Monthly Archives: February 2015

growing potatoes

the robin came down as he cleared the ground,
all red chest, pretty eyes.

we discussed the earth, rich now, without
the stones. we could grow potatoes as they
did here in the war. i have the photograph.

these are fortunate times, while have disliked
the tuber since the flu struck.

there has been a lot of it this year here.

we plan a pretty little greenhouse, all white
with embellishments, red geraniums.

the robin watched, i am told he will like mealworms.



there may be prawn

there may be positive thinking,
the day after the cleaning.

after all, one’s problems
aint so bad when we hear of others.

it was hoped the electricity
was off, seems they still
use it in bangor.

this is shocking.

is it really all about shopping?

i think it is more about friendship,
and carings.

it may be said now, that
they do supply prawns.




small items for sewing and other notions.
ribbons wound carefully secured with a
nice topped pin, not the ordinary.

it should be so, or sew.

buttons in bottles, and jars,
safed for the occasion, with
occasional poppers, oft worded
press fasteners unlike hooks,
and eyes,known as hooks and eyes.

the word appears in chaucer’s
canterbury tales, appears here,

haber dashers have patron saints
just like all the other trades,
alongside worshipful companies.

at the mill , all is tidy now.




the charm

passed over by accident, the
thing occured naturally,
without clerics. without beatitude.

given by friendship, yet
piety slowly eroded.

they come now with learning,
holding large words, a different language.

the charm now gone,
perhaps they did not need it any more.

once again, it is said, that,
they speak latin.



it may be cold

the sun was out yesterday,

all day.

logs stacked, sticks sorted and tidied,

categorised in various piles, those

for keeping, some for disposal.

relocate the little bird house, robins

wait as does the cat nearbye.

in and out avoiding neighbours,

no time for chat.

finish the outdoor painting.

fall into bed early.

next morning the solar lights still

flashing, the sun shone all day.




it is just that some dislike

love poems, those the rhyme

all romantic. pretty though

they are.

some write of other

things, in a more

random fashion.

i like things private.



being cold

has hard winter come at last,

does one rhyme this, write icy

blast, or simply carry on

the usual way, he said it is progressive,

it is just the way we think.

early, clearing ashes, prepare

a fire with three pages, sticks and odd

ends of packaging. the better coal

with one small log does the trick.

the fire in the other room stays in

all night no problem, with a guard.

the fire officer came yesterday

to protect us in our beds.

today we wrap the winter


some say spring has come.


word gatherers

simple notes, there is much discussion now,

where the place used to be pure quiet

and acceptance.

it seems to him that talking does not

get the job done. however gently balancing

wool, soft merino ,words fall . we have

many slight colours, no fading, only the physical

type nearer closing.

the writing helper, word count abound below,

while fingers fly. he says the words come

at other times, you know, he may be right.

we have a slight covering of snow this

morning early.





it changed the shopping habits.

the medication aisle, opposite

hair products, held responsibility.

so this is written past tense,

when badges were awarded for bandage

folding, tied neatly round heel, supporting

the essential ankle, without that feet

would hang in space.

noting the itallics.

there were crepe, support, cotton

slings, all quite cheap, yet not as

free as rags.

the next shelf was tablets for aches

and belly hurts from eating stuff too much.

folk are proud of how they talk, while in the

present tense.

and so they should be.