imagined it well

after trekking those miles
on return empty the machine
to fold the washing before the drying

sheets entail my arms aching
still recovering from all the moving
while walking

shall think of you
at work swinging
to jazz music

the laundry closed here on lockdown
temporarily
have not heard since
so maybe it was
permanently

inadvertently i squashed a woodhouse
today

now i beg forgiveness

we are little things

that dance in the mornings

james

by the light of the phone….

good plan and hope things work out

one way or other

it has been known here to utilise
the power of thought and circumstance

to escape the box

and while you ride the rail bed
i walk the track for it is a differing

language

your vests are not ours
nor your tank tops

and while I wear neither
have the most magnificent

combinations in my collection
hanging on the bathroom door

red depleted.

i use blue.


oh the darkness of it all,the surface tension,primeval scream
hidden by centuries of crimson

..summer county..

what do you have in your sandwich
will it be butter or another spread
mum used to call it marg
all the ladies did
neighbours, her friends

stork for baking
another for everyday

i think she prefered summer county
on googling find this is so

now i have butter come more expensive
lately

i should not really with the fatness
and animal connection

it does taste nice, salty

as did our tears yesterday

what are we like
all emotional in public
then who cares when we share
thoughts and disappointments

the donuts were nice
inelegant to eat

is it home made bread
white or brown, rustic?

i enjoy ideas from others
they open up new possibities

i am changing things
in layers
starting with those things under
neath

an easier day today
at home to clear
hedge trimmings
to gather logs and
ideas too

go well my friend

7.21
yes later today
birds at the window

can you clamber
through the rocks
slipping into water
oily boots leaking?

can you stride out
over dewy moors
peat bogged
with no direction?

will you come with me
to these places
my spaces
and make history?

will you sit a while
amid the berried hedges,
sheltering,
remembering?

will we shout at the wind,
running, laughing
knowing
that this is ours
for the taking

or

will you stay home,
stay safe

and bleed?

find the place overwhelming and claustrophobic, yet as you say some bits are interesting if i can stand the first bits.

met the tank man when i was there who talked lots.

knows all about tanks.

says he is in the pub if I want to chat.

they  do not know the darkness
how the light can fade into latin
& all things unreasonable

fine line we walk,
gently avoiding peptides,only just a theory,

yet used independently,
alongside honest work,
for mending.

the gallery who sacked me for such a thing and other reasons

i don’t know

i bake bread and eat it

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.

looking back i see

the island changed.

perhaps i like familiarity.

wrote the other day about the coal man falling

being brought into our kitchen

the memories

the marks

mother preparing the chicken killed by the fox in the small holding next door and donated

five of us and are asked to watch

i look away

the table is wood and wide

our gas stove grey with little legs,white door, a downward handle,

space under

where the cat hides

near christmas, she washes the dried fruit and puts under a tea towel on the side

we eat bits

we think she will not know

guess she does and how we laugh when the ginger beer blows up in the larder

i wonder when he eats a whole swiss roll….he dies some weeks after.

my brother..

i don’t like walking in snow

that crayon is broke
beyond all hope
….

when i was a kid we had a neighbour, mrs hargreaves who had a phone and a visiting dog. jip.

not many had phones then and we would go across the main road to the call box

or use hers in an emergency only

any way the dog was homely looking

with no fashions then in breed except perhaps the pekingnese

wandering the backstreets of this small town came to the football pitch by the allotments

getting on to lunch time it was

spoke to a lady with her dog a corgi/jack russell cross and talked in admiration

she thanked me and explained that he liked a walk before they went to bed and i wondered

then made my way back into town

where a cat was sitting in the road

it is all a mystery

and those of us who eat carefully

do not criticise

hate the sound of guns in the bird field

suggest another way to earn a living

or stay poor with a clearer  mind

**

go at it deep

and now the storm has passed

here

go back to work

moments with the old story,

knowing it will be understood.

each day a moment to be

shared out here.

:: paper chase ::

hiding from the refuse collectors

down at the house

in the paper

hideaway

it was his idea and he rammed

it all in the neighbouring bins

where he found room

said he will take the blame

if found out

**

all four crowd round discussing

the amount of waste

the number of stars

while

he hides

below

all so very space age or those films
about disasters and meteors
smashing into our crust
making holes
called craters

bam
splat

enough to give anyone
a nose bleed

we have his here in a jar labelled

sometimes it is anxiety
all that is going on around
us

it came so very cold
the bags were wet
and my hands hurt
like billy oh

did not drop off though
cos I huffed and puffed them

stay by the fire james
for now it is winter

in green road we used to run out

if we heard a car coming as they
were few and much between them

often dogs would chase
down the road barking

later out for a sunday drive
farm dogs lay waiting

and repeated the above

we sat on the kerb to write
the numbers and walk to the
station for trains

i still like numbers and so
does he

not mathematically
just numbers plain

and wonder if that is acceptable

these days

james

the same kerb where I joined
the dust men for lunch sandwiches
in their break

backs against the red brick wall

sometimes
a while in a box
will do nicely…