tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1104819232744705772024-02-19T23:45:02.995+00:00stones of communicationa poetical response following close observation: pebbles for rivers of stonesSandra Davieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11788472031698175632noreply@blogger.comBlogger519125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-110481923274470577.post-259818297685353262022-06-06T09:35:00.002+01:002022-06-06T15:38:32.137+01:00On my way to buy a paper #102<p> Early morning, squeezed betwixt kerbstone and black tarmac of the road, a solitary poppy. Eight inches tall, scarlet petals damp and creased: impossible to deny it embarked on the walk of shame. </p>Sandra Davieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11788472031698175632noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-110481923274470577.post-5995893003527453242022-05-12T15:34:00.006+01:002022-05-19T06:34:58.266+01:00On my way to buy a paper #101<p> Bare-headed, seed-blown dandelion stalks, pale-lit against grass verge by early morning sun, appear somewhat ominous; an invasion of listening aliens from another planet.</p><p>The metallic, repetitive squawk of the pub's burglar alarm merely reinforces the impression.</p>Sandra Davieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11788472031698175632noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-110481923274470577.post-26173982335006618892021-05-04T11:13:00.002+01:002021-05-04T11:13:13.630+01:00From my window, 4th May<p> How black the rain-soaked branches of the rowan</p><p>against the new, bright leaves.</p>Sandra Davieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11788472031698175632noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-110481923274470577.post-4515426641664320712021-04-29T08:10:00.003+01:002021-04-29T14:22:35.228+01:00God's early morn? <p>To the east, towering grey clouds</p><p>Shiny-edged.</p><p>I wait for God's fingers to appear</p><p>clutching, and hoping for another ten minutes</p><p>before he has to rise.</p><p><br /></p>Sandra Davieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11788472031698175632noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-110481923274470577.post-89519286566469788542021-02-04T19:33:00.000+00:002021-02-04T19:33:00.841+00:00After lunch<p> A from-the-corner-of-my-eye, unfocused glance</p><p>startled by a ginger tabby, five feet up the conifer.</p><p>While mind throws up a juggle of lunatic explanations</p><p>eye looks again</p><p>and sees it is dead branch.</p>Sandra Davieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11788472031698175632noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-110481923274470577.post-2368505794805910652021-01-28T08:44:00.006+00:002021-01-28T08:44:46.710+00:00Momentarily mistaken<p>NOT slow, large-scape gathered drops from the gutter</p><p>but occasional, errant, unwelcome snow.</p><p><br /></p>Sandra Davieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11788472031698175632noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-110481923274470577.post-13161363601525819882021-01-24T06:42:00.000+00:002021-01-24T06:42:02.437+00:00Sense of time<p> What I took for granted, until a couple of years ago</p><p>was my sense of time: waking in the dark, I could usually guess,</p><p>accurate to within ten minutes.</p><p>In the last two, three years</p><p>It's disappeared.</p>Sandra Davieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11788472031698175632noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-110481923274470577.post-89316966716055974362021-01-17T07:35:00.008+00:002021-01-17T07:36:37.387+00:00Golden-plus years of marriage<p> There's no place nor sense in having conversations we didn't have courage or vocabulary for</p><p>in the early days</p><p>Not now we've learnt to adjust.</p><p>And know kindness - love - is more important.</p>Sandra Davieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11788472031698175632noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-110481923274470577.post-30421632943674766782021-01-14T14:32:00.002+00:002021-01-14T14:34:51.967+00:00Slush shapes<p style="text-align: left;">Wet overnight snow</p><p style="text-align: left;">rained upon this morning</p><p style="text-align: left;">forms, in places, circles</p><p style="text-align: left;">as if strained through some heavenly colander</p><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Sandra Davieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11788472031698175632noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-110481923274470577.post-18811995679903810602021-01-13T09:43:00.006+00:002021-01-13T14:37:57.332+00:00Crowded workshop carpark<p> Two or maybe three </p><p>(might all be done by mirrors)</p><p>shaven-headed, black-fleeced men</p><p>directing my reversing</p><p>None noticing I'd barely noticed them.</p>Sandra Davieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11788472031698175632noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-110481923274470577.post-68877274433848425272021-01-12T14:45:00.001+00:002021-01-12T14:45:08.639+00:00That song ...<p> Ten past two in the afternoon</p><p>walking south</p><p>unable to tell friend from foe</p><p>not that I meet many friends out walking</p><p>and even fewer foes</p>Sandra Davieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11788472031698175632noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-110481923274470577.post-2927038103427894762021-01-09T22:49:00.005+00:002021-01-10T06:39:32.419+00:00On my way to buy a morning paper #100<p> Walking on potentially slippery surfaces -</p><p><i>successfully</i> walking -</p><p>is all about confidence.</p><p>Thanks, this morning, to seeing how the man in the blue coat was doing it.</p>Sandra Davieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11788472031698175632noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-110481923274470577.post-17615663994443132482021-01-08T06:57:00.002+00:002021-01-08T06:57:17.799+00:00... and ... relax<p>Surprised at the near-addiction which lead me to a never-before binge-watch of 86 episodes of a French detective series, I am equally so at the lack of guilt or withdrawal at the satisfaction of its ending.</p><p>Now to books.</p>Sandra Davieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11788472031698175632noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-110481923274470577.post-81380045820231954152021-01-05T17:38:00.008+00:002021-01-05T22:09:54.042+00:00Celery soup<p> I like the silence of a wooden spatula</p><p>stirring onions, celery, spuds and small-chopped fennel</p><p>in melted butter. </p><p>Live Throwing Copper in the background</p>Sandra Davieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11788472031698175632noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-110481923274470577.post-47513938441751994562021-01-04T09:24:00.010+00:002021-01-05T17:40:18.564+00:00Spirals in the mind<p>Binge-watching multiple episodes</p><p>of a subtitled detective series</p><p>I fool myself into thinking I can speak French.</p><p>.</p>Sandra Davieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11788472031698175632noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-110481923274470577.post-46140093455628047862021-01-02T10:14:00.009+00:002021-01-02T12:38:29.208+00:00Efficiency rating<p>How efficient is snow</p><p>Straight down, fined to near-invisibility</p><p>deposits, in just minutes</p><p>inches - three or four - on top of cars. </p><p><br /></p><p>Soft-sludged to translucent</p><p>snow on ice on duckweed</p><p>colour of a much-hated 'tonic'</p><p>forced upon me when I was a child</p><p><br /></p>Sandra Davieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11788472031698175632noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-110481923274470577.post-27754217519673309322021-01-01T16:52:00.008+00:002021-01-05T22:13:37.895+00:00On my way to buy a paper #99<p> Late up, late out and lighter</p><p>Musing on the character of a character</p><p>Knowing her outgoing, loving and giving</p><p>I realise she's a Friday child</p><p>Add mercy</p><p>And have the title of my yet-to-be begun novel.</p>Sandra Davieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11788472031698175632noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-110481923274470577.post-5471725026586480362020-12-02T15:18:00.000+00:002020-12-02T15:18:16.938+00:00These days<p>These days</p><p>we kiss when we coincide in the kitchen</p>Sandra Davieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11788472031698175632noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-110481923274470577.post-23355112043857023222020-09-18T08:51:00.002+01:002020-09-18T08:51:23.196+01:00On my way to buy a morning paper #98<p>Mist over the river diverted me to the golf-course path</p><p>to see stereotypical stripes of gentle white </p><div style="text-align: left;">interspersed with Paynes grey tops of trees and distant hills;</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">wind blades still.</div><p><br /></p>Sandra Davieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11788472031698175632noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-110481923274470577.post-15954336723128415692020-08-15T08:33:00.000+01:002020-08-15T08:33:31.186+01:00On my way to buy a morning paper #97From number three to number six<br />
Holywell Green<br />
the road is wet/dry scalloped<br />
where precipitation failed to penetrate<br />
the trees.Sandra Davieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11788472031698175632noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-110481923274470577.post-252232633484628272020-07-22T14:12:00.001+01:002020-07-22T14:18:49.704+01:00On my way to buy a morning paper #96A discarded latex glove<br />
and my mind flips between<br />
man who manages five times a night<br />
and close-coupled gang-bang.Sandra Davieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11788472031698175632noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-110481923274470577.post-6308211087376598092020-06-17T07:00:00.000+01:002020-06-17T07:00:17.917+01:00Unflaming JuneAnother morning<br />
waiting for the weather to be coloured in .Sandra Davieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11788472031698175632noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-110481923274470577.post-6670330533565500092020-06-04T08:17:00.000+01:002020-06-04T08:17:29.204+01:00On my way to buy a morning paper #95Saw a metaphor for the sadness of my MC :<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif;"> the sudden wrongness of a never-gonna-fly-again,
rain-clogged feather</span>Sandra Davieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11788472031698175632noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-110481923274470577.post-13557648690669533962020-05-08T14:06:00.000+01:002020-05-08T15:00:07.415+01:00On my way to buy a morning paper #94Fringed bunting shadows of lockdown uncut verges<br />
Scattered bright green circumflexes<br />
of sycamoreSandra Davieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11788472031698175632noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-110481923274470577.post-30008990128725886552020-04-26T14:50:00.000+01:002020-04-26T14:50:01.450+01:00From my front doornext-door's crimson tulips<br />
maintaining social distanceSandra Davieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11788472031698175632noreply@blogger.com0