I caught you round the waist
The buckle of your coat in my hand
Blonde curls tasting of the wind
And a love so deep within.

Love Mum ***

Oh my roses you bloom so gently
Turning your palest petals down
And the raindrops roll off you
But no words not a sound.

How I love you as your moving
My sweet roses taking turns
Holding out for each other
As the day twists you round.

Then to take you to my lips close
And your fragrance breath it in
Filling my soul with your perfume
From your stamens on my skin.

Now to evening and the light fades
Delicate roses you come down
Scattering all your tenderest beauty
Silent petals lay on the ground.



Love Mary ***

We took the road with crooked end
And followed out across the dawn
As rabbits set the branches back
Their feet soft oblongs down the track
And child of gypsy whispering words.

Love Mary x

No we won’t go
Not to the island
For there fair flowers
Left early
And what was
Never is again
Or ever shall be.

Love Mary x

I loved you from the start
On day one
Just felt comfortable
And we could talk
You told me about
The world of everything
Mother liked you
You shared knowledge
Of scientific things
She always liked you
My father less impressed
As sport not on your
Agenda, especially football.

You read to me books
With a voice filled with
Intonation
Curled together in a chair
You had a beard
And long hair
Dark soft eyes
Against my pale blue
I never stopped loving you
Never
It is now forty- eight years.

Love to my dear Roger from Mary x

The bungalow stood empty after he died
Garden shoes hugged the porch step
The glass panelled front door showing
Pale translucent echoes of familiarity
Through its six oblong windows.

I was never allowed to visit
After the day of the funeral
Never able to bounce on the
Cream candlewick double bed
Which had been home.

Or to collect cuttings from the
Dilapidated garden, just a rose
Or two would do to recall a day
Of Summer and deckchairs
Tea and cakes eaten with care.

I was never allowed to embrace
Years of happy holidays shared
Breath in the beauty of memory
Deep down where flowers grow
Never allowed another Spring.

Love Mary xxxxx

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 **

You know that he is looking
As the train leaves the town
The carriages are closed now
No one moves around
And your face goes down as you feel his gaze
So you drop a sideward glance
In the window pane
The scarf across your neck
Is a deep shade of brown
And it matches your hair
With its red topped crown
But you do not move
Not an eyelash blurs
Just sit in the silence as he stares.

Love Mary x

For you are more perfect than a sunrise
More blessed than all saintly wisdom
In your openness the world stretches
Out, and finds love’s longings received.

For Arlo love Grandma x

The first crimson rosebud appeared
In a garden made out of lovedreams
Given and built from deep intuition
Watched each day for the new growth.

Love Mary

Evelyn has got new shoes
Does not know what to do
Do not feel like her socks
So Evelyn took them off.


Mary x



Happy 1st  Birthday Darling
Granddaughter, big hug and kiss
Love Grandma x

We met in the Natural History Museum
I was sure it was her.
Beautiful blonde hair
Cut Cilla Black style.
Her sister, too,
Who had lived in the flat
Above a sweet shop.
Now with two children,
The girl the image of Carol.
I did not speak
For fear of awakening the past.
Just left and took up my good life.

Love Mary ***

When in my thirties whist reading philosophy books
Had this big discussion I called non- space,
In a pub in London with Ian  Pinda and a few
Family  members I'm  not sure who.

Talked about existence and how to escape
Into this place we called non-space
Alex jumped their first with his yellow book
Many years later he finally understood.

Lizzie did it her way with a humour at hand
Made the people laugh, sometimes quite outland
Katie stayed at home against all the norms
Found her own non- space in the palm of her hand.

Vicky went out gliding she  took the slippery slopes
She ended up in Watford with Thyme and a rope
To all those who try reach out for the sky
Find places hidden from other bidder's eyes.

I say well done to you the effort was worthwhile
Don't dig ditches in other peoples styles.


Love to my creative family from Mother Mary ,Grandma ***

Lemon drops and Jam face
Were two rather unusual little girls
They spent their days in a tree house
In their rather small garden
With a single white rose
And an upturned flower ***
With a plant called the ‘Bride’
An unwanted Christmas present
Yet to be planted by their father.

The two old cats had recently died
Which created a few weeks of sadness
And a house without paws or biscuit
Trays and an empty end of the couch.
Christmas now over the girls took
Some toys to the tree house
Including their iPads and drawing paper,
Pens etc...

Lemon drops had long fair bunches
And was very thin with big blue eyes
She did not like new foods and spat
Them out sometimes she was always
Drawing funny people and loved fluffy
Animals. She had a papier mâché
Enormous ladybird on her bedroom wall
She wanted to be an artist when older
Like her two grandparents.
Grandma Mary had bought her a Sasha
Doll which she had dressed once
In silver pixie boots and a red school
Dress, blue hat and cardigan.
They both loved each other.
Daddy was her best toy.

Jam cheeks bounced about with
Long golden ringlets and a big happy
Smile. She wore baby suits and a striped
Floppy hat in yellow and black.
Mummy was getting
Her some shoes to wear to avoid
Wet feet in the garden.
She loved eating her food
And made people laugh
Including mummy who she
Kissed and cuddled a lot.

To be continued...

Love Mary Grandma xxxx

I took the left path where hydrangeas grew and sleepy primroses under woods, edged shady trees.
The empty stream ran quietly dry
With grass cuttings piling high.
If one peeped, one would find tiny creatures
To cast a sparkle here and there, a delight.
So on tip-toe, with sandels bent
Up high I reached to take
The plastic fairy as she twirled a pirouette
In a theatre made by chance.
Reflected in a silver mirror intwinned with ivy branch
A mottled foal tends his dreams and Chrismas robin chirps.

My brother took the right hand path where the trees grew fruit
Ripe berries from the gooseberry bush bulged their prickles.
Dangling from hawthorn now a cowboy with a hat
Looking for his fellow Indian with the yellow back sack.
Sheep gather in a hollow, dark, protected from the sun
And Mr toad, now lost of paint, has turned a bit glum.

And so we leave our woodland friends and travel up the *****
Winding round the rose bed and goldfish where they float.
Then up we climb, the middle route, to jump the pruned clipped
Hedge.
The lawn divided in two halves, a contemporary taste.

Now we're nearly at that place where if one was to turn
Could see down across the land
To the sea and sand.
Of all the beauties that I've known
Nothing beats this Island home.

Love Mary x




My grandfather’s retirement bungalow was in Totland Isle of Wight.
It was named Innisfail meaning ‘Isle of Ireland’.
Behind, the garden led down to magical and delightful to children who came as visitors. My grandfather would prepare this woodland with some suitable surprises.
The garden and woodland deserved its own name and in retrospect
Is now named ‘Innislandia’ to suggest a separate, mysterious land.
Beyond the real world.
In the poem A Country Lane on page 8 the latched gate is the back gate to my grandparent’s garden and bungalow in Totland as above.

What is the reason for the letter I thought
Reasons are never what they seem to be
Behind each reason are many and varied
Incidents that cause a reason to develop.

Returning to the letter arriving today
For whom was the information written
An escape, a break in the transmission
A protection of denial and valsification.

So does truth exist in reason, can it be trusted?
Is it there for ownership of personage?
I sink down in sorrow at the realisation of this
The fact the letter was meant for reason not truth.

Love Mary **

Tell me a story Daddy one about
When you were in the war.
That time your boat got bombed
And you nearly went down with it all.
Of how you lay on the ship deck
Motionless, frightened and still
Fearing your body was covered
In blood, but only a sea water spill.
Of how pleased you were to be safe
Just splashed by the salty spray
From that enemy torpedo that suddenly
came spinning your way.
And then how you were rescued
After hours floating in the sea
You all waved to a passing troopship who stopped and carried you free.

Daddy tell me about your days in the army
When you climbed the pyramids high
You mates that drowned in the water
Those for whom you had said goodbye.
The Little girl, in Egypt,
sitting on your knee,
Her clothes ragged and tatty,
Her hair a mass of black beads.
Sunshine in the tropics, a bunch of photographs,
They help me tell your story
For that I am very glad.

Daddy tell me a story one about when you were in the war.
We haven't had any wars lately
Not in this country I can recall.

Love Mary ***

In remembrance of my dear Daddy whom I loved so much.
All sitting round the red Formica kitchen table eating Sunday lunch and hearing about your army days. ***

How far do you have to go to get to the end of the world ?
A questioned I asked, with such naivety, when I was a child .
Of course I was thinking about distance, not space and time.
Neither of the travelling one has to do in ones mind to survive.

My mother told me the world was round and not flat
And I imagined walking its circumference in endless circles,
But how to cross all the blue dividing the land into shapes.
And if I got a ***** could I dig through to Australia and
How long would it take me and could it really be done?
Questions of physicality and gravity, the planets and moon.

Growing into ones twenties, questions become more metaphysical
About the meaning and purpose of our lives, the way we conduct
Ourselves, relationships with others and most of all falling in love
And that takes most of our middle years’ of thinking, so  when we fall upon late middle age with declining health, questions change.


In search of kindness we look to others, our neighbours, the community, the health service, a local church, reference books,
The internet to find answers to many unanswered questions.
And there on paper are numerous suggestion, diets , ideas but
Nowhere is there any real help, love or care.

Our questions become primeval, and when there are no answers
To desperation we ask WHY!  Realising how naivety led us along
An unprepared path and how happily we basked in that joy not
Knowing the real truth of how all our questions would be left
Empty. And now I need to know how best to die and no one knows.

Love Mary x

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

Bear came to do my garden today
It had got into rather a mess,
Sticky Jenny and dandelions,
Rotten roots and garlic shoots
Got poor Bear betwixed;
Hot and sweating, really fretting
Bear began to cry,
Why was it that I thought gardening
From painting let me hide.
But off he went along the fence
Pulling out the weeds
Found some bulbs that did not smell
Dug  them up, as fast, as well
Now they're  back in a different spot
Three short stems in an empty plot;
Made me laugh just to see
How silly that Woolly Bear can be.


Love Mary
Thank you to Ian my Gardener

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 ***

There is not a drop of hope
All pages completely tight
Feeling it must stop soon
They all went to the party.

The moth eaten cat beams
At their return to number
Wall tapestry girl waiting
For an overdue love letter.


Dying is a miraculous gift
For the suffering confused
The freedom of the garden
Wooden trowel and sweets.

Love Mary ***

The candelabras light up
Down avenues of parks
Palest of yellow and pink
Against Summer’s green.

I see the old climbing logs
But which place declining
The dead wood of childhood
Or today’s magic shining

And skipping along the path
I know not here or there
Only that lighted candelabras
Were fleshy in the air.

Love Mary **

Take me not to any dusty hall
Where flowers dressed in vases stand
Or windows paint the saints of old
And carpet in panels kept
For no time did I linger here
Though tried in vain a search
So take me to that wooden bench
Where all around roses bow
And while still sad the birds will sing
And bring merriment to such loss
And children walk the many paths
Where bamboo rises in a clump
And Camelias embrace azaleas
Lay your hearts in this place
And be comforted, now, by
Thoughts of Summer sun.


Love Mary x

Stand with me by the fence
Where all our life has been
The entrance to our hearts
And back again.

And if you have to weep
Not into the flowers
For they get enough rain
Love me, kiss me again.

Love Mary x

I saw you for the first time on turning,
Watching this magician ascend,
Flowing through the air on stilts,
My heart a beating cabaret.

Returning, I knew this my breaking,
And the sheets contain our bones,
For then you were still in the keeping,
But now in my arms I enfold.

Love Mary ***

If I am displeased it is
Not because I don’t
Love you.
It is not because
You are not kind
Or don’t try
To do what
You think is
best,
But it is
because
You were
Selflessly
Wrong.

Love 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 **

I use to feel love would never die
That people were kind and never lied
Things always got better if you tried
And goodness lay at the heart of the
World.
But
Now I know
Love only sustains so much
And lies a commonplace touch
Trying only works for an army
Whilst evil fills many souls
Now I know.

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 have to go to the pussycat heaven
There to find my friend
That brown mottled tabby thing
That sat on the sofa end.

He'd been about almost all our life
Since marriage a time ago
Saw the babies born to us
Loved them right away.

He was a very treasured cat
We knew he was not well
But suddenly he disappeared
Out our cat- flap door.

A last journey of exploration
Steroids helped him run
Let's really hope dear Nuska
Had one last day of fun.

From Evelyn ,Florence ,Alex and Tasha
To their deavely beloved cat of
Fourteen years .
Love Mary x

I remember that first excitement
Flowing through my heart
Pumping the life within
The baby soon to become
A son or daughter.

And I walk in gathered dress
Blue it was, with broderie anglaise
On a square yoke, falling
To above my knee
The doors slid open
Welcoming me in
The reception of life.

Recalling simply kindness,
A resplendent building,
Efficiency.
Open that year, 1970,
All ready for me.
And she was born there
Named after a ward
Katharine Maria
Seven pounds and eight ounces,
Dark hair and eyes,
And I felt loved.

Today, forty seven years on
And where love flourished
Weeds grow
Along the corridors
Of power, the *****
Toilets, empty beds,
No one wants to be
Here anymore.

We all left for home births
Our husbands and families.
Was the decline our fault?
Did our selfish desires
Perpetuate indifference?
I stood and cried
Watching the perfection
Of an idea wash away.

Love Mary x

Never found you in the daybreak
As it splintered, separating sparks
I stayed, waving at the end
With nothing to give but
The cold Winter heart.

For all the days I lived with you
In our house under tiled roof
And leaded light windows
Making oblong shapes move
I so very much loved you.

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 **

Oka .

Little black baby ,
Your hair tightly curled
Came with you parents,
To inhabit new world,
The streets of Streatham,
A London suburb,
Became your place
of residence,
For a time you dwelled.

Oka , you were beautiful,
In your nylon frock,
Ribbons in your hair,
Brightly coloured socks,
Your name means Cherry Blossom,
In English and Japanese,
But you came from Jamaica,
With the banana trees.

Your mother had to work,
So left you with a friend,
She looked after you
From eight till ten.
I would play with you,
Tickle your toes,
Give you a bottle,
Loved you lots I know.
Your parents returned,
To their land of sun,
We all missed you,
The sixties had begun.

Two years later,
Your parents returned,
They'd had another baby,
A pretty little girl.
But no Oka,
You'd died whilst away,
My friend was at work,
So the new baby could not stay,
Felt your loss for many a year,
Your parents disappeared,
We all missed you,
Our beautiful, Oka, girl.

In memory of Oka a sweet little black baby,
Born at the beginning of the sixties
And died before she was two.

Love Mary **

He was little rosy faced chubby child
On a green cushion in the garden
Near the new central heating chimney pipe
Waiting its silver form to be installed.

Your romper was an altered smoked dress
Its puff sleeves made you look like a girl
Banging a rubber toy you smiled in the sunshine
Your dad sat down near you, hopeful.

He disliked workman and home improvements
And the roses grew their heads haphazardly
Needed last years pruning to give shape
Tea I brought in mugs to this moment in time.

Love Mary

So I took the dress
Freshly ironed
The lingering warmth
Over head and neck
Letting the weight
Gravitate down
Settle around
Below my knees and
On my thighs
Where the pleats rise
The belt folds
Above my hips
Starting where the zip slips
Up one side to oblige
Pocket guides open wide
Then I turn to
And undo
All the buttons straight through
From breast to hem
Over and over
Again.

Love Mary x

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 ***

On being three.

The baby Elephants and the Kangaroo,
Said to Evelyn "what can we do,
How about a game of cards,
Or racing cars in the backyard?"
"No" she said "that's not for me,
I'd rather climb the old oak tree."
So off she went right to the top,
Looked down at all the lollipops,
Down she came foot by foot,
Stood on the ground and took a look,
Saw how very high she'd climbed,
Said "Now I can write this little rhyme."

Love Grandma
Happy Birthday

Aunty you were like poetry
Missing out the boring bits
Brimming over with flowers
Telling stories of distant hours
Your hands varnished in cerise
Up close, like wisteria, hung
The softest of black curls.

You made the simple day
Unbelievably lovely
Crystal earrings caught in the light
Cake eaten with a silver teaspoon
The world was magically composed
From your colourful robes
And I would sit at your feet.


Love Mary x for her Aunty Elizabeth

I tried but the deafeating sound of death captured me
Tore away the shreds of dignity laying peacefully
And I screamed to the damp grasses to let me free
But they withered away in cunningness for sanctuary.

So next day I got up and washed my hands and face
Found a pretty, party dress with contemporary lace
Bought a raspberry cake filled with artificial cream
And danced with dear Batty, Foggy and a spoon.

Life breaks hearts and fills this world with pain
It was in the beginning and still is just the same
But Pooh and Piglet, walk down a country lane
And Hundred Acre Wood is a lovely place to play.

Love to all Mary ***

The Place Of The Solitaires.

Let the place of the solitaires
Be a place of perpetual undulation.

Whether it be in mid-sea
On the dark, green water-wheel,
Or on the beaches,
There must be no cessation
Of motion, or of the noise of motion,
The renewal of noise
And manifold continuation;

And, most, of the motion of thought
And its restless iteration,

In the place of the solitaires,
Which is to be a place of perpetual undulation.

I felt such profound sadness when she told me
Nothing inside me moved
No sense of delightfulness
As there would have been
All that imagining and planning
Others rejoiced, congratulating
And looking forward.

Not noticing my pain
Feeling the emptiness inside
I was an outsider to pity
Holding dignity close
I told of my pleasure
Nurturing a broken heart
In a speechless world.

On the beach the children playing
In the August Summer sun
Splashing, swishing, dancing, laughing,
Jumping backwards handstands done.
Watch the sparkling and the glistening
Hear the water's gentle song
Stand together for a moment
Realise life can be such fun.


Love to Lizzie and her nine beautiful children,
Mum ,Grandma xxxx

On the bench sits Roger
My lovely old codger
Long, silky, grey hair
A beard that rambles
Everywhere,
Two soft, brown eyes
Gentle hands
A book to read
That is my man.

Love to Roger from Mary ***

Poetry falls in the spaces,
When time and love decree,
That no other language,
Lets the world be free;
On the edge of something,
Spilling outwards in the wind,
Searching and chasing,
To let the letters in;
Far from our country,
Or token barred gate,
Poetry unlocks,
And we can escape.

Love Mary

So let me tell you,
about my friend,
Very different,
From other men,
Lives in a cottage,
On the end,
Sails his boat,
On the Norfolk coast,
All alone,
Under the thatch,
Plays the piano,
Watches a match,
This man,
Whose name is John,
Met a lady,
When he was young,
Turned out to be,
My very special,
Aunty B.

Love Mary ***

Here you are, our baby
So wanted, not expected
A little son, quietly there
In your cot, just by me.

And daddy lifts you
Bright in the morning
To see your first day
Over the chimney pots.

You are our newness
Opening the world
With your tiny hands
And we welcome you.

To Arlo
Love from Mummy and Daddy

Trouble me not with all those woes
I fear I can do no more
I sat out the evening folk
Met with the crowd for sure
But nothing, nowhere
Listened
Or even twitched a bell
Did not pick up a pen
And never did yell.

So my story ended in ditches
The daisies covered my soul
And I was not missed
On the open road.

Love Mary **

Optimism and pessimissism
A binary opposition
Unsuited to this world
Must change our way of thinking.

Use needs to be more particular
More sensitive
More refined
Find a better word kind.

Love Mary ***