Monthly Archives: June 2015

cutting grass

is hard this weather,
sloping garden, heat
and headache.

robin comes, alarming,
the nest nearby, we push
and shove the thing, watch
the swallow.

drag bags of cuttings,
look at the graves. rest

a while.

strange how the mood lifts,
this must be good

some how.



the loom

the start of things, the making
of the welsh cape.


we have none here, we
have a blanket, washed
and faded. we started
the research and found
he lived near the thing
he wanted.

he had not known
the proximity.

she tried the coat,
too stiff
too heavy, weighed
her down.

there is a sadness here now.



back to the cabinet

light bulbs and cotton hankies .

all things are useful, bulbs

bring light , denote ideas,

good intentions, spent,


cotton hankies, frayed hold the books,

yet those with nylon, stretch the skin

resulting in red and soreness.

shy away from dangerous commodities,

use the best, those tradtional artefacts

which are gentle on your soul, bring light.

wipe your nose clean.


today we have added notes for your interest.


. the hole .

having googled. find that six feet
is the best, yet make a way
to escape the hole.

work with eye in mind, and
finish with nicely sieved
for a neat icing sugar

smooth well, this dirt
is not dirty.


. chalk .

being quiet is easy.

we ate buns, and drew

breadcrumbs are easy.
they may clean the cat
fur readily.

later we drew
strange unusual creatures.

it all seemed easy.

rain will wash it all away.


. this .

the worst is over,
until the next thing begins.

you think me quiet, heartless
or not think of me at all, now.

i have sorted things, done the necessary,
yes. the worst is over.

i expect.



a handy hint is the furthest place,
people like to be near. people may prefer
moving forwards, not looking back too much.

things go round, rebound. it is a lovely
journey, through the mountain range, glory
for writing,

travel journals, while all the while, we think
we travel the other way.

so we did.




pass through on the way,
it is a pretty place,
if you think so.

in town
the car park was full,
people were shopping.

all felt happy if you think so.

later he was full of woe, which
is valid, if you think so.


do you remember

when the horse when down, when you read glyn hughes?

the field is flowers now, grasses,one patch
of purple thistles

it is said most things have feelings, so

we walk the lane, wild now, watched the
water beetles, swallows dip.

memories crowding in, i talked too much.

there were several visitors, some picnicked
by my gate.

then, the kettle broke.
i will remember you.



the egyptians

have come from london, to
stay a while. i remember you
brymbo man.

profanities in town caused
ears to bleed, and where it was
a market town, now it all all
charity and coffee shops. places

change, while the egyptian things
remain so fine.

we gasped at the empty space.