shelter here under this door?



no i do not mind the rain,

though it is all mud over there,

and may slide.





where do you walk?



to the end, and back again.



thank you.

yes warmth and food
we have shelter

rain comes here in waves
reflecting feelings

sometimes i can smell the sea
though some miles from the shore

rules say to walk from the house
not to take the car

so I don’t

go to the shore
while others do

put photos on social

my time will come

we had toast just now with an
egg, a treat
deserved of a comma there

then coffee

later nuts and raisins
and so on through the

day

you have spoken of your home with
good descriptions while I think one

can google mine

perhaps i will check
and buy a bucket for

the leak

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

the anxiety failed later in the day
a more comfortable place as i
watched other peoples ways and
opinions

we saw the lights in the village

cut deep,   while others are sleeping.

we tread the way, from here to there,

leaving a trail.             you may follow.

cut round the cowslips, leave the twigs.

step this way, it leads to the old apple tree,

cookers. step that way

plum blossom.

nothing is straight, nothing planned.

later we watched chelsea .

we wonder how it will map
out

we have wondered before
when waking

it had clipped the hand in error

left a moon shape mark

turned black

or maybe

is was dark blue with a little red added

lasted two weeks and still prominent

much has happened since the pinch

rain, mutations and slight headaches

the path is blocked off
due to mud and saturation

life goes on
the mark remains

it was remarked that there is no hurry
that we have the rest of the winter

happily with a little chocolate

the clouds hang heavy

the mass, the clouds lay heavy, rain that came, that blinded again. blinded those that could not see the love and idle artefacts, each one a statement of nothing in particular.

finding time to write the blog

early

soft morning

note

that meeting folk not seen a year or more

since

pre covid

commented how good they looked

for indeed they did

all pretty

noted their clothes verbally

with attractive adjectives

complements become the new hugging

pausing for their response

heard nothing.

perhaps my mother was correct in her opinion

here they are presently cutting the graveyard grass

I read the judgement just now and while ironing the cotton handkies consider my confession.

Some time back now I was in residence at Plas Newydd in Llangollen and read the lady’s diaries with an apostrophe.

They wrote their daily menus and so my entry included some of the found ideas. Yes, folk really ate that….and fish with liver sauces….

Thankyou for your pleasant comments. I have such sweaters. My two most comfy are….

The grey shapeless mohair over 50 years old bought second hand and other Nordic thing both warm and come gender fluid.

With capitals today.

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

tourists come more at weekends

some in their campers and park

down by the bridge here and other

places elsewhere

and I hope

i am not repeating myself?

it gets busy in the lanes unlike out of season

busier this year due to the situation
people not going abroad to other

countries now

there are real bad reports about some campers
and warnings on social media about places

that are messed up, not to go there

yesterday as I passed a van early
could hear the snoring see

the windows steamed

so I go out early while all are asleep
and it is quiet apart from birds and

animals

I saw a mole yesterday starting a burrow
by the path among the flowers

all my holidays got cancelled
and I do not mind for these

are covid days…..

some of it did not work,
so added red , text, news
paper.

some of it did not work,
added bunting, torn
paper.

most of it works now,
memory plays a part,
when we look
to the mountain.

has beautiful spots james

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

the name will be the title,
length an object.

all else is waxed and tied
as usual, making
it unusual. when i explained,
she asked why will you do
that?

because of the chained libaries,
burning books, the secrets
you see? no, I don’t
she replied.

we worked on quietly
together.

a thing so private, so intense .   . simple , complex. no one will see it .  

                        note your achievements to date.                     .hell no

good to hear back from you yet sorry to hear about the difficulties.

.i were doing well with transport, using the buses and walking about.

.now we have the omicron creature here guess my leisure bus rides will be curtailed, essential travel only.

.it were a pleasant interlude encouraged by the grandson and another seasoned  traveller.

.so we move forward differently once again.

.while you and remain in mind.

.you with a balaclava now!

enjoyed the day


ours are all late summer and autumn
in a row

the mass, the clouds lay heavy, rain that came, that blinded again. blinded those that could not see the love and idle artefacts, each one a statement of nothing in particular.

you may already have the things you need.

just look.

it may be that it is
small
neat and shiny.

"Is art a box that you climb into?”

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

“Are you compartmentalizing?”

no reply from you this morning
perhaps you are out on your bike

again

again

there is snow on the mountain
a pinky glow

she said that it was the coldest night for years

and I forget how many

already
already

there are plans for the day
having watched the video

on how to do it

how not to do it
is brute force

apparently
no bashing

good to hear that all went well

and that all is ready

i miss my neighbours truck

parked out back

he is awaiting a part

so uses a tractor now

reverses it way back up the lane

dislodging stones in the wall and track

grooving the ground

i get more grip while walking up
tried running it yesterday

for fun

laughing

at the sight of me

stopped at the slow worm
cut short by the tail

quickly gone

googled running and found I did it right

and am in the thirty percent

he has a bike too in the cellar
and a motorbike kept over the way
at his cousins

there is a good family likeness

i saw you fallen

&

photographed you



took you to be stitched.





yet i could not save you

nor

any of you.



you are a metaphor for death.





these

old photographs spur us on

to
care and treasure,

to

sweep and clean.



i keep yours by the stairs

to remind

that if you could leave us

so can anyone.



so

having written of the hour,

move on when all seems lost.



the days remain

timeless.

another visit here
how pleasant

we don’t have many now
during pandemic and

darker wetter days

went out yesterday
to port

looked out the cafe window
like a hopper painting

with wet leaves
and

bread and butter pudding

you would not come back

except for visits

you came again in auto fill

last evening sat alone

we still cannot understand

there is no explanation for that

nor what you did

you are a ghost to us now

fading

we watched it on tv

you thought we were broken

yet we watch you solidly, bravely like joan

with just one comma throughout

we no longer come ragged

we watch you leave

i

tell you this

there are some do not believe


will not sleep while others will

and some


wish to be invited

*

some photos show nothing
while paintings can come

more personal

it means something if
you go to look

properly

it means more if you sit quietly

in the light and read

there were challenges

one was print and pattern

assumimg you are safe
i tell you about the villages
close by yet still over the
mountain

where the good grub is
for midwinter while men
buzz about hunting

while i disapprove
and eat the vegatables

where the man talks about
his toe endlessly as the other
word is rather complex & all
this with only one paid for cup
of tea

where the child lays low playing
and unscrewing the chair legs

where the night comes earlier
each day and pheasants walk

the lanes in procession. this
was a gathering
this was a confession

yesterday
was not quite
midwinter
solstice
yet

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.

yesterday a sea fret, misted trees,
added edge ; visual delight.

i like this road to there.

thankyou for trying

anyhow

i shall be content with imagination

usually copy and paste my images

for the forum

so it is midwinter  and though busy

am enjoying this moment

in this shortest  day

the air is clear and cold

on my skin

sun shines
yet the day has not warmed

stove is lit and the candles are ready
for a quiet reflective evening

while after reading an article on flight

from fear

know how fortunate i am

you said goodbye
said it had ended
here

to go there
or email you

i agreed as it was time for a change

time for a change of subject
of pattern

i did not agree to continue


he said that was the issue with the
work

it keeps changing

as things do tend to

sometimes there are too many words
and little truth

things come clear with time

kept in a box, precious.

lifted down for those to see,
that care.

did the understanding come,
the idea that all old things
are wanted, needed for their story.

not discarded on higher ground,
where dust and moth abound.

the lesser garment became prefered,
as the last shall become the first.

we shall look at the photographs.

yet when
she said my friend looked pretty
&
that I smelled nice
I sagged a little.

later that day
i found a message
request
from a soldier in the usa
holding a puppy & a rose
calling me a beauty

minimal
on the same paper
as before
i understand

courage to walk away
from objects that irritate
our eyes, to eat another way,
with snakes and camphor oil.

you know what i mean

we look for sand
there is a nice long beach and lovely views out to sea
the sea that is rising

find.

no mention of gains or fortitude

some may look for the other one

some may find it

while the little people with their arms held high

dance in the sunlight with all that remains

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

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

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

a challenge to describe   these trees as suggested

the gentle good,  dawel disgyn,  little time

left, nor funds for flying.

some things just stop us in wonder

here

with tears

unexpected

it seems there may be some connection

some call it a trigger

some things leave us cold and wondering what all the excitement

is about

unlike the thing in cairo yesterday


obviously I have no photographs

feels like autumn now, cat is in, windows misted.

a challenge to describe   these trees as suggested

the gentle good,  dawel disgyn,  little time

left, nor funds for flying.


tiny things become intimate


you may put them in cases, or hang on pins

straight or safety, it becomes political

the choice is yours


bulldog clips


you are the curator.


maybe things are red with black

today

the hill is a mountain, this time.

crimea pass,the road to llanrwst.

as we drove, i thought, i would
be happy if i lived in such a place.

i do, and so i am.

she was drawn again yesterday with her sibling

though it did not look quite right so

shall i tear the sister 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

peter, i could not make things like that either and admire those that can.

it is good to mend and keep things nice

such an achievement

stood there at the big house with the designer dog
each other and grandchild

add their two cars,  mobile home
sheds for bikes, scooter, kayak and other paraphernalia and vast corporate gardens

returned from the holiday abroad
asked if they enjoyed it

moaned vehemently on the price
of their covid tests

ffs

the tree came down wedged on the fence


they came and told me it was mine

that the wall was gone and that was mine

too


came all urgent and important


i went and helped as they said it was mine


later the tree man came to see

told me it was not my tree my wall at all

not my responsibility


maybe I will choose who I believe


the birds take over , like the tree at that angle

so I watch them

the tree came down in two parts with great noise and  excitement  yet only from me


i guess the guys are dead cool and used to it all


an early sapling showed, once overshadowed

a new view , quite acceptable


a noisy  day so I went and drew pictures

broke

shattered

broken reflections

of a former life

smashed