he says people will carry on
the fight;

while
those on the streets suffered
even more this week

happy yellow
drawn by the name not just the colour.

is fading now
yet remains as the description

walking further put up a heron
and while watching saw the
white egret
and a double decker bus

an old story remembered
that warm afternoon while all were playing

relaxing.

the hunted tried not to sleep

there

if I had been a boy
would I have looked like him

worn corduroy?

if you had been a boy
would you have looked like him

and we wonder
at the likeness

there.

black crow bird

pecks poet’s lip.


cold sore

the tree came down in two parts with great noise and  excitement  yet only from me


i guess the guys are dead cool and used to it all


an early sapling showed, once overshadowed

a new view , quite acceptable


a noisy  day so I went and drew pictures

stains the cup if left standing,

remember the hotel, 1964,

we used to scour them especially

round the handle, then the base.

courage to walk away
from objects that irritate
our eyes, to eat another way,

with snakes and camphor oil.

you know what i mean

i too fly solo
&
enjoy the flight

when the day clears
i look up at the others

dark the day came

even with the sky

real blue.


the helicopter flew over.

she said she liked the stories

except I did not tell them
i never tell you much
nor all of it

there are bits left to fill in
yourselves

the power house reflected

elected

james?

will this all be for nothing

if you make no changes

the world outside the window commented on . as a child .
tell us things, take us without consent. there are no records

Moving forward always there come other notations that bring  feelings, the Agnes Dei opens wounds and fears flood with salt.

snakes figure a bit here since

i saw that one in the

famous old painting with a egg

in its mouth

becomes larger as time moves on.

it started early, with greek poetry,

the radio, which played all day.

you sent me seeds


it was your handwriting pleased me

your careful letter to advise patience

that most things happen in time


do you remember when i wrote to you

all in patterns and hints of a rhyme?


planted them five to a ***

some round the sides with one in the middle


then I finished the painting

the air moves
on my skin.

i turn
look past the curtain

see the face again

framed.

the colour comes later, in the studio.
the land reclaimed, is bolder now,
energy splashes.


colour comes, from friends in conversation,
music and sounds, and i eat them
with hunger.

i used to go to oxford

get off the coach outside the museum

and go in

spend some time there

then go round town a while before

going back

could have stayed in there all day

yet is good to get out in the air

after so long on the bus

it stops there for some hours on the way home from london

where I saw tutankhamun and some miserables not at the same time though

now we can go nowhere really except 5 miles local

did that monday and the car broke down

now i can’t go nowhere again

i miss oxford and visiting museums

skimmed slates that bounced about
unlike the pebbles that grow on our banks here
unlike the landscape hereabouts yet only up the road
up the road where all comes beyond reality to help with reality

glad i saw the old houses,
wintering, wood smoked,
perfumed. glad i smelled
the oak burning, turning

there are watermarks left, to be cleaned

in the spring.

the rain will come again.

it had clipped the hand in error

left a moon shape mark

turned black

or maybe

is was dark blue with a little red added

lasted two weeks and still prominent

much has happened since the pinch

rain, mutations and slight headaches

the path is blocked off
due to mud and saturation

life goes on
the mark remains

it was remarked that there is no hurry
that we have the rest of the winter

happily with a little chocolate

spoke to others yesterday about
banning the word coping as a negative
thing said with sympathy
head to one side

it feels a frail word and does not apply

when she heard that i had been drilling fitfully,

she asked why but i could not explain really. so

i added the stop.

it seems that some like sticks, while others do

not.

there are a few of us, one of us is      leaving.

my calculations say i may walk 4 miles
each time, each day, unless i go twice
then it is doubled of course

the mountains here

a home, a refuge plain

and simple things, the ordinary

become as sacred in our life

and maybe, and probably
i cannot fix it
so will look after it
admire it daily
unless it rains
james

pink may be required

among the stone and lingering

youth

some things fade with time,
with sun and washings.

this one remained bright,
even glaring

is the little things that excite, even
in the height of summer, low look
for seeds, small flowers studded
in hedgerows,

dry he wore the white dress
though
his hair curled damply

we drew him
we painted him

he is taller now & remains
much the same

he said the flames

came over the trees.

behind the buildings.

bombed the buildings.

the hair looks like a cockatoo
with no fancy phrases

they used orange a lot
with some yellow

combed it fancy mainly
upwards

sprayed all over for style
and protection

he went walking with her
held her hand and laughed

i watched from the bus stop
now colour challenged

covering the plainess

i give them cardigans with buttons
and sometimes dots

i looked out yesterday at the rain
on and off all day

could be more overall

who is counting no more


it is not good grammar

no capital letters or punctuation


two days of storms

more in lockup


he says we get used to things

and I thinks he is correct

day 350

our work
our soul
is in
our chest

let us look at things, differently.

often, we do things, no one ever sees.

that is you and me. two of us
dancing in the dark. it came
and went,

quickly.

is all a pattern, that keeps us safely,        moves us

onward.

it is a junction

the old railway track

the road to the farm there

tidy and organised

they saw me coming, waited and said hello

said they were coming so we waited to see

them come running the quad bike behind herding

all excited and we laughed to see

the calves run out into the field the first time ever

with their mothers

the news has changed

here

while one I don’t know
who is friends with one I do
has been vaccinated

mid wales

she is a carer and they say it is bad there

a backwater

for some reason it has come so in wales
hence more restrictions

messaged to see if all are ok with this
of course , came the reply
and offered me random oats

having a liking for porridge of a morning
with cream and syrup I accepted

nicely

sometimes I have toast

and sometimes insert one comma

some things just stop us in wonder

here

with tears

unexpected

it seems there may be some connection

some call it a trigger

some things leave us cold and wondering what all the excitement

is about

unlike the thing in cairo yesterday


obviously I have no photographs

stuck in  ice forewarned
by terms of reading

arctic exploration

liking rags
i move on
with differing
music

the trial by glass

so far we have read the rules
in black and white
in print

meanwhile others translate them in different colours

i read your poetry in the rain

went to blaenau in the rain
you may google that so best
add ffestiniog to the name

have been looking,
for my breaking heart,
boxed
for anniversaries,
and having a good day.

i find a note that says
i am a magician,
and how.

we need to concentrate on detail
to describe things properly
need to
go there each year a while
to retain to remain in memory
need to
care for  little things