Thursday, November 28

Today at the Bold Street writers the prompt was 
Trains and Boats and Planes

They come from China
Where storage sheds fill acres of land
And high rise homes house workers
Who sleep the sleep of the exhausted
Before rising early to catch the next
Shift. They come from South America
Colourful and handmade. Combed alpaca
Mexican laced and Frida Kahloed
On cushions and fridge magnets
For teenage girls to plump up
Their bedrooms as they string
The Chinese LED lanterns around
The windows. They come from
India smelling of spices. Turmeric
Myrrh, frankincense and the East
Silks and satins and toiled over
Hand woven rugs to warm the
Feet of the teenagers’ mothers
Slumped in the rattan armchair
Exclusive to Habitat or Ikea or
Harrods. They come, they come.

And the warehouses fill with boxes
And crates and wooden carts and the
Strong arms of the Polish, Czech, Hungarian
Workers, lift and lay , lift and lay.

And the distribution points keep busy
Every moment of every day to satisfy
The people. And the roads fill up
With Stobart trucks and their wives
Names gaily painted on the bonnets
Keeping bonnets on the wives.

And in a room high in a glass castle
Grey costumed people with
Grey faces and grey hair, rub their
Hands and smile with satisfaction
At yet another Black Friday
G.Snape 28th Nov. 2019

Wednesday, November 6

An Port...Abandoned village in Donegal

Every year we go with my sister @Rosiemcclellandart to An Port... the abandoned village on the far west coast of paint..take photographs and for me to write about this elemental place in Ireland.

Friday, September 27

A Poem for Thursday...Dougie's Garden.

Dougie’s Garden
Gladiola dahlia, helenium and phlox
Apple tree and lilac with sweet pea grown in blocks
Roses were his favourite flowers, ramblers white and pink
And a tea rose that’s an odd name
For a flower don’t you think?

Primrose, lupin ,daffodil, pansies pink and blue
Flowering currant, hydrangea, peony, fuschia too
But no cabbages, no beans, no carrots, no potatoes
No turnips, peas or scallions, he grew not one of these
The farmer’s son from Keady left behind the rural scene
Turned his gaze towards the city,and fulfilled a childhood dream the The Potters House Penketh

A Poem for Thursday.

 morning dew
 heavy on the grass
 like diamonds in the sun
 and the last apples
 fallen beneath the last tree
 bruised skin
 smelling of warm cider
 as we gaze out over glorious autumn.

Saturday, April 20

A Poem for Thursday

I take my pen   make marks   form lines   curves   strokes together   words appear      as if by magic      word to word      mark by mark   line and line
a line lengthens    words    make sense    make sense of my thoughts
reason      mark the moment      the moment recorded       lines   underlines   thoughts made real     recordings     hopes     in words  on lines       by marks
recorded time      the pen moves      the marks build       build up   time and again       a history      a story       adding flesh to words   descriptions  
bringing colour     with marks     with lines     strokes   curves   light   shade
themes evolve   evolution   time   marked by words   connections   hand strokes       stroked lines       appearances       matter is fluid   .   
my pen moves on   reason restored   problems revealed   solved   maybe
how mighty is the pen.

Saturday, January 20

Algorithms?....A Poem for Thursday

I googled the word.....algorithms...I was fed up with being told by the younger set, that my life is now set because of all my choices on the internet going into some vast drum.....stirred around and then emerging on the iPad screen as something that I have always wanted.

Well guess what ...old Euclid knew about algorithms... and I don't think he had bought his iPad by the time he wrote it down.

Anyway...Algorithms...was my prompt today for The Bold Street Writers in Warrington. And the results were as usual amazing. From a carefully worded account of the inner doings of Amazon ...if you want to sell your detective a run down of the latest news and gardening programmes. Don't ask...just believe they were great.

Mine?....well all about why I now have two kittens living with me and the potter. It's a bit long but then it takes a while often for an algorithm to work out.

The sun shining
August in the garden
Dirty dishes in the sink
Soapy water on my hands
[ jobs to do, places to go]
Just August in the garden.

Dirty dishes in soapy water
Gazing mindlessly  window watching
Garden birds
Greedy squirrels
[ jobs to do. places to be]
Dirty dishes now piled up.

Gazing mindlessly at garden birds
A sudden movement
By the hedge   prickly hedge
[ jobs to do  places to be]
My eyes deceive me I'm 
Just gazing mindlessly at kittens.

A sudden movement 
Makes it real
In the garden by the hedge
An ice grey mother cat
With two small kittens
[I've jobs to do and places to be]
She dashes from our sudden movement.

So it's true and we're astonished 
One small tabby kitten lingers
Snapped a shot on
A mobile phone
Posted up on face books news
[what about my jobs and places?]
Makes it real.

One small tabby eyes wide open
Frozen in a garden snap
Put up on face book  local news
[forget the jobs forget the places]
Then a clamour
From the punters
Out on face book
"We can catch the one small tabby".

Frozen on the mobile phone
A tabby's image   tiny image
Next a plethora of messages
Demanding that they be consulted
"We will come and take the cats"
[thinking of my jobs and places]
Close down local face book page
Delete it from the mobile phone.

Tabby's image small and frightened
Enter Kat from  animal  rescue
Brings her cages
Traps the kittens two, now three
And the pretty mother cat
Takes them off to safer havens
[I'll get on with jobs and places]
Tabby's  image lingers on.

Message sent to animal rescue
Kept the contact
How's the family?
But I really want a greyhound
Want a whippet, or just a mongrel
[do the daily jobs as needed] still
Can't ignore the tabby's image
Message Kat from local rescue.

Glad now that I kept the contact
Can I have the kittens back?
[did some jobs of sorting rooms
Did some buying for the two]
September comes October goes
November's bleak, and Christmas shines.
Cats are coming early January
Glad I kept the rescue contact.

Now we have the kittens back
I forget about the whippet
Pretty female, dancing tomcat
And the potter is besotted
Who'd have thought it
He's the daddy, playmate, teaser
[I get on with jobs, go places]
Happy that the cats are back.