Monday, 31 December 2018

31st December 2018

an eight okra sky
through the skeletal birch
sparrows feed


© Rachel Green 2018

I will confess
after all these years
I stopped loving you
a year after our wedding
when you closed down my art
for the sake of a living wage
while I supported your painting
and your artist in residency
and your philandering
when all i wanted
was a peaceful life


© Rachel Green 2018

Sunday, 30 December 2018

30th December 2018

layers of cloud
under heavy winds
goldfinch


© Rachel Green 2018
discussions about finance
leave me with anxiety
itching arms
how much do I spend on myself?
I should justify every pound
paint and gaming


© Rachel Green 2018

Friday, 28 December 2018

28th December 2018

late morning
the terror of the night before
fades into grey


© Rachel Green 2018

ramping up the novel
Chloe faces more trauma
as a young boy in school
who doesn't fit in
picked on and victimised
becomes an outcast
with a fascination for drag queens
and period dress.
Names from my past haunt me
Empson, Davies, Dashey...
All my old bullies
return to taunt my memory


© Rachel Green 2018

Thursday, 27 December 2018

27th December 2018

clouds
in the poplar trees
knots of sparrows


© Rachel Green 2018

old man
wasting time
sorts through photographs
reliving faded memories.
His mother
in black and white
seems a stranger now
remembered only in monochrome
and re-told anecdotes


© Rachel Green 2018

Wednesday, 26 December 2018

26th December 2018

increased traffic
heading to Boxing day sales
heavy skies


© Rachel Green 2018

christmas cheer
relegated to yesterday
a few days off
then back to the grind
I need to work off those pounds again
and write the tale
of Chloe Finley


© Rachel Green 2018

Tuesday, 25 December 2018

25th December 2018

overnight frost
segues into morning rain
silent sparrows


© Rachel Green 2018

Does anyone read these?
Happy Holidays, if so
I write for an audience
albeit a small one.
My final novel still on the planning board
despite my continued attempts to write it.
Maybe I'll write a thousand shorts
and collate them all.
I did that with Harold
to some acclaim at the time.


© Rachel Green 2018

Monday, 24 December 2018

24th December 2018

light frost
bringing an end to Christmas tears
clear sky


© Rachel Green 2018

crackling wood
sets the spirits soaring
a Yule fire
 and a gathering of friends
in the early dark


© Rachel Green 2018

Sunday, 23 December 2018

23rd December 2018

dreary showers
against an off-white fence
winter jasmine


© Rachel Green 2018

four dogs
two of them long dead
happy dreams


© Rachel Green 2018

Saturday, 22 December 2018

22nd December 2018

*not my creation*
nk sky
reflected from low clouds
Christmas lights


© Rachel Green 2018

sometimes
there's nothing in my head
worth writing down
at least I slept well
not woken by my own coughing
despite the dream
of doing laundry all night
at my father's house
with DK peeved it was all creased.
Waking refreshed
but a coughing fit in the bathroom
leaves me with a headache
and a desire to finish my greatest novel
before I die


© Rachel Green 2018

Friday, 21 December 2018

21st December 2018

Winter equinox
sheltering from rain
a solitary crow


© Rachel Green 2018

the last request
of an elderly relative
was a wooden grave marker.
I watched it decay
over the course of a decade;
home to woodlice and millipeded,
spiders and slugs.
Summer wasps scraping it for pulp
moss and lichen take hold
until at last it had gone
and all that was left of my aunt
was a fond memory


© Rachel Green 2018

Thursday, 20 December 2018

20th December 2018

crow's wings
glinting in the winter sun
a thousand colours


© Rachel Green 2018

day trip
to the Harry Potter studio
fascinating behind-the-scenes
original props, costumes, sets
so many actual props
and camera trickery
to delight and clarify
makes me want to watch the films again
or at least the later three.


© Rachel Green 2018

Wednesday, 19 December 2018

19th December 2018

inland gulls
circling the cemetery
bare branches


© Rachel Green 2018

sore throat
limits activities
the threat of infection
keeps me locked away
living vicariously
through the internet.
Business as usual.


© Rachel Green 2018

Tuesday, 18 December 2018

18th December 2018

cold children
clattering down a wind-swept street
empty Amazon boxes


© Rachel Green 2018

sulking
her default emotion
when she can't do what she wants.
She *needs* the television
so she can livestream Youtube
while playing a Sims on her laptop
Pokemon on the switch
and skyping her friend on her iphone
Woe betide anyone who wants to watch TV
or complains about the take-out boxes
or the unwashed plates
She'll go into a full rage
because nobody understands her
and now she needs ice-cream and alcohol
or there'll be trouble


© Rachel Green 2018

Monday, 17 December 2018

17th December 2017

clear sky
but too wet to prune the willow
Christmas parcels


© Rachel Green 2018

trying hard
to paint to commission
Two decorated glass demijohns
that I don't know will be enjoyed.
"Just do them in your style" he said
but dude, my style is dark and demonic
and you want these
for your baby.


© Rachel Green 2018

Sunday, 16 December 2018

16th December 2018

clear sky
on the silver birch
sparrows


© Rachel Green 2018

painting commission
I forget how much
I hate doing commissions.
Will the buyer like it?
I should stick to my own art
and die penniless


© Rachel Green 2018

Friday, 14 December 2018

14th December 2018

heavy frost
silencing the bird song
the neighbour's cat


© Rachel Green 2018

aching legs
maybe I'll skip gym today
no classes scheduled
A long dog walk in the frosty fields
might be the next best thing.
Toast.


© Rachel Green 2018

Thursday, 13 December 2018

13th December 2018

sunlight
breaking through the clouds
crow calls


© Rachel Green 2018

anxiety
in the form of lateness.
Crossing London
in time to catch an art show
where the Underground is packed
and the buses are in gridlock.
We'll never make it in time
thirty quid tickets
to see Modigliani's masterpieces
flushed in corporate drains


© Rachel Green 2018

Wednesday, 12 December 2018

12th December 2018

brief periods
lighter cloud in the east
freezing rain


© Rachel Green 2018

Queer community
bands together
looking for a safe haven
The footprints of thousands
disappear without trace


© Rachel Green 2018

Tuesday, 11 December 2018

11th December 2018

cirr
ocumulus
knitting together
farewell, sun


© Rachel Green 2018

my old house
left empty for a while
the neighbours encroach on the garden
taking advantage of my absence
to remove fences,
extend their boundaries
while my father's orchard dies
and I build pyres of fallen branches


© Rachel Green 2018

Monday, 10 December 2018

10th December 2018

grey shades
edged out by hues of blue
frost-shattered peony


© Rachel Green 2018

remember livejournal?
so many writer friends
virtually gathered
how many are even left?
Am I still a writer?
Nothing published in years
though still selling in drips.
Best writing buddy
no longer replies to me
trans shunned?
In the scheme of things
it's just small talk.


© Rachel Green 2018

Sunday, 9 December 2018

9th December 2018

pink-edged clouds
over the garden
frost-edged leaves


© Rachel Green 2018

the cat looks old now
cries incessantly
unless she's asleep
stares at empty space,
can't hear me calling her
desperate to eat
but doesn't want food
and now she can't jump.
End of an era?
We've had her since we met
(almost)


© Rachel Green 2018

Saturday, 8 December 2018

8th December 2018

clouds stream past
limned by orange sunglow
leafless birch


© Rachel Green 2018

contact
from an old friend
trying to lose weight
I thought she was beautiful
just how she was
but her controlling boyfriend
disagrees.
I remember his negativity;
his passive-aggressive
"you're too gig for jiu-jitsu"
and feel glad I quit.
So much happier now,
though I miss the self defence


© Rachel Green 2018

Friday, 7 December 2018

7th December 2018

thundering rain
competes with the dog's barking
worker's vans


© Rachel Green 2018

last morning Hiit Class
I'll sign up again
motivation


© Rachel Green 2018

Thursday, 6 December 2018

6th December 2018

grey skies
but the rain has stopped
willow withies


© Rachel Green 2018

alarm fails again
time to find a new app
but I wake up singing.
Okay, it's 'Peanuts' by The Police
but it makes a change
from 'Hello, Goodbye' and 'Secret Life'
by Marc Almond and Soft Cell
Still thinking about Bear
and trying to find the 'last photo'
I saw on my screen yesterday


© Rachel Green 2018

Wednesday, 5 December 2018

5th December 2018

grey and rainy
cycling to the gym
bundled up


© Rachel Green 2018

sudden tears
as an old image appears
in my screensaver
Mr. Bear's last day
when we had to take him to be euthenised
because of his pain
I miss that ball of fluff so much
it still hurts five years later


© Rachel Green 2018

Tuesday, 4 December 2018

4th December 2018

heavy frost
nasturtiums vanish overnight
patterned glass


© Rachel Green 2018

hate crime case closed
with the perpetrator denying all knowledge
of anything done wrong.
I suspect the police officer
was on his side
as he denied making the extortion claim
or harassment  of me


© Rachel Green 2018

Monday, 3 December 2018

3rd December 2018

morning rain
hanging from the Christmas lights
dripping water


© Rachel Green 2018

Seasonal cards
written out and enveloped
ready for posting
Fifty quid in postage
never mind the cost of making the cards
(and does my time count?)
Stands to reason I'm overdrawn
again


© Rachel Green 2018

Sunday, 2 December 2018

2nd December 2018

peony stems
withered and brown
old man, walking


© Rachel Green 2018

lazy morning
chatting in bed
after the postman woke us at seven
plans for the future
reminiscences from the past.
Outside the window
steam from next-door central heating
competes with the smoke of coal fires
some people won't change
so don't moan about my bonfire
nosy neighbour


© Rachel Green 2018

Saturday, 1 December 2018

1st December 2018

cold and damp
on the chinmeytops
pigeons snuggle


© Rachel Green 2018

Advent Calendar
full of Harry Potter Lego
collected over six months
maybe there's a full set,
maybe not
but it was sixty quid well spent
to make a geek happy
every day


© Rachel Green 2018