Cuppas, never-failing

Cuppas, never-failing 

Here's a happy Valentine's he said 

and handed me a cuppa, morning cup of Rosie

tea in bed he said

and made me laugh as I tried to do the sums,

multiplying years by weeks by days

all those non-Valentine's, cuppas never-failing 

daily Rosie Lee. 

So later when I saw the love-hearts posted

flowers, chocolates, lavish
Instagram and Facebook pinkly overflowing 
I thought of cuppas never-failing, thousands 
upon thousands, daily down the years. 

17th February 2020 Brighton 

Unremarkable today

Unremarkable today 

Dawn at seven, pink
eastern watercolour sky
mist on cloudy fields 

Sun in upward arc
stark skeletons of trees
dew pond's beacon beam

Pale track falters
hibernating vines in lines
unremarkable today


February 8th 2020 Hounoux 

Emergency rations

Emergency rations 

There is poetry piled unstable as Jenga
book-marked, thumbed, beloved
by my bedside.
Also on sofas with the crochet wool, hooks
half-finished knit, sewing kit
coffee table, alphabetical on shelves 
paperback hardback dusty, brand new
single poet, mixed bag, Rattlebag, anthology 
for solace and balm, for calm, 
out of the noise.

Soul food, 
emergency rations 
stock-piled
books piled
barricade. 

February 3rd 2020 Hounoux 

What can art do?

What can art do? 

What can art do? 
Horror at the gates of hell
Now all the light is gone 

Paint paper brush
art-mother beckoning
what  can art do? 

Inner window wide
Peter Pans on the sill
up, up,  lift and fly 

Paint paper brush 
butterflies in fields of flowers 
blooming  on the page

What can art do? 
Beauty at the gates of hell 
When all the light is gone 

January 31st 2020 Hounoux, commemorating Friedl Dicker-Brandens who took a case full of art materials with her when sent to Theresienstadt concentration camp. She set up an art room for all the children of the camp. 

Watercolour

Watercolour 

When you're painting with water, a novice, letting it run
blend and blur, taking a chance 
(risk of sludge, puddled pool) 
but sometimes emerging soft-focus as a rainbow
as a sky rippled, dappled, end of day 
preparing for sunset
an image that will crow and so 
my hen. 
She's speckled, multi-coloured, blues and reds with burnt sienna
those feet, prehistoric, pink and yellow
feathers in layers fluffed
head up, chest out, puffed
and her beady jet-black eye. 

January 30th 2020 Hounoux 

John's owl

John's owl 

I heard an owl call, you said
a haunting spectral sound
long and loud in the winter wood. 
My neck hairs in a reflex rose
prehistoric ancient fright
conjured in the winter night 
and still the sound reechoes now
with memories of childhood tales 
ghouls and goblins nighttime dread 
it hoots and haunts my waking head. 

January 24th 2020, Hounoux 

Swung in the breeze

Swung in the breeze 

And is it a waste to while and wonder 
the unworked idle hour
to sit and stare as clouds shift, shadow 
snowy Canigou sparkling
most of the way to Spain 
or watch small birds fly in, fly out
(who told them of sunflower seeds?)
suspended, hung in the breeze

What then if I catch it, tether and pin it
preserving the moment in amber? 
Forever the clouds, the snow shine, the birds
suspended, swung in the breeze. 

January 22nd 2020 Hounoux