Daisy Mau is up and down
In and out and round and round
Beautiful as a red- lipped child
Brown eyes under a feathered brow.

A humour that is humankind
A heart of passion and fur- lined
Wanders through a poppy field
Crimson sadness at her heels.

Sensitive to all her days
Cradles honour on the way
Daisy May your sun shines bright
Treasure it and hold on tight.

Love will find you,  no need to seek
The world will open, and not be bleak
Hand in hand the years that pass
Will lead you on to touch the stars.

Stay awhile and sit by me
My darling Daisy you'll always be.

Love Grandma x

Eight pots under my front window,
Not selected but a random collection,
Presents in tubs, seed floated flowering,
Remains of painstaking gardening,
And days of inspiration and sun;
And still in one a yellow wallflower,
Finding a home, colourful and bright,
Not waiting to dance but abundant self,
Bearing out the winter storms,
To give its beauty in return for chance,
Underneath my window sill.

Mary Kearns

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. ***

Where did we get to

On a red trolley bus the last of its kind
I sat with my dad in 1959
I remember the overhanging track
And the clickety clack
The sliding sound
Of steel abound
And the brakes hissing out near the ground.
Ladbrook grove in London town
Where my aunties lived around.

Love Mary

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 ***

Throwing my coat across the classroom
An impulse brought on by over enthusiasm
for an idea.
Landing on the teacher's desk
I still had no fear.
It was then I realised that
People were powerless.
Now at sixty five and infirm
I realise just how much.

Love Mary **

Theresa was
One of those girls that turn
The classroom into a circus act.
Only have to open their mouths
And we all fell about.
Lessons were fun when she began
So much twisting round in seats.
Short words flowed
Teachers tiptoed
And she was a big girl
We were all scared
Of the night.

Love Mary

Linda lived on the other side of town
A war hero's daughter and mother
Of German extraction.He'd left.
With cropped blonde hair and plucked eyebrows I was out of her league.
She thought I looked like Susan Hampshire and slightly French.
Dressed me up like a doll with chiffon
Scarf,
So at fourteen I looked going on eighteen.
We went up the Kings Road
And did not come home for days.
Your children are never safe.

Love Mary

Malisa lived in a one room flat
In a tower block
Two beds and a mat
This was a truant day
Later the school board
Man showed my forged
Letter.

Love Mary

They told me I had to
Those girls from Southfields,
Buy why did I
Crumpled angel that I was
Straight out of Winnie the Pooh
And Start - rite shoes.
Waiting to be had by some lads
In the back bedroom.
"Taking it in turns" they said,
"You next".
I waited it out
Someone took an age
Then we had to leave.
Thank goodness
For early returning
Mothers .

Love Mary

First and dimpled blessed babe
Born to me on an Autumn day
By my side in your cot
A tiny face, I never forgot
For a while I looked on you
Stroked your hair tenderly
On my chest you did lie
Like a crimson butterfly .

I will take care of you
Wrap you from the
Evening chill
In my arms
Or on my breast
My tiny blackbird, rest.

Do not worry I am here
Standing by the open door
Listening for each and
Every stir
The ******* of
A hungry girl
There never was
A day so fine
As when I knew
You were mine .

Love From Mummy ***

Barney boy blonde and slender,
From that bundle of tender joy,
Came this happy, playful nature,
This stoic lad who faced the world.

Loved his cars with a passion,
One that grew into a dream,
Met the challenges ,succeeded,
Got a job with those machines.

Sitting by the flowing river,
Barney and his maiden queen,
With the bluebells all about them,
Gentle in their hearts the stream.

Always loving in your kindness,
A valuing of simple things,
Remembering your childhood laughter,
Your love of tiny sweetie things.

Love Grandma xxxx

Jay is a handsome boy
With long dark curls
Reaching below his shoulders
Reminders of my other lads
His uncle Alex and brother Richard.
Grown in stature and understanding
Smart in striped shirt
Sitting in the sun
Under the Robina tree
I thought how far he has come.

Not my son but my daughter's
Unspoken hero of his age
Worked with seven other
Offspring to bring about
Some sort of change.
Made it to university
Computers he did choose
Compelled by an inner calling
Found a way
He is no fool.
Love you grandson
In the morning of your life
Hope you keep
That spark alive
And I will continue to be glad.

Love to Jay from Grandma ***

What do I say to you
Blonde clipped hair
Twinkle in your eye
Not yet shy
Politeness always
Abides in that wise style
Ages older than your time
Mischief gentle
On your mind
Friend of intelligences
Known
But in your own
Tranquility
Tested life's experience
With a king's crown
Love you for your wit
And candour
For the loving heart within
Be you happy in your hour
May your life
Always sing .

To Tasman love Grandma xxxxx

Connie was born a lady
She knew what to wear
Opened up her wardrobe
Stood and quietly stared
Loved the frilly dresses
And the ones with butterflies
What she put on
Was always a surprise
In her silver slippers
And slides in her hair
Connie was ready
To go anywhere.

Thought it might be nice
To go out twice
As the day was sunny
She'd go with her Mummy
Up to the shops
To buy some new socks
White fluffy ones
with ducks at the top
Then a pair of shoes
Pink ones will do
Go with her smock
With the lollipop.

Connie was a lady
She played ladies' games
Never catch Connie
Out in the rain
Liked to dress her dollies
In ribbons and lace
Hand knitted dresses
Slipped over the face
Had a row of shoes
So dolly could choose
Turquoise boots
with high heels too.

How I love dear Connie
We have lots to do
Playing with our dollies
And taking them
To the zoo.

Love to Connie from Grandma xxxxx

When life was simpler
Than today
We lived it in
A different way
When visiting a friend
Or someone new
Always took a posy too.

Mother would, kindly, ask
If I minded doing a task
Gathering flowers
with perfumed scent
Trailing ferns to decorate
Make a bundle of delight
As a token
Of friendship's sight.

Into our garden
I did went
With my scissors
Slightly bent
Chose from all
the pretty plants
A stem or two
From every branch
A bouquet of delicate blooms
On this sunny afternoon
Bound them up with silvered foil
A ribbon tied into a coil.

Showed my Mum
The lovely bunch
Kissed me with
A tender touch
Found a vase
To rest them in
Until the time to begin
Dressed in best
Coat and frock
With Mother ready
We did knock
What a joy it was for me
A happy face to see.

Never forget that simple life
When giving posies
Was so nice .

Love Mary xxxx

PAINTING PICTURES.

I spent my last day
Looking at pictures
Paintings of a friend
We tried to decide
What was finished
And found it hard in the end.

How long does one continue
When a subjects found
Does one plod on regardless
Or learn to live underground.

Love to Ian for his friendship from Mary ***

Now is the time,
To put away my shoes,
Fold softest blankets,
With the neatness of the day,
Gather up crumbled paper bags,
Resting gently in corners,
Making sure space is cleared,
For others' beginnings.
Along the front wall,
Smelling the roses ,I walk,
Enjoying the greenness,
Of Sycamore leaves,
And the circle of grass ,
Cut carefully, by myself,
When inspiration sang,
Of fairy rings .
Tidy the stone animals ,
At the bottom of the Cherry tree,
And blow a kiss to the wind.
These are my priorities,
A symbol of a life loved.

To all my family and friends
Love Mary ***

CARRYING THE CANDLES.

Who will carry a candle
For those lost unseen
The people forgotten
Whose faces
Have no screen
The children
Without childhoods
Who die all alone
From starvation
And malnutrition
And those from drugs at home.

Today is a sad day
As we all reflect
That this human race
Is still under attack
Not from the outside
But inside ourselves
It only takes a little
To turn the human mind
From something
kind and loving
To a place that is blind.

For if we are not equal
However that be described
There will always be fighting
Deceit and lies
Will we ever see
A candle burning bright
Because we have extinguished
The darkness of the night.

To all those for whom today
7/7
Must be unbearable sorrow
I am sorry .

Love Mary ***

At the back
Sat the girl
With two brown plaits
Waiting for her
Turn to read
Something from
The Shakespeare spiel.
Worried about saying the words
Could she read them
Would she be heard
Hoped today
She'd be missed
Another chosen
Who could do this.

The years they passed
Became a mother
At last
Learnt all the medical words
And how to feed baby
Without a stir
Travelled on through
Mounting texts
Read Virginia
And her lover
The waves
And much other.
Found Iris Murdock
In a shop
Loved her books
Never could stop.

Went to college
Liked the life
Words never
Caused her any strife
Such was her need to see
The meaning
Within the sleeve.

So do not worry
When you are young
Words will come
When they belong
Captured by the reader's heart
Needed there
This world to start.

Love Mary ***

INSIDE THE OLD GREY SHED.

Inside the old grey shed
A path leading from the house
Flower beds and
Grassy turf
Guided each
Advancing step
In children's eyes
This was a den
A place far away from men
Dusted by the wind and rain
A window with a broken pane.

And on this day,
It was particular
A female cat had
Birthed her kittens
In the old discarded tent
Blood stained with
The afterbirth.
It was the children
Who on their visit
Found something moving
In a corner
Afraid to touch
Called their father
This day remembered ever after.

A hand open to reveal
A bundle of softest fur
Curled together in a ball
Like an angora whirl
Three kittens there within
Newness in their pinkish skin
The children held them
Side by side
Watched as their feet did dry
Opened up their floppy ears
Spoke gently so they could hear.

Of the three they kept but one
Called her Lucky just for fun.
Next door took number two
The other one went quickly too.
Mother cat was rather wild
Fought her sadness
Took a while
Never settled sad to say
Had to be put away.
Lucky our special cat
Lived 18 years on our doormat .

Love Mary **
Thank you , Lucky our black and white cat.

Beauty and purpose.

In your garden I see my flowers,
Given with grace to share for a smile,
We started with roses, yarrow and thyme,
Adding poppies, géraniums and sweet dandelion;
Now it is, a herbal paradise,
Collecting fragrances pure and bright,
Healing properties grown with love,
To make people better,
Show them what's right.

To Victoria and Pieter
Love Mum ***

If only I stayed with my dolls
I would not be where I can't see,
They always gave me comfort
Sitting looking at me.

I remember all their faces,
Had personalities too,
Some robust and cheeky,
Others floppy and rather unwell.

At night on my bed they would sit,
Or cuddled up close in a shawl,
Blue eyes, Rosebud and Belinda,
And  a wee little baby black girl.

If only I'd stayed with my dolls,
Nothing bad would have
Befallen me,
I'd still live in imagination,
A Wonderfully, gifted world.

Love Mary **

I know a little girl
Who lives down a lane,
In a house made of brick,
With white window frames.

She is waiting for her sister,
To be born very soon,
Someone to play with,
She'll be over the moon.

Her name is Evelyn,
Mary, Janet Granger- Kearns,
Quite a long name,
To remember and understand.

Evelyn loves her Piggles,
A soft cuddly pig,
She takes him everywhere,
He is ever so good.

A little girl of sunbeams,
With a halo of gold,
Someone oh so special,
She always says 'Hello'.

Love Grandma **

Dearest Dad ,I am sitting in my house thinking of you and how we would watch the cricket together on our small black and white television.I never really understood the rules but just liked being close.Then we would watch an old film or Western.You taught me about the famous film stars that you liked and the great singers.Mum would bring in tea and biscuits ,calling , '*****, nice cup of tea'.
I had wonderful parents, a great generation of people building a better country after the Second World War.

My father Eric, William ,Henry ,Ayton- Robinson and my mother Grace. Emily Ayton- Robinson ( née Westbrook)
You both always did your best for me and I thank you.

Love Mary xxxx

The elderly women she stooped
Waiting at the letter box for a letter
Which always failed to come.
It was an imaginary letter
This one letter she wanted.
A love letter from someone she knew.
A person she loved in her life,
Who lived near her, inside.
But in her mind she knew it would
Not say enough.
Not feel who she was, her kind.
Not rejected but unknown.
A life unknown but for glimpses.
When a friendly face at the bus stop
Noticed in her smile a direction.
She understood this to be the truth
For most of us.
And comforted by such thoughts
Returned to the daylight.

Love Mary ***

All our Christmases.

Standing at the window when the snow falls,
Feeling the coldness seep in
As the ice builds up on the ledges
It is Christmas Day.
The street is white tracks and on hedges
Peaks gather like our festive cake.
Under the window laid out in names
Are the unopened presents.
The fur tree, tallest ever,
Lights the room with its fairy bulbs.
Robins and plastic angels twirl in the heat.
I wear my cream jumper and tartan skirt
To begin the day.

Love Mary ***

When I am water
Lost in a winding stream
Filled with fishes tails
And rounded golden rings
Remember as you sit there
Beside a river bank
Holding hands with another
Or on solitudes fine bench
That my hair lines birds' nests
My labours gave you life
And your love gave me friendship
As do the clouds up above.

Wandering back from school
In the Summer heat
Skirt rolled up
Above the knee
The pleats
No longer neat.

Up the hill
Blouse undone
Cuffs unbuttoned
In the sun
And round your waist
A striped tie
A blazer put
To one side
Floppy bag
Packet of sweets
Walking slowly
Along the street.

Boys shout from their cars
Explietives or vows
You look at your shoes
Anywhere else will do.
And yet this courtship call
Is the beginning of it all
Half flattered,half ashamed
You've entered into
A new game.

Bonny Child

What shall I teach you
My Bonny child
The history of England
Written for our hour
The places I visited
Are but few
You will do better
I'm not in the que
All that is good and wholesome and true
These are the words I'd tell to you
Yet as I speak them and watch your heart grow
I know there is something you ought to know
If we do our best there is no guarantee
That life will be splendid
Happy as can be.
So what can I teach you
My Bonny child
What words of wisdom
Can be your flower
All I can say
Is I'll be by your side
Put myself second
Give you a smile .

For Alex , Tasha and Evelyn who do it well .

Ten minute walk.

From the bungalow to the beach it took ten minutes,
Up hill and down lane passing the Catholic Church,
A small country primary school and row of council houses;
Then at the crossroads by the Post Office, selling sweets,
With Turf Walk to your left and hotels on the right,
Began the steep decline, to the sound of an incoming tide.

Once a year, this first day of The Family Summer Holiday,
Shievering with excitement, buckets and spades in hand,
Wanting to run, to find last year's spot of sand and water,
The seaweed and rock pools, boulders and clumps of clay,
The joy of an eternal return, the comfort of familiarity,
Where play had ceased and foot prints been washed away.

IOW ,Totand Bay by Mary x

The sea a sheet of molten gold,
Shimmering under a fiery sky,
The beach was deserted,
Sailing craft secured against the night tide,
Carefully built sandcastles awaited their obliteration,
A few seagulls picked over picnic wrappings,
I stood, alone, as the the sun dropped below,
Allowing the darkness over the horizen,
It was the end of another wonderful day,
And I felt full of gratitude for the chance of being born.

Love Mary **

In a garden far from home,
Sits a gentleman on his own,
Reading in the Summer sun,
A friend's letter that has just come.

Finding things to fill his days,
Which keep him active and engaged,
The trees need pruning, bushes cut,
And must not forget the special plot.

I bought this man a birthday gift,
A waterproof, patterned tablecloth,
So sitting in the Summer sun,
Can be, for him, a bit more fun.

Love Mary x

Achievement wore her smartest frock,
Held out the drapes that all might see,
For a while it danced within her frame,
Delighted at such a fiery flame,
Then quietly laid down in a box,
But its wonders did remain.

It was a yellow background,
The sort of yellow that lets the light in,
Here and there were brown rubbings from furniture,
But the overall pattern of black arabesque stalks and couplets of flowers;
A spiky pattern , rather,
Not quite nice in some way.
I expect the rolls had been a reduction at sale time,
Those January trips with dad in the rain,
Arms laden and collars tightly round faces.

I would sit by the fire tracing the design,
Making up stories in the landscape;
That yellow wallpaper was my childhood,
My father's love, my mother's comforter,
I am sitting by it now just remembering.

Love Mary **

Somewhere in my mind,
Was something to be found,
Not on the surface,
No digging would surround.
It came out of nowhere,
As I passed the glass,
Peering at a turquoise stone,
A golden broach it did enhance;
It was my mother's moonstone,
A family heirloom,
Embellished with gold filigree,
And attached by a chain.
The Islamic pendant,
On display at the museum,
Sent me backwards on a journey,
To discover you it seemed.

On the way home I thought of Proust,
Tasting the Madeline, tea soaked,
The pleasure it did give me,
To remember times past,
And the fingers of Mother's hand,
Gently do up the clasp.

Love Mary **

The blue glazed, cream jug,
Stood on a kitchen shelf,
Surrounded by loves' lessons,
For hoarding and cherishing,
Both what had been found,
And what had been given.
It was the only item of any fiscal value,
Picked for its classical simplicity,
Its rich colbalt colouring,
A wedding or anniversary gift,
From an art valuing relative.
It was all that was taken
When clearing the bungalow.

Love Mary ***

Love to my dear mother and father
Who lived a life of gentle simplicity
And reflective intellect. I miss you both.
Your daughter Mary ***

The River Boy.

He fell in the river that child of mine,
On the edge was perched steady and fine,
Feeding the ducks bread from his hand,
When suddenly, splash,his feet lost land;
For a second we stared at the swirling spot,
Then instinct took over I grabbed the lot,
Out came a boy as wet as could be ,
Wrapped him in cardigans, then home for tea.

Alex fell in the River Thames at Staines when he was about 6-8 years old? Do you remember son? Love Mum **

Vigo did it well with camera roll,
Dipping into dreamers' daze,
Capturing a warm and wanting glow,
The spectacle of deckchair rows.

Delicious dancing girls raise a leg,
The dipper glides a windy ride,
There is grandpa on his wheels,
Cavorting  between lovers' bows.

And  where were you on Sunday?
Underneath the bandstand clock,
Waiting for life to depart,
And the silence of the dark.

Love Mary **

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 **

People always die on me, my friend said,
So it will be okay if I visit as I do not mind,
I thought how strange to be so complacent,
But rather comforted by such an outlook.

Yeats said death and *** maketh the poet,
And if by going to such depths, I laugh!
We die, then so be it;
For all of our life is packed for departure.

Love to all my very dear friends and loving family.

Mary xxxx

South Bank, London.

What is walking for a woman?
The movement of a dress, caught
In the act of a gusty wind,
Wrapping her contours like a parcel.

And yet, heightened by this exposure,
She melts in her awareness,
Where body and mind congregate,
Pausing in a sensual delight.

Thank you the palest of green dresses I enjoyed wearing you.

I use to take them,
Pocketed up against naked flesh,
Torn by hand so stem might survive,
Hidden before the park gates.

Yet there were gardens,
Along well walked streets,
Where I remembered flowering
Stalky jewel headed, against sky.

Slipped silently up the sideway,
Grabbing fists of seeded promises,
For next years storms,
And a nominated plot.

'Open Gardens', thief pickers paradise,
But a note on my garden wall
Says, 'help yourself', for we are
But a substitute for the birds.

Love Mary
Xxxxxx

When the hour is darkest,
And not a wind comes near,
Know that you are complete,
And who gives a care.

Because, by truth, few are stirred,
Most, complacently out of ear,
Only those, who hear the drums,
Say this life can't always be sung.

Love Mary ***

My babies.

Scrabbling up the wall of desire ,
I took them in my hands,
Bundles of cuddly babies,
With ribbons in their hair.

Oh they were ever so pretty ,
With chubby fingers and toes,
I wrapped them up together,
And in a basket they did go.

Sometimes they were naughty,
Would not have a bath,
Had to bubble them all over,
They thought that quite a laugh.

The babies came everywhere with me,
Never, left them at home,
People on the buses,
Occasionally, did moan.

But my lovely babies,
Decided to grow up,
Found one did not need a ribbon,
Because, he was a lad.

Now I have no babies,
They have all flown away,
Found other babies,
To go and make a home.

Love Mary , Mum , Grandma ***
For my 3 daughters and one son.Thank you so much for being great children.xxxx

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 ***

Along the platform to the far end
And one reaches the reading room;
Edged out in reminders of picture rails,
Any painting long been discarded
For fear of theft or vandalism;
So here in the, cell like, tar- macadam floor,
Bracketed struts of green wood
Supporting any takers,
Most simply shelter from the rain,
Cloistered behind newspapers.

Occasionally, a singular type,
Drops the day's gaze for the page in a book,
Forgetting the sounding of train times -
Departures and arrivals;
At least there is 'no-smoking'
And the area kept clear of *****,
Makes this place usually locked,
Apart from inconvenient times,
When resting would not be beneficial.

The windows drip a grey sludge,
But if you drift off
All this is side stepped for the beauty of the page,
The running with the wind on the
Train stop.

Love Mary ***

Lying  in the sunshine
I turn to you and smile
Across the busy ocean
Where the tables are
Beneath a blue umbrella
Celebrating beer
I hear you calling out
We're having fun here
Sipping Costa coffee
From a cardboard cup
I know you are a-hatching
Writing another plot.

In my perfect quietness
I whisper in the sand
Thank you for the knowing
The lending of a hand
Tides will change
And boats come in
But our friendship
Will always
just begin.
Love Mary ***

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 ***

In these silent times,
When the sun drapes its softnes,
Across bough and branch,
And birds make ready for night;
There is gathering in houses,
Conversations around tea,
An hour of revival,
As the roads quieten,
Before the coming together,
Of another day.