SUMMER'S END.

The skies have been overcast,lately.
Draining the flowers of colour,
Bringing Autumn varieties adjacent
To August stock.There is a tiredness
In the stormy winds, a dusting of dry leaf.
We bring water in cans to restore
The last of this Summer's glory.
And hope for just a few more days
When one can bask in the blueness
In ignorance of Winter's call;
With the months of indoors
When perfumed air is gone.
The dampness in spider's dew
Replacing our Summer song .

Mary

Under the orange blossom,
Sat my mother and I,
My hands flat and smooth ,
Her's cracked and dry,
A simple band of gold,
Shone in the sun,
Oh I loved these moments ,
Oh I loved my mum.

Mary

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

Hollyhocks grow
Where nothing else shows
In the cracks
Of paving slats
Under edges
Of garden hedges
Behind the bins
Where debis wins
Hollyhocks grow
Where nothing else shows.

Love to you all Mary , Mother, Grandma xxxx

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 ***

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

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

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

I wanted to give you
The beauty of my heart,
In a pretty face
Or the smile of a child,
Something, mysterious,
Unknown,
Carried within me,
Like the feathers of a dove,
Cradled forever,
But never quite shown,

So I gave you my beauty,
In the things that I owned.

Mary xxxx

You said, "thank you",
I said, " it's ok".

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.

If it had been a bright day
Someone would have noticed
That the notes were missing
Taken it in turns
To look under beds
But instead all went home
In a holiday mood
Jolly good.

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 **

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 ***

People always die on me, my friend said,
So it will be okay if I visit as I do not mind,
I thought how strange to be so complacent,
But rather comforted by such an outlook.

Yeats said death and *** maketh the poet,
And if by going to such depths, I laugh!
We die, then so be it;
For all of our life is packed for departure.

Love to all my very dear friends and loving family.

Mary xxxx

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

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 ***

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 **

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

On a chair with our cat
Fluffy tabby big and fat
Sat my mother book in hand
Reading something to expand
All the knowledge she did have
Collected there in that chair.

Remembering my Mum from Mary ***    Loved to talk to you all my life through .

When things are hyperthetical
It is the realisation that all
Can only be gained through
The rawness of the clasping
Of experience in the poetry
That is gleamed in our words.

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

He thought he had permission
Gazing into womanly eyes.
She encouraged him
"Give her a kiss! It is Christmas"
I succumbed,  blankly,
My newly formed *******
Settling under plain top.

"He has taken a shine to you"
She smiled.
Was I flattered?
What sort of marriage
Did they have anyway?
I began to realise when
A hand under my top
Became a regularity,
Susan played with her
Toys.


Love Mary

Found you at last! Under that ****** clock,
The hour passed,
What were you saying to me today
About our first date?
Never knew that stations
Had so many venues.
Anyway, my lad, I got there in the end
Found you looking grim,
Words did not begin
But I shy apologised
For being late, was my mistake;
Took your hand from your pocket
And we went out of the station
To a new destination
That lasted a life time.


For my Roger in his pink shirt,
And winklepickle shoes love from your Pinky Woo
Love You ***

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 ***

The elderly women she stooped
Waiting at the letter box for a letter
Which always failed to come.
It was an imaginary letter
This one letter she wanted.
A love letter from someone she knew.
A person she loved in her life,
Who lived near her, inside.
But in her mind she knew it would
Not say enough.
Not feel who she was, her kind.
Not rejected but unknown.
A life unknown but for glimpses.
When a friendly face at the bus stop
Noticed in her smile a direction.
She understood this to be the truth
For most of us.
And comforted by such thoughts
Returned to the daylight.

Love 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.

Evelyn came today
Just a short stay
On her way to Stroud
Spent a couple of hours
Such a joy to see her face
Lighten up the whole place
Fascinated with her toys
Cheeky grin for all to win.

Gentle, careful little girl
As she explores the world
Looks at every detailed trace
Of the items neatly placed.
Filled with sunshine in her smile
The beauty of a Summer's flower.

As I whisper in your ear
You melt like sugar drops
Turn your face and snuggle in
I love you sweet Evelyn.

Love Grandma Mary ***

She's very pretty
And you've been looking
I know you have
You like her
Don't you
She's your favourite
You like to see her each day
To stand near her
You have to
I know
Almost everyday
I like making up stories for you
As we make love
Because I love you.

For my Roger love Mary

To those who lied to me, continually, and to save face
I do not give them forgiveness handed out on a plate
May they in times of trouble
Remember how they called
And bleed their hearts out slowly
And be sorry for their score.

I cannot change the powerful
Those who hold the cards
I am only weak and vulnerable
No longer have my hour
So after all the struggle
It was all a waste of time
No one ever surrendered
Not an inch of their
Grisly barb.

Love Mary ***

The impossibility of doing or saying
Anything.


Love Mary **

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 **

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 **

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 ***

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 ***

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

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 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

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

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 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 **

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 ***

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 ***

Where is that girl,
The one that comes,
To visit her grandma,
Even if it's not fun,
She sits by my side,
And makes me laugh,
I feed her sweeties,
Out of my jar,
Daisy I thank you,
Your voice ever wise,
Your face full of beauty,
You'll always be kind,
To those less fortunate,
For now and all time.

Love You ,Thank You .
From Grandma ***

Always to the left she was
Behind in age to her sister
Grace, Emily Westbrook
Second set in class, the Bs.

Being younger meant she
Did her exams a year later
Went to Brownies a year later
But Betty Rose married first.

Love Mary ***

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

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.

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