Wednesday, 31 October 2018

31st October 2018

sunshine
burns away the night frost
dead nasturtiums

© Rachel Green 2018

I'll attempt to write
I have one more book in me
that needs to be told
the tale of Chloe
i've been on-again, off-again
for four years, now.
She needs as much closure
as my broken life
and rotting teeth

© Rachel Green 2018

Tuesday, 30 October 2018

30th October 2018

morning rain
expectant on doorsteps
soggy pumpkins


© Rachel Green 2018
return to youth
where Queen held the spotlight
for amazing music
I still remember Freddy
and his fantastic stage presence
so thank you, cinema land
but bring back memories
and the memory of freedom
to be gay


© Rachel Green 2018

Monday, 29 October 2018

29th October 2018

a dusting of frost
golden light of a low sun
solitary sparrow


© Rachel Green 2018
morning
I'm in the bathroom
getting ready for school
(I'm late, as usual)
then realise it's only five a.m.
and besides,
I left school forty years ago
and I've changed my name
and gender since then.
Their records will be wrong
so no demerits for me.


© Rachel Green 2018

Sunday, 28 October 2018

28th October 2018

blustery day
on my shattered teeth
cold wind

© Rachel Green 2018

morning trip
to the radio station
DK being interviewed.
My erudite Old Man
live on Radio Sheffield
speaking about Samhain
while Lu and I
drink complimentary tea
in the waiting area/

© Rachel Green 2018


Radio Sheffield (DK on at 1:39:00)

Saturday, 27 October 2018

27th October 2018

overcast
deep drifts of leaf litter
sweet wrappers


© Rachel Green 2018

toothache
emergency appointment
with understanding dentist
x-ray reveals infections
and the demise of three teeth
I'm going to be toothless
for my remaining years.
Here's to a life
of oatmeal and soup.
and the weightloss
of easy digestion


© Rachel Green 2018

Friday, 26 October 2018

26th October 2018

night rain
leaves a damp morning
cold sky


© Rachel Green 2018

toothache
dear dog! I can't sleep
despite whisky and codeine
terrible dreams
My own fault.
I've not been to the dentist in years.
Foolish.


© Rachel Green 2018

Thursday, 25 October 2018

25th October 2018

sunlit chimneys
trees noticeably barer
central heating


© Rachel Green 2018

Honestly?
I could do with a day off
gym seems too much today
but I always feel better afterwards.
So I should.
Better than being obese, surely?


© Rachel Green 2018

Tuesday, 23 October 2018

23rd October 2018

blustery day
flying through the sky
leaves and plastic


© Rachel Green 2018

penultimate drive
in the old car
as I take it for an MOT
there's no way it can pass
so I might have a walk back
from the scrapyard later.
Bye, Felix.

© Rachel Green 2018

Monday, 22 October 2018

22nd October 2018

gulls
crossing a blue sky
southbound geese


© Rachel Green 2018

aching body
and a few nightmares
leave me breathless


© Rachel Green 2018

Sunday, 21 October 2018

21st October 2018

chill morning
over the heating ducts
patches of blue sky


© Rachel Green 2018

did I really sign up
to do a 21K run
apparently.
There's a tee shirt with my name on
and a number
and of course I have nightmares
about a canal boat.


© Rachel Green 2018

Saturday, 20 October 2018

20th October 2018

unshiny again
morning dew lingers
dry stalks rattle


© Rachel Green 2018

anxiety dreams
the hotel where I can't find my room
populated by people from my past
Am I dying?


© Rachel Green 2018

Friday, 19 October 2018

19th October 2018

unshiny
patches of blue showing
cold wind


© Rachel Green 2018

nightmare-free
that makes a nice change
low sugar diet?
Perhaps the mad pills
are finally working


© Rachel Green 2018

Thursday, 18 October 2018

18th October 2018

sunshine through yellow leaves
dappled shadows on the wall
Brexit delayed


© Rachel Green 2018

terrible dream
about a house of chaos
and rubbish removal
a nervous breakdown
where I bash me head
repeatedly
against the concrete floor


© Rachel Green 2018

Wednesday, 17 October 2018

17th October 2018

fungi and cordite
on the morning air
early fireworks


© Rachel Green 2018

dismay
at the obesity class
fat and sugar
if one is low
the chances are the other is high.
Every banana
has seven teaspoons of sugar
no wonder I'm fat.


© Rachel Green 2018

Tuesday, 16 October 2018

16th October 2018

crow calls
among

the bare branches
a fresh red rose

© Rachel Green 2018

overslept
the phone alarm turned off
while I return to the dreamtime
Where is my father
whom I saw a moment ago
despair etched into his eyes
in the last days.
The dogs he loved
long gone
his wife,
his son
all gone


© Rachel Green 2018

Monday, 15 October 2018

15th October 2018

more rain
windfall apples on the lawn
rot into mush


© Rachel Green 2018

pushing myself
on the gym treadmill
twenty one kilometers
If I fail my half marathon
it won't be for lack of fitness
or determination.
New problems aris
a muscle in each leg
and the tops of my feet.
At least I avoided the chafing,
thanks to Vaseline.


© Rachel Green 2018

Sunday, 14 October 2018

14th October 2018

morning rain
wisteria leaves turning yellow
the shed emerges


© Rachel Green 2018

disheartening
trying to play co-op on ESO
and the boys are just rude
and then kick me
I lose heart in the game again
probably a good thing


© Rachel Green 2018

Saturday, 13 October 2018

13th October 2018

silver birch
bent sideways by wind
yellowing leaves


© Rachel Green 2018

a used condom
in the wooded path
between two Chesterfield streets
leaves me wondering.
What of the poor recipient?
was she (or he) happy
to be taken in the wild
her back (his chest)
pressed up against the rough bark of a sycamore,
surrounded by dog shit,
fast food packaging
and rusting beer cans?
Was it their first time?
Their last?
A teenager, maybe,
or a frustrated wife
desperate for just a moment of being wanted?
There should be somewhere to go
for those desperate souls;
somewhere warm and comfortable
that doesn't reek of shit;
where the crunching underfoot
isn't old heroin needles.


© Rachel Green 2018

Friday, 12 October 2018

12th October 2018

blustery day
sometimes walking the dogs
can be a drag


© Rachel Green 2018

old girlfriend
appears in my dreamtime
did she die too?
She looks how I remember her
she was still a teenager
but honestly?
I'm glad she's gone


© Rachel Green 2018

Thursday, 11 October 2018

11th October 2018

deep mist
dissipates October streetlights
the cat, crying


© Rachel Green 2018

old friend
appears in multiple dreams
but why?
He never spoke to me again
after I transitioned
to my sorrow.
Maybe he's just died--
he was an alcoholic at twenty
did I ever know him at all?
He gave up art.
Farewell, Simon


© Rachel Green 2018

Wednesday, 10 October 2018

10th October 2018

hidden sunshine
the wall opposite like a Rothko
wet leaves


© Rachel Green 2018

what's the deal
with the crazy lady
filling our wheelie bins?
I wouldn't mind
but she waited until they were emptied
and filled them with her crap.
I wouldn't mind so much
if she hadn't put plastics in the garden waste
and cardboard in the landfill.

© Rachel Green 2018

Tuesday, 9 October 2018

9th October 2018

blue sky
clouds like a Reubens;
Giacommetti city


© Rachel Green 2018

Lost
in a country I don't know
where the bus goes over the waves
and everyone carries guns.
Google doesn't work
and I have no guide


© Rachel Green 2018

Monday, 8 October 2018

8th October 2018

Jack, found
old rain, cold rain
the dog shedding its fur
central heating


© Rachel Green 2018

old fruit trees
my father cared for
dead and broken
barkless branches lie like bones
on the unmown meadow.
Still the plum tree holds a living branch
among the cascade of lifeless tangle
a single Victoria
sweet and leathery
and the egg plum
bitter and tasteless
next to the skeleton of the damson
I loved as a child


© Rachel Green 2018

Sunday, 7 October 2018

7th October 2018

weak sun
highlighting the wet grass
urinating dog


© Rachel Green 2018

birthday party
for the newly-twenty one
family and loud music.
In one corner I drink tea
and read about the pub's restaurant
where they serve funeral teas
at eight pounds fifty per person
includes sandwiches and hot chips
and cheese quiche
while you watch pictures of the departed
scroll past on the plasma TV screens.
Toast the departed
with salmon and cucumber sarnies
and a shot of single malt
then stay
for a sing song.


© Rachel Green 2018

Saturday, 6 October 2018

6th October 2018

rain
in the garden
a blind horse


© Rachel Green 2018
Chatting
on a Saturday morning
my gym resolve fades.
I was going to do three hours.
Maybe tomorrow.
I also want to re-read Tove Jansson
but the prose puts me off
despite loving it as a child.
Even the cat is staying indoors.


© Rachel Green 2018

Friday, 5 October 2018

5th October 2018

bright red creeper
festoons the garden shed
hungry thrushes


© Rachel Green 2018

The cat's gone deaf.
She's seventeen
so it's not unexpected
but it explains a lot,
like why she doesn't come when called
and why my dinner song goes unloved
and why she's such a little b*tch
to the poor dogs.


© Rachel Green 2018

Thursday, 4 October 2018

4th October 2018

swallows
arrows heading southward
all my dreams


© Rachel Green 2018

aching back
kettlebell swings
with a too-heavy weight
makes me re-evaluate sense
much as my fifteen-k walk
gave me blisters on my inner thighs
there's such a thing
as too much exercise.


© Rachel Green 2018

Wednesday, 3 October 2018

3rd October 2018

sour faced teenagers
tramping through leaves
exuberant dog


© Rachel Green 2018

shopping
and meds collection
all on a pushbike
maybe I can fit everything
into my little rucksack


© Rachel Green 2018

Tuesday, 2 October 2018

2nd October 2018

rain soaked
among the fallen leaves
overturned bins


© Rachel Green 2018
trying to be nice
American boys so aggressive
in online gaming
Best let them be.
I have better things to do
than listen to your whining
ESO Grandma
has no time for you.


© Rachel Green 2018

Monday, 1 October 2018

1st October 2018

gold-limned branches
the girl in the house opposite
naked in the window


© Rachel Green 2018

a rucksack
full of lego pieces
borrowed from a friend
I haven't seen in forty years
is stolen off my back
by a very clever thief.
What the hell do I do?
I didn't even notice it go
so there's no chance of recovery.
What does Lego mean
when it's a dream I'm having?
Am I mourning my lost youth?
I should have been more forthright.
I was a woman long before
I'd even heard of surgery.


© Rachel Green 2018