Thursday, April 2

..cometh the day...





Antibiotics

She never cried, she was as solid as a rock

Except on the days she remembered her sister
And the fun they had shared in the big house.
But apart from that she was a stoic and
I knew that the winds of life would not bend her.
Except on the days we made the beds together
And she sighed as quiet tears wet her marshmallow cheeks.
A memory of her mother tucking white crisp hospital corners
Around striped ticking mattresses.
But that was all there was to it then.
I could never hope to come up to that steely reserve
And be the unmoved.
Though there were occasions when the armchair in the corner
By the fireplace seemed too big for her.
Too big, and she filled  the edges of the cushions
With lace edged hankies damp and tucked away and hidden.
Then her brother's name was whispered quietly
As if such a thing could never have happened.
Though it did, for those were the days before the miracles.
We call them antibiotics and warn our families against taking them.


Portrait  of mum by @rosiemcclellandart...my sister.
Always stylish!!



Tuesday, March 31

Billie Holiday - Willow, Weep For Me

I've been listening to Billy sing this since I was 16. When I was 20 I sang it myself on a Jazz programme on BBC NI. I probably just about copied her interpretation note for note! I've just listened to the other greats having a go...Frank..Ella...Barbara..Sarah...good..but compered to Billy..not the soul there that she puts into it.

This is a time world wide for weeping. just looking at what is happening now in India makes me weep. Gone are so many dreams in the blink of an eye. I don't mean to be morbid...jazz has always been my go to place with my emotions upbeat and down! Stay as safe as you can is all I can pray for you and me.x

Saturday, March 28

Song for Spring


Song for Spring



Praise be to the swallows
Who dared to venture north this week
Praise be to those fellows.

Praise be to the sun
All glorious in the shadows it throws
Praise be to the sharp sun.

Praise be to the green grass
Softening the verges with the red bilberry
Praise be for the petrichor.

Praise be to the coal black ravens
Nesting high in the tallest beech trees
Praise be for cawing birds.

Praise be for the seasons
Catching us unawares each year
Praise be for the northern spring.

...there is time to enjoy and time to reflect...

Thursday, March 26

A New Beginning.



Early morning and the bright low spring sun lights up the fingers of the pollarded willow.
I'm on my way to the summerhouse for breakfast.
The potter has made it...porridge and coffee for me...and some bacon on toast for him.
There is a sense of all slowing down...no more pressure to get the shop open...make the midmorning drinks...sort out which emails need to be answered immediately.
One of our grandgirls phoned on the mobile. Always a joy to speak to one of the five.
she's a twin..and they are 18 and should be doing A-levels...but there you go..life will go on after all this is over.
Stay well you readers.
Much love
G.

Wednesday, March 25

A New Beginning




These are strange times....
and strange times...with time to think..and the normal hurley burley of existance gone...give rein to 
reconsidering old ways.
I started blogging in 2010...goodness!
I feel the need to put some thoughts done each day now.
The potter and I are in lockdown...we are of an age...so I walk eery morning in the garden looking for the new buds....new life.
The magnolia...like so many others ...is magnificent this week.
Stay safe...stay well
Much love from the Potters House Penketh.

Thursday, November 28

Trains and Boats and Planes. Prompt. Bold Street Writers.




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