today: the garden

I’m filled with roses

remember
hydrangea

lilac fuchsia
snowdrop bluebells

reawaken
a memory of flowers
water flows around

my brother
I look up to
a stork in the garden

dove water round

remember good times, not the weeding

don’t forget
granddaughter swimming, memories
jigsaw

such good fun in the war
shrapnel
all them bits that were fired up
red hot in a can take it back in a biscuit tin
10 shilling for the lot

Strines Road Marple
walking down
to school

never been back you’ve got to
look forwards
always

to the shelter underground rocks
school from Stockport Cheadle
our bus fare for food
back to the family sons and a daughter

today:
I’m filled with the feeling
being upside down

flowers

dove

water

flows

remember
a number of various
I can remember it all
saying it that’s a different thing.

Victor Richardson, Joyce Knibs, Tom Dolan, Victor Richardson, Dorothy
(+ William Carlos Williams – from Asphodel, That Greeny Flower)
November 2009

This poem is part of the Patience project, for more information please visit http://patience-project.blogspot.com/

Auntie Ida

was kindness itself
well if you were looking at Auntie
you were looking at me


and looking at me you’re looking at her


just like her
she’d take what I’d say
the only one who could give me a hug
and get away with it


vivid in my mind
If we were both having a good day
nobody could say anything to us
nobody could touch us on them days


if we were having a bad day then it was


I’ve had big journeys all my life
stepped off bridges wider than the widest road


the day you feel it coming all that has been the truth:
thoughts of Auntie Ida so vivid
could say that Ida just walked past the window


someone with a coat like Auntie Ida
I’d insist it was
the two of us stood waiting
for Ida to come through
her face
is it like mine?
anxious to see her
picture
a lovely little daisy
if I could express it


Auntie Ida’s just come in
you haven’t got to be frightened of her
on
a miserable Wednesday
I couldn’t describe her on Wednesday
she’d be so down in the world


Wednesday was one of her bad days
if I could throw Wednesday away
I always think something happened that day
a deep loving August day
she’d change into somebody


but for every bad Wednesday
keep it love
Because you’ll be wondering if tomorrow
she'll be flying through the window
like Peter Pan


Ida Regan
Ward A10
4th December 2009




This poem is part of the Patience project, for more information please visit http://patience-project.blogspot.com/