Monthly Archives: November 2015

to write of rain

is the key. yet it has not been done .

maybe it has, look back in history,

use the links below. that will be

cheating.

so we set a task indoors with help,

and all comes new and tidy. there

are trees down up the road,

he told me. we are family.

today, later, i will write of rain,

ignoring the words i wrote before.

sbm.

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mark 4.4

numbers.

friday can be thirteen,

or something else entirely.

is it memory, history,

some thing.

he titled it profanity, the

subconcious.

so we write, critique,

move dots and numbers.

deal with the outcrops,

note the faith.

friday can be thirteen,

or something else

entirely.

sbm.

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reinvention. another day

seems i have reinvented

everything quieter than before.

wet autumn days or is it winter,

the change comes

gradually.

i dreamed a cloud of

falling leaves, awake to find it is so.

it is so very quiet here today.

sbm.

the critic

this critic is awkward,

sees the good, feels the grace.

how to say it, that the

mind wanders, that filth

detracts from the everyday.

that stitching can be rhythmic, and

never mind the capitals.

clever words confound,

googling interupts the flow

whilst dots are alaways

useful.

i have never done this before.

sbm.

off line

shall we go way to reinvent ourselves,

come back angry, writing

bitter words of discontent,

expecting other’s understanding.

shall we write vile words about

our fellows, to them , hidiing in profile,

masking internet. complaining

widely rather than deal, as we are dealt.

shall lines deepen, etched in glorious

bitterness, or shall we return quietly, remain

just the same?

sbm.

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one hundred words

i wrote one hundred words, exactly.

did i say much? i cannot tell .

i can tell you a it may be a sad tale

of death, and collection, of folk gathering

by the gate. by my gate it fell.

sbm.

IMAG0958

no comfort

squirm with fear and emotion, at what is written.

freeze at the next sentence, it has nothing to

do with you.

laugh yet is it with nervousness?

these are new remarks, a new way to learn.

a group of friends here, it is one’s own feelings

that cause discomfort.

the price of coffe is reduced,

all in lower case.

sbm.

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daily bread

yet we ran out, and no butter too.

it will be a daily thing, now the grass is cut,

now the leaves fall. have you seen the path,

a newer colour, gold. it is the lilac leaves

dying.

the plan is made this year, so each day,

a little while, we will rake and gather.

bag the leaves tidy, yet still hope

the wind will come and blow some

away.

it was a full day’s work yesterday.

sbm.

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six thirty

fog and mist are very slow to clear,

affecting roads and visibility.

no affection here, no one is moving yet.

we hear mansel davies, see the lights,

they are working men, as are we.

some just start later.

he bet me that i did not do a good days work,

i won, just come and watch me.

sbm.

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talk, talk

RE: . pdf .
sonja benskin mesher

06:07

Good Morning

I wake to find the internet is fixed,
so have read the document file.

as time is short, and the fact that
it all looks very well. I did like my odd spacing,
yet the dots are there.Let us go ahead and
both have a very nice day. I thank you

for all your work on this, and at
the weekend too.

i am very pleased, a little excited.

yes shall we refer to it as the journal.

sbm.

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