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

Love Mary ***

She turned it in her small hand
Making its inanimate form live
With her imagination.
These things that were loved
Rested in her heart as she dreamed,
Slept under the coverlet by her soul,
Were always part of her being.
Carried her forward to a time
When they might be replaced
By some living breath.
But in her memories they remained,
Her playthings always remained.

Love Mary for Evelyn xxxxx

More sad than any lost child
Or desperate soul
Walking the long road
To nowhere.

Find in your hearts
What is good and kind
And together feast
Unhindered by pain.


Love Mary 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

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 ***

I dropped from your memory
Like a book of desire
The pages scatter the beach
And the words wash away.

No longer the nightingale sings
Or roses brush the doorstep
Unwelcome enters the rooms
As I slowly wither and die .

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 ***

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

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

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

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

At the back
Sat the girl
With two brown plaits
Waiting for her
Turn to read
Something from
The Shakespeare spiel.
Worried about saying the words
Could she read them
Would she be heard
Hoped today
She'd be missed
Another chosen
Who could do this.

The years they passed
Became a mother
At last
Learnt all the medical words
And how to feed baby
Without a stir
Travelled on through
Mounting texts
Read Virginia
And her lover
The waves
And much other.
Found Iris Murdock
In a shop
Loved her books
Never could stop.

Went to college
Liked the life
Words never
Caused her any strife
Such was her need to see
The meaning
Within the sleeve.

So do not worry
When you are young
Words will come
When they belong
Captured by the reader's heart
Needed there
This world to start.

Love Mary ***

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 ***

The impossibility of doing or saying
Anything.


Love Mary **

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

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

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 ***

Now that mother was gone
The house seemed empty of
All those buzzings and calls
I sank down the stairs looking.

Dinner a small affair of greens
Given by a friendly neighbour
And fish from the local mongers
But there was only one placing.

Love Mary **

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

BY WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS
so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens

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.

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 **

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

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

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

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 ***

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

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

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 ***

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 **

The grass cut winter short
Fog frozen on the briar
Parables use to be told
In the fields far below.

Taking the long way round
As coldness turned to frost
Finding that our hearts do melt
As a whistling stirs the throat.

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

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 ***

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 ***

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

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

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.

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 **

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 ***

Now we find
The garden
Sweet with lavender,
The roses giving out
Their perfume,
Still air after the storm;
Scorched pavements
From sun's shining;
Hollyhock coloured stripes
Horizontal laddered stems;
Quietness in the afternoon hour
Before the coming home
Begins.

Love Mary ***

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

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 **

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

Becoming a man

The walk had been quieter than usual
Both hid our courage inside
We held hands as always
Yours small and soft
With a Panda in the other.

The gates appeared only too quickly
I handed you your satchel
You did not cry though I did
In the warm you looked up at me
And said 'Goodbye Mummy'.

I knew you were then a man
Taking the lead, going first,
That moment clings to me
Cherished for its bravery
My one and only son.

Love Mum xxxx

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

The reeds in the river bed,
Know it is Spring,
There is lightness in footsteps,
And the birds sing,
But far out in the meadow,
A little girl cries,
For something she lost,
And never could find.

Love Mary **

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 Gardener.

He came in grey,
A favourite colour with him,
Carrying a simple bag
With toothbrush and toothpaste,
Trousers and a kneeling pad.
The day was humid and sunny.
Got to work immediately.
Moving from left to right
Along the borders,
Cutting, digging, pulling,
As only Bear knew.
Filling the green bin
To overflowing with stalks
The unwanted excess
Of a mature garden.
She watched him
Busying himself,
Never stopping for rest.
It was his habit
This workmanship.
She loved him for it.

By Mary
Thank you to our Gardener .