Preserved

Preserved

There’s more to Autumn than melancholy
Mists, golden grove un-leaving
Grieving, chrysanthemums
Acrid, banked in the churchyard
The dying of the light
Swallows mustering for flight
Keats had it hymned to perfection
Mellow fruitfulness
His ode is humming
Turning, perfect burnished orb
Glowing, as I chop and stir
Preserving in the pan
Purples, deep reds, aubergine
Provender, jewels from the hedgerows
Tomato, elderberry, black fig
Bursting, bubbling
Vinegar, balsamic, soft brown sugar
Cardamom, all spice, ginger
Yes there’s more to Autumn than melancholy
Conserved, held fast in chutney, compote, jam
Jars stacked, stored against the coming cold
Magic gift and souvenir
Of Summer’s blessed and ripening sun

27th September, 2009, Hounoux

September Returning

September Returning

First thoughts, uneasy
Waking to the cloud
The mist of the morning
Enveloping the land
Probe if you must
But gently
For still it lies there
Where? Midriff high
I’d guess, beneath the low lintel
Of my human heart
Beating, old faithful
But muffled drums
Pressing, oppressing
No sudden movements
Sidle slowly, with care
Take first cup of tea
And cradle for warmth
Season for grieving, leaving
September returning
My Autumn is here

September 24th 2009, Hounoux, for my Encouragers and friends, with love

Memory-keeper

Memory-keeper

A memory-keeper I made
In blues and red and white
Embellished with shot-silk gold
For the moon like a sovereign,
Writing in stitches winding
Upwards, declaring my love
For the boy, his name on the train
On the tracks at the hem
Who one day will grope
Tiptoes, curious to see
The hidden in the pockets,
First dummy, shoe, white rabbit,
Poem, the book cousin wrote, full of love
A memory-keeper I made
His own museum piece
Recording his history, his small
As yet, life-line, his connection
To past, three generations back
For jogging of memories, remember
Do you, remember, when
The century was young
And love came to call
Knocked, entered, and stayed to grow
To laugh by the fireside
To settle, don’t go
For holding it down, bird under glass
Butterfly moments, pinned on the page
Fleeting, ephemeral
A kiss, infant hug
Enjoy all we can, for tomorrow
He’s fled, flown
Grown, leaving home,
Not sad, glad rejoicing at birth
New life ahead, I chose
Colours and cottons and shot-silk for moon
And I stitched
And embroidered a work full of love
In blues and red and white
A Memory-keeper I made

September 9th, 2009, en route for Grenoble, for Luca

A Summer Place

A Summer Place

This house has been full
Filled all summer long
In every room by night
The soft sounds of sleep
The need to creep
Hush do not disturb
In this room and that
The snuffle of babies
Who murmur in dreams
By day the kettle, the toaster
Popping and humming, the drum
Drum of the dryer, dishwasher
Clatter and chatter as meals are
Prepared, wine for the cook
For her helpers, all of us busy
Every chair brought to use
Crowded the table
The sofas and stools
Groupings on terraces
Under parasol shades
Baked in the sunshine
Cool in the pool
Or picking the produce
To chop for the plate
This house on the hill
Has spread out a welcome
To old friends and new
A party unending, evolving
In comings and goings, airport collections
Serendipity and chance
A movie, a story, a poem, a dance
The tale of a house
Brimming and blessed
With love and with laughter
All summer long

Hounoux, 22nd September 2009, well past midnight, for the 26 visitors

Had I the Gift

Had I the gift

Had I the gift
Of a wand or a wish
From the rub of a lamp
I’d wave and I’d wish
Oh how I would
With all of my will
And the might of the love
Of a lifetime for you
And for yours
That all would be well
And you would be well
Walking free, no more the cage
The illness and pain
No more the struggle
Defeated and worn
Leaden, despairing
Dragging your shackles
I’d wish you new life
In the uplands and sun
Had I the gift
The magic and power
For healing and mending
For making it right
Then all of my love
For all of your life
For ever and ever set free

21st September 2009, Hounoux, for my beloved H

Self-talk

Self-talk

Your challenge for today
( Should you choose, etcetera)
Is the raising of spirits
The lifting of hearts
Floating free blue skies
Unthinking, in search of
Pollyanna, still out there
Perhaps, seeing the positive
Chipper, with cheer
Come on, you can do it
The sun after all
Does have his hat on
It’s only a habit
Attending to dread
Probing at pain
Fearing the phone call
What if, suppose, you never know, give it a go
She was right, wise woman
With her all shall be, all
Manner of, all shall be well
( Bad-to-worse perhaps not inevitable?)
Still, old dogs,old habits
Inner prophet of doom
Refuses to lie down, quit,
Miserable hunched he sits
Heavy on the heart
Shortens the breath, leaden
Dread
Today’s blue skies, cloudless challenge
And tomorrow, should I choose

14th September, 2009, en route home from Grenoble

One Common Thread

One Common Thread

Another beautiful place
Another gathering arranged
French Alps this time, looming
How welcome the sun, the heat,
Swimming pool, balm after England’s
Summer, alas no show
Just six of us, glad to be met
Three who were girls
Once, long ago, together
Girls who had striven
Conscientious, best students
Frowning and fretting, with Molière
Racine, Latin translations
Set books, cramming quotations,
Scribbled the desperate hours
Clock-ticking in examination halls
Till moment in August dread envelope, then
Exultation- thank God!
Packed up, fussed over and finally
Farewell, tears shed, but hurrah
Could-not-wait, full of hope to be gone
All of us anxious yet cast-iron sure
That this was the hour, the place
Our time in the sun, new life beginning
What would it be ,for we three
Women of our time, Sixties
Beatles, the Pill, Women’s Lib
Sex just invented as Larkin would write

So first we found friends
Braver now, no more alone
Formative friendships
Founded then, forty years ago
And look at us now
Proof living of what happened next
Histories, lives shared
Of children, their children
Marriage and work
Countries and cultures, choices and fate
But one common thread
For six of us here, reunion
So glad to be met

10th September 2009, Grenoble, for Carol and Maureen, with love

Dialogue

Dialogue

Before you start let me make it clear
That of course I’ve grasped the basics
Even more, the details
Perhaps the full fat feminist
Issue, adipose tissue
That’s lurking underneath here
Lumpy globules subcutaneous lying
Adhering to bones, obscuring the line
Hanging in rolls, bursting free, breaking out
Inflating the form, the figure, swelling fingers and feet
Fatness, obesity, the naming of names
Truth out, let’s admit it, from plumpness of child
Never an asset, embraced as a friend
Only ever a stand-off, some years of ceasefire
Truce when the diets and fad foods were binned
But candidly staring
Glaring in the glass
The enemy’s within
The fight never done
Observe if you will the yo-yo, the see-saw effect
Call it curvy, voluptuous
Call it plain fat
Brace up, face up
Which will it be?
Time for a change, what do you say?
Long overdue, late in the day
But surely now, somehow, the hour
To be glad to be grateful, to decide
To be me

7th September, 2009, Hounoux

Be Brave My Friend

Be Brave My Friend

Courage, mon amie, my friend be brave
Though others may murmur
Grumble, berate
For what do they know?
Not one part or a fraction of all you have learned
A lifetime of service with people, with pain
Listening and loving, lightening their lives
Making a difference, gritting your teeth
Determined to help where others ignore
Fretting at problems, refusing defeat
For all whom you’ve touched
For children you’ve changed
Life chances enhanced, walking forward with hope
With all of their voices, voices now heard
I bid you remember
Be strong and stand firm
For you are their champion
Now let them be yours
Do not be beaten, keep your head high
Truth surely will out and be valued one day
We’re cheering you on, who love you the best
Wishing you courage, friend fearless and brave

8th September, 2009, Hounoux, for J B, with love

Luca, for Light

Luca, for Light

Two years ago this night
Three of us, your mother, your father
And I (chosen- what gift to be there!)
The clock having been watched
The careful minutes logged
Excitement mounting, yes, surely
This is it?
Rode in a taxi- five children he’d fathered
The driver, garrulous, an expert on our subject
Then up in the lift to a room with a view
As dusk began to creep
And sunset tinged the pier
Stark beauty in silhouette
Your father- soon to be/ impatient to be-
Took photographs for souvenirs
Not knowing yet that ever afterwards
At setting of sun on Brighton beach
He, like me, would live again
That moment, you coming,
Painfully on your way
All of us now intent in the room
Watching and listening
The struggle heroic, brutal
Your mother assailed, overwhelmed
Besieged on all sides
Tsunami of pain now flowing, crescendo,
Now ebbing, too soon again rising, ever again
Beyond what is reasonable, bearable, surely too much?
Could not, would not, should not be borne
Two of us helpless, willing you on
Till moment of climax (building to this)
The joy, the relief, and bliss of it all
Your sweet self delivered, and landed ashore
For three of us there, in shock and in awe
Lightning bolt smitten as love fell to earth
First of your subjects, yours to command
Lord of our hearts from moment of birth
I think we had dreamed you, Luca for light
Special delivery, two years ago, this night

4th September 2009, Hounoux and Brighton, for Luca