tidy beach
soft sand and honest stones
to be fortunate here

there is a nice long beach and lovely views out to sea
the sea that is rising

old story remembered  from the beach
that warm afternoon while all were playing
relaxing
the hunted tried not to sleep
there
for fear of being robbed or found

yet there are paths,

walked, not just

by one or two.

or rabbits.


have young feet run here,

or solitary folk, thinking,



watching light hit water

Yet the days moved nicely. There were little troubles, nothing to diminish the beauty of it all.

there is a bear here that I have not mentioned a while as someone copied so he went quiet yet

still here
told him yesterday what happened and

he sat still and constant as always and was pleased

is pleased

there are no moose here nor noise as predicted

if there were
we would also have conversations

remember the dung beetle
gathering muck

and there are others
out there I am sure

for now the cat is asleep
in the cellar, goes down at dusk
thinks I don’t know

otherwise she is let out for
the night
hunting

or holed up somewhere else

she will scrabble up later
go out the back before

breakfast

this time
the recycling centre stays open
here

while I see
someone has changed the tune
somewhat

not so cold here today james

while the lorries drive the road
early

-1°

oh unsuitable paint you
covered lovely with no
comments as all are at
home

as advised

so,
must we write about it before we forget,
before  people come and disagree?

they have small waists and a  national costume

well things are looking up‘, says the bear,



‘now maybe they will believe in me,

like you do’



yes. yet.



i can see and hear you.

bone of the soul

earthy dark
below ground

no crystals here

bert is no name for a storm, more like a neighbour in green road that time back, or the uncle  i was told of yet never met.

grey flannels with braces and maybe a moustache.  growing vegetables down the back and interested in  pigeons.

even a foster parent  playing the guitar to make one feel comfortable

while feeding you a kipper  for supper.

perhaps then an apt name after all

the roads here are winding, the leaves are changing.
best not to bang the teapot down on serving, best
to tell the truth.

the roads here are winding, the leaves are changing.

best not to bang the teapot down on serving, best
to tell the truth.

we named it best eleven.        dark the day,          we are survived.

light came, we saw the green ness of it all.                          we live in the country.

a different aspect

it was good to have the windows
the doors open
air circulating

yes

using phrases like the enemy
it don’t go unnoticed here either

want to draw that image

to keep it in my brain
to come out some other way

take on all the things on our arms
our shoulders

the coat hanger effect

i noted his oversized coat
and was admonished for

assuming judgement on
appearance

no no no it is about remembrance
and the drawing out later
when all is quiet james

it is that time of year for memorials
eighteen days yet

perhaps someone will come to measure the depth

calculate the timeline

do not feel so great, again today.

i wanted to be european.

a bigger picture.

hope all came delivered and nicely packaged maybe cardboard 


i save old card for drawing on and bending about all messy


charcoal gets everywhere and causes coughing 
so have been neater recently and careful with that whitlow which remains covered


up


the road they are painting too

a heavenly blue

bird in hand is drawn
rules to guide us

with stars above that have no points
at all
yet each one has a story

blows ideas into our houses
messages bring connections.


a busy day with folk talking.

bird in hand is drawn
rules to guide us
with stars above that have no points
at all
yet each one has a story

poor birds

have it difficult the best of times
then comes the festivals
those traditions

that mean they must die

talking of which
now we know

with our present hidings and isolation
distancing

how they live at all times

the creatures burn and die
fly
away

i watch the squirrels down the back lane
each day
sometimes one will stop running and

we look at each other

a while

we have new bird boxes up
ready for the spring
meanwhile autumn comes gentle

one breath of leaves across the way

it is a tiny garden out back
overlooking the grave yard

where the men mowed the grass
stopping a while
leaning on rakes

watching the weather

you like birds?
as do i
neither of us employed
&  i am vaguely idle

so the sky is pink, the window is open.



listen to the crow call, or is it a rook?



we have the memo.



‘it is cosy here this morning’, crooned the bear.

seems that you are trouble, is that correct?
yes.

it seems you need to let the birds sing

.so we move forward differently once again.

.while you remain in mind.

she was drawn again yesterday with her sibling

though it did not look quite right so

shall i tear the sister off?

seems that you are trouble, is that correct?
yes.

it seems you need to let the birds sing

is it acceptable to think in phrases, believe the attrocities yet do not share them

with friends.

early yet

I have to tell you
that

i went a different way
to avoid the usual

taught as required for copying  so we all looked the same
though some added bits and embellishments which caused remark


while the space between lines was so immense

added bits and embellishments which caused remark
while the space between lines was so immense my head came heavy with drowsy
fell off
&
i did not return

like the greys and shadow.

i like when the cars go by,

the lights go across the walls’

yes

‘ i do not think i will like very black

in the black &
up over the mountains darkly

new mathematics

the rooms were swept yesterday

bones hidden

teeth implied

yet the shape remains embedded

small thing  ragged who knows all of it

pieces torn away

work along the coast with thread and diligence

gather wools

layer carefully we shall have warmth this winter

a storm came yesterday dark and loud  the landscape veiled
awash a while
black things fade and all is grey

win or lose hedge your edge
write of parlay

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

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

onward.

is overcast today
a slight breeze from the
window
wide
a slight hint of colour
bleeding from the patch below

a reflection, mirroring of last week

and we guess there will be much if it after

this time of soft living, little moving nor travelling

blimey


now we glitch with so much using

too much storage not to mention

my coaches


blimey

hear that salvage hunters were being filmed locally

and he commented

blimey

maybe you play chess  in bad weather
or another pastime

here they forecast an awful rain yesterday
yet it came quite warm and gentle and

i shared some nougat with the delivery man
after chatting about our days in children’s  homes

a coincidence
a distant memory

he also brought plants
and new pencils

i have a wounded finger
either from the drawing

or a whitlow with an h

we like a good rainy day come cosy

black crow bird

pecks poet’s lip.


cold sore

wise words

indeed

i feel lighter this morning
which is more physical

than spiritual

this time of year serves as a reminder

a pause
then move forward

often a block buster is advertised
usually we prefer the other

quieter stuff

it was a small day yesterday

tucked in

covers heavy

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

comes a differing hue

with duck egg blue


the ironmongers in town

at one seventy nine


we can walk there and back or there

and bus back you see


he said folk get used to anything

i find this true to a point when all is comfy


was used to the other colour once

do not know everything
only my version
a fraction of the whole
blue sky thinking
here