Poetry, music, love

 Through the Front Window 

Leaves flicker in anticipation.

When they are gone,

Branches will sway and twist.

Everything is music, is dance.

Coloured lights will reveal on hills.

Bobbing, as boats in a bay, 

Winking, twinkling.

Everything is art.

Reading the poetry and works of Czelsaw Milosz, Boris Pasternak and Anna Akhmatova over the next wee while to sustain the soul.

Taken up singing with a classical choir whilst in search of Jazz and Ella’s song book. I think the music’s coming back to Wool City.

Black mohair project almost at completion.

Poetry, music, love….what else do you need apart from a good soup for lunch. Broccoli and green lentil today.

jazzposter

 

How to save a heart

Peace by day
The beast unleashes itself at midnight
Screaming obscenities
Hurling objects
She not he
A recurring pattern, fuelled

A baby cat, like a child
In amongst all that, cowering
Be careful what you teach your children
About relationships
Or they will grow up
Shouting abuse in the middle of the night

Kind and loving words save hearts

Recycle Central – a poem

In Yorkshire there’s a saying – where’s there’s muck there’s brass. It’s a county which has always been very good at recycling, dealing with rubbish and finding a way to make a living from it. Rag and bone men, the horse and cart, salvage yards, vintage shops – all are rooted in this old industrial place and have thrived for decades. Trends come and go. But nothing is as certain as mekin somat outta nowt.

Recycle central

Industrial landscape

Long gone

Rattling refuse

Bottles vodka

Cans coke

Being revived

Bulk movement

Thundering ground

Scrapyard thriving

Snickets, ginnels

Blossom pavements

Willow screens

Silent beck

In ancient pollution

The beautiful game played

Above

A conveyor belt of metal

Humans in cans

Oblivious to sound

Shunt by

frida