Brainwashed by Photoshop

'Inverted' my first thought
when the sunlight bleached the factory roofs
and beyond, the forthcoming rainstorm
dyed the sky to black.

But I was wrong

and the tablecloth's now hanging in the sun,
indigo turned a faintly burnt sienna

Soaking seeming ineffective

The red wine stain
on last night's biscuit-coloured tablecloth
has now turned indigo.

Realised with mild shock

In the dark, my feet still do not know
the number pattern of the stairs,
even after thirty-seven years

On my way to buy a morning paper #10

Absence of blanketing wind
enables tiny, coloured stitches of sound
to be heard, as background pattern.

Treating effect not cause

In half-term week
three speed bumps
black with white triangles
are built in the road beside the school

On my way to buy a morning paper #9

Spat of rain and rustling raincoat,
squelch and slick of squeaking boots,
detract from silent dark and thoughtful contemplation.

Seven in the evening - hooray?

From the east, across the night-dark Tees
an ice-cream vendor plays a tune to tell me
that the sun is coming out to play

Seen while watching rugby

Man with dirty white-grey, dark-grey little dog
appears to have another on his head,
this one with ear-flaps.

What a waste!

Doorbell rings, mid-sentence
Run downstairs - delicious young man,
collecting for charity
Damn!

Blows the wind, southerly

and the sound of the fair, raucously loud, intermittent
flies up the hill,
dragging smoky dark-eyed and long ago memory:
ignorance swirling with premature ache for experience.

Speedy alsatian

Alternate light and dark,
as he passes a paling fence,
stripes the dog "go faster"

On my way to buy a morning paper #8

Semi-circle moon above my head
bleeding brightness
onto a blue-grey blanket.

On my way to buy a morning paper #7

Two overhead geese,
ten degrees apart,
noisy enough for a 'V' of a couple of dozen

Monday morning wasn't grumpy to start

Congenitally concept-free of consequence,
the woman on the corner has parked her 4x4
across the path, again.

static

I am a point of stillness
as my daughter whirls around me
making contact at Hong Kong
and from Schipol.

Untrained

Volunteers in charity shop
wash up the cups
and do not see the waiting customers

From my window, as I vainly seek inspiration

The merest smudge of dirty apricot:
a hem below the rigor mortis sky
and only two leaves moving

On my way to buy a morning paper #6

Half-light
half-dressed woman
high heels and a towelling dressing gown
searches the boot of her car
for clothes

Routine

Paper shop shuttered
paper not bought
shape of the day
dislocated

Coincidence

The grey of the clouds
blowing up from the west
match exactly the towels
I've just hung on the line

Enthusiasm?

My dentist
talks about the weather
as if he will not repeat himself
three times an hour,
every hour,
every day.

Uncertainty

So contrast-cold this morning
that I check the condensation on the car
to make sure it's not frost.

Influence of the wind

Yesterday's scampering, truant-playing leaves
close circle-scrummed damp this morning.

Minor irritation

Black grit-stones from BT's pavement-patching tarmac
stick to soles of sandals,
tread into house.

discomfort

The motorcycle instructor
sits on the sharp end of a red and white stripe cone
and shouts across the carpark
at his girl trainee

A pondering

What exactly is it
that turns random objects
not especially arranged on a windowsill
into a Still Life?

And how could we have told him?

The owner of the retaurant
might have exuded less bonhomie
had he known he'd left his flies undone

Forty-fifth wedding anniversary

Five then seven geese flew overhead
clanking and vociferous
Then the world turned pink