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Tomorrow will be March…

I started to shield on the 6 March last year. I had to go the hospital and I was astounded at how casually people walked past the soap dispenser. I knew we were in a pandemic. So I went to the store on my way home and some shelves were bare. I decided that my socialising would stop.

March is my Dad’s birthday and the anniversary of his death. I found last year so difficult. I hope it will be easier this year. I miss him.

I have been enjoying the warmth of the sun and came up to my bedroom, where it’s streaming in. I am reminded that it’s sunlight through glass that causes most skin cancer, not just too much time in the sun.

I was reflecting on the some of the very bizarre events in my life. Loads happened in California, main due to the nature of my work. But since then there’s been incidents like when I picked up some litter and ended up sitting in a bush. On the way to the hairdresser. Yes, I know.

There’s all the various times I’ve had to be pushed home because my battery ran out. The most bizarre, the prize winning, the totally out there event, was Mike arriving in my bedroom at 3am. “oh, let’s not go that way cos that man got into my room at 3am”, that is not exactly a normal sentence. Neither is, “he invited me over to eat as part of his making amends, and we ended up in the same bed when I asked to be given a blanket”.

None of this is in any way normal, until you add that alcohol is a big factor in his life. The last time I saw him, I thought ‘how sad, he’s heading for a heart attack’. And it really is sad.

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Five years…

Last Friday was the fifth aniversary of the start of my breathing problems. It was on a Thursday, and I can remember it so well. It was much milder than this year, and I’d been to see my Dad.

Tomorrow would be my sister’s birthday. I feel sad, alone about it. My cousin phoned yesterday. We talked, it’s always good but I could not communicate my sadness. Her twin brother also died, a year before my sister.

I don’t often give advice, but if ever you have a neighbour who is kind but boring, don’t ever let them talk to you in your living room after he crashed into your bedroom at 3am. His flatmate will never cease in trying to make trouble for you.

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Jamie Dedes, the poet…

Died the Friday before last. I have been upset, although I did not know her in person, we communicated enough for me to know that she was a generous, kind and beautiful person. A wonderful poet.

Here is just one of her poems. She was waiting for a heart and lung transplant, and she continued to be all the great qualities.

One Lifetime After Another

one day, you’ll see, i’ll come back to hobnob
with ravens, to fly with the crows at the moment
of apple blossoms and the scent of magnolia ~
look for me winging among the white geese
in their practical formation, migrating to be here,
to keep house for you by the river …

i’ll be home in time for the bees in their slow heavy
search for nectar, when the grass unfurls, nib tipped ~
you’ll sense me as soft and fresh as a rose,
as gentle as a breeze of butterfly wings . . .

i’ll return to honor daisies in the depths of innocence,
i’ll be the raindrops rising dew-like on your brow ~
you’ll see me sliding happy down a comely jacaranda,
as feral as the wind circling the crape myrtle, you’ll
find me waiting, a small gray dove in the dovecot,
loving you, one lifetime after another.

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Rain

Droplets of water are falling
through the warm sky, making damp,
not wet, clinging to the air
Plants are grateful but I am sad,
I do not to see the Fall

It is not just the season makes me blue,
my soul is heavy, so my heart is dread
Of coming winter, darkness, cold
I wish to sleep, and wake no more

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Rain

Droplets of water are falling
through the warm sky, making damp,
not wet, clinging to the air
Plants are grateful but I am sad,
I do not to see the Fall

It is not just the season makes me blue,
my soul is heavy, so my heart is dread
Of coming winter, darkness, cold
I wish to sleep, and wake no more

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Equinox

I cannot beg the sun to stay
it is the earth that moves away

The night will be as long as this day
so sadness fills me as I have to greet th
e Fall
my garden has still some blooms
the shadows are long, the webs abound
season of spiders, but butterflies still aflutter

I want slumber to take me until spring
I don’t want the winter days, wind with chill
Let sleep take me now, with dreams that are sweet
unless there are days of sun to come

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Some good things…

It’s been great to do some English conversation class this morning. It’s good to be distracted from my worry about the construction site opposite.

It’s fun to help people get fluency in English. I always give them notes on new nouns or verbs used, and whether the verb is regular or irregular, or reflexive.

I’ve had to change my top up shop as my local one is full of men buying cans of beer or lager. My vicinity is littered with overweigh men, stripped to the waist, lobster red and guzzling alcohol.

The closed beaches are filled with people who ignored police blocks. The police are overwhelmed. I blame Dominic Cummings, and Boris Johnson’s stupid ‘Stay Alert’ instruction.

Locals are driven to staying at home. My regular trips to the RNLI station is no longer a pleasure.

I find it hard to relax when I’m not busy. People had read my blog before 8am this morning. This bothers me. In England. The search terms were odd, and the pages they looked at were just random.

I am waiting to hear from so many people.

It’s very hot. My dehumidifier has barely any more water in it. The difference it makes though.

My cousin is hoping to come down. I did find a great place to live near her, on a river, but I don’t have the strength to move.

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More Neruda…

Image may contain: sky, outdoor, water and nature

·  Tonight I Can Write by Pablo Neruda

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example, ‘The night is starry…
and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.’

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is starry and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that’s certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another’s. She will be another’s. As she was before my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that’s certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.See more

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Still very tired…

September is here so I feel a sadness. The warm long evenings have gone and the days are cooler.

I’m still feeling tired and there’s no reason for it. I’m eating healthily, although perhaps not quite as much as I should. I’m sleeping really well. I get plenty of fresh air.

The windchimes next door still cause me so much pain. That’s all I can think of that would cause this weariness. I have phoned the local paper.

I disturbed a monarch butterfly in my garden and then it lit on the ground in front of me. They are so beautiful. There have been no birds in my garden since my neighbour cut back his vines. A dead bird was put in my porch, which really upset me.

I’ve been to poetry readings, which are always good. Some people from Salisbury were there, which added more into the mix. I shall be reading there later this month.

I am going to have a nap, which is very unusual for me. It’s the only way I’m going to get through today.

Instagram: @purbeckpoet