Wednesday, 31 August 2016

On my way to buy a morning paper #74

From above my head:
Click of castanets suggest a black and white fandango.
Pyjama trousers, a wet dream, 
from their hanging, buttons banging against the window glass.
And, maybe tuning into my in-queue thoughts about a tidy bum,
Steve Harley offers radio invitation.

Tuesday, 30 August 2016

In the act of buying a morning paper

Penny, serving paper and a pint of milk,
thanks me no less than seven times.
Paper, milk passed over; coupon, Co-op card, pound coin.
On return of change (for which I thank her, and, again, she me).
And an eighth time as I walk away.

Monday, 29 August 2016

Reading in the garden

Sundays and Bank holidays the leisurely high whine
of small white aeroplanes against pure blue sky
speaks to me of riches I could envy.

Sunday, 28 August 2016

Sunday morning (late for me)

Starlings 3, 2, 1 across a neighbour’s roof-ridge
Four spoons, not five of mis-bought ‘Swiss-style’ muesli
Six fishermen cars, all of which are silver
and neither soul nor sound until an alien bouncy castle
smoke and smell of frying sausages
in the otherwise-deserted pub.

Saturday, 27 August 2016

First day of husband away.

The soft, delightful pleasure to be had
reading a quiet book
in a near-silent house
which recalls so many memories of young motherhood.

Thursday, 25 August 2016

From my window

Raindrops on the only slightly open window
invisible against the pale blank sky
become silver streaks and saucer-shapes
in contrast to the wine red sycamore beyond.

Wednesday, 24 August 2016

On my way to buy a morning paper #73

First four folk I see today –
a jogger and two dog-walkers
– all wearing pink, like me.
Fourth man, striped spearmint
same colour as the top mine was meant to be.

Tuesday, 23 August 2016

Scratched and battered but still in daily use.

Bread board, carving dish
folding metal clothes airer
and two Pyrex lidded casseroles
– wedding presents still in use
in our Golden year.

Monday, 22 August 2016

Markings

Splashes of raspberry tea
and several red wine circles
destroy the pristine symmetry
of a pink-squared soapstone chess board.

Saturday, 20 August 2016

From my window

Six foot by two of fine foam wrapping
somersaults along the street
rolling and unrolling in preparation for its maiden voyage
as a magic carpet.
Until a tidy-minded neighbour scoops it up and bins it.

West versus east, forecast versus actuality:

Woken by the horizontal howling
chill slicing the summer pudding of my dream
(eaten warm but ingredients anonymous)
I am surprised by the golden blue of sunrise
when I had anticipated grey rain.

Friday, 19 August 2016

In advance of the Writer's Workshop Festival of Writing

Dreams of arriving late –
wrong place, wrong clothes,
mouth spouting inappropriate opinions –
all symptoms of anxiety I’m unaware of
further infiltrated by the early morning churning of the breadmaker.

Thursday, 18 August 2016

On my way to buy a morning paper #72

Sixteen pristine, two-thirds finished dog-ends
on the path beside the railings round the pub
from which I straightaway concoct
a late-night, muttered, intense and distressed conversation.

Wednesday, 17 August 2016

Breakfast fruit

The cicatrice lace of cantaloupe skin
has me wanting to roll it with ink,
to roll it and print patterned paper 
to cover a notebook.

Tuesday, 16 August 2016

Programmed?

The man who entered the shop before me swerves, turns and leaves again, his actions wordlessly informing me the papers have yet to arrive.
Even so, I have to go and check for myself. 

Monday, 15 August 2016

Post visits

The ‘otherness’ of offsprings’ now-homes
offset, a little bit, by sight of mugs or quilts or something other
brought with them from childhood.

Sunday, 14 August 2016

From second storey window

6 a.m. shift change
Cars arrive, depart, arrive
judging to a practised nicety
second-, third-chance closing of the garage door.

Saturday, 13 August 2016

Visiting my daughter

Accustoming myself, on waking, to the reflections
on the glass panels of the mezzanine balcony divide
I am startled by the sudden emergence of a new red planet
until I see it is a paper lampshade, blowing in the wind.

Friday, 12 August 2016

Walking into town

Silver wires and foil cap, once holding in a cork
discarded and now flattened onto glass-embedded path
shaping a tiny fairy coachlet, fit to hold a fairy queen.

Thursday, 11 August 2016

Southbound on the A42

Seen from above, a yellow van, inadequately hidden for its presumable intention.
Back of a flatbed lorry, scarlet rose of tight-rolled tarpaulin.
A shocking pink fork-lift truck, piggy-backed to a wagon
and, weighing down a roadwork sign, another pig,
a saddleback, which morphed to sandbags, orange, black and orange. 

Wednesday, 10 August 2016

Reminded of Sindy furniture

Dislocating contrast –
turquoise plastic tub chairs, blinding white wall –
with the pot-holed squalor
outside the dentist’s door.

Tuesday, 9 August 2016

On my way to buy a morning paper #71

Alternating Tuesdays, fortnightly delight
recycling Giorgio Morandi
green, blue and white.

Monday, 8 August 2016

Sunday, 7 August 2016

Connie, yesterday.

The ease with which a ten year-old
lifts her foot to lie, high on her thigh, sole upwards
to replace a sticking plaster
then cartwheels off.

Saturday, 6 August 2016

On my way to buy a morning paper #69

Two cats flat-bellied to the ground
shadows bigger than themselves
blatantly, blinkingly, ignoring
cacophony from the tree above

Friday, 5 August 2016

On my way to buy a morning paper #68

Later than usual going for the paper.
Six silver cars and one burnt tangerine
and a poor man’s Wallis Simpson, lemon-faced.

Thursday, 4 August 2016

Shower thought

Slivers of un-turquoised toenail
denote nine days absence from my home
but should be painted golden
for the pleasures I had elsewhere

Wednesday, 3 August 2016

Sweaty from doing it in the sun

Ironing linen trousers:
tissue flakes to be removed
ten or more manipulations
and then they never hang up right.

Tuesday, 2 August 2016

On rising

Same time
same quality of silver dawning light
behind still night-black trees
as last week, through slatted blinds,
in Alabama

Monday, 1 August 2016

Anticipating visitors

Dusting top of dresser
(first time in decades)
yellow duster becomes grey bedraggled sheep.