where art collides

Members must have
Ageless beauty
And inner strength,
Be hard working
And fun loving
With a positive outlook to life.
A net source of love
They will have kids who
Are often a joy
Though a constant worry.

Membership is by natural selection

For Mam.

It starts off slow

We smile because we know

For now we’re safe.  The show though

Will soon start to go with a little more flow.

Back to the beginning

The tune starts going

More quickly. People start looking

Some even start clapping

In time and stamping.

We’re still smiling,

But back again to the beginning

It’s now about trying

To keep going

As people keep clapping, and stamping

And singing and pushing and speeding

And shouting.

And with one big flourish it’s over

We’ve done it again, it’s always a winner.

What do they want for Christmas ?

Every year the same

Thinking about gifts for others

A book, some socks, a game ?

It’s better to think of others

Than always to think of me

But getting it right at Christmas

Is never a certainty.

Have they already got one ?

Perhaps they’ve got two or three

Will they want chocolate golf balls ?

I wouldn’t if it were me.

Whatever you give at Christmas

And when the excitement mounts

Remember to think of others

It’s really the thought that counts.

The apple tree buds, the start of spring,

The first sign of hope,

The flowers arrive and with them

Birdsong, absent for some months now.

Fresh new smells in the garden and the cleaned up patio

Point to lunch outside for the first time.

The flowers turn to green berries,

Unnoticed at first but getting a little bigger each day,

As the summer progresses.

We still sit outside for food, when the weather allows.

Though more often we complain about it,

But the apple tree likes the rain.

Holidays come and we abandon the tree to

Work its magic, and the apples grow fat.

Expectantly we await the first windfalls

That suggest harvest time has arrived.

Back to school and a bumper crop.

Up the ladder to pick the finest,

Bags filled full and heavy.

In the kitchen, flour, sugar and blackberries

Make a heavenly combination.

Outside the apple tree is now forgotten,

Its job done, leaves gone,

Just the odd fruit left, out of reach,

Bending slender bough and bobbing wildly

As the winter winds wreak havoc on the garden.

The apples, stored in the shed

Won’t last the winter…

For Ann Cookson

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totootwo2tutu

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moo, moo

From an idea by Benjammin

It’s red, the bottle of wine. At this time, on a friday night, there isn’t much left. The book is open, face down, on the stool in front of me. A good book, but it has already served its purpose, for the evening.

John sits on the sofa, smacking his lips, after a bread roll, watching the snooker, on the telly. Six reds, six blacks, a disappointing miss. It’s green, the snooker table. The black is black. The book is read, like the wine.

OJ, bacon, bread, bananas,

Coco Snaps or similar,

£50 cashback for Anne

And Maltesers for Hannah to take to dancing.

A hard fought campaign.

The hustings.

The response of the crowd.

The populist vote.

Laughter, silence, emotion.

Tension.

Release.

Victory.

Celebration!