..day 112..

.day 112.

awake early to rain on the window
severe piano music from the radio

cosy up a while
with tea

your words took on a different tone than
the cycling tales 

I appreciate this

today here
comes another announcement 
predicted it will be dropping the

present travel restriction 

yesterday came energy
with words from another

with a sudden burst late 
the grass was cut though
was sent cross eyed back

into the house with hunger

new recipe awaited
what I invented &
I expect someone else
invented it before sometime

rhubarb delivered after
from the family garden

james

to be cooked today
some frozen in small portions

when young I ate it raw
on the bus home from work

my mother told me it clears the blood
while vinegar changed it to water

things to tell a child

I wonder about the taste of tea
as I drink it

about the summer clothes not worn this year
mainly in workwear
with heavy boots
that take days to dry out

sheltering

..day 111..

..day 111..

just words added together making phrases

slogans 

programmed I guess
without anyone noticing 

until they do
of course

then comes embarrassment
on realisation

it means nothing

we prefer it this way

i have been imagining and that is all it is

invented scenarios in my mind

james

how are you guys doing over there now?

at first here it felt difficult for me
for shopping and other tasks

gradually 
we found our way
now it is the way 

of life

rang the helpline about my laptop james
he says he thinks we are the virus on this
earth that kills the trees and animals 

that kills each other

i walk each day
&
some days stay dry

forever imagining

..july news 2020..

:: this year came quieter ::

 

Welsh Enterprise Award

Nominated again for 2020

 

Honoured to be  awarded Best Abstract Landscape Artist 2019.

 

 

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Y Plas, Machynlleth

.littled  secondary studio space.

in lockdown,   my space now permanently closed

work proceeds at the home studio..

 

 

20200504_170300

.covid coat.

drawing.

 

visual, text , installations and international mail art work continues…

. hand made in wales.

 

May 1st sonja drawing

..corona..

small drawing

 

National Insect Week Poetry Challenge: Take part with Laura McKee, Andres Rojas, sonja benskin mesher, Ankh Spice, Ian Seed, Yvonne Marjot, Ama Bolton, Debbie Strange, Rachel Deering, Ama Bolton, John McManus, Claudia Serea, Linda Imbler, Anjum Wasir Dar, Judi Sutherland, Dai Fry and myself. Monday: Dragonflies, Tuesday: Wasps And Bees, Wednesday: Ants, Thursday: Beetles, Friday: Butterflies, Saturday: Moths, Sunday: Flies and sundry insects. Email me and I will add yours to my daily WordPress posts, also posted to Twitter and Facebook. This is the final day , but you can still add to all the posts already published. Here are today’s: Flies and other sundry insects

“Skipper on Aster” by Rachael Ikins “Sipping Nectar” by Rachael Ikins Lady Birds by Debbie Strange Jo Weston “The Fawn And The Flea”. Please scroll down to the bottom of the link to see her video: https://joweston1.wixsite.com/joweston/poetry-videos beer can graveyard the house fly does another lap surprise party gnats congregate around the toilet light afternoon […]

National Insect Week Poetry Challenge: Take part with Laura McKee, Andres Rojas, sonja benskin mesher, Ankh Spice, Ian Seed, Yvonne Marjot, Ama Bolton, Debbie Strange, Rachel Deering, Ama Bolton, John McManus, Claudia Serea, Linda Imbler, Anjum Wasir Dar, Judi Sutherland, Dai Fry and myself. Monday: Dragonflies, Tuesday: Wasps And Bees, Wednesday: Ants, Thursday: Beetles, Friday: Butterflies, Saturday: Moths, Sunday: Flies and sundry insects. Email me and I will add yours to my daily WordPress posts, also posted to Twitter and Facebook. This is the final day , but you can still add to all the posts already published. Here are today’s: Flies and other sundry insects

..day 110..

110..

yes. when i go visit, go further i shall stop counting

in wales it is hoped that this may be so
that we may visit one other household
be part of that .even stay over

the day is yet to arrive

i enjoyed my garbage run james
we call it recycling and very well
organised 

another trip out that left me buzzing 

things can change
and if they do

the counting stops then

the laptop is in disarray
so I tap here neatly by phone

it feels neat and particular 
With little noises to accompany 
james

and more help with the spelling 

it gives me capitals so I change them quickly 

I wonder if I will visit tregaron this fall
go to lampeter to see if the walnut tree
has anything for me

betwixt the mobile and laptop
things come awry and we leave it so

the random nature of things

faintly corrupted

..day 109..

..day 109..

i have counted & now
the counting stops soon

as

all is changing

i cleaned the kitchen yesterday
thoroughly
while outside it rain
quite thoroughly

i find that soon i may visit my
family, not be solitary

that i may travel further
that i must still be very
careful

so i cleaned the kitchen
thoroughly
and wondered about it all

i had got used to it james
quite used to it even
enjoyed it

therefore
i shall also make changes
now the kitchen is tidy

one +

shot_1352188558571

..day 108..

.day 108.

our thinking changes over time
doesn’t it?

these quiet times of isolation have
affected some
and they become startled at what is
still going on outside

with words and maybe misunderstanding

if there is a question
we  can research it to allow things to grow

they certainly will this weather
so much rain that i remain inside
this morning

no early walk have been soaked twice
recently
right through

hence comes the changes

i photograph at the window
yet you cannot feel the wet
from the image
nor feel the wind
for wind there is this time

perhaps the poet had done his job
for you james
and set you on your path?

you can think of him on your bicycle
his words & patterns
the flow of ideas
& this will remain forever with you

things stay here and sadly it all reappeared
while walking like a film before me in snatches

eliminated on return with the currant bun
the coffee

traces remain hidden for the most part
only to come out on particular
occasions
without  warning

she said it without  a warning
& i was horrified

again

no playlist
no 9.99 a month

 

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..day 107..

..day 107..

we do have muffins, but not cheese curd
unless it has a different name here, the fried
ones look nice

we have bread muffins white and fluffy
i could eat one now

still gloomy this morning

she fidgeted and fussed
so i let her out last eve

then the rain came hard
in sheets they say and i
felt for her yet i know she
has some place to go as
she comes in dry later

later i found i can colour
with the carbon especially
the red if cut in strips and rolled

so i did that only i forget that i meaned
to write this different more meaningful
topical

with references to our situations without
saying
these strange times
&
three word slogans

he said it
and i laughed and laughed

we all got very wet yesterday
then tucked back indoors nicely

and i ordered verbena again
he pulled the last one out
thought it was a weed james

so i have three coming by post
of course

with the candle
and some dates

as have fancied them a lot

as a child we had them only
at christmas
in a pressed
block

and i have prunes left

 

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National Insect Week Poetry Challenge: Take part with Anna Kisby, Lucy Whitehead, Karlo Sevilla, Samantha Merz, sonja benskin mesher, Jay Caldwell, Yvonne Marjot, Mark Grainger, Samantha Merz, Anjum Wasir Dar, Jim (the Poet) Young, Devon Marsh, Briony Collins, Dai Fry and myself. Monday: Spiders. Tuesday: Wasps And Bees, Wednesday: Ants, Thursday: Beetles, Friday: Butterflies, Saturday: Moths, Sunday: Flies. Email me and I will add yours to my daily WordPress posts, also posted to Twitter and Facebook. You can still add to all the posts already published. Here are today’s: Moths

The Wombwell Rainbow

Dinting Fields by Jay Cladwell in Places Of Poetry

-Dinting Fields by Jay Caldwell, originally published in Places Of Poetry. Published by kind permission

Faceless extinctions

A moth arrives like a small hand passing over my face
and when I open my eyes a heartbeat thuds against my
bedside shade. Leave your window ajar and your lamp lit –
why, that’s an invitation, says he. White ermine, little prince.

It was all my fault. No sooner had he nested than I requested
him gone. My insides spun him a silk cocoon, simple to sweep.
He had no face. A moth is a butterfly as a weed is a flower
alighting in the wrong place. Garden tiger, he grew.

A moth arrives like tinnitus, but listen and he stills his wings.
He only begins again on his own terms. Tell me my name?
he asks and won’t stop, like I am a light-trap and he is stunning
himself. Blood-vein, a…

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