Monthly Archives: July 2015

tiny tiny things

there are tiny, tiny plants
in conwy high street, for sale.


folding the washing, out
came a tiny tiny beetle,
placed on the dining table,
the way to its freedom.

gaze at tiny tiny things,
the world becomes another

this is precious.



a trail of black feathers

takes us back to castle walls.

there is free parking there, you know,
just above the council one at probably
£4 a day. This is not a bad charge, is
cheaper than some places here.

we did not stay, wanted to be home.

followed the trail of black feathers,
saw those birds nesting, watched the train.

thought of you.
drove home.



the laundry man

forgot to come, to smile
for me. i shall have to change
the label next week, it does
not really matter.

this week or the next, it will
all work out, until it does not.

some feel it is a failure, yet
i think it as a gift each week,
received gladly, clean, crisp
packed nicely, labelled.

with a smile.



the plague

the cure is not fat bacon, it is
the genes. gently move forward,
prompting all good behaviour, accepting
reality. it happens to most of us some

three to ten days or more, with light
medication will help. as would new bedding,
deleting beige and floral lampshades.

how we laughed, bought unecessary items,
beat the plague.

without fat bacon.



those little hats

shown me. i touched
those little hats.

knitted, note the
decreasing on the crown,
a tidy pattern.

a random change
of colours there.

touch, to feel the softness
the quality, it is a special

only three balls left, one
pink, two blue,
both reduced in price.

wish you had made them.




while all is behaving nicely
around us, some place it is not.

think of this and feel lucky,
fortunate in your lot. be glad
that some know the rules.

it can be an honour, the honesty,

i met her the other day,
so upset
by peoples greed, need to hurt
each other.

we shall meet for coffee.

meanwhile , some receive awards.




is an abreviation for a little place,
a town with pollarded trees, an avenue.

pleasant, the word springs to mind,
and colours. she wrapped my old red
trowel in gardening news, and
pasted cuttings on the wall.

the sun was out and while this may
be an issue, we covered our heads,
carried on.

museum past. locked behind glass,
50p for elders, free to locals,
we overpaid, talked of may bugs,
talked of most things.

a day out in llani.



now it is my turn

so i thought, yet time indicates habits,
caring for others even the inanimate.

worrying over squirrel that stole
the chicken grain, grave danger
of losing life.

yes, it is my turn now, and this
includes all of lifes little
and difficult spellings.

typing comes hard when the cat
paws the bed, and thinks it her time too.

so it is, we must all have a turn, and refer
to the thesaurus regularly.

then we will learn another word
for it.



solitude is usual , even welcomed.

trips out reveal another state. the mind
and all travelling excites, while the horse
waits for the grist by the mill, i await


these are the old sayings, new happenings.

he asked me a question, then i replied.

endlessly. it may be a gift?



a brighter light

some things fade with time,
with sun and washings.

this one remained bright,
even glaring, a free sample
some years back.

others we get from the pound
shop, mostly costing one pound,
a waste if we get the wrong fitting.

they pop regularly, it is to do
with the electrics they say.

we put them in bottles and