oil pond mirrors the darkness the november

day                  sun draws white against the grey

this       leaf  lays on earth

there is no god

not hungry nor otherwise


you look at me straight and ask the past

and briefly I say & say there is no god


you did not smile nor shout you are the deadest thing

dead down .              no smiling  despite birds gone  by


on greasy wings                       .i remember your look

your face

drawn grey as mourning doves

that remind

for me there is no god


.life saving.

yes the theatre was good
who done it now we
know who done it
yet the culprit swore
us all the secrecy

it is the longest running
a mouse trap

hope all the kittens came well
thet you are over run with cuteness

i stayed away a while and we rode
the narrow guage as always there
and back again

as always

then up the lake fishing
saving imaginary folk
with a rope then bound
him up happily

while he remained that way
an hour or so and no one

we made reed boats and caught two tiddlers

we placed them back of course
we don’t eat meat nor fish
yet the ice melts

it is all a worry
which i will not clarify

let you feel it is just


i am glad it was nothing serious
and that there will be funds for an engine


6.48 am
glad of my lot
wished better for others

. it is a gift .

“The Gift – Sonja
Every now and again I binge on Sonja’s poems, reading several weeks’ worth at a sitting and entering into the quiet goings on of her life in Wales, charmed by her wit and humour. This is of a piece with that great sequence. I didn’t quite understand what the poem meant by “not a metaphor”, but it did alert me to the possibility of metaphor within the poem, which I soon found – the cutting of the path, which is a nice way of thinking about the renewal of friendship through meeting.”

Thanks Halls, Oxford.

sonja benskin mesher

it is a gift, the friend ship, the kiss

on each cheek with out avoidance.

it may seem continental, yet we are

dolgellau. it is a meeting place, yes,

near the church. there are similarities,

yet this is not a metaphor.

we met at ten, talked of family,

one hour led to two, and overstepped

the parking time.

later in the garden, i thought of you.

i cut the paths and thought of you too.

it is a gift.



View original post

.albert dock.

i hope all is well with your health
despite the word of tests

i worry
have been worrying for years
over folk & stuff
it does not help only
with planning

the albert dock is lovely
a shopping , cafe place
with a tate gallery

we have four i think
in total, two in london
one in st ives

i like that one
i lived there while little
and have friends

i hope the job is doing well
mine feels better that a couple
of months back

like tides

i hope you get to ride your bike

it is good to be out & about
the brain & the soul

i go now to plan a bus trip
to the theatre
his car is broke so
public transport will
be fun

monday later
than usual
been got groceries
drank coffee
ate an eccles


you were awake so early
yesterday and
i hope that day went well
for you

the day in the city was splendid
around the docks & liverpool

we went up the eye, the big
wheel despite the wind & vertigo

felt the admin in the tate was splendid &
told her so

she comes to stay in garndolbenmaen
on holidays

a firm voice demanding that all body parts
were kept behind the lines & we did so
while others did not

we are safe & i hope you guys are

do you work on sundays
like i do?


warm, cosy
there is a storm outside
the knapweed is going

. in storming about.

seems to me you caught on
damn quick

it is good to feel organised
in control
even though we are not


yes have had company
now i miss it
am in transition

drinking tea

the thunderstorm
was grand i think
the pressure leaves
me with an headache

as does the politics

later than usual
which does not
matter today

it will tomorrow



you did not write



that is fine.


i shall worry about you

guess you are busy

about the new job

your gainful employment


or worry

that you fell off your bike

hurt your typing finger (s)


or worry


that i got it wrong again


that you just

did not write