silent streets
muffled by hard frost
silent children
© Rachel Green 2019
yellow-lit platform
waiting for the last northbound tube
among the echoes.
Cockfosters seven minutes
leaves time to contemplate the hoardings
The British Museum
The Royal Philharmonic
Overpriced Gucci.
Watching a rat
navigate the rails
foraging for sustenance among the dust
a rush of warm air
as the southbound train disgorges residents
the clatter of heels
echoing from Victorian tiles.
Silence.
Cockfosters six minutes
© Rachel Green 2019
Thursday 31 January 2019
Wednesday 30 January 2019
30th January 2019
Tuesday 29 January 2019
29th January 2019
car windows
opaque with cold
frozen sky
© Rachel Green 2019
hot porridge
on a cold, cold morning
central heating for kids
or so the seventies would have us believe.
Truth is,
I'd still rather stay indoors
despite the gaps in the windows
and the wind whistling
through the plastic dog flap.
but duty calls
© Rachel Green 2019
opaque with cold
frozen sky
© Rachel Green 2019
hot porridge
on a cold, cold morning
central heating for kids
or so the seventies would have us believe.
Truth is,
I'd still rather stay indoors
despite the gaps in the windows
and the wind whistling
through the plastic dog flap.
but duty calls
© Rachel Green 2019
Monday 28 January 2019
28th January 2019
sunshine
streaming between houses
a knot of sparrows
© Rachel Green 2019
moments lost
to fading memory
names and faces fall away
until I don't know you anymore
Don't be upset
It just means you're not important to me.
Did you want to be?
Then you need to make more effort
and not just a quick 'hello'
as you court my old man.
Sorry for the bluntness
but he won't leave me for you
so get used to it.
© Rachel Green 2019
streaming between houses
a knot of sparrows
© Rachel Green 2019
moments lost
to fading memory
names and faces fall away
until I don't know you anymore
Don't be upset
It just means you're not important to me.
Did you want to be?
Then you need to make more effort
and not just a quick 'hello'
as you court my old man.
Sorry for the bluntness
but he won't leave me for you
so get used to it.
© Rachel Green 2019
Sunday 27 January 2019
27th January 2019
bright sun
the wind howling past
freezing point
© Rachel Green 2019
Butterfly house
watching the ants
creep along rope bridges
© Rachel Green 2019
the wind howling past
freezing point
© Rachel Green 2019
Butterfly house
watching the ants
creep along rope bridges
© Rachel Green 2019
Saturday 26 January 2019
26th January 2019
pink clouds
pushed out by the grey
snowdrops
© Rachel Green 2019
fiction
or real life
the line blurs when I write
fictional autobiography
remembering facts
of my (distant) childhood
and inserting instead
a fictional character
whom Death follows too closely.
Not the antichrist
just a distant cousin.
© Rachel Green 2019
pushed out by the grey
snowdrops
© Rachel Green 2019
fiction
or real life
the line blurs when I write
fictional autobiography
remembering facts
of my (distant) childhood
and inserting instead
a fictional character
whom Death follows too closely.
Not the antichrist
just a distant cousin.
© Rachel Green 2019
Friday 25 January 2019
25th January 2010
patchy sunshine
melting frozen woodland paths
muddy dogs
© Rachel Green 2019
she hugs herself
as a defence from the cold air
pulling her cardigan closed
yawning,
yawning as she unlocks a four-by-four
and climbs in
sparking a cigarette
now she's finished the school run
pulling away from the kerb
as she's allowed to do
even when she's too exhausted to drive.
She's off to the gym now,
before lunchtime drinks
with the girls from Slimming World.
© Rachel Green 2019
melting frozen woodland paths
muddy dogs
© Rachel Green 2019
she hugs herself
as a defence from the cold air
pulling her cardigan closed
yawning,
yawning as she unlocks a four-by-four
and climbs in
sparking a cigarette
now she's finished the school run
pulling away from the kerb
as she's allowed to do
even when she's too exhausted to drive.
She's off to the gym now,
before lunchtime drinks
with the girls from Slimming World.
© Rachel Green 2019
Thursday 24 January 2019
24th January 2019
cloud cover
keeping away the frost
warm radiator
© Rachel Green 2019
fake American accents
ground out so badly
one can't make out the words
make-up played for laughs
and wigs barely held in place.
Let's not mention the bodies
as realistic as Guy Fawkes dummies
and wooden acting
and lead characters too old
to ever be considered young lovers
(that combover is fooling nobody).
We escape in the interval
to a fish supper
and a parking ticket.
© Rachel Green 2019
keeping away the frost
warm radiator
© Rachel Green 2019
fake American accents
ground out so badly
one can't make out the words
make-up played for laughs
and wigs barely held in place.
Let's not mention the bodies
as realistic as Guy Fawkes dummies
and wooden acting
and lead characters too old
to ever be considered young lovers
(that combover is fooling nobody).
We escape in the interval
to a fish supper
and a parking ticket.
© Rachel Green 2019
Wednesday 23 January 2019
23rd January 2019
Tuesday 22 January 2019
22nd January 2019
Monday 21 January 2019
21st January 2019
Sunday 20 January 2019
20th January 2019
Saturday 19 January 2019
19th January 2019
Friday 18 January 2019
18th January 2019
skeleton and skin |
fills the front garden
leaves and street trash
© Rachel Green 2019
what can I hope for
in a largely forgetful life?
Have I marked the world
in any noteworthy way?
Have my books bought encouragement?
laughter? Lasting fondness?
Nave my poems inspired
or put word to recognition?
Have my paintings brought joy
or provoked discussion
on the nature of art?
I have touched live and made ripples
but they fade too quickly,
and the sands of time
are easily smoothed.
© Rachel Green 2019
Thursday 17 January 2019
17th January 2019
sharp frost
dead leaves etched with silver
street roofs
© Rachel Green 2018
why would an old teacher
turn up in my dreams
to solve a puzzle I already knew?
and why was I at a service station
that didn't have a toilet?
and why did some woman
park her baby on my motorbike seat
and where's my helmet gone?
It was right there.
© Rachel Green 2018
dead leaves etched with silver
street roofs
© Rachel Green 2018
why would an old teacher
turn up in my dreams
to solve a puzzle I already knew?
and why was I at a service station
that didn't have a toilet?
and why did some woman
park her baby on my motorbike seat
and where's my helmet gone?
It was right there.
© Rachel Green 2018
Wednesday 16 January 2019
16th January 2019
Tuesday 15 January 2019
15th January 2019
clouds
feathered like fjords
against the cold blue
© Rachel Green 2018
old partner
prompts no regret;
only sorrow at their broken life
husband gone,
child dead
grandchild dead
parents dead
and they still rail against the world
wishing they had more
and regretting,
bemoaning,
that I didn't die when they left.
© Rachel Green 2018
feathered like fjords
against the cold blue
© Rachel Green 2018
old partner
prompts no regret;
only sorrow at their broken life
husband gone,
child dead
grandchild dead
parents dead
and they still rail against the world
wishing they had more
and regretting,
bemoaning,
that I didn't die when they left.
© Rachel Green 2018
Monday 14 January 2019
14th January 2019
Sunday 13 January 2019
13th January 2019
drizzle
through skeletal branches
wind-blown trash
© Rachel Green 2018
tell them
we don't want it
we were lied to all along
about the benefits
and told nothing of the consequences.
these slings and arrows
hurt only us.
© Rachel Green 2018
through skeletal branches
wind-blown trash
© Rachel Green 2018
tell them
we don't want it
we were lied to all along
about the benefits
and told nothing of the consequences.
these slings and arrows
hurt only us.
© Rachel Green 2018
Saturday 12 January 2019
12th January 2019
Friday 11 January 2019
11th January 2019
bright, unshiny sky
filling the front garden
dead leaves and litter
© Rachel Green 2018
one of those dreams
where you find yourself naked
walking down Granger Street
but at the bottom it's Princess Street
and you've changed towns.
I am much younger there,
pert breasts and flat stomach
draped in an acrylic fur blanket
courtesy of the Oxfam shop
© Rachel Green 2018
filling the front garden
dead leaves and litter
© Rachel Green 2018
one of those dreams
where you find yourself naked
walking down Granger Street
but at the bottom it's Princess Street
and you've changed towns.
I am much younger there,
pert breasts and flat stomach
draped in an acrylic fur blanket
courtesy of the Oxfam shop
© Rachel Green 2018
Thursday 10 January 2019
10th January 2019
"Creepy Sheep 4" (found on internet) |
removed by early morning cloud
starlight
© Rachel Green 2018
why can I remember
the exact names and features
of those I worked with
twenty-plus years ago
and recall them perfectly
in anxiety-related dreams?
I can't remember people I loved
only a few years ago
and the dreams about packing
and moving an art studio
just never happened.
Why did I dream
about a stolen painting?
© Rachel Green 2018
Wednesday 9 January 2019
9th January 2019
sunlit
the contrail of a northbound jet
low clouds
© Rachel Green 2018
she glitters
candyfloss among the breadline
a splash of colour
in the eighties concrete wasteland
heading to work
or headed home
a bright spot among the suits
and briefcases of outrageous commerce
four-inch platforms
on the Sheffield tram
and an easy smile
on the Easter Island commute
© Rachel Green 2018
the contrail of a northbound jet
low clouds
© Rachel Green 2018
she glitters
candyfloss among the breadline
a splash of colour
in the eighties concrete wasteland
heading to work
or headed home
a bright spot among the suits
and briefcases of outrageous commerce
four-inch platforms
on the Sheffield tram
and an easy smile
on the Easter Island commute
© Rachel Green 2018
Tuesday 8 January 2019
8th January 2019
Monday 7 January 2019
7th January 2019
shredded birch bark
fluttering in the stiff breeze
frost gilded clouds
© Rachel Green 2018
small worries
the fight with John Emson
when I was...what? ten?
Less of a boxing match
and more of an attempt
to rip out his liver with my hand.
all a question of status, really.
Which of us was on the bottom rung
of the bullied ladder.
I was a ginger nut, after all.
© Rachel Green 2018
fluttering in the stiff breeze
frost gilded clouds
© Rachel Green 2018
small worries
the fight with John Emson
when I was...what? ten?
Less of a boxing match
and more of an attempt
to rip out his liver with my hand.
all a question of status, really.
Which of us was on the bottom rung
of the bullied ladder.
I was a ginger nut, after all.
© Rachel Green 2018
Sunday 6 January 2019
6th January 2019
striated sky
over a land filled with unshine
raucous crows
© Rachel Green 2018
Dark dream
living in Newcastle
with DK's family as was
Ash still under five
and hoarding rubbish as usual
I clean up
with the help of her eldest brother
slightly older than Kirsty
for a previous relationship/
Looking for rubbish bins in Benwell
while soldiers bomb and storm a factory unit
full of terrorists (so they say)
© Rachel Green 2018
over a land filled with unshine
raucous crows
© Rachel Green 2018
Dark dream
living in Newcastle
with DK's family as was
Ash still under five
and hoarding rubbish as usual
I clean up
with the help of her eldest brother
slightly older than Kirsty
for a previous relationship/
Looking for rubbish bins in Benwell
while soldiers bomb and storm a factory unit
full of terrorists (so they say)
© Rachel Green 2018
5th January 2019
grey day
becoming even colder
sheltering sparrows
© Rachel Green 2018
what does it mean
when your ancient japanese tea service
jumps off the shelves?
apart from 'it's time to sweep
before your dogs cut their paws"
Have we offended someone?
Invited in another demon?
Who knows?
Replacements on eBay.
© Rachel Green 2018
becoming even colder
sheltering sparrows
© Rachel Green 2018
what does it mean
when your ancient japanese tea service
jumps off the shelves?
apart from 'it's time to sweep
before your dogs cut their paws"
Have we offended someone?
Invited in another demon?
Who knows?
Replacements on eBay.
© Rachel Green 2018
Friday 4 January 2019
4th January 2019
Thursday 3 January 2019
3rd January 2019
flocking gulls
around a fresh cemetery dig
meagre offerings
© Rachel Green 2018
catkins
delight the eye
on a day where crows cackle
in the bare chestnut branches
and the wind chill makes my fingers white
while the dogs, on leads,
inspect the daily messages
tree trunks and lamp posts
relay the passing of neighbours
and the sombre collection
of black overcoats
congregate at an open grave
© Rachel Green 2018
around a fresh cemetery dig
meagre offerings
© Rachel Green 2018
catkins
delight the eye
on a day where crows cackle
in the bare chestnut branches
and the wind chill makes my fingers white
while the dogs, on leads,
inspect the daily messages
tree trunks and lamp posts
relay the passing of neighbours
and the sombre collection
of black overcoats
congregate at an open grave
© Rachel Green 2018
Wednesday 2 January 2019
2nd January 2019
golden glow
tweaks the eastern clouds
rosemary flowers
© Rachel Green 2018
piles of laundry
heralds the new year
Italian tradition
dictates we do none on the 1st
and it all piles up.
Holiday jigsaw
consigned to the charity bag
while the overflowing bins
are ready for collection.
Rock hard Stollen consumed as breakfast
brings instant regret.
© Rachel Green 2018
tweaks the eastern clouds
rosemary flowers
© Rachel Green 2018
piles of laundry
heralds the new year
Italian tradition
dictates we do none on the 1st
and it all piles up.
Holiday jigsaw
consigned to the charity bag
while the overflowing bins
are ready for collection.
Rock hard Stollen consumed as breakfast
brings instant regret.
© Rachel Green 2018
Tuesday 1 January 2019
1st January 2019
low sunshine
highlights the edges of cloud
sparrow flight
© Rachel Green 2018
new year, new you
maybe I quite like the old me
loveable, good humoured,
manically depressed
beautiful but overweight...
On the otherhand
maybe a bit more writing
and dredging up the past
© Rachel Green 2018
highlights the edges of cloud
sparrow flight
© Rachel Green 2018
new year, new you
maybe I quite like the old me
loveable, good humoured,
manically depressed
beautiful but overweight...
On the otherhand
maybe a bit more writing
and dredging up the past
© Rachel Green 2018
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)