"sandels" poems
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 slope
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.
Jun 23, 2018
Jun 23, 2018 at 7:57 AM UTC
He was lean, his aesthetic back stretches
Into neat trunks tied at the waist with cord
Sand sprinkled dipping in the circular pool
Where the shells and seaweed floated about
Like newly washed hair his shade of brown.
And this is how I remember him next to me
With our spades and colourful beach towels
Our clothes draped across rocks in the sun
And those plastic sandels with the salty buckles
Cutting into our fleet especially when new.
We were not very affectionate but occasionally
Romped the floors in our nightclothes at bed
Dragging the eiderdowns, downwards in disarray
And taking a length of string between bedrooms
So that we could keep connected by a joining tug.
This was childhood at its most fierce and beautiful
Before adolescence set its patterns on our forms
Marked us out for education and dress codes
Until then we were still securely latched in time
Asking each other, now and then, for piggy backs.
Love Mary for her brother ,Richard.
Apr 13, 2018
Apr 13, 2018 at 6:59 PM UTC
WIMBLEDON COMMON
Wimbledon common
Was always the place to go,
Catching the train from Streatham
The family all aglow,
Sandwiches in a paper bag
Thermos in a sack,
Plastic sandels and tennis racket
Not forgetting the cricket bat.
Everyone was skippy
The sun high in the sky,
Dad had his umbrella
But the rain was shy,
Jumping from the platform
Down a row of steps,
Brother took a tumble
And that was that.
Plasters in a pocket
All was mended soon,
Finally recovered
Felt over the moon,
Reached the grassy stretches
Whoops mind the dogs,
Come away from the lovers
They're out for a jog.
Find a shiny tree trunk
Horizontal on the ground,
Four happy people
Tuck in to raspberry jam,
Now for the thermos
Plastic cups ahead,
Here come the wasps
To eat our jam and bread.
Later penguin biscuits
And a trip behind the bin,
Dad puts out the wickets
Let's see who wins,
After a quiet session
Brother looses his cool,
Slings the bat skyward
You should see it go,
Mother looked upwards
Covering her head,
Just managed to miss it
Landing on the hedge.
I went off walking
To gather pretty flowers,
Dad hid under the paper
We had a quiet hour,
Clouds gathering slowly
The sun going down,
What a lovely day in the country
We're now homeward bound.
In memory and gratitude to my lovely mum and dad
Grace and Eric Ayton- Robinson who always did their best.
Love Mary **
Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 10:47 AM UTC
Often we approached the bay over high ground
Taking the track from Totland between the heather
Where the small blue butterflies dusted the grass
With a fluttering sparkle and the gorse spoke yellow.
The climb to the top was arduous with many stops
Sitting on prickles, the scent of sheep buzzing
Around our ears and nostrils and filling sandels.
A rest refreshed with that thermos coffee hot on lips.
Then in an instant we came out of shadow to meet
The white glare off the sea and a downward decent
Across grassland filled with thistles
To drop
Through style and gate and down onto the road.
Love Mary
Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 7:18 PM UTC
There sits an geisha along
The shore
When will love arrive; the ocean her tears have cried
Awaiting the sound of Orr like arms to paddle through
Melancholy puddle.
Her hair shimmers ebony
Awaiting a love that crosses the sea
Her Wooden sandels no longer echo above gravel and dirt
Awaiting their sound to be replaced. Repeated over and over
Laped by the lapel of rescuing arms.
There she sits alone by the shore
Seducing the tears she has made; praying a love fair and true
The koi of her dream refuses to swim
Alone she waits by an ocean she's made
Sep 11, 2016
Sep 11, 2016 at 4:21 AM UTC
I went with a numbness, and sense of doubt
Dropped at the doors of strangers
But pleased to have been asked.
We all gave our presents to the birthday child
Watching the discarded paper fall and the pile
Fill out the large cushioned arm chair.
Not coming from wealth my present simple style
But always liked, it appeared, much as any other;
Coats taken and placed upstairs.
A quick glance at the other children’s party attire
Mine often a cream jumper and tartan pleated skirt,
Brown leather Clark’s sandels, sensible.
The chocolate game was my favourite
Eating with knife and fork,
As many pieces as able, real fooling about.
Then there was musical chairs that
Put me in despair, as some one always out
And lots of standing about along the wall.
Not very good at general knowledge so forfeits
Left me in tears.
But Oh! for pass the parcel
Always fun had here.
Then to the tea table we went
With eyes bigger than tummies.
All that blamange and strawberry jelly
Sparkly fairy cakes with silver *****
Discarded plates of uneaten sandwiches
Crusts scattering the floor, dropped,
Lastly, milk chocolate fingers galore
And a tiny decorated craker to take home.
The End
Love Mary
Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 6:18 PM UTC
It lollops along
the soggy sand
in the sun,
all for a ball
its owner has thrown
towards the water,
rolling past tourists
in shorts, sandels,
sunglasses.
Its tongue *****
lackadaisically
out his mouth,
not a care in the world
on this August day
on the north-east coast.
Mar 11, 2012
Mar 11, 2012 at 8:43 AM UTC
Summer is my favorite season
I was born in the hazy heat
In the middle of a black and white city
that never goes to sleep
I hear a black crow at my window
her song, it frightens me
hard sandels, and coin medallions
a green dress, and Greek keys
The things we wanted they came too fast
and now we're stuck dwelling on the past
It would have been a boy, if he was real
and I would have named him Simon or James
I would have cried cause he was yours
He would have had a precious face
So take my hand
and say something simple
you said it plenty when I didn't ask
Go on. Say that you love me
I didn't expect much,
I'm okay with that.
You have Rubies, Turquiose, and Sapphires,
I just have the moon, and a few pearls
You can light yourself on fire if you want to
and I'll smile at the world
Nov 21, 2011
Nov 21, 2011 at 4:28 PM UTC
The tree widened in front of my eyes
Covered itself in green ivy leaves
Fingers grew out from the stump top
Up it went to the sky as in Fangorn
The fantasy wood in Tolkien.
I stood at the foot looking upwards
And thinking, if I climbed it in my
Clark’s sandels, what would I find?
So off I went, slowly, holding tightly
To the spiral stems of green...
Love Mary ***
Jan 5, 2019
Jan 5, 2019 at 10:05 AM UTC
I got a big red digital watch, from Paraguay
Sandels a short sleeve shirt, shorts, change, smoke a cigarette
I am standing looking out to sea
Wandering how it must have been
To be moored there for six days
In the sun and the sand and the rain and the sun and its flames
burning
May 25, 2017
May 25, 2017 at 1:54 PM UTC