Go to the kitchen, turn on the oven
open the cupboard, reach up and look for
Flour, Sugar, Vanilla and Ginger
Creaming butter by hand is my workout
adding sugar till it’s silky and smooth
heaps of flour like snow-covered mountains
mix it, squeeze it, squish it through my fingers
Slowly it changes to a perfect dough

Flouring the worktop, clouds of it rising
as I roll the dough again and again
Choosing cutters in 3 different sizes
12 little people, my gingerbread friends
gone in the oven. I watch them change colour
tourists on beach towels under the sun
Takes only 10 minutes and out they come
lying on the wire rack. One by one

I eat them.

I stormed out
in a temper, yes.
Everything is expected of me
so, for once, I’ve left him to it.

He can wash up
He can feed the baby
He can get the children dressed.
For once.

I have it all to do,
even on Sundays when he’s home.
The day the good Lord said
‘ye shall rest.’

I have it all to do
the cooking, the cleaning
the washing, the ironing.

I have it all to do
get them up in the morning
put them to bed.
Feed their hungry mouths
tell them stories
listen when they read to me.

I do it all with no bother, usually.
Not today, a Sunday when we are due to go out
something snaps and
I leave my post – the kitchen sink
so out I go and walk and walk and walk.

As I walk my temper subsides.
I don’t care where I walk but
I find the river with swans swimming
rowers rowing, people strolling.
I make my way home, feeling calmer.
He’s done it all, the pots, the children.
Everything.

Being a ‘Drama Queen’ sure gets results.

I got up in the morning and looked out at the view,
a fine summers morning filled with tranquillity and joy,
blue skies, white clouds, birds soaring, sun shining,
Birds chirping happily pecking at the berries, magpies squabbling and pigeons hovering, looking for food,
Cat positioning herself wiggling her back ready to strike, bird flies away, a very surprised the cat
Grandkids tearing down the stairs, pitter patter of their feet
ready to eat breakfast, cheeky grins on their face,
innocent eyes full of mischief look up at me with unconditional love, like flowers opening their petals and embracing me,
feeling of sheer joy and love oozes out of me, they speak the truth, so beautiful, I felt like a hero
out we go in the garden for breakfast in the sun, everything comes alive, garden echoes from laughter and glee, children shrieking, dog wagging its tail joining the fun, cat seems disgusted and looks away
Time to serve, “poached egg and toast for me” shouts one, “I want chocolate spread, toast, jam, doughnuts and biscuits and sweets, pipes another
I looked at them with pride, how lucky I am to be part of their life
My kitchen is in a mess, all that cleaning and scrubbing, I am sure it will go unnoticed by you know who, I do not care a toss I am going to have fun, maybe he will surprise me
A soft warm hand clutches into mine and whispers “ let’s go to the park for ice cream” a little voice commands
We stroll in the park and see green trees, some in bloom nodding their heads and flowers too
We felt so light we danced and skipped as there was no tomorrow, we skipped by the water danced round the trees, raced with the wind sunny breeze kissed our cheeks
I felt alive like the buds of flower opening up to the warmth of the sun.
We skip by the pond and see a frog and his mating call, sitting there waiting in patience, children said “hello” poking sticks and throwing stones as most children do, full of mischief.
Stopped by the splashing fountain, so soothing to the soul, hobbled lazily to a nearby bench
I lay my head down ready to doze, I close my eyes just for a moment and count my blessings,
saw a bee buzzing in my face, so small yet fearless.
Little one squeezes my hand, little chubby fingers clutching me, reaches over for crisps, the older one snatching it away, he put his arms around my neck and I hugged him tight.
My little angel Ill keep you safe, I held him so close and kissed him,
how blessed I was, the only people I need in my life are the one who need me.
Amazing how far one can go just because someone believes in you
I wanted to live the day with my stars
As we come to a close, the fun ended
head for the kitchen for unfinished work.

I look in the mirror
I see myself without a glimmer
I see my eyes filled with fear and pain
Is this me full of stain
I got all mad and angry
My strength and pride I wanted to regain
I hastened to the window and gazed
Out in the garden somewhat dazed
It looked so magical with sunshine and bloom
I walk in the garden to get rid of my gloom
The sweet cool breeze gave me so much hope
Calming feelings spreading like dope
Scent from the flowers so vibrant and soothing
Petal so tender yet so strong and ravishing
The bird in the tree sang me a song
You can do it if you really want, but you must try and try
I had nothing to lose but to comply
I walked to the duck swimming in the pond
She looked at me and sang me a song
Chicken, take a dive and shine
I sang the note of the bird song
Walked a different path no so long
I became an eagle with wings spread wide
Soaring away high in the sky, my head held high
Gone is the darkness that controlled my soul
Determined to reach my goal
I meet my friends with outstretched hands
Bruises and scars are on the mend
Now as my story unfolds
I am proud to say
Hello, this me the bold
That is me the real me

I shall write a radio play

I shall write a radio play,
because I wanted to write one years ago
because I love listening to radio dramas
because I borrowed a radio script once
and lost it , I feel bad about that
because I’d promised to return it
because I used to love amateur dramatics,
because I like writing dialogue
because I want to write something
different to poetry
because I can feel the button of the radio
as I press it to hear my play
and I feel better

I reach up and press the button
I push the door open
I pass the office window
and go through the outer door
as I walk over the path
and on to the car park
I know I will never
go through that door again.
Twenty years of memories,
mostly joyous, but, no regrets
I’m sure and I feel better.

We’d had ‘words’, she invalided
severely crippled with arthritis
hardly able to move alone

me, only daughter coping
best I could; part time jobs,
student husband, new town

grabbed baby, plopped her
into weary old Silver Cross.
“YOU’RE ALWAYS THERE!”

My outburst startled each of us;
exiting without a backward glance
I heaved the front door shut behind.

Fresh air, a stroll around parkland
birdsong, happy dogs and walkers
diffuse the situation. We go home.

It’s a mixture of anger and shame.

Thank God happy baby beams
at Grandma in her comfy chair.

Focused on her Mills and Boon
she says softly “Kettle’s boiled”.

Words dissolve like sugar in tea as we drink silently together.

Forty years on in my mind’s eye there’s
a stalwart defying excruciating pain
carrying out a simple task.

You struggled from chair to wheelchair
You stubbornly reached the kitchen sink
Your determination picked up the kettle
Your tenacity held on while it filled
Your generosity tricked us – nearly.

I just feel better when I know I’ve failed
and drawings I complete seem a disgrace
when ‘beauty’ from my pen on paper’s paled
against the real thing I find in your face
when amateurish efforts to record
your smile and all you have to make my day
result in what is obviously flawed
as if my talent has all leached away
I grasp the chance to stare at you again
and hope your life in charcoal form’s retained
or in plan B, the different form of rhyme
my faults demand I see you one more time

Forever my intent and you aren’t matched
as confirmation, see the proof attached

Clearout

too heavy to lift

too heavy to shift

silently sulky

it stares at me

that big brown cardboard bulging box

looming overlarge

lurking in the corner

shoved under the table

sucking my energy into its vortex

sides sagging

full

far too full

for far too long

always present

its shadow self

harnessed to my back

dragging me down

too heavy to lift

too heavy to shift

a toe-stubbing obstacle

archive of forgotten obligations

broken promises

scattered dreams

paper layers describing life’s twists and turns painfully itemising faded hopes

too heavy to lift

too heavy to shift

until now

because today

I cleared it

black bin bag in hand

I rooted it out from under the table

crushed and stuffed its history into oblivion swiftly cutting fast that box now lifted that box now shifted shoulders are looser eyes are brighter I sway and dance around my room as music flows through my life again

Clearout

big

bulky

cardboard box

heavy weighty

too full for too long

toe-stubbing  obstacle

archive of old promises

and forgotten obligations

my history preserved in paper

layers evidencing my life story

dusty disorganised but demanding

faded words blur wanting attention

sensing a shift resisting change

they argue their importance

but crushing and tearing

I have had enough

bin bag ready

I clear it

lighter

free

A Perfect Day

Morning

Back of garden sunrise.

Hay-fever pills.

Vegetables,

coffee and toast.

Get up tracksuit

bottoms and

red tee-shirt.

phone-call from Sue.

Afternoon

Cup of tea.

Teacake.

Butter

and jam.

Sitting in chair,

leopard skin

swim suit,

wearing cream pants

flowery top.

Midday

Listen to radio.

Cheese and onion cobs.

Glass of ginger beer.

On radio “What

a Wonderful World.”

Night

Stir fry chicken with Chinese.

Glass of white wine

watching of Match of the Day,

Leicester City.

Claudio pizza’s tomato,

ham and cheese

bed time.

I bend down,
pick up the tiny gem.
Reflecting the sea,
polished by shells,
I feel its smoothness against my hand.
An animal’s eye,
a mermaid’s jewel,
fallen from a necklace of history,
what story does it tell?
Sunny day blue.
It lifts my spirits,
I’d dragged myself out,
my will had fought back,
it took everything to open that door;
now the tiny piece of glass shines in my hand.
I was angry,
I was upset,
now the tiny piece of glass shines in my hand.
A treasure to treasure.
The grey mist rises,
the sandy footsteps walk out my despondency,
in my palm the tiny bead shares its strength,
the lid is lifting.

A thousand years this river ran,
Alone and lost like me.
I climb the rail this empty night,
One step will set me free.

I throw my phone and watch it fade,
The water far below.
The words they send won’t hurt me now,
They’re just a distant glow.

But a little voice says
Oh, don’t go,
Don’t throw it all away.
The love you seek will be with you,
Just wait another day.

I’m on the edge, the devil’s choice,
The two unwelcome worlds.
But then a sound behind me and
I hold the rail and turn.

An old man leans upon the rail,
He finds it hard to breathe.
He speaks to me with sad, dark eyes,
“Son, wait a moment, please”.

I want to jump, to get away,
But something in his voice.
“When I was young, I stood here too,
And made a better choice”.

And a little voice says
Oh, don’t go,
Don’t throw it all away.
The love you seek will be with you,
Just wait another day.

He offers me a cup of tea,
A biscuit and a chat,
And as we walk, and talk of life,
I can’t help thinking that,

The angels come in many forms,
Not just with wings of feather.
It’s funny how a friendly face,
Can leave me feeling better.

It was what it was, I know that now
although at the time, I didn’t know how
to ignore the fizz of lightning,
the temper of storms,
I didn’t know then that the temper was yours…
I do now.

At first it was passion, a tidal flood
of ideas and intentions, all of them good,
we were going to change things, give people a choice,
but later I knew that the only voice
we heard was yours.
I know now.

It took a long time for the bruises to heal,
the scars of the battle are something you feel
until friends come calling smiling bright,
the screams and nightmares fade with the light
of people you trust.
I know now, and feel better when I don’t see you.

ALLOTMENTS

I don’t have the country

Nor cousins to visit and drink lemonade

no landscape to yearn for when stuck

in a red brick wilderness

but I have a key to another heaven

another kingdom without

government taxes and power

who’s patron saint is Percy Thrower

where I can disappear like a rabbit down a hole and

appear in

the allotment

my fields my trees my bush my jungle my shanty town

my rough paths of upturned wheelbarrows

entrenched forks abandoned spades

casual work lazy days smokey roll up afternoons

where a few chickens share the sunlight

sloping sheds that dance in all weathers

swaying plastic barrels will always have a drink

heart is where the allotment is

mine ‘s as big as a cabbage when there

the neat surrounding gardens

that border my kingdom tut tut in scorn

‘those dreadful shed people’

but these tidy neighbors

lack a certain unruly charm

a unique voice a grounded air an allotment

away from congestion and concern

ant like toil and consumer care

no dull anthem here but bird song

a joy for the eyes and a lift for the spirit

I don’t have a country but an eccentric

sanctuary an allotment

an escape hatch from the town roar

you only hear when the city score

where everything quietly grows

in rows to ripen when nobody knows

to find my country look in the town

but it’s a secret kingdom an allotment

if you go through it’s gate

shut it !

Watching birds makes me happy.
I know they don’t care.
They just eat all the seed
Then they take to the air.
But they do me no harm
And I know if I could
Fly away
Just like them
Then I would………..
Well I might…………
Probably wouldn’t really…………
Oh just shut up and feed the birds.

I know that I feel nicer when I’ve spicy food inside of me I find that I feel finer when my furry feline fusses me It’s likely I’ll feel lovely if I live and love wholeheartedly I can tell I feel terrific when those troubles aren’t to mind And I kind of feel contented when I’m cosy on my own But I bet I’m even better when I get a letter from a friend. Write soon.

I feel better when I let a regret go; When I make a selection And I choose a direction, And when I find a connection. I feel better when I let a regret go; When I shake preconceptions By overcoming rejection, When I face an objection But they make an exception. And when I find a connection. I feel better when I let a regret go; When I relive a section Of a loved recollection. When I hide my inside, and I’m evading detection, When I see my reflection And embrace imperfection. I feel better when I let a regret go; When there’s garbage collection. (Tuesdays) I feel better when I find a connection.

Say —

at a bus-stop, waiting on your own,
a day of dulled cloud, almost rain,
your mind tuned to an inner moan
of life being too much grey, again.

And, say, your only company’s
a straggling hedge, a litter bin,
the road’s dirt edge, some scrubby trees,
a cold wind sanding down your skin.

But your eye wanders, say, and there’s
damp holly, leaves like gleaming glass,
wet-bottle-green; its brilliance shares
a flash-light quiver in the grass

so, looking harder, say, you see
a blackbird’s eye, his orange bill
deep in the dandelions, three
fat daisies, one late daffodil

then start to match all this to words,
your own to catch, exact – but how?
the glittering laughter of the birds?
the noise of yellow here and now?

The bus turns up. Your mind’s alive –
making, remaking: words that sway
and dance and shine, and yours to drive
forward and eager. Share them, say?

I feel better when I am awake and it’s dawn not sunset. So the day hasn’t faded and drifted away. As you can never know with my dolly mixture of prescribed pills for the body and mindsets. So a quick coffee mischievously laced with brandy and just one cigarette. This old man has allowed himself to avoid being upset. After medication it’s time for transcendental morning mediation oh to possibly float above the floor,without my body aching or mutter Buddhist mantras, dance Sufi trances,chant Rosicrucian secret practices or maybe Mindfulness: focus on a leaf for a while and find an inner smile. Busy afternoon then dusk : created to call children home and the aged to ruminate and reminisce. Night time comes, so there is the promise of tomorrow! Then I can stamp and smack my worn warm boots in the snow leave my cosmic footprint forever in returning cold. Find some warmth in the fading of the day that has been given and that’s when I feel better when I am ….

Running Wild.

I feel happy when I look and see …

Flowery meadows and the humming bee.

Snowdrops heralding winters’ demise,

Daffodils golden, grouping in choirs.

Crocus sprinkled like stars in the grass,

Bold coloured Tulips appearing en mass.

Buttercups, Daisies speckling the verge,

Cow-Parsley stretch up, flowers emerge.

Cornflowers gently blowing in the breeze,

Dandelions, grasses prompting a sneeze.

Indigo Linseed and Lavenders glow,

Spiky Hawthorn with it’s blossom like snow.

Wild poppies flourishing in the upturned ground,

All sights inspiring Happy Paintings, I’ve found.

On a billboard
black shining hair
crisply parted
and bright blue eyes
with a wide smile
shout perfection.
I am not buying it.

On a newscast
dirty brown clouds
explode skywards
vicious killing
heartless maiming
ruthless wrecking.
I am sad and angry.

On a plaza
amongst a crowd
a face shows fear
I point the way
reassured now
he proceeds home.
I am pleased to have helped.

On a third date
linked together
laughing as one
playful teasing
leads to flirting
and future plans.
I am at last in love.

MATCHDAY
MATCHDAY LOOMS

OVER THE CITY

FOOTBALL FANS TOSS AND TURN WITH INSOMNIA

ALL OVER THE LAND

THEY WAKE UP WASH AND PULL ON THEIR BELOVED SHIRTS

THEY KISSS THE BADGE WITH PRIDE

THEY LIVE FOR IT

EAT IT DRINK IT TALK IT

ANXIETY RUNS THROUGH THE SCARF

WITH A STRANGLE LIKE GRIP

NERVES JANGLING HEAD TO TOES

THE TOWN IS AWASH  WITH DRUNKEN FRENZY

AGGITATED MINDS ROLL THROUGH THE STREET

SADNESS RULES THE MIND OF THE HOOLIGANS

TABLES AND CHAIRS FLY DOWN THE ROADS

MOTHERS AND CHILDREN CRY WITH FEAR

THE BLUES AND TWOS SORT IT OUT

AND SLAM THE DOOR SHUT

THE FAITHFUL STRUT DOWN THE HUSTLE BUSTLE STREET WITH JOY

CLOSE TO THE GROUND EXCITEMENT RUNS THROUGH THE VEINS

HAPPINESS COMES FROM THE SUN

THE TURNSTYLES RATTLE RATTLE RATTLE

THE PLACE IS BUZZING

THE BEER IS FLOWING

THE SONGS HAVE STARTED

THE CHANTERS ARE CHANTING WITH PASSION

EVERYONES IN THEIR SEATS

EXCITED ANTIPITATION FILLS THE AIR

THE FANS ARE WARMING UP

SINGING SONGS TO RILE THE OPPOSITION

IT SEEMS LIKE HATRED WITH ANNGER

TWENTY MEN CHASE THE LEATHER

THE CROWD ARE GOING CRAZY

TO A FRENZY

CITY SCORE A GOAL

THE HOME CROWD GO BESERK

ECSTACY AND JOY FILLS THE STADIUM

CITY WIN THE GAME ONE GOAL TO NIL

THERES NO NEED FOR A NARCOTIC PILL

THE DRUG IS FOOTBALL AND FOOTBALL IS A DRUG

AND EMOTIONS RUN WILD

GLUG GLUG GLUG

Bee
wings

like invisible

shields. Bee hive

body like a tiger – striped

fur. God of life and carnations

pollinating seeds. Tribe of warriors

killer bees, boxers of venom, sting

like a bee, float like a butterfly.

Aliens of rare species. I was stung when I was 27,

on Narbourough Road, near Enderby –

bee, bee, bee. It was painful,

swelling in my hand. I tried to kill the bee

I still like them

I bear no ill will

Sun angels in spirit

buzz around the sun

Rainbow bees of creation

Seeing Red

Bees see all colours except the colour red.

Does the colour red present danger to bees?

Do they feel it’s a threat to their domain?

They are active agents in the insect world,

pollinated and thriving in the thoughts of summer.

They produce the most delicate of honeys

profusely flying, a secret host, never seeing red.

This Year

I’ll be waking up at the crack of dawn.

Two laps jogging round the park. It’s time to say

goodbye to that low frequency of fear of procrastination.

Tim to raise V vibration. I’ll rewire my brain.

Existing in a higher state of mind.

One that expresses love not fear, a positive outlook.

I shall spread that love like

butter on hot toast. Bringing light to the darkness

Injecting hope in the faithless. It really is

the only way to spend your life.

We are all in the pursuit of happiness.

Starting Again 
Pluck up your courage.

Don’t be afraid of the change.

Knock on the door and if it doesn’t open

break the knocker and push it in.

In the past bereavement and self-doubt

but now I’m heading for the high

and new achievements like a pioneer.

The warmth of my breath will melt the mountain

and the tremor of my feet will open the path.

All those people who tell you

can’t take their words and knit a scarf.

Don’t let them win.

Bed.
Dark, peaceful at the top of the house

it lies there, its soft bulk, mother lap.

The comfort of birds resting in nests,

sucks in all tiredness, takes off weight

I float like a feather,

enter the world of seraphim.

The thick plank

decorated with colorful quilts

making me drowsy,

once I tuck in.

Vegetable medley

A mash of vegetables

Placed in a sandwich toaster

Burned slightly at the edges

Delightful to the tasters

Consumed with love

Thursday

Thursday,

the day of days for me,

the day that sets me free,

the day I’d like to be, like the alignment of the stars,

find me in pubs and bars,

doing back flips on top of cars

that’s how much I cherish it. The Sunday beret doesn’t fit.

I like Saturdays a little bit,

when Thursday is over

I’ve found my four leaf clover,

peace to Satan, praise for Yehovah

but when Thursday comes back

I’m on my grind,

there’s no other day

that fun could find,

at the peak of my week

I make my speech,

suck on Thursdays

like a leach,

measuring the time it takes

to get back to Thursday,

it goes by so quick

I measure again.

I love Thursdays

and I cannot pretend,

thinking of Thursday

till Wednesday ends.

Friday is my foe.

Thursday is my friend.

All other days

send me round the bend.

Thursday, I love you,

you’re one in a seven,

fifty-two in a three-six-five.

You’re the one

who makes feel alive.

Pie

Golden firmness,

crinkling as my fork smashes through,

delving into silky smoothness,

before finding a home in a bedrock of steak and kidney.

Sending up a torrent of steaming gravy as it withdraws,

towards my watering mouth.