Friday, 27 May 2016

To Marry a Queen

To Marry a Queen

Chloe looked at the proximity of her father's hand to her aunt Julia's. The placement was so casual, so accidental, that the connection between his thumb and her forefinger could only be deliberate. “Who touches someone's hand and maintains the connection?” she asked later, holed up in her bedroom with her best friend, Jessica, “other than a stalker, obviously. It's got to be on purpose.” She leaned forward to snag another packet of store-brand crisps. “And she didn't move her hand away, either.”

“I think they're having it off.” Jessica sucked more Bacardi and Coke through a straw, her cheeks flushed from the amount of alcohol a fifteen year old can put away when the bar has been left unattended. “It's disgusting. They're in their forties at least.”

“He can't be. He hasn't even paid for mum's funeral yet.”

“How do you know?”

“A man came round yesterday. You know the sort. Black suit and knuckledusters.”

Jessica nodded. “From the funeral parlour?”

“Yeah.” Chloe filled her mouth with crisps and chewed through them like a paper shredder. She hunched her shoulders up and lowered her voice in an impression of the man. “Tell your dad there's always a spare plot in the cemetery.”

Poetry 2016/60

Last Waltz

He's awkward in the ballroom
size twelve feet in regimental boots
linen slacks against a starched white shirt
creases you could stab someone with.
His lips move as he counts the steps
looking down, always looking down;
one meaty hand on a girl
her waist so small
a wasp would be jealous.
He smells on Brylcreme and cigarettes
his half of bitter untouched
though the ashtray is full of spent matches
while she smells of perming solution
and the cheap perfume she bought at Woolworth's
but the face powder doesn't hide her freckles
and her teeth are crooked yellow
but the kiss on the cheek she gives him
before she boards the 4A bus to Benwell
will sustain him for almost a year
and the death of his platoon.

short forms 27th May 2016

her mum
a bit loopy
after her son's death
but her father's still paranoid.
Demons?


© Rachel Green 2016

morning mist
encouraging worm play
zealous blackbird


© Rachel Green 2016

late walk
the dogs are happy
joyous barking
a quick stop at the shop
we're out of milk again


© Rachel Green 2016

day trip
to glorious Buith Wells
eight hours in the car

a modern stone circle
built to commemorate the Eiseddfod
holds our interest

deep fried veggie burger


© Rachel Green 2016

four stones heavier. New diet required.

© Rachel Green 2016

Thursday, 26 May 2016

short forms 26th May 2016

homework
she farms out art
to her new minion
studies her previous efforts.
Fails


© Rachel Green 2016

damp morning
raindrops on poppy petals
rosemary


© Rachel Green 2016

day trip
Lu hires a car
Wales trip
A change of scenery
for the empty head


© Rachel Green 2016

follow-up
pictures of my brain
from the CAT scan

spots of scar tissue
and dead areas
what did I forget?

I'll never remember


© Rachel Green 2016

she studies jiu-jitsu. Forgets everything.

© Rachel Green 2016

Wednesday, 25 May 2016

short forms 25th May 2016

her friend
in the shadows.
is it Toby or not?
Should she turn the other cheek or seek
revenge?


© Rachel Green 2016

lesser redpoll
sampling dry teasel heads
spring wind


© Rachel Green 2016

morning run
Lu to the station again
London day
Hospital appointment
followed by jiu-jitsu


© Rachel Green 2016

oil paint
in controlled flooding
across the canvas
takes an age to dry
but the effects are worth the effort
artist's delight

Peak Tor in multihue


© Rachel Green 2016

shades of regret. After-dinner arguments.

© Rachel Green 2016

Monday, 23 May 2016

ahort forms 23rd May 2016

her mates
from her old school
help. Rosie and Gilda
are old-school tough bitches who take
no shit


© Rachel Green 2016

Welsh poppies
among the hedge parsley
spots of colour


© Rachel Green 2016

painting
oil on canvas
abstraction
for the first time in twenty years
I feel like an artist again


© Rachel Green 2016

the dog
obsessed with Lina's guinea pigs
tears at the hutch

she's worn a path
around the outdoor cage
a sea of mud

constant barking


© Rachel Green 2016

martial arts training versus money worries

© Rachel Green 2016

Sunday, 22 May 2016

short forms 22nd May 2016

Hamlet
as a young girl
with some social problems
Yoric was always her best friend
(online)


© Rachel Green 2016

birdsong
through the leaf canopy
fingers of sun


© Rachel Green 2016

first oil painting
since I gave up my studio
completed
My greenhouse as studio
cramped but workable


© Rachel Green 2016

my sister replies
grateful I'm still alive
to write to her

she wants to be informed
of all my future illness
just in case

"I know we don't see each other often but I do care for you"


© Rachel Green 2016

scrabbling claws. Her dogs give chase.

© Rachel Green 2016