The blue, the blue
What with the mauve-blue rosemary and lilac
bee-loud as Innisfree, wisteria in festoons
all the hot sun day, blue day,
sharp scented, sweet
you’d want to take a brush or pen
canvas, paper, paint
squeezed tubes of blue in several shades, and gold
to gild and shine,
to hug and hold the cloudless hour
the birdsong, dancing bees
art’s fixative
this perfect April day
16th April 2024 Hounoux
Where once the serin
Where once the serin perched to sing
the sweetest high-pitched notes,
canary song,
his tree long moribund is axed, for safety first
despite my special pleading
for his spot, this destination
the miracle of annual return
bright tiny flyer
navigating here from Africa.
How many days and miles to our garden
behind the washing line, close by the damson tree
always the same bare branch
the flash of yellow, sweet high song
and me, rejoicing
for spring and his return.
17th March 2024 Hounoux
Mothers’ Day 2024
In the cut-out squares, pinked, so unfrayed
perfect
top left the sun at dawn
gilding the layered land.
Next the gift of tulips, purple, not yet languid
a swarm of tiny bees, mimosa flowers
then Lily’s memory of games we played
tea party in the fig tree (hidden)
Next row left to right, too-early blossom
plum and almond, bridal white,
Bee’s message to her mum, love letter
my mum, laughing.
Along the bottom, blessings
peaceful hours, log fire, the satisfaction of squares
complex pattern, dark and light
friends loved and lost.
Patchwork pieces, a one day, Sunday
legacy of loveliness.
March 11th 2024, Hounoux
I will put in the box
Not just one, instead a stack, shiny, clever
of tiffin boxes, tightly clipped
and first
that all-pervading everywhere aroma
woodsmoke, spices, dust
Indian essence
with blare and startle of horns and high-pitched peep
in and out auto, car, overloaded motorbike and bus,
wandering cow, munching
new road, three lanes, no rules apply, weave/wander
for gods sake stay alert!
Lime-green paddy waterlogged
houses in pink/ magenta/ turquoise, saris red and orange and yellow
flowers in your hair
here the hottest hues
no beige, no bland.
Like the past, another country
they do things differently here
although WhatsApp calls and Selfie! One more Selfie!
could fool you otherwise..
Noise and sweat and dust, crows at full volume
long wail of the train passing, over the points, over the points,
all filling the tiffin boxes, magical
between the sambas, rassam, rice and dhal, chapatti, dhosi, lentil cakes and idli, curd,
and special pyassam, warm milk with cashews, raisins, sweet treat.
All this is India, my India
plus mingled memories, the years of coming, from forty two to seventy five
mum to granny,
our friends once schoolboys fathers now and proud
scraping a living somehow, though ‘India small money ma’am’
but no tiffin tower, however tall, could hold it all
the light in their eyes, the smiles and the laughter
the namastes and hugs across the years and many miles
culture and language no barrier, not separated
nothing between us except love.
21st January 2024 Guest House Ruhsa
Front of guest house. Much of the site has recently been tarmacked / paved and the gardens are still beautifully tended by the women’s SHG.
It’s wonderful to be back at RUHSA in KVKuppam for the first time since 2019. So much has changed in that time. Dr Biswajit is head of RUHSA, Mr Allen is the new Vinoth, the lead administrator. Already there are real signs of great efficiency. When I was last here we knew that Dr Rita had initiated the building of a new guest house. At the time I was puzzled about that as a priority but now that we are guests staying in the finished building I can certainly commend it! The accommodation is modern and comfortable and comes with very helpful young men who do whatever is our bidding! So far, sorted wifi, cycles, hot water for shower, food, washing up.
This afternoon I think we will be accompanied to the police station at KVK to check in as alien visitors! Lovely to be back with the sounds ( crows, trains) and smells ( woodsmoke, spice, India!) and to be resurrecting my rusty old Tamil. Sacray ille- no sugar, very important as tea and coffee is sweetened as a matter of course. Nandri- thank you, accompanied by namaste gesture- much used. Time for our second curry meal of the day, 12.40 here, 7.19 in UK.
All the wide horizon
From early glimpsed stealing across one pane
thirty minutes before scheduled sunrise
the precursor, first thick slick
expert flick of the knife
burnt orange trailing its neighbours, crimson and gold
the bold and abstract, go with the flow of the show
this morning
attests to an early-risen artist and all the wide horizon for a canvas
a sky to be filled
glide of the knife from east to west
stripe after stripe
hot shades across the duck egg blue.
Now all my window’s filled, a thirty minute show
as slow, slow, the sun in splendour rises-
up!
14th November 2023 Hounoux
To fill a room with poetry
It was a Rattlebag a rag-tag a mish-mash
hotch-potch kind of happening
a patchwork quilt/ a collage / piece of theatre extemporised
as we came together each with our offering
quite randomly a feast.
We mixed in memories and laughter, dark and light
plus all shades spectrum in between
from Keat’s Autumn fruitfulness to Silver magic moon
my childhood’s rich round Hampshire tones
John’s poignant Irish isle
Baudelaire and Lafontaine
those exasperated wives, long-suffering
some smut among the beauty, leavening
and what serendipity! Kathryn’s wondrous Welsh
How blessed we are you’d have to say
when days are dark and all the news unbearable
to find such friends
to fill a room with poetry, ancient and modern
some beautifully home grown; a grandson in his grief.
So all the wide world encompassed
unlooked for loveliness
our golden treasury
9th November 2023 Hounoux for Léran friends
