no sighs.

they have forgotten us.        we have forgotten them.

are we  now the bones of what we were?

speak those words, templar, that i cannot say.

another time, another place

like to be quiet,speaking
only
when you asked the question.

not sure why i came.
i think you invited me?

watching the marks come good, no dots
intended
yet they came
without warning

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

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.

now i beg forgiveness
we are little things
that dance in the mornings
james

in the light from the phone

there is no reaching the summit here
the story changed

an avalanche of news
and wet weather

dampened the spirit
so we nipped out between the storms

to post the letters
and that was all

sometimes you know
i have no clue as to what
is occurring
here

or over there

find it challenging

and disappear

leaves are turning slowly daily

except at the turning
maentwrog

they go first always
and suddenly

this time of year

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

it is said i write abstract, in time to save

your feelings. you asked me to explain,

i did so lightly. the other said no one else

dare ask.



i tell you it is a full and complicated story

that may upset.





i wrote it quickly using shape,colour,

metaphor and symbol.



was loathe to read it for i may cry.

you wish a pretty picture yet i cannot

make it.



i thank you for asking, where others

do not read.



the writing circled

the thread does not show here
nor the subject matter

and it is missed

am presently writing my reply
whilst composing a letter in my head

which will change my life

james

we are little things

that dance in the mornings

james

by the light of the phone….

was gone some time

past tense can be horribly traumatic

we have new bird boxes up
ready for the spring
meanwhile autumn comes gentle

one breath of leaves across the way

it is a tiny garden out back
overlooking the grave yard

where the men mowed the grass
stopping a while
leaning on rakes

watching the weather

varying kinds
and ages

it dries and cracks if not stored with care

biscuit tins are useful

while wondering

find there are possibly two
of us

me
and the one i was pretending
to be

slipped sideways.

while all remains the same, something is different.

seems we gets busy here and there
yet cannot verbally explain why we write
and paint

shall we rescue the drowning where we can ;
record the names?

nice to see you here

i see it was yesterday though I mainly check by in the morning
early

sometimes you know
i have no clue as to what
is occurring
here

or over there

find it challenging

and disappear

while all around is trembling , we weave together

with dreams and possibilies.

there is not much more to add, it is lighter

now.                                       birds sing early.

once again we come back to ourselves.

we noticed it that day and found it omninous.

february 2019

the sea is quiet as we have never seen it

sun as hot as it gets

like summer



they gloried in it

the bathers

the media



we watched



while the ice melted.

handbag, not fit for any purpose than
delight and design.

have you walked the dunes

hollowed path, coconut gorse.

have you found contentment there?

on warm afternoons i sit on the terrace
in the sun reading

looking up to watch the washing move

trying to concentrate
on climbing

crampons heavy

we slowly move upward

while laundry dries nicely
on the line

not yesterday though
nor today for we have a storm with no name

and you guessed it Jim , I am aiming  for the summit  of

everest

James

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

I says she sounds like me.

they are asking in the village if the pub is open yet.

i question  have  they called by to ask?



they are asking in the village if the pub serves food.

have they popped in to ask &  to see the menu?



they are saying in the village that the front needs tidying

as does the car park.



i ask the folk in the village if they will tidy their own place

and  to be glad the pub is open again.



i called in to a lovely guided tour and a warm welcome.



let us not be so critical. tyn y groes.

my goodness

such a thing to see while out
and about

such a high up place to be

having learned , the days  will come longer soon. the sounds

softer.

once the day is dawn, the door is open, face the sky, all

comes well some days.

some days it does not, yet it still comes light. the falling

days end.

one slip is all, one step too far, the world turns around . no control, no eating,   disorder abounds. watch the ornaments fly…..

tell us things, take us without consent. there are no records

i sometimes sit and think of this, sometimes   dream
in bed, often in yellow.

or blue which

covers the

land in places, my eyes           smarting.

Which are often spelled as doughnuts.

My confession comes next.

I thought about those donuts a lot, and wondered if it is the jam or the crispy sugar coat which is the main delight.

So guiltily thought of visiting while in Portmadog and eating one without you and then feeling the need to confess on meeting with you.

Even pushed the door yet they were closed.

The alternative was Spooners yet even there would not be the same without your company, so went to the Port and just had coffee.

Bought a pack of donuts in Tesco before catching the bus.

On return see on Social media that Spooners was closed for refurbishment anyhow.

I hope it don’t snow.

Hoping you have had a good week also, maybe with some donuts…

With all this talk of donuts, remembered Mum taking us to an ideal home exhibition at the Wiinter Gardens and she bought a metal donut implement to fry batter.

Delicious.

Note..If you are arrived in Blaenau early on Tuesday, the Model Bakery there used to/may have donuts, the heaviest I have ever eaten…

That got me through the first months on my own.

Looking up observe the doll has dusty hair.

like in a circus those days

now there are no animals
mainly clever folk being smart
or funny

maybe

is was dark blue with a little red added

lasted two weeks and still prominent.

much has happened since

a different aspect

it was good to have the windows
the doors open
air circulating

while in the studio a series
commenced
marching in time
across the board

at dusk the view magnetic

it is overcast today

a slight breeze from the

window

wide

a slight hint of colour

bleeding from the patch below

they did not know she had millions, neither did she. just collected one item at a time, cared fully for         each one of them.                                                                                                         catalogued in eternally.

words affect us deeply.   voices  come and go.                                           while the worlds spins with  people’s chaos and confusion.       yet.           above the noise of the day     they show me birds and insects          did you know they cross their fragile legs?

repeat

that

i don’t paint like you

or you

&

need to convince myself

that

that

is ok

explicit blunderings, darkness descends

with out the need for words. pray for

forgiveness if you are so inclined.

‘ you mean it were the settings that was wrong ‘

yes.

‘so it was all your imagination?’

yes.

added bits and embellishments which caused remark

while the space between lines was so immense my head came heavy with drowsy

fell off

&

i did not return

the idea left us dancing.
use what is already there,
make do and mend

we don’t use a teapot

but evidently many do,

and cosy up together.

think i may like to travel to small places,
old and full of history. deep aged fabrics
stained with the words of time. to touch

more down the middle

now, not touching the sides

so much.



limbs hang looser, hardly tied.



it is a soothing thing apart from string,

to walk the higher road.



this is not a metaphor.

it leads to llanfachreth.

wise words

indeed

i feel lighter this morning
which is more physical

than spiritual

this time of year serves as a reminder

a pause
then move forward

often a block buster is advertised
usually we prefer the other

quieter stuff

it was a small day yesterday

tucked in

covers heavy