the film with more than four qualities

more than four colours spent

red stained the face

he crammed in the fridge

freezing anguish

cold incidents leading

from black into blue

leaking, bleeding

hot tears

he danced beautiful

a tepid loop of indigo suiting

dripping , loosening

green gel of madness, sadness

joker

she said dead ends

i thought of split ends

i got with long hair

should be cut they said

some one like that

now it is cut regular, more short

like a boy. she would have liked

that

though i admire those with long and stylish

yet i can’t be bothered no more, am honest

about my feelings

but

she said dead ends so i muse on cul de sacs

you know those with bungalows and trees about

i remember from the fifties

and people like that

those that had cars, dogs and telephones

while we did not

i guess the cul de sacs still abound

around

i would not discover

with them

being a dead end

which should be avoided

going nowhere

yet have been down quite a few on this life journey

to the

bottom of the bag

and risen out

again

a bit like that

thankyou

today i prepare

to soujourn before

real winter comes

we ( he) only cut the back

yesterday and it looks good

bringing new plans, solid ideas

like responsible adults have

using language of the usuals

made in conversations and

the media

the front grass is timetabled

early november

meanwhile i research paving

and carpeting colours

indoors i hear podcasts

stuff i should know

owls and falling rain

which did falleth

until the language changed

so now it falls

as do conkers

i wonder if i may mesg

you via phone; you see

i looked at the reviews

and the wifi is till dodgy

we shall see

go safely

i enjoyed your writing

with tea

sounds settle

our trip went very well
in the greater manchester
area
with thoughts of another
place
i mentioned you and she
said why do you say with
my girl

and we discussed why certain words
come out unusually
yes she is my daughter

more like each other than we dare
both hard bitches in this
world of things

68 is not so far in this world

we all have numbers

to think also back then
they built stuff that took
a life time and many
of their lives through
belief

powerhouses never cease

today the gardener comes
so my grass will have the final cut

hopefully i will have some signal

it is a quiet village
a place to hide

initially it was said

that secondly should be

second and initially

should be first

i was confused that

nobody said third

and comforted

by the sound of fourth

memory of moth

there are six of us today and first i read first

and later

went fifth

later will be visited by moths in the window

on the thirteth november i may get the old

observers book of moths

i speak from experience

the garden is usual

yet the things i find

of a morning are not

i sits on the old table

see the door open

mostly the same time

each day

see the things put

down on the slate

in dishes or in tubs

i see vegetables

so i eat

them

i see pasta and i eat it

yoghurt is a must to

dip into to share with

slugs

who bloat in the thick of it

lucky i am if she puts out

cat food

then i lay and look through

the grass to the river

watch the flood rise and fall

while the sun warms

watch for the proper cat

who lives indoors, ragged

unlike me

and chase her up the boughs

of the tree

the oak tree

little tiny fleas
may show love too
with biting….

often the cold weather comimg
kills them and hopefully all

though i do not wish creatures

to die and why the double space?

my family had cats until they had none
vowed to never have no more

it seems the other night a mewing came
at the back door. betty

all the tasks were done, looking for the owners
googling what to do , denying entry

then

they fed it, looked out for it, let it in
the kitchen only so far
cuddled it
named it betty

they said they did not want another cat
what about the birds
then they named it betty

black

odd that we enjoy the differing colours of creatures
yet some have an issue with that of fellow folk

6.44am strong winds
my cat out
hope that betty
does not blow away

left early yesterday to travel to chester
to prepare for winter

to see the mosaic again
to remind myself

that most have survived

i sat by the river saw the man
feeding birds to entertain
himself, his small son

they came after for my ice cream
cone crumbs

in rain i walked the cobbles
to the old toy shop, closed

peered through the windows

yes it is a good series, yet some refuse
to watch the unreality of it all

i go again next week
the three to see the spaceman

i write about the

slight bump

because i cannot write about the past

the one i never had

a little knock is nothing

a reminder to take more care

to look out for others

i apologise for intruding into your space or did you come into mine?

is there damage. will it remove with spit and a wipe

of your sleeve?

i am so sorry

i do not remember that time

yet

i will remember your details

to make reparation

or shall we just spit on it and wipe

shake hands?

i am so sorry

perhaps we can meet again some

other time

without collision

over a coffee?

later we talked it over on the bus

which came to a skid suddenly

i imagined it was a cat crossing

we are given the theme initially

then things change

incredibly