Sunday, 21 July 2019

21st July 2019

overcast
in the cemetery
an abundance of hazel nuts

© Rachel Green 2019

summer afternoon
the long walk home from school
climbing the sandy banks
adjacent to the pavement
picking clover flowers for mum
ants running through our fingers
dandelion heads
leaking sticky milk over our hands
and the taunt
"you'll wet the bed tonight"
somehow we knew it was a diuretic
but not how it worked.
daring each other to touch
the red hot pokers
in an old lady's garden
then resting in the shade
of the massive oak on Tanner's Lane.
racing past the Dasher's house
lest Pete the Bully threaten us
with bodily harm
up the hill to Mrs Morris' farm
where the chickens cooed and clucked
and finally home
old iron gates painted green
an the smile of a dog to greet us.

© Rachel Green 2019

Saturday, 20 July 2019

20th July 2019

morning rain
making everything cool again
Ash's new kitten

© Rachel Green 2019


How easy
to walk away?
Leave everything behind
and staart afresh
as if a house fire
had taken my family
my friends,
all the possessions
I thought I needed.
Perhaps I should just go
leave behing my dogs
and my name
start afresh with a laptop and a mattress
in some distant council hovel
where no-one knows my past.

 © Rachel Green 2019

Friday, 19 July 2019

19th July 2019

dappled wood
the scent of orange blossom
through the sycamores

© Rachel Green 2019

I don't read enough.
All those poetry books
stored in a box
don't offer inspiration
if I can't read them.
I'm sure I used to be better than this
or maybe not.
I kid myself
about being a writer.

© Rachel Green 2019

Thursday, 18 July 2019

18th July 2019

morning heat
cooled by cloud cover
overnight rain

© Rachel Green 2019

where the fuck
did I put my bicycle pump?
A flat tyre
demands attention
but I've no idea
where the bugger is.
I just bought it.
It arrived in the post
and I opened it here.
I'm going senile.
Bugger.

© Rachel Green 2019

Wednesday, 17 July 2019

17th July 2019

gibbous buck moon
dancing through clouds
classical painting

© Rachel Green 2019

a moment
of kitchen travels
a cup of tea;
moving the laundry;
a bowl of cereal;
I expect the cat to follow,
asking for more food.
Alas, the cat is no more
eighteen years of furry love
ended.

© Rachel Green 2019

Tuesday, 16 July 2019

16th July 2019

Almost full
the Buck moon
linguistic dreaming

© Rachel Green 2019

 a desire
to begin writing
conflicts with ability
and a lack of talent.
What makes me noteworthy?
A few loyal friends
and a semi-original idea?
An engaging anti-hero?
Nope.
Nothing, really.

© Rachel Green 2019


Monday, 15 July 2019

15th July 2019

moon: waxing, gibbous
kd lang in Manchester
summer heat

© Rachel Green 2019

movie review:
slow paced, slow burning
but worth it for the horror.
No shock twists here;
you foresee everything
except the off-screen deaths.
The legacy of 'The Wicker Man'
(the original version)
in good, 'Midsommer' hands.

© Rachel Green 2019