jo *** was killed in june.



today is not a general thing,

it is a silent day, while apples fall

naturally.



we could not reach them,

how

they drop. drop

to the ground.

drop to the slurry.

drop.

today is apple day.

generally speaking.







sbm

#aberfan

#brexit

hear the trees come down,
see logs and timber.

hear about the taming,
hawfinches ringed.

caught in nets,
no stress intentended.

hear about the taming of all
things. pray it is not you.

stay with intention.

sbm.

warm day, dry . we need to post
the letters. wander down among
the houses. well kept, small front
gardens.

this is new look, how long has
it been there. i know about this,

look, i am right.

it is a good scooter. i will
watch you and
gather grass seeds, as i did
when i was small.

i am still not very big.

sbm.

i like that you speak to me in inches

shows respect



#mygeneration



the radio asked for those with experience in the 80s

mine was in the 60s



i will not participate



with those that deal in disrespect



co op dolgellau



moves the homeless away

makes their own choice



speak out

#mygeneration



not all of us vote the way #theysay

as can we, yet i guess
a duck can’t smile, ian.

can snails smile, i know
i smile a lot, learned it
at dance class, whatever
happens, keep it up.

continues now, at work,
they say it cheers you up,
makes your cheeks hurt,
sometimes.

i pinned the label on.

sbm.

is therapeutic, some say. depends on the
size and bumps.

there was a gentle breeze going, then
the sun came through.

saw it shine, move into the hedge,
we stopped mowing to watch.

found the wheelbarrow bound
with weeds, cleaned and rescued.

the robin came. we thought of
how quickly you died.

there is rain today.

sbm.

we care to care.

that is all.

write it all backwards

pirate gun, a toy from woolworths probably.



they said to put my eye to the sight and pull

the trigger.



no caps, yet the hammer caught my lip. swelling.



badly. water to my eyes.



nearly forgotten yet i find that something still

triggers

what is assumed          a long forgotten memory,

bruising

“A bruise, or “confusion,” appears on the skin due to trauma”



aggravated note.
aggravated
ˈaɡrəveɪtɪd/
adjective

Law
adjective: aggravated

    (of an offence) made more serious by attendant circumstances.
    sbm.

dreamed of devastation,           flew miles        low

over concrete .   skeletons,      bones of the thing.



all is dust, as dust we have become.                 slow.



grey.    nothing moves here no more.          no sighs.



they have forgotten us.        we have forgotten them.



are we  now the bones of what we were?



bad night dreaming.



sbm.

laundry day is tuesday, it is collected.

brought back clean on friday, a card
label, cloth number, stuckt.

he uses the stable to deliver, not
disturbing anyone.

when all is unpacked, white and ironed,
we change again. it is another week.

the pattern continues. cloth numbers.

sbm.

is this the final drop, slowly. not the white

wind blown kind that raises spirits.     this

is due to a colder day, early morning      five

below.



maybe this or a lack of adrenaline       caused

it, the coming together of years           which

slowly pass.



shadows of birds. dust motes in air.



marmalade toast.



is this the final drop?



sbm.

who knows which hour it starts,
which minute, rhyme or reason.
breaking of rules,        our hearts
open.                         split a season.

on spring,                 slight chance,
light            or prayers can change.
sons      move in a prouder stance,
yet others rage.

black bird sings   early
the same bird calls late.
sense that nearby
one year came straight.
spring slides. the
moon draws tides.



sbm.

have you ever prayed, bowed,
head to ground. have you
written yet another note
regarding disorder.

here are the paintings, in awe
they wonder, and know not
the artists’ names. there are alms
and offerings.

remember the boy spread out,
cruciform.

you looked without apprehension.

i cried subtle tears.

this is the cathedral.

sbm.

tempo tempo,                 on & on,

repeating. like

jesu’s blood never failed me yet

or nyman, backwards.



tempo tempo all the time deleting

any form of rhyme, loose phrasing.



tempo, tempo, as if none of it matters,

which it doesn’t.



temp tempo, danzon no 2 arturo marquez.



gustav dudamel.




drive the car forward, move the mind inward.



hope it will not stop.



it will.



shoulders drop.



sbm.



#foundverse



danzón no. 2

at the black,
no reflection.

look hard,
small lives,
see the window

crack.
i am not alice.

“mist rose before me,unexpected.those words said  dumbfounded me a moment,as i raised my eyes saw the most beautiful controlled face,and i fell.”

i am small in this place







slate looms large

thrown unbalanced

waiting for water

to start the slide



small boys know to run

at the noise, shelter

from the war.



I know no such thing,

my soul slides into mud,



i am small

it is a tiny place, look
in side and see.

go, position yourself
carefully.

dumb down, retreat,
diminish, resize
like me.

another place,
where words
affect us deeply.

voices will come
and go.      and

while the worlds spins,
this small world
remains intact.



sbm.

resting on one a while.

very early here, news came, so
now we lay  a while, to hope
it will alleviate the gloom from
those who have no manners, no
style and niceties. i will draw on
the experience, while others
bomb empty houses.

it is a gold award for drawing.

moon boats.

‘ i did not wish to die, my son’

sbm.

packing things in paper,
becomes the work, performance,
thus,
unpacked remains ditto
the effect.

sound, smoothing,
discovery of found mementos,
blood and rags.

will there be effect,
or as a facebook posting,
to be slid over, looking
for weather and new
connections.

the paper is creased badly.

sbm.

the wrong way?

follow  your heart,
high, mountain track,
scattered trees,  country
road.

spend the day , waterlogged
moor, black rooted, bring it home.

the memory , the heart, of
all that there is. turn

your face to the wind,
rain, snow, feel the bite.

take it home.

sbm.

too much to bear? seeing the first violet

by the step, remembering how you sent

the blue linen

jacket wrapped.



my love of tissue paper.



she wanted to buy the pillow too,

yet we do not sell them. that is a

cushion.

madam.



for display purposes only.



car fresheners? no, those neither.



ah, air fresheners, no we sold out.

i could not raise her disappoint

ment confessing her daughter

bought the last one. her mothers

day gift.



george raft dancing the tango, &

new connections that love beetles

as much as me.



rather a lot to bear. #happy.



research day at the mill.



sbm.

growing well, so we took you out

the glass house in to air not expecting

thundrous rain. we returned to find you

battered.



our apologies……



we  will love you and  nuture you

again



back in the green house.



sbm.

132.

the words surprised me,
the sound, the buzz of meaning,
when i know only the gleaning
of double letters, no rhyme
here for me.

it may be.

sbm

it is a good tray, wood and silver

handles, holds the sugar bowl.


saying that it

is best that the flour bag be moved.

some mornings early groping, mistaken

for the bag next door. is not good in tea.


not that i take sugar, yet she does,

or sweeteners.


the space station flew over, as

did the geese, this morning.



monday.



sbm.

gifs can be an issue

when i contentrate

on work.



memes are impossible

to pronounce.



denounce the pass it forward,

copy and paste. why write verse

when



you can talk to me.



sbm.

deserves  praise, yet should come as natural.



there may be to many additives these day,

not enough honesty grown. she said i should

have something new in the greenhouse.



i have, i said, and thought of you, who



planted the seeds



Sbm.

she said, the time is right
funny how things work out.

the discussion was on the crucifixion,
how things get lifted, to cook
a cabinet pudding. it may have been
early, yet you see, the swallows are back.

the buttercups are out.

sbm.

now it is delivered,
it can be written of.

beware the glass, it rattles.
beware the clever words.

at the mill the cloth is heavy,
hard. the assistant cuts carefully.

the looms are working
here.

sbm.

it is a longer way,

mostly up hill then,

down.



we go round one way

one day,

then another way,

another day,



avoiding people.



mainly, yet we

talk to the stone mason

who likes to avoid

people too.



once i came this way with you.



sbm.

at night late                           the room,

looks like an interior              painting.

with paintings.                       all closed

grey.

listen to the care in the music, like this,

then the change.                        know

the work, and soicitude there.      here.



know that when the rain came,

we stayed dry.                              here.



it was the last boat.

sbm.

napery
neɪp(ə)ri/
noun
noun: napery

household linen, especially tablecloths and napkins.
so they were, many boxes, opened and unpacked all day,
in the heat. yet we had the big fan going. the mill

always a cooler place to be.

it is an old fashioned word, not found
in the urban dictionary, remembered.

so doyleys, chairbacks, arm protectors
for chairs are all in stock now, whilst
i had a very satisfactory day, actually.

though my feet did hurt by five.

sbm.

. All is the same there.
I left the stone yet the storms may have moved it a little.
I said hello to your hotel.
Yes the Durley Dene is good with a spa and a wonderful cream some tea oh and chandeliers of course. The other Bournemouth hotel whose name I forget was all mirrored furniture and starchy tablecloths.
Saw two films in the little cinema with a fellow traveler while others sheltered from the storm in the hotel lounge with sandwiches and games.
I avoid private views so a day at home after a quick trip into Dolgellau for the post etc. Hope you have a real good time in Dunoon.
Oh there is a good photography exhibition at Burgh Hall and the cafe is open there too. The library is open in the Queens hall and has stunning views.
A friend showed me her photos of whales up the watter. ..teaching their offspring to hunt. The watter turned red. It is said they swam up to Glasgow where they turned and headed back.
The framers up the back road may be open so one can visit his pet lizard. Have fun.

this is the day, i tell you many things,
this is the day for conversation and random
pointings.

this is the day our legs dangle,
the breeze lifts our hair.

lo and behold.

sbm

one is down, string
broken.

remembering now
metal birds in comics,
one flew over low
yesterday.

i fail to describe
this place as it felt
saturday,

wet green, womb like.

it is a colder spring,
now with rain.

sbm.

RE: . pdf .
sonja benskin mesher

06:07

Good Morning

I wake to find the internet is fixed,
so have read the document file.

as time is short, and the fact that
it all looks very well. I did like my odd spacing,
yet the dots are there.Let us go ahead and
both have a very nice day. I thank you

for all your work on this, and at
the weekend too.

i am very pleased, a little excited.

yes shall we refer to it as the journal.
sbm.

was it the beer,
that made him mellow,
or just a gentle way
about him,
naturally.

i slipped by.

when he asked if i was speaking,
i says," if you like".

we chatted over manners
and harboured hedges.

these things  happen in the lane.

sbm.

pattern set, the loom is idle.

slaying the reed is over,
task of threading done.

hope over  holiday,
a thread may fall.

the mill is a place of
meeting, greeting

this new year.

tenterhooks.

the pattern is set,
in stone.

sbm.

i have played
dead
on stage
sometimes

it was hard
not to laugh.

seems we have not been to all the mills,
never will. some are gone, yet we have seen them.

seen things that are never there. lost our way,
if there ever was one?

there is a book, we did not buy it, perhaps
a need to find out for ouselves.

it has become a metaphor, a place to be lost in.

he said they bolted the looms down, we disagree.

sbm.

green ribbon,

to tie the fringe back, hair had grown,

no one did cut it.  the girl was private.

hair bounced, shone, as they made

their way to town, down the hill.

it was a dark green, bottle green.

it may explain the love of ribbons

now.

sbm.

to explain to you who cannot see,

the cloy, the quantity of water, tasks, and other

hurts, that fit into  af day. the moment

your feet slide into mud, with one word.



heard , read, imagined, the sentence dives and plays

whole, yet as days move on, flotation occurs,

buoys,  slowly we face back to sea , swim on.



either that or drown.



sbm.

whether they come early or
later, it depends on their diary
whether they come at all.

repair man comes on time,
as does the roofer. yet
the window cleaner never
came at all, this month.

saw him on his ladder
in the village down the road.

cleaning other windows. mine
are not looking too badly though.

they are washed with rain, daily.

sbm.

cookers, large , green with leaves.

a gift in a fishing net.

some are too high, even with the clothes
prop waving, they do not fall,

yet.

the birds will eat those,
ready for the winter cold.

no doctors to keep away.

he brought bramleys, so
there shall be apple snow.

the recipe book.

sbm.

it is another floral day,
with spring skies
and sunshine.

cotton fabrics,
bloom.

sbm.

i am tired, said the bear, everwhere hurts so dreadfully.



like the plague they copied, talked about me when

they do not even know me,

understand.



they do not know therefore what they

say…….



sbm.

note –
plagiarism
ˈpleɪdʒərɪz(ə)m/
noun
noun: plagiarism; plural noun: plagiarisms

    the practice of taking someone else’s work or ideas and passing them off as one’s own.
    “there were accusations of plagiarism”

the night draws round,and while the lights
are out we wander in the gloom,
wondering.

why was the work on censorship, censored,
why
was mrs ciano rejected?

why do people be angry. make choices.

yes sir you may buy the ring, for a
thousand pounds, or choose to save
someones life.

sbm.

a puzzle, what to do with the
ficticious thing, the thing we
don’t have.

an idea.

with that in mind, we
plot and plan.

work on our identity.

a busy day,
which worked out well.

it was the obvious, that
they did not all see.

i bought seeds for the hawfinch.

sbm.

it is a new store,the chapel architecture

restored. i remember the day they cleaned

the stone, noisy. i was opposite with cofffee,

trying to chat. he did not seem to notice

the interruption.



they have candles, subtle shades, non drip,

yet have sold out of ragged ribbon,

a big disappointment.



i commented on the perfume downstairs, told

it was new furniture and cleaning, that is all.



checking ebay later found reams of the distressed cotton

tape i had wanted, had a minor spending spree

at seven pounds fifty.



sbm.

yes

i have help
each month

some years the tree man comes

i fiddle every day. lifting logs. i may
get stronger.

it is abutting a church
yard





( thanks to paul brookes for the prompt)