The sorrow of true love is a great sorrow
And true love parting blackens a bright morrow:
Yet almost they equal joys, since their despair
Is but hope blinded by its tears, and clear
Above the storm the heavens wait to be seen.
But greater sorrow from less love has been
That can mistake lack of despair for hope
And knows not tempest and the perfect scope
Of summer, but a frozen drizzle perpetual
Of drops that from remorse and pity fall
And cannot ever shine in the sun or thaw,
Removed eternally from the sun's law.
Edward Thomas

The Lego Boards.

I remember the day when everything was perfect,
The children quietly playing before tea,
And no expectation other than the togetherness
Of warmth through a window pane.

The Lego boards stretched out in a line,
Travelling the length of two adjoining rooms,
Houses, bungalows,a mansion and windmill,
Dotted with flower heads to make gardens.

I sat at the sewing machine in the sunshine,
Making a flannel gym slip for Katharine,
Lucky came in and purred against me,
Meowing for the rattle of her biscuits.

This is a life to value, where privilege
And contentment reign from simplicity,
And happiness found in human contact,
Captured in time and with love.

Love Mary xxxx

Far and wide we travelled
Up against the odds
Kept together, quietly
Exchanged what we loved.

Love Mary x

Living with the Marigolds.

Kindness dwells in the hearts of few,
It encircles them like a gown,
But never is worn with mightIness,
Being humble bound.

It finds its way through thorn and briars and
knotted coastal paths,
And grows where disparity lies,
And knows of broken hearts.

It does not come from trouble free
Or selfish intent,
Living with the marigolds,
A simple garden scent.

For those who have travelled far,
Know the ways within,
Find giving more sustaining,
Than all that power can bring.

Love Mary xxxx

There she sits behind the telephones,
Welcoming staff with a smile
As they climb to the second floor
Or pass on along the corridors of power.
Smartly dressed in the latest cheap fashions,
Freckled face hidden behind mascara and
Powder.

Sorting and distributing the mail
She gets to know the residents,
Their desks and personalities:
The sick, unhappy, widowed,
Lonely, humorous and lecherous
Trustworthy, wholesome and shy.
The young lads looking for a date.

Pretty women with tales of love.
And those who remained single,
Some with bitterness and jealousy
Others contented.
It was a daily journey into adulthood,
The rituals and rules of the working
World.

Then there was Frank who delivered
The mail.
Salacious, rough and roguish,
And Kathy the tea lady
Who showed a breast or two
To the boys.
Somehow out of this cacophony
I found my Roger.

Love Mary **

Evelyn was here today ,
With the toys she did play,
Found the shell,
With the mother of pearl,
Thought that rather pretty,
As well.

Being two there's lots to do ,
The world is full of all the new,
Using words to explore,
Holds the Lego she adores.
Flies the fairies round the room,
Time to go; Oh! so soon.

Love Grandma Mary ***

We never got to Bermonsey
But we travelled quite a way
You took the hands of
A fragile girl, her heart in dismay.


Her fingers lay quite broken
The nails white as snow
Rubbed them both with tenderness
The best that you know.

Out of your pocket
You took a golden star
And placed it in her heart
So that she should smile.

You sent her a love song
To help her spirits fly
Always remember
Beautiful Jonny wild.

Last one

Shy at the door your face hides the words
And yet a cheeky smile grows into humour
Wicked with irony and oh so tight.
You make me laugh every time
Baring the truth for all to hear,
And littlest daughter you draw
As beautifully as Picasso,
Volumes full of roundness and strength.
Look at all those children you bred
All gorgeous as buttermilk.
Love you for who you became
Wise and worldly in a harsh world.

Love Mum xxxx

How do they come
Our own special words
Put together by thoughts
Flowing unsure
Are they a childhood
A nurtured mind
Where words
Are our playground
Or leave us behind.


Love Mary x

The white garden was a cascade of purity
In the Summer months.
Against a background of red brick high walls
Surrounding the right side of this ornamental
Repton designed geometrically ordered song.
Resting together with the freedom of wildness
So to experiences nature in all its loveliness
Dropping pennies in the old wishing well,
Circling the gothic fountain of Cupid’s love,
Until, at last, the slatted wooden gate opens
Surrounded by hanging large leafed ivy
Into the forest where I must go and you
Must stay.

Love Mary x

So you went to the barbers to get a hair cut,
Looked in the mirror to see what you got,
Watched those pigtails disappear
But still long enough to tuck behind ear.
Your first hair cut was not too much of a shock,
Quite liked the feeling of scissors in your locks,
The comb was gentle, the lady kind,
Won't worry about going another time .

Love Grandma ***

Linda lived on the other side of town
A war hero's daughter and mother
Of German extraction.He'd left.
With cropped blonde hair and plucked eyebrows I was out of her league.
She thought I looked like Susan Hampshire and slightly French.
Dressed me up like a doll with chiffon
Scarf,
So at fourteen I looked going on eighteen.
We went up the Kings Road
And did not come home for days.
Your children are never safe.

Love Mary

It was an ordinary day,
Neither sunny nor overcast,
He was an ordinary man,
Slightly stooped,
With loss of hair,
Dressed in grey,
With yellow neck scarf,
Carrying chrysanthemums,
From the local shop;
Somewhere between duty,
Memory and need,
This ritual was performed,
Quietly, without affectation,
Or expectation,
Placing the blooms,
On a simple plot,
In a churchyard,
Once a month,
This man,
Performing,
An  act,
Of,
Extraordinary,
Love.

Love Mary ***

Your struggle , the pots
Blue oxide is inflexible
The grim reaper returns
On a note of savage trust.

The struggle is each day
And lingers to get it right
Then your spirit lifts lighter
The edges spread, smudge.

To Ian my painter friend.
Love Mary

Now is the time,
To put away my shoes,
Fold softest blankets,
With the neatness of the day,
Gather up crumbled paper bags,
Resting gently in corners,
Making sure space is cleared,
For others' beginnings.
Along the front wall,
Smelling the roses ,I walk,
Enjoying the greenness,
Of Sycamore leaves,
And the circle of grass ,
Cut carefully, by myself,
When inspiration sang,
Of fairy rings .
Tidy the stone animals ,
At the bottom of the Cherry tree,
And blow a kiss to the wind.
These are my priorities,
A symbol of a life loved.

To all my family and friends
Love Mary ***

Writing is to find a surprise,
This journey is unknown,
What began as a memory,
Slips into another land,
It takes its own trajectory,
Finding pockets of gold,
Deep pools under the heart,
It cannot simply be traced,
Becomes a
non- reductive metaphor,
So to speak.
Its ending may fall short
Of its beginning,
What conversation left unsaid,
Revealing only emptiness.
Another stepping stone,
In the foothills.

Love Mary **

Eight pots under my front window,
Not selected but a random collection,
Presents in tubs ,seed floated flowering,
Remains of painstaking gardening,
And days of inspiration and sun;
And still in one a yellow wallflower,
Finding a home, colourful and bright,
Not waiting to dance but abundant self,
Bearing out the winter storms,
To give its beauty in return for chance,
Underneath my window sill.

Love Mary xxxx

My Father’s Mile
Where ever the walk went
You took me
Carried me home on your shoulders
Showed me a newness bright
We picked up the remains
Of each day
Placing them in a memory
And I loved you father
A love that was so safe
That included me .
Every mile of you.

Love Mary x


In memory of all father’s

Look at the cave paintings
Back in ancient times,
See how the shapes and colours,
Transform this world of ours.
Images tell a story
Not descriptions of life,
But metaphoric depiction
Abstract verse.

Picasso read their story
Knew of their words,
Found on his canvas
Flat and balanced to tell.
Seurat was a scientist
Applied this to his art,
Constructed like Picasso
A surface that did dance.

Love Mary ***

There is no justification
And those who do know it
Their mouths are blasphemy
Their hearts unclean.

Love Mary ***

Climbing the stairs
Pockets full of water
The son’s voice
Fell backwards
Inside of her.

Trying to explain the beauty
Of Barenboim playing Schubert
With Martha Argerich
She heard Evelyn humming
From the classical book of Trolls.

Somewhere in the South
There was talk of Derrida
And binary opposites
And social distancing
Whilst the music played on.


Love Mary **

I can’t, simply can not.
Stretch out the time anymore
The rod is broken
An avalanche has fallen
On this sleepy town.

And so shall it be
Until the world
Gets better
Then we shall see.
Go safely my friends
For you are loved.

Mary ***

Thé garden use to be a complete circle
Drawn out with string taken from centre
to the circumference by hand and edged
It was called a fairy ring around witch
grew many flowers.

Love Mary x

With your flower name
A face pretty enough to frame
A talent greater than us all
In your sketch books
Carefully formed.
Animals are your best
In many different coloured tests.

Returned to college to complete
That ability you have so neat
And a loving daughter be.
To all your family .


Wish you wisdom in your days
Happiness along the way
Surprises that give you joy
And success as you toil.


Love Grandma ***



Thank

I have to go, once to the corner shop
Where I bought sugar whistles
Sugar whistles, that blew a croak
But I never came back
For all that was me
Lay in the dew
And forgetting your voices
I stopped calling
But to remember those whistles
And be no more than that.

Love Mary x

What is it to arrive.

Running down the garden path
The flag stones in a row
Looked into the window glass
Hoping a face would show.

No movement of internal light
Or barking of the hound
Only the birds twittered there
But no chattering sound.

Saddened by the empty place
Stood to wait awhile
Then from the corner of the gate
Broke your happy smile.

Love Mary ***

Here comes Margaret, it is nearly four
Takes her all day, to get out of doors
Makes it to the park
A few hundred yards
And back again, slowly, within the hour.

As she returns, Roger sets off
Carrying a note book
And wearing a cagoule mac
A five mile walk, twice a day
And factual writing recording his stay.

Wind direction, southerly, position of the sun
Underfoot weather conditions
A man on the run
Ducks on the pond,birds in the trees
How wonderful it is and all free.


Mary has a black car and rarely walks
Since losing her husband she rarely talks
The pavements are a sadness
Carrying memories of happy times
Walking together on Sunday afternoons


Pat goes, gently, her knees are bad
Many operations has got her this far
Stoic disposition she loves the flowers
Looks at the gardens for many an hour.

Walkers of the roadway, kindly, unite
Giving to each other love and insight.


Love Mary x

The impossibility of doing or saying
Anything.


Love Mary **

On the longest road was our home
At the top where the road flops
Bending slightly to the east
From pebbledash to brick clad
This bend left our sight undone
Could not see when Mum did come
Round the corner in her coat
Carrying all the food she'd bought
Gentle corner I loved your curve
Gave us time to put away
Prepare ourselves for all to come
Especially the comfort of our Mum.

Love Mary **

BY WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS
so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens

He was all black and white
A fluffy rabbit in her hands
Bluebell was two and scary
Always doing a deed darey.

She tasted cheese and threw
It hard across the living room
Now able to talk learnt colour
Lots of animal noises like eek.

Bluebell was special with curls
A triumphant manner took her
She loved mermaids had costumes
Took them out toTesco’s shopping.

Love Grandma mary ***

I have a special gardener
He learnt his trade from me
Because I did his mother's garden
While  I stayed for tea.
Joyce was my special friend
And very nice,
We worked together, often,
At the hospital
On nights.
She talked of her son
At Art school when young.
Years passed away
And I met her son one day
He taught painting classes
And I learnt a lot from him.
Now I am very ill he visits me still
He has become my special gardener
With patience and skill.



Love to Ian and Joyce to dear friends
And thank you Ian for doing the garden.
Love Mary xxxx

The Box .

Evelyn went to a party in her turquoise dress,
Hair combed out with a bunch on top,
She took a present all neatly wrapped and a birthday card of a smiling cat.

The children were all running about
Playing games like ' lets shout'!!
Evelyn spied this cardboard box,
Sat in a corner where no one watched,
She climbed inside and closed the lid,
And saw the light peep through the slits,
Snug and cozy she sat and thought,
Wondered if she might be caught.
Wasn't till the end of day that Evelyn
Was discovered this way.
Out she jumped with a big "Hello"
When Mummy and Daddy came
To take her home.

Love Grandma Mary ***

South Bank, London.

What is walking for a woman?
The movement of a dress, caught
In the act of a gusty wind,
Wrapping her contours like a parcel.

And yet, heightened by this exposure,
She melts in her awareness,
Where body and mind congregate,
Pausing in a sensual delight.

Thank you the palest of green dresses I enjoyed wearing you.

Never knew, never heard
Or saw or felt so exposed
By those who trampled on
My bones, just so hurt, Bert.

Love Mary **

Dearest Dad ,I am sitting in my house thinking of you and how we would watch the cricket together on our small black and white television.I never really understood the rules but just liked being close.Then we would watch an old film or Western.You taught me about the famous film stars that you liked and the great singers.Mum would bring in tea and biscuits ,calling , '*****, nice cup of tea'.
I had wonderful parents, a great generation of people building a better country after the Second World War.

My father Eric, William ,Henry ,Ayton- Robinson and my mother Grace. Emily Ayton- Robinson ( née Westbrook)
You both always did your best for me and I thank you.

Love Mary xxxx

The last of the Summer roses
were cut today
collecting the remaining flower heads
to keep in a vase
until colour fades
and petals fall.

Love Mary

The door was ajar
I stood at the front
Screaming into the night air
Silence betrayed me.

My mother's voice disappesesred
into upstairs rooms
My brother hiding his face
Petrified I could not find her.

I continued to wait
Bearing out the coldness
In my cotton nightdress.
Until the unknown took me to bed.

In the morning there was breakfast
And a vinyl Popeye toy in the bin.
My father stayed in on Wednesdays
To prevent further trouble.

Love Mary **

Nothing will replace you,
The woman who gave me birth,
Your genes dance in me,
As genius or curse.

My love for you is endless,
Like a rippling stream,
It meanders in my heart,
Échos in my dreams.

I can still feel your touch,
The comb in my hair,
Holding my hand,
When nobody was there.

I recall your voice,
Clear as a bell,
Soft and gentle,
Wishing me well.

So , mother dear,
Know my love for you,
Always resides,
In a pocket or two.

In remembrance of my lovely Mother Grace Emily Ayton-Robinson

Between ‘Call the midwife’
And ‘Dark materials’
Lies my world
A world of reality.

Inhabited by great empathy
But mostly indifference,
Cruelty, liars and vacuous space.

It, this world, has been deteriorating
Continuously for thousands of years
Through greed, selfishness and destruction.

If tomorrow ever rescuers the day
Let it be bright with love and sorrow
And children play in the long grass.

Love Mary **

There she is the girl who always pushes prams.
Had so many
Were needed to transport her loves
Those soft bouncing things with wings
That look up at you in adornment
Or pull a soother from a mouth.

They go everywhere these warm little hearts
Wrapped up in fur jackets and shirts,
And how many miles have you travelled sweet maid,
Over the hills and far
But you always return before the stars
To the safety of the nursery.

For Lizzie love Mum xxxx

Every time you berate me
You show how little
You have learnt in this life
I feel sorry for you
That wisdom did not
Find you but love did.

Love Mary xxxx

In these silent times,
When the sun drapes its softnes,
Across bough and branch,
And birds make ready for night;
There is gathering in houses,
Conversations around tea,
An hour of revival,
As the roads quieten,
Before the coming together,
Of another day.

The words were deviously writ
With good hid well behind the line
And faithfully did fly the woods
To run the gauntlet and despise.

Love Mary **

Theresa was
One of those girls that turn
The classroom into a circus act.
Only have to open their mouths
And we all fell about.
Lessons were fun when she began
So much twisting round in seats.
Short words flowed
Teachers tiptoed
And she was a big girl
We were all scared
Of the night.

Love Mary

I never had a letter from you,
Always wanted one,
Asked myself who would you be,
Someone else's son,
If you used letters,
Spaced on a page,
Would I know you better,
Or different in some way,
You wrote to your mother,
And you sister, too,
Did they both see, another side of you.
I always wanted a letter,
To hold in my hand,
To arrive through the letter box,
All bright and grand;
But now it seems too late,
We have said all our words,
But still I'd like a letter,
My sweetheart, my man.

Love to my Roger who I have known for 49 years.Love you forever darling boy.Mary **

Wandering back from school
In the Summer heat
Skirt rolled up
Above the knee
The pleats
No longer neat.

Up the hill
Blouse undone
Cuffs unbuttoned
In the sun
And round your waist
A striped tie
A blazer put
To one side
Floppy bag
Packet of sweets
Walking slowly
Along the street.

Boys shout from their cars
Explietives or vows
You look at your shoes
Anywhere else will do.
And yet this courtship call
Is the beginning of it all
Half flattered,half ashamed
You've entered into
A new game.

Ruby.

You are my Meadow Madonna,
Painted in front of a hill,
And Masaccio's Beauty,
Sitting upon a throne.
Bellini settled you in a landscape,
Drapery behind in gold;
Sassetta named you
'Mother of Humility',
As the baby held your gown.
But you, my beautiful, Ruby,
Carry your mother's child,
Your 8th sibling, a sister,
Proudly in your arms.

Love to Ruby and Bluebell
November 2017
Love Grandma ***

Mother of mine.

I hold onto the door frame,
The scullery a small addition
Where you cook , mangle the clothes,
And wipe steam from the windows.
I am always seeking you out,
Talking endlessly about your life,
The loss of your mother,
As a child of seven, and boarding school.
The kitchen is adjacent,
It is our space for eating
The red Formica table set out
With mats and cutlery.
In the corner a boiler for the water,
Difficult to light.
So many times, on bended knees, with a sheet of newspaper and matches
You tried.
Coal dust on your hands.
How patience you were,
My mother.
I remember your hands
Rough from soap powder and the cold.
The simple wedding band.
In the kitchen cupboard drawer
You took out a small zipped bag,
Cherry red lipstick, rouge and powder,
A quick splash to welcome
The man you loved.
Mother you were splendid .

Love Mary xxxx

Poetry is my friend ,
It lends to me a library,
One unknown and unread,
Untutored there to be said,
A simple line or many verse
Discovering sentiments
I can converse.

Love Mary ***