#1961
Lizbeth has left for school. The house is quiet once again, Lizbeth’s mother sighs and goes to the kitchen and turns on the radio. A Couperin piece of music comes on. She remembers this, an aunt took her to a concert when she was young as this was being played. She goes to the cupboards and from behind the flour she takes out a bottle of gin and pours herself a glass. She sips and feels calmness ease her. The music plays on. She goes to the window and looks out at the fields. She takes cigarette from her packet and lights it and inhales it greedily. Her husband is at work. His is a world she seems closed out from, his is one of calm and ease. Lizbeth is all anger and coming of age with its built in rage. Her son is married, he alone brought her peace and a different love. She sips more gin, lets it unwind her, release her nerves. She inhales again. Couperin plays on the radio. She exhales smoke, watches it rise and then drift away. She inhales again, and watches the fields and blue of sky, watches birds in flight and begins to cry.
Feb 25, 2025
Feb 25, 2025 at 3:32 AM UTC
You showed Lizbeth
the empty cottage
down the country lane.
Maybe we can get in
some how
and do it there,
she said.
You looked at
the overgrown garden:
I couldn't do that,
you said.
Not do what
get in or do it ?
she said.
Neither of them,
you said.
Why not?
it can't be that hard
to get inside,
and surely
you like ***
she said.
A goldfinch flew
to the apple tree
and made noise.
Rooks flew above
and around
the tall trees.
I won't break
into the cottage,
nor have ***
you said.
She pouted her lip:
Why are we here, then?
she asked.
(When I came with Jane
a few weeks ago,
we looked around
the outside
talking about one day
marrying someone
and living there.
We also looked
at the various birds
in the garden.)
Just to show you
the cottage
and see what birds
there are,
you said.
She looked bored:
I didn't cycle
all the way here
to look at this
empty cottage
and look at ****** birds,
she said.
I didn't ask you
to cycle out here,
you said.
She sighed
and gazed
at the garden.
Maybe you should
come into town,
she said.
Too far to walk,
and there is only a bus
on Saturday morning,
you said.
You can cycle,
she said.
I haven't a bike,
you replied.
She didn't know
what to say.
I get the coach
to school
on weekdays,
you said.
After a few minutes
we walked up the lane
to where
she parked her bike.
See you at school,
Monday,
she said.
She rode off
and didn't look back.
You watched until
she was out of sight
and then you went back
to the shed to help
your father saw up logs.
Far off you heard
cows moo,
and the barking of dogs.
Jul 21, 2019
Jul 21, 2019 at 5:53 AM UTC
She talks to you
of birds
and butterflies.
She holds a wren's egg
in the middle
of her pink palm.
You touch
the fragile egg shell,
the sensation
of your finger
on the smooth shell,
her skin inches
from the tip
of your finger.
She moves the egg
in her palm
to show the blue shell;
you watching
her finger move,
wishing she
would move
with yours,
or hands holding close
against her thigh,
looking eye to eye.
Jul 20, 2019
Jul 20, 2019 at 1:41 PM UTC
I walked beside the cowman across grass
Sodden by the morning dew. "What do you
Want to do when you leave school?" He asked me.
"Want to be a cowman like you," I said.
He stared at me sideways on."No, my lad,
You want to get yourself a proper job."
He said no more and disappeared inside
His farm cottage tied to the farm estate.
I walked on puzzled by his blunt reply.
I was, as he knew, a London boy, fresh
From the smoke and crowded streets, not used to
The way of the countryside and manners.
In my bedroom, in a glass case, I kept
Bird's eggs, chalk fossils, and a rabbit's skull
Salvaged from the woodland floor on the Downs.
Hanging from the ceiling by bits of string
A model Spitfire moved in the wind.
And taped to the walls were pictures of tanks
Or racing cars with all the parts numbered,
And a chalk model of a Crusader
With sword and shield with red cross of St George.
From my window I could see the whole farm
Where I'd been to fetch the milk before school.
Maybe I'd not work on the farm at all.
Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 12:48 PM UTC
I remember that summer,
one day in particular,
we were lying in the tall grass,
she and I, holding hands,
and she naming
each butterfly or bird
that flew above our heads
in the blue blue of sky.
That's a Comma,
she said, and that's
a Small Copper,
and the butterflies
would flutter past
over head.
A tractor sounded
from a further field.
Birds sang;
a pheasant called.
I watched the flight
of a Sparrowhawk above us
and it hovered there
seemingly ages,
then dived out of sight
to ****** its prey.
She turned
and we kissed.
Lips on lips,
soft, gentle,
not pushed
nor rushed,
but soft landed
like a butterfly,
natural not lustful,
not knowingly,
but so shy.
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 4:23 AM UTC
Gale said
"Who's the red head
looking this way?"
We were in
the boy's playground
gazing over
at the girl's playground.
Lizbeth had seen me
and was gazing at us.
Another girl
stood with her
taller
brunette.
"I know her vaguely"
I said.
"Wonder if her bush
is the same colour?"
he said
peering through
the wire mesh fence.
"No idea"
I replied.
I lied.
A few months before
trying to ****** me
in her room
while her mother
was out
she had
stripped off naked
to stir me up.
But I was too
concerned
of her mother's return
to lust or burn.
She waved to me
and I waved back.
Then she
and the other girl
walked away.
We watched them leave.
I thought of her naked
that time
a few months ago.
What Gale was thinking
inside his head
I didn't know.
May 12, 2018
May 12, 2018 at 1:13 PM UTC
There is a slow
deliberation
on the **********
before the mirror
in your room
the slow removal
piece by piece
until you are down
to your underwear
and bra.
You stand
there gazing
looking at
the mirrored
bed behind
imagining
Benny was there
giving you the eye.
But he isn't of course
just your wanting
him there
gazing at your
strip-show
with his hazel eyes.
Your clothes lie
where they fell.
You pretend
he is cheering you on
commenting on your
revealed flesh
and shape.
Downstairs your mother
is preparing dinner
the radio pushing out
some Mendelssohn.
You sigh
and pick up
the fallen clothes
and stack them neat
and dress in
after school clothes
bit by bit
knowing Benny
isn't there to see.
Your mother calls you
like a laboured cow
and you guess you'll
eat the dishes up dinner
somehow.
May 1, 2018
May 1, 2018 at 12:18 PM UTC
The Downs
were covered in snow
and the sky
dull and grey.
I made my way
up to the farm
carrying the green
plastic jug
for the morning milk.
I didn't think
I'd see you that day
not with the snow
and you living
at the other end
of the hamlet.
I walked up the narrow path
between the high hedgerows
and along the deep snow
towards the dairy.
I hoped the black
one-eyed dog
wouldn't come and bark
or snap at my heels or arm.
Cows mooed
from the milking shed.
I sensed the cold
biting at my fingers
as I entered the dairy.
Mr Andrews poured
milk into my jug.
"Snow arrived then"
he said as if undecided.
"Yes deep in places"
I said.
He nodded
and turned away
back to his tasks.
I left and walked
back the way I had come
balancing the jug
in case I slipped.
I thought of you
lying in your bed
snuggled up beneath
sheets and blankets
wearing a winter nightdress
hugging your form
thinking of me
out in this cold
and snow
wishing I was there
with you
doing what
we wanted to.
Apr 27, 2018
Apr 27, 2018 at 3:56 AM UTC
I pictured you
that evening
after our first kiss
standing by your window
looking out
at the moon and sky
and stars
undressed
ready for bed
your sister asleep
in the bed behind
and I pictured me there
behind you
my hands around your waist
my breath
on your naked neck
whispering words
into your ear
but you turned around
and I wasn't there
just in my imagination
and maybe yours
and I pictured you
making your way
to the bed
beside your sleeping sister
snuggling down
between covers
imagining I was there
and we were lovers.
Apr 25, 2018
Apr 25, 2018 at 11:46 AM UTC
That was one of the things
you left behind.
That memory
of the first kiss.
It came quite suddenly
like an Autumn shower
or like a secret
no one knew
just that kiss
between me and you.
Now I can rerun it
like an old movie
in black and white
and try and captured
the emotions then
and how it felt
and why.
But you are dead now
and gone before your time
as the saying goes
and of all my memories
that would be the one
I'd choose
of all of those.
I remember the moonlight
and the stars in the sky
and the others nearby
singing Christmas songs
or carols as they're called
and their voices
carried on the wind
and you and I
hugging and kissing
and never
having sinned.
Apr 20, 2018
Apr 20, 2018 at 4:04 AM UTC
Lizbeth sits
at dinner
her mother
sits across
the table
her father
on her right.
"How was school?"
Mother asks
eyeing her.
"The school *****
Lizbeth says
looking down
at the plate
of beef stew.
Her mother
stares at her.
"What do you
mean by *****
Her father
says nothing
as usual.
"Waste of time,"
Lizbeth says,
"brain washing
us with ****
Father chokes
on his beef.
"That's enough
of that kind
of language,"
Mother says.
Lizbeth wants
Benny up
in her room
stark naked
lying there
on her bed.
"You go there
so they can
educate
all of you,"
Mother moans.
Lizbeth stops
listening
let's the words
go over
her young head
like dark birds.
Apr 18, 2018
Apr 18, 2018 at 12:58 PM UTC
Early morning mist
in the field.
Fresh air on her face
as she walked along the track.
Cows mooed from the farm.
A pheasant called from the wood.
She waited to see
if he came up to the farm.
He said he came early
to the farm for the milk.
She waited
sensing the early air
into her lungs.
Rooks called
from the trees tops
overhead.
She had left her parents
asleep in bed.
They wouldn't stir
yet awhile.
She saw him
come up the path
carrying the green jug
for the milk.
She felt excitement inside.
When he saw her he smiled
and walked towards her.
“You're early”
he said
and moved to her
and they hugged and kissed.
“Thought I'd come meet you”
she said
after the kiss and hug.
He looked round
at the early morning view.
“Had breakfast?”
he said.
“No not yet”
she replied.
He took her hand
and they walked
along the path
to the dairy.
They could hear the cows
mooing louder.
The black farm dog
barked at them
as they went into the diary
but skulked away
when the cowman
bellowed at him.
“You're early”
the cowman said
taking the jug
and filling it
with milk
from a huge container.
“Best part of the day”
Benny said.
“Guess it is”
the cowman said.
They walked off
along the path
away from the farm.
He held the jug
with both hands
as it was quite heavy.
She walked beside him
getting as near to him
as she could.
“Want some breakfast
at my parents' place?”
he said.
“Will they mind?”
she said.
He shook his head.
“No of course not”
he said.
They walked through part
of the wood and down
the narrow path to the cottage.
Rooks called loudly
from the wood
as they went in
the garden gate.
They went in the back door
and he placed the milk
on the side
in the kitchen.
His mother was there
raking the stove.
He asked about breakfast for Jane
and his mother smiled
and said yes.
So they sat at the table together
and his mother poured
mugs of tea and hot porridge.
She sensed his knee
touch hers
under the table.
She wanted to kiss him
but felt at that moment
unable.
Apr 14, 2018
Apr 14, 2018 at 1:47 AM UTC
He stood by the fence.
The hedgerows were
pregnant with birds.
He hoped she showed
as she said she would.
Cows mooed from a field
out of his sight but he
could hear them getting
nearer. A tractor sounded
far off. The sky was a
bright blue. She had let
him kiss her last time up
on the Downs. He had
carried the kiss home
with him like a prize.
A Red Admiral fluttered
past. He could see her
coming up the narrow
road leading to the church.
She waved to him and he
waved back and his heart
gave a lurch. She came
closer at a steady pace
with sunlight dancing on
her dark hair and pale face.
Apr 5, 2018
Apr 5, 2018 at 3:16 PM UTC
Lizbeth watched her father
digging from her bedroom
window. There was a pattern
to his motions. Clockwork like.
His old clothes on. Her mother
was in the kitchen preparing lunch.
Lizbeth had tidied her room
after her mother nagged her
over breakfast. It was tidy now.
She liked it as it was. Her
untidiness was her own.
A realm of her own. Each item
left where she wanted it.
The bed made up and the covers
smoothed down. She had
wanted Benny there. Almost
that time but he refused at
the last moment. She stripped
down to her underwear and bra.
Her father straightened up
and rubbed his back. The large
vegetable bed had been dug
almost to the end. Sunlight
poured down. If only Benny had.
Just as well they hadn't. Her
mother returned from shopping
earlier than she thought. If they
had they'd been caught. The thought
made her smile. Her father carried
on digging. The pattern in motion.
Her mother downstairs preparing
lunch listening to some classical stuff.
Lizbeth gave a sigh. She pictured her
and Benny on the bed in her inner eye.
Mar 31, 2018
Mar 31, 2018 at 6:10 AM UTC
Having got
the cows in
from the field,
shooing them
from the rear,
spreading my arms out
to prevent them
going the wrong way,
they followed
the leading cows
up the muddy path
towards the farm
and the milking sheds,
I thought of you
with your dark hair
and brown eyes,
and wonder
what you were doing,
while I was
those **** cows
shooing.
Mar 20, 2018
Mar 20, 2018 at 4:49 AM UTC
Farm smell,
cattle sounds
over the field.
You and I
lay on the grass
in the churchyard.
You were talkative
and I listened to your voice
as if angels
sang around me.
Your mother you said
asked about me.
I was invited to tea
the following Sunday.
I told you
about the wren's nest
I found, but never
touched the eggs.
You turned to face me
and we kissed.
Lips on lips touch;
we parted and gazed.
Your dark eyes
peered into mine.
Your fingers
touched my lips.
Mustn't tell
about kissing,
you said.
I said I wouldn't tell.
We lay back
on the grass
holding hands.
We were silent
listening to the cattle
and birds in the hedge.
Felt your fingers
in between mine.
Soft touching.
I wanted
to kiss you again,
but didn't say,
just us
and the sun on us
as we lay.
Mar 11, 2018
Mar 11, 2018 at 11:58 AM UTC
She had kissed me
or rather we had kissed.
We lay in the churchyard
and spoke, then kissed.
Now I lie on my bed
in the summer evening
and think of her.
I wipe my tongue
over my lips
to find traces of her,
gather elements of spittle,
of particles of her there.
The evening sky is darkening;
it had been a wonderful day,
especially those hours with her.
She lay beside me
a few hours ago;
we had been monarchs
of whatever we saw
in our small world,
looking out amidst
the gravestones
and the dead.
I imagine you
beside me now
in my room
on my bed.
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 12:16 PM UTC
You were there by the farm road,
waiting, wearing that flowered
dress I liked, your dark hair tied
in a ponytail at the back. I had
finished on the farm weighing
the milk and was pleased you
had come. Your mother said you
were at the farm, you said. Did
you want to go home first? No,
we can go wherever you wish,
I said. You smiled and we walked
up the track to the Downs. We held
hands, you having taken mine first.
We passed the hollow tree where
we had sat at times to be alone.
That's a wood pigeon, you said
listening. Yes, I guess it it, I said.
We came to the clearing at the top
of the Downs and lay in the tall grass,
looking down at the green fields
and the farm below. Do you like
working on the farm? You asked.
Yes, I love it, I said. Not bad for a
London boy, Benny, you said. No,
I suppose not, I said. We lay back
and looked at the blue sky. We turned
and faced each other. Eyes on eyes.
Think I love you, you whispered.
Love you, too, I whispered back.
I touched your thigh with my hand.
We mustn't, you said softly. I removed
my hand. My parents trust me; I cannot
betray that trust, you said. I nodded
and we kissed. We lay there looking
at each other. I thinking of your dark
eyes and you thinking of your mother.
Oct 21, 2017
Oct 21, 2017 at 4:59 AM UTC
Jane's over at the church,
her mother said
after I knocked
at the vicarage door.
Shall I go over?
I asked.
Yes, she's helping with the flowers
there's a funeral today,
her mother said.
I said thank you
and she closed the door.
I walked the windy path
to the church
and entered.
It was quiet
except for a couple
of women up the altar end.
Jane was in a side chapel
placing flowers in large vase.
I sat in a pew and waited;
it smelt old of aged
wood and stone.
Jane saw me
once she had finished
and sat beside me.
We talked in whispers;
then we left the church
and went back
to the vicarage,
where we ate cake
and drank tea.
Her mother sat with us
and questioned me.
Oct 3, 2017
Oct 3, 2017 at 4:13 AM UTC
Don't tread on me begonas boy,
the rural science teacher said,
on my first day at my new school.
I stepped off the green
and flowered things he spoke of
and stepped on the path.
Greyfield you take the new lad
into greenhouse and show him
what to do, the teacher said
in his rough manner.
I walked with Greyfield
to the greenhouse,
and he showed me around,
picking up plants
and giving them names,
which meant nothing to me.
I felt like a cabin boy
in Nelson's times
with his first real
glance of the sea.
Sep 28, 2017
Sep 28, 2017 at 3:25 AM UTC
Lizbeth lay on her bed,
kicked off her shoes
in case her moaning mother
came up and moaned
about the shoes
on the eiderdown.
Afternoon light
through the window.
Benny. His name.
Had him here that once.
Wanted him to,
but he wouldn't.
What's it like?
The other girl said
find out yourself.
But he wouldn't.
Or couldn't.
She looked at her white socks,
wiggled her toes.
Wanted him in me.
Had time that time.
She smiled.
Mother came back early
from the shops that day.
What if? We hadn't though.
Just as well. Just in case.
School had been a bore.
All that maths nonsense
and the PE teacher on at her
because she had forgotten
to bring her PE clothes.
Not forgotten
left behind on purpose.
She looked around her room.
The floor had been tidied.
Her records stacked away tidily,
her soiled clothes
put in the wash basket,
the plate and cup and saucer
taken downstairs.
He was here in this room.
Here near the bed.
Almost had him undressed,
but he changed his mind
at the last minute.
What if. If what?
But it hadn't happened.
Maybe next time.
She gazed out the window.
Blue sky, white clouds
like death shrouds.
Sep 11, 2017
Sep 11, 2017 at 8:00 AM UTC
I had finished weighing the milk
at the farm then walked home
with one of the cowmen.
What do you want to be
when you leave school?
he said.
I want to be a cowman
I said.
No you want to get
yourself a proper job
he said
this don't pay much
and you'll be stuck here
tied to a cottage
any ways
he added
you're a Londoner
you will find something
better in town.
He left me then
to go into his cottage.
I walked on
to my parents' cottage.
My mother was in the kitchen
preparing vegetables for dinner.
Jane came for you
she said.
Where is she now?
I said.
She said she'd meet you
by the water tower
Mum said.
I walked back
along the lane.
Jane was standing
by the water tower
she waved when she saw me
I waved back.
Your mum said
you were up the farm
and wouldn't be long
so I thought I'd
wait here for you
Jane said.
We walked along
and up the narrow path
up towards the Downs.
How are you getting on
at the farm?
she said.
Ok I helped get the cows in
from the field then weighed the milk.
Do you like the work?
Yes I do
I replied
can't believe a London boy
could get into it so quickly.
We stopped by the large hollow tree
and went inside
and sat on a ledge.
Back to school tomorrow
she said.
Yes don't remind me
I said.
I already have
she said.
We gazed at each other
then kissed then moved apart.
There was an odd pump pump
inside my heart.
Sep 11, 2017
Sep 11, 2017 at 3:18 AM UTC
Summer afternoon,
butterflies fluttering past,
lying in the tall grass,
Benny and Jane,
side by side.
That's a Gatekeeper,
Jane said,
pointing at a butterfly
passing overhead.
You know
so many names,
Benny said.
I've studied
my father's book
of butterflies for years,
she replied.
Do you tell
your mother we kiss?
she asked.
No she never asked
and I never say,
he said.
But would you
if she asked?
Jane said.
Guess so,
but I can't see
her asking,
he said,
would you?
She gazed at him.
I would have to
if she asked,
Jane said,
I can't lie
to my parents.
Have they asked?
He said.
No not yet,
but I think they wonder
as I am out with you
quite a lot
and we are 13
so she might
Jane said.
Would she mind?
Benny asked.
She might wonder
where it might lead to,
Jane said softly.
He looked
at the blue sky
and the slow moving
white clouds.
Lead to?
he said.
Things might happen,
she said,
looking away from him.
O I see,
he said,
but didn't quite see,
it was all a bit
of a mystery.
Aug 13, 2017
Aug 13, 2017 at 2:15 AM UTC
That's a Desert Wheatear
Jane said
watching the bird
fly overhead.
We lay on our backs
in the field
watching the blue sky.
Not seen one
for ages
she added.
I breathed in
her apple
and fresh air scent.
How do you
remember all these birds?
I said
turning to gaze at her.
I studied Daddy's books
on birds since
I could first read
she said.
We gazed at each other
her eyes were dark
and sparkled
in the sunshine.
I only knew sparrows
and pigeons in London
I said.
Poor you Benny
not being able to see
what I see every day
and more
she said.
I sensed
my heart pounding
I felt at that
moment so alive
I could burst.
She looked back
at the sky.
I glanced
at her features
her dark hair
the fine jawline
the pinkish lips.
I wished to kiss
as I had
a few days before
but I turned
and gazed at the sky.
Clouds drifted by
white and evolving
into shapes
one by one.
Her hand lay by mine
she touched my hand
with a finger gently.
I touched her finger
surrounded it
with my hand
and held it loosely.
There it goes again
she said
pointing with a finger
of her other hand.
I watched it fly over
the tall grass and away.
I held her finger
and sensed
the warmness
filling me.
I wanted to lay
there with her
forever or
for all eternity.
Jul 24, 2017
Jul 24, 2017 at 2:49 PM UTC
Benedict
had left school
well at least
that one school.
Lizbeth thought
she'd not seen
him about.
She asked West
a boy who
was in the
school class
Benedict
had been in.
He just left
West told her
his father
got a new
job elsewhere.
She was shocked
he'd not said
not a word.
She was stumped
dream shattered
she wouldn't
have *** with
him after all.
No matter
how she tried
he wouldn't
not in church
(on a pew)
or her room
or his room
or that barn.
Dream shattered
she had tried
all her best
now he'd gone.
Early days
her mind said
other fish
in the sea
another
string to her
violin
(what a thing
to call it)
she murmured
sensing tears
in her eyes.
And that night
in her bed
she couldn't
get the fact
of him not
being there
out of her
dreams and head.
Jul 9, 2017
Jul 9, 2017 at 1:45 AM UTC