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fifty words

fifty words!

as many as that;

not as many as last night you know.

brainstorming with abandon

and counting symbols.

crossings out and wiring my brain is a task

for which i am not fit without a drink.

a sort of drink cannot say or i will fail.

sbm

challenge:~ 50 words. no ā€˜eā€™

norway square

you said nothing is ever perfect, and

i remember this and why.

reciting, shouting, jumping on walls

laughing.

you sent a book, along

with the money due.

st.ives.

sbm.

on the other side,talking to james

My thanks to James Stephen for his input on this work. A Poetry Circle conversation..poetry circle.

on the other side
of the path
one yellow flower

**

early, the crowd came to see the famous arch . laburnum. i came to see the kitchen garden, seeds growing

**

old words
for things once common
when the things disappeared
the words went with them

**

some words remain remembered;
scullery, coal scuttle, hod,
broom.

that is yellow.

**

have a vacuum for
most things
broom is for incidentals,
crevices, or when I’m lazy
’bout getting vacuum out

broom is red
with matching dustpan

**

i have a vacuum
there is nothing there.

the broom is for

the garden
mainly

or elsewhere for smelling like coconut

**

sweep your garden ?

**

slate bits

came from gloddfa ganol….quarry in blaenau.

front yard. leaves fall.

**

leaves here falling too
a tree here a tree there
so far
soon it will be
all of them together

a collective shed

next 6 months
nothing but bare branches

**

these are the falling days.

lelant, simply that

There are no records left; I asked them.

The probation officer arranged it, he was helping my brother. My trip may have been unofficially organised.

I was taken to meet the lady, I remember her name, her home clearly. Mum kitted me out in hand knitteds, summer and lace up shoes. I was shocked by the latter; I aways had straps.

I may have been 6 years old; there is no record.

We went on the bus , cook and I, to the small cottage hotel, Lelant by the sea. A bus ride from St. Ives, a short walk down the hill to the beach to play.

My host went shopping, introducing me to her friends, and worrying over my hair. The hairdresser suggested that cutting was not the answer and I was provided with a dark green ribbon, shiny, wide and expensive. I imagined the cost.

The food was unlike any I had known, just tomato soup, scones with cream that left my tastebuds traumatised. I liked the boiled eggs; I was used to them. Cook looked after me kindly and understood, told me to say. The gardener suggested that as I must pass through the kitchen garden to school, I may eat as much fruit as I liked. I did.

I liked the little school, made friends. The laceups were a great succes as I could walk on my toes, like a ballet dancer. The soles were thick. Friends were made and one girl lent me her woollen bathing costume to bathe in the estuary. It sagged when wet; my self esteem lowered.

Adding here that at that age who knew of self esteem? We just felt bad.

I was given the sweetest little bedroom in the roof, all dolls and dormers. They took away my comforter, and it seems then I walked in my sleep. Moved downstairs to the piano room where no stairs could harm me, I felt unsettled.

Yet the days moved nicely. There were little troubles, nothing to diminish the beauty of it all.

The day came when I was sent home, I guess it was agreed; there are no records. I had wanted to stay, and I still feel guily for that.

My family met me from the bus, laughed at my accent and threw the ribbon away.

Weeks later I found it dirty in the lane, and kept it, hid it.

Years later I went back. In the museum, met a man who recognised me. We were then in our fifties, and he said I looked the same.

I am not the same. There are no records.

I never was a ballet dancer.

sbm.

some times

do you hear someone sleeping?

do you hear them breathing?

i did not for many years.

last week I did.

the hotel

had thin walls.

sbm.

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driving past woods

oh you are a beauty, showing your legs, dress swinging.

in rhythm. in photos , little gifs, to share.

how can we look the same? i think i look different

now. now that i have grown, watched you grow.

now. now.

now that i helped when you were sick. now.now.

now i am older and watched you die. all of you.

i say goodnight to some and remember all of you.

how can i look the same. now. now.

remember all that has been done. how

can i look the same?

you are still a beauty.

dress swinging.

sbm.

1

red cross

can you believe it. that it was said?

red cross.

we should help people in this country

first, not those abroad scared and dying.

that she asked about her washing, yes i

hang it in the garden, in sun and breeze

to dry fresh.

she replied that is what peasants do.

do you believe that?

red cross shop.

some say she has a face lift!

sbm.