Wednesday, July 16, 2014

Today Next Year

A writing prompt asked: What was there about today that you will enjoy remembering in a year's time?

Not the woman
complaining
that the council want her
to either chain up her dogs
or build a secure fence.
 
Not the man
complaining
that the bench seats and tables
outside the chippie shop
aren't clean enough.
 
Not the woman
complaining
the concrete path
to the jetty
is in the wrong place.
On this bright
yellow and blue
mid-winter's day
I smile at small boys
dropping rocks
into the sea
with a satisfying splash.
I smile at the curve
 of the blue footbridge
leading the women
pushing strollers
following toddlers
over the water
to the playground.
I notice the leaves
of opportunist
self-seeded plants
sprouting from the top
of the broken palm tree:
like a comical toupee
on a balding man.
There's a shiny
 black and chrome
better than new
nineteen forties car
parked outside the cafe,
a chance to chat
to one, no longer a stranger.

The dog runs into waves
the boy follows
foaming water fills his boots
and, nearly mine.
Gulls run along the sand.
There is laughter and barking,
shells and driftwood.
If this day next year
is as cold and wet and dark
as one expects in July,
these will be the memories
I will take out to enjoy,
to taste, to smell,
to relive in front of the fire.



Connections

lemon zest
lime juice
hot drinks
for winter days

honey mixed
with memories
of summer,
hay rides
and shearing sheds

of saxophones
and cool jazz
and long black
barely restrained
wild ringlets

memories and connections
and almost no-one left
to understand them.

Monday, July 7, 2014

Before the Concrete Sets

I have been following Twisted Stitches and Hazelmade and Katwise and loving their clothing for quite a while. Today I discovered that Katwise also has a blog. With crazy writing, and pictures of her crazy clothing and crazy house and crazy buses, and I know that if I hadn't become, in childhood, a terrified-of-being-different, boring, jeans and black t-shirt kind of person who has aged into a boring, grey, fat old woman - this is the sort of person I wish I could have been. Not in quite the same way, because I was never a Grateful Dead fan, but colourful and colour-filled and fearlessly me. Too late now - I'd look a complete dork if I wore clothing like that and danced around singing (badly)and shit.

I wish I had learned to play music. I wish I had learned to sing. I wish I had learned to dance. I wish I had written more poetry. I wish I had worn the clothes I loved and the colours I loved and the fabrics I loved. I wish I'd said to more people, "Hey, I like you - would you like to meet for coffee on Tuesday?"

I wish I hadn't let my life be ruled so much by what I thought I should do. Ruled by fear of looking a fool, being rejected, tripping over my feet, getting things wrong. I wish I'd told certain people to just get the fuck out of my life. Now, I'm so set in my ways that I just can't bring myself to wear inappropriate colours and clothes. My body's not up to dancing or learning to surf or riding a unicycle. I do act 'inappropriately' sometimes, but not as often as I would if I followed my inner voice.

Pretty much I am happy with my life now. I love living here and doing the back-to-the-land thing. I have interesting friends. I have old and loyal friends. I have sons and grandchildren. I have a husband, without whom life would be seriously empty.

But if you are still young, hear me and listen - be who you are, now, before the concrete sets.