slipped sideways.

while all remains the same, something is different.

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

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

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

varying kinds
and ages

it dries and cracks if not stored with care

biscuit tins are useful

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

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

brock.



the badger was dead by the side

of the road.





walking,

i passed the other side.





returning on that side i stopped to look.



it did not smell.



it was just dead.



brock.

while wondering

find there are possibly two
of us

me
and the one i was pretending
to be

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

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.

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

I says she sounds like me.

was gone some time

past tense can be horribly traumatic

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.

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.

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

early morning i got bit

clearing up your mess .



i had thought that i could not manage,

it was  just all  in my head.



some one came and told me

that i could do it myself.



so i have and cleared up  your mess.

we are little things

that dance in the mornings

james

by the light of the phone….

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?

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

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

at dusk the view magnetic

they forecast it,
we do not listen any more,
just check the window.

my goodness

such a thing to see while out
and about

such a high up place to be

have you walked the dunes

hollowed path, coconut gorse.

have you found contentment there?

a different aspect

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

there is plenty of time to walk from town,

to give an opinion whenever requested.



there is time to talk, and receive gifts

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.

sadly some folk laughed at him called him names.

feels necessary to hold onto memories
and to repeat myself

it is overcast today

a slight breeze from the

window

wide

a slight hint of colour

bleeding from the patch below

crow bird,
pecks package.

hoping for a sandwich.

b.l.t.

along the edge, the edge
of season. the coast with
slow limits.

the glass anomaly
swept the edges
golden, in proportion.

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

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

we don’t use a teapot

but evidently many do,

and cosy up together.

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

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.

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.

little world here of characters and stories none of them famous nor commendable.

it was mentioned that some people don’t know what royalty is and he agreed and said
what is it then?

maybe you play chess  in bad weather
or another pastime

here they forecast an awful rain yesterday
yet it came quite warm and gentle and

i shared some nougat with the delivery man
after chatting about our days in children’s  homes

a coincidence
a distant memory

he also brought plants
and new pencils

i have a wounded finger
either from the drawing

or a whitlow with an h

we like a good rainy day come cosy

there was no message from yesterday

perhaps you sat out on the sun like me

went down among the fruit trees
with shade and softer breezes

a different aspect

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

the feel on my neck as the wind touched
lifted the hair

and a bee flew close .

over there in the hills the cuckoo called

yet I did not see my new little bird
not at all, not all day yesterday

undeniably tracing honesty in the air

with one finger

pointing.

it came clear later..

all is well here all is quiet

messages sent about including

it was too warm for a fire
yet we lit it anyways for company

to smell the wood
to hear the cracking
the tick of the stove

yesterday we sent out messages too
including

one hour spent
remembering
st agnes

in cornwall

repeat

that

i don’t paint like you

or you

&

need to convince myself

that

that

is ok

slate looms large,

thrown unbalanced,

waiting for water

to start the slide.

careful what you dream on a cusp of night. know that all stars are not the same

seen  through the net nightly

goes where it leads me, a kind of conversation between me and the work, but drawing on what is in mind.

“kind of a diary?”

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