Begonia

 

Taken this day
With the pure
White begonia,
Tight furled centre
Kissed by lemon lips,
Luscious curls 
Of roundness
Fold on fold,
A piece
Of patio perfection
To delight 
The passing eye,
Another ill considered moment
Of beauty In a tarnished world.

JL July 31 11:25

Alcazar

The gardens 
Of the Alcazar
The voice of fountains
In the shade.

The creamy 
Latticed arches
In the halls 
Of the Alhambra.

The solemn
Vesper echoes
Rising through 
A shadowed Chartres

The pleasure of remembering
The pain of remembrance.

JL July 30 12:42

Towards the Sea

Along summer lanes
The hedgerows
Are fuzzy haired
And white
With yarrow flowers.

In the dunes
The evening primrose
Lifts it's head
By dark red 
Sea rose
Along a floor 
Of purple vetch.

Between the clumps
Of threepenny thrift
The wild thyme creeps
And all around 
The whisper 
Of a distant surf
With children's voices
Laughing through the afternoon.

JL July 29 13:09

Emmie 7

There on the doorstep surrounded by an aroma of roses was a young girl, probably the same age as Helen Regan but altogether different in attitude and dress. She wore a rather long swirly flowing skirt in floral colours, a sort of linen shirt with a gentleman's waistcoat and she had one of those studs in her nose. They were banned in school. Underneath her arm was a motorcycle helmet.

"Hello! Are you Mrs Jacobs? This IS 23 Chapel Walk." 
"That's the number on the gate," said Emmie, feeling not too well disposed to this rag tag and bobtail image before her, " And who might you be?"
"My name's Jenny Hedges."
"Well, Jenny Hedges what can I do for you? As  you can see, I'm just on my way out and I haven't much time."
" I am the person who found your brocade bag on the bus and my mother insisted on returning it to the address inside - this address. I live in Shoreburn, I came on my scooter." She brandished the helmet as evidence. 
"Oh! Have you come for the photograph? it's a long way to come. You could have dropped me a line and I could have posted it back. I'll just go and find it"
" No, it's about something far more important."
" Well seeing that you have come so far, you had better come in."  Emmie took off her coat and hung it on the peg on the hall stand and, followed by this odd looking creature, made her way into the back room. " Now what's this all about? 
" I have this friend who is in very serious trouble."
Emmie was quite familiar with friends in trouble. They were cropping up by the day in school and were not far removed from the person who was actually telling the story. She made a mental note to take it all with a pinch of salt till the problem was out. However seeing as the girl had come some distance, she thought she had better listen. " What makes you think I will be able to help?"
" I need someone who is far enough away and not linked to me. I thought you might be able to help because of the bag."
" The bag ?"
" I liked that bag. It had good vibes and I was sad when my mum secretly took it and brought it back. I thought that the person who owned it and cherished it, put the address inside must have expected it to be something special. So I thought that person must be someone special as well.
" That's a bit  far fetched."
" Yes, well, I suppose it is but it's what I thought."
" Well I think I'd better phone the friend I was going to meet and tell her I am going to be delayed."  Emmie went to the hall, checked Dorothy's number and dialled. There was no reply. She must have already left for church to start the flowers. Emmie went back to the back room, sat down, placed her hands on her lap and began, "Well you had better tell me all,about it."
" Will you help?"
" If I can."
" My friend is called Yasmin and she is in my class. We finished our A levels a few weeks ago and I have been in touch with her on the phone. Then suddenly I was told by her mother that she was not there and she would be going on holiday. I was immediately suspicious because she had told me that her father was talking about finding a husband for her.  It's quite common in our school and rumours are always drifting about. It's a girls' upper school and the staff are always very careful about this sort of thing."
Emmie held up her hand. " I think we could both do with a cup of tea before we hear the rest."
Jenny nodded and Emmie rose with a sigh and went to the kitchen. Jenny saw the bag which had been left on the chair and smiled to herself.

When the two china cups and an old fashioned teapot appeared Emmie poured out,"Milk?"
"Please."
" Sugar?"
" Two please. "
" I think you can carry on now." Emmie  said,  gently, stirring her tea.

"  Well  anyway I got a message on the answer phone to meet her in town at Burger King. She was not there at first, then she appeared and rushed me into the Bus Station. She was in a right panic and said she had to escape. Then a couple of days ago she turned up on my doorstep with a few things in her bag and asked if she could stay. My mum and dad are are away at the moment so she has stayed with me. She can be easily be traced to me so we need a place for her to hide till we can contact a refuge. She knows about one in Sheffield. "

"So that's the story."  with that she opened her hands and made a gesture of resignation. "Will you help?"

There were a few moments of silence and then Emmie, speaking quite softly  said, " I will give it some thought and we had better have a plan, at least for the time being."
At that moment the telephone rang. " That will be Dorothy wondering what has happened to me. I had better get that."

Emmie returned, having spoken on the phone for a few minutes. "  That was Dorothy, my friend. I will discuss the situation and if we can meet again the day after tomorrow with you and Yasmin then we can set upon a plan.
" Thank you. What time?"
" About seven thirty. "

So the arrangement was made to meet again on Monday at half past seven and they would come on the bus. Jenny did not want to risk the scooter with only her provisional
licence.


JL July 28 11:14

Aleppo

"Her husbands to Aleppo gone
Master o the Tiger."

What Aleppo conjures me
Not of bombs and rockets
But of witches on a blasted heath
Images of evil plotters
Making prophecies of death
Not so different I suppose
To the reality.
And of a rat without a tail
"I'll do, I'll do I'll do"
The three weird sisters cry.
"And by  the pricking of my thumbs
Something wicked this way comes."
And who will gainsay that?
How strange the words
That echo down history.
And so we have it in our hearts to pray
For Aleppo and its sufferings today.

JL July 27 14:06

Compostella

How many feet 
Have trod these stones
Of fine leather shod
Or simple crafted clog

How many dusty miles
Have felt the holding
Of your staff and scrip
The sign of scallop shell
That all things shall be well.

So many dusty feet
So many willing souls
To be a pilgrim.

JL For the feast of St James 25 July

The Scent of Roses

Something
About the scent  
Of summer roses,
By a window,
Set within a bowl
And the draught
That drifts the curtain,
Tippling petals 
On the darkened oak,
Polished by lavender
That spirits us
A childhood way
To raspberry afternoons
And ice cream smiles.

What would we be 
Without a redolence
Of dusty pasts
And bedtime stories
Under dark  beamed eaves?

JL July 25 14:29

Buddleia

The recent sun
Has caught the buddleia
Brought its purple 
Candles into bloom.

I now await
A painted lady
To gladden with her colour
My solitary room.

Such simple things
A little sun reveals
And lifts the rain soaked
Season's gloom.


JL July 23. 13:14

Counting

How many days
Are left to love
To catch the light
Of living colour?

Hour many hours
To count the coming
Of an early dawn
With sunrise climbing
Over field and fell?

How many sunsets
To call the end of play
And revel in the golden light
Of slow declining day?

JL July 23 13:01

Changes

The breath of desert wind 
Has caught my cheek
And carried to this northern shore,
The salt sea tang,
The siren song,
The age old widow-maker's
Whisper of the tide.

It dries the lips
And draws the tears 
Is what it always was
A rich reminder
Of full fathom five.

The evening primrose
In the dunes
A flash of hope
Among the silver willow
For a more benign
And fruitful day
Tomorrow.

JL July 22. 14:37

Emmie Jacobs 6

Emmie worked on Tuesday and Thursday and this week had been quite busy. They had asked her for an extra  day as the exams were in full swing. She went in on Friday to help with the paperwork and took one of the last parcels to the post office on her way home.

She enjoyed her two days in school during the week. The Head was quite personable and the secretary had become quite a close friend. This was unusual for Emmie as she had never had a close friend. Fr. Kavanagh had been right and the vacant space left by the absence of David had needed a person to share the odd doubt or need for advice. Dorothy, the secretary was married with grown up children and they also happened to be members of the same congregation at St Johns. In fact they were both members of the flower arrangement team and regularly met on Saturday afternoon to do the flowers.

After the Post Office she made her way home dropping in on the market on the way. On the last part of the journey she was caught up by a young girl who lived just down Chapel Walk. It would more accurate to say that she was a young woman. Her name was Helen Regan. She had been Head Girl for a year, elected by her fellow sixth formers. They always chose someone who was attractive and unassumingly clever. Emmie thought she was a sort of Enid Blyton character with her tight strawberry blonde curls, always cut close, a fresh complexion which never seemed to show a hint of cosmetic, a winsome smile and cheerful nature.

Her first comment as she bustled up to Emmie was to share the news that she had successfully achieved a place at Edinburgh university to study medicine. No doubt she would end up on the arm of some handsome specialist, Emmie uncharitably supposed. Even so Emmie was also aware of the wonderful opportunities which were available to young people. They parted at the gate, and Emmie wished Helen a good weekend and with a final wave put her key in the door and walked in, trampling on the day's post which always seemed to get caught in the doormat. The post was mainly advertisements, a plea from a local charity and inevitably, the Gas bill.

Came Saturday, Emmie had a bowl of Cornflakes and  planned to tidy up, put some washing in the machine and then to meet Dorothy at two to organise the sanctuary flowers. At one thirty she took her coat off the peg in the hall, buttoned up and went into the kitchen to fetch her bag.  As she gathered herself together the doorbell rang. Now who could that be at this time on a Saturday, probably the Jehovah's witnesses, she thought. That should be no problem as she had her coat on and was ready for off. The doorbell rang again. " All right, all right!" she muttered under her breath and opened the door.

A Tapestry of Angels

Never wanted to sing
In a rock and roll band,
Just hang upon a chord 
In D.
To form a  melody
Of sights and sounds,
Of coloured garden flowers,
Of rolling hills
And silver showers,
A tapestry of angels 
Hung upon a cloud,
A shaft of sunlight
Pinning them to ground.

JL July 20 12:53

Nisi Dominus 1610

 


How does 
Monteverdi
Dance and swing
Rebound resounds
And makes
These dead stones ring.

Splinters into shards of gold
Recalled from vespers 
Long ago.
The great west window's
Story told.

Unless the lord builds my house
It is as nothing
The arrows of my youth
Are winged into the past
To meet the stranger 
At the gate 
With joy at last.

And so the colours
Splashed on surpliced choirs
Support my feeble voice
Enflamed by tongues of fire.

Ab initio we are called to pray 
Deus in adjutorium meum 
Intende.

JL July 19 11:49

My Friend

How kind of you
To hold an open door,
To indicate
A rather higher step,
To offer guidance 
At the causeway edge
And turn the stiffkey
At the garden gate,
And then to count
The myriad of flowers
Their colours and their scent
An then to let me breathe awhile 
And lean upon your fence.


JL July 18 13:45

On Not Being Able To Paint

A blank page 

Of light and airy things 
Fledgling flighty things
Unkempt and disarrayed
Bits and pieces
Cast aside
In idleness displayed.

And then the broadest brush
The incandescent sweep
Of yellow brightness
The tongues of flame
To splash their trumpets
In scarlet unrepentant shame

And then to earth
On spiral wings
Of feathered softness
Softly come to ground 
And rest there
Kissed with 
Fluted breathless sound.

JL July 17 12:23
With reference to a response to Mariion Milner.

Smile

Sometimes
I need the touch
Of softness
Even a smile
Will do.

A soft smile
Will be just right
Could you stretch
To two?

I cannot
Do the reciprocity
Nothing quite
In control.

The smile 
Is twisted 
Out of shape
The tongue
Is in a roll.

Not to worry
I still dream
Have pictures
In my head.

And they are 
Brightly painted
And will be
Till I'm dead.

JL July 16 10:58

Towards the End of Day

Towards the end of day
All is coming frail.

The petal edges
Merge with wall 
And tile.

The fern fronds
Form a feather blanket
By the shape of elm
And oak.

Ethereal voices
Echo on the wind.
The flowers of the field
Are fled.

The salt scent of the sea 
Is my companion
Foreshadowing my footsteps
For the way ahead.

JL July 15 13:35

Emmie Jacobs 5

The intervening years had been quite kind and uneventful really. David had continued in the tailoring and became a senior cutter in an establishment, not quite  Saville Row but rather more discreetly situated in an arcade near Southampton Row just round the corner from the British Museum. Emmie had a part time job in an accountant's office and as they had a small terraced house in Camden Town all was very conveniently placed. Mary Louise went to the Rosary Primary School and then to the Maria Fidelis Convent so all was quite neatly contained. 

Mary was a nurse in Florida now and there was a grandchild she had not yet seen. They were coming over in the summer.  Emmie's younger sister had moved to Australia in the fifties and there was little contact now. When Emmie' s mother died, the house up north had been left to her and her savings had gone to sister Catherine. Emmie and David both decided to sell up and move north to the little market town in the north west, just south of the Lake District.

The house in Chapel Walk was a small, Edwardian, three bedroom terrace. They were both happy there and the sale of the terrace in Camden had left them quite comfortably off and there was no real need to go into full time employment. David had installed their sewing machine in the small back room together with Emmie's typewriter, the small,back garden was partly given over to vegetables and the front was roses, roses all the way. The ones with a strong fragrance always had pride of place. David joked that visitors in the summer always came up smelling of roses.

David was a lucky man. Things always fell into place. When he had been retired a little while he made a journey into town and enquired in a local tailor if there was any alteration work available. It seemed that they had sufficient out workers so he,  not be discouraged, put a small ad in the local paper.

Recently retired tailor available 
for alteration work and 
small tailoring jobs.
Local 693748.

The offer was taken up by a few dry cleaning shops in the area and the work flowed in quite steadily when they had seen the quality of the work. All went well till one afternoon she came home from shopping in the village to find him asleep with the local paper over his face. He did not respond to her enquiry of whether he would like a cup of tea or coffee and when she took the paper away she was stunned to find him frozen with a slight smile on his face. 

She sat and looked at him for a long time with her tears steadily dropping onto her apron. Eventually, shrugging her shoulders she made her way into the hall slowly took out the telephone book and looking up the surgery, phoned for the doctor. The undertaker came later in the day and she was taken up with all the arrangements. There was no time to think at all. He was buried in the local graveyard in the catholic section. The priest asked no embarrassing questions as Emmie was a regular. David did go to church with her on the odd occasion especially Christmas and Easter. In his words he was sailing under a flag of convenience. " Same port, similar cargo different flag."  It was his old testament thing and she had never had any intention of it being anything else. What she knew she would hold in her heart. No one else had any call on the information and that is how it would remain. There  were so many questions when you came into the world and yet very few when you were leaving it.

It was at this time that she got a part time job in the local catholic secondary school. Father Kavanagh had put her name forward soon after the funeral. He was delivering the brocade bag that had been left in the sacristy when she was helping with the flowers. " Give you something positive to think about," he said. It was certainly that.

David had died in the June and she began just before the term started in September. Her first job was the typing of the newsletter. It was through this small task that she began to know far more about what was going on in the community which gave a whole new aspect to her life.


JL July 14. 12:02

Summerless

Dense dark beeches
Hug the road,
A great nave of green,
Dripping through
This summer skipping 
Rain.

The fells still fresh
And springlike
Rise up
Before our eyes.

The fields are stiff
With standing 
Still green wheat
A harvest in abeyance
From lack of light.

Only in our hearts
We hold the sun
And there we smile
Awhile
And hope for
Fairer days to come.


JL July 13. 12:46

Reconciled

The conflicting will.

I feel 
Your every tremble
In my throat.

The dampness 
Of your tears
Has warmed 
The coldness
That once lived
Upon my shoulder
Turned the hardness
In the eyes
Of just a glance away.

A hard heart
Has turned to liquid,
And all my wishes 
Are for blessings
Upon your head
Today.

JL July 12. 12:13

A Poem from Afar

I know that it is very difficult to send me comments and most of them are of a personal nature and are usually sent to my e mail.
The following poem was intended for me and for me to put it on the blog. So here it is and it is a comment and response to the many poems I have posted.
I must confess I rather like it.


JL 11 July 11:36
Blogger

You have set sail so many times in this boat of words
Motoring out from the harbour wall in the clear evening
Passing the home-going crabber chugging over the slight swell
With your wake trailing like long fishing line back to the shore.

Somewhere between the sandbanks and the open sea
Still you set your hooks for the mottled dark sea fish
Flicking them out and high into the late sunlight triumphantly
While the words reel out like flags to the watchers on the shore.

CJ 10 July 2012

Alas

This morning 
He watches the still
Grey plate of the lake

A sharp chevron 
Arrowed forth
Dark headed by a coot,
A silent cut 
Headed for the reeds.

He waited for the sword
And the arm 
Clad in white samite
And at his side
A lady fair to behold.

A delicious moment of remembrance,
The tearful whisper of a prayer
Before he gathered his cloak 
In a swirl around him
And retreated from the cold.

JL July 10. 13:21

Walls

In this place
The lord hath not tempered
The wind to the shorn lamb.

The dry stone wall
Soaked beyond greyness 
Huddles the lamb  and ewe.

"There is something 
That does not love a wall."
Says the poet.

Tell that to the shepherd.

There are walls within walls
Walls of silence
Walls of ignorance and hatred


There are walls to climb
And on the other side
Is found freedom and another country.

This is a simple wall
And by it the ewe and lamb
And we give thanks for its shelter.
On wield and downland
Field and fell
It is a faithful friend.

JL July 9 11:56

Floods and Storms

Another day
Its fairness
Ripples through
Cloud, 
And freshness
In the breeze
Tousles barley
For the harvest.

Beware!
Plans are futile
Against storm and flood.
All too often
Heavens be not kind,
When summer smiles
Should warm our hearts,
We are vanquished 
By uncertain winds
And whipping tides
Harvest fields with hopes
Are dashed
And we must take fresh hold
Upon determination.

JL Juy 8 13:58

Emmie Jacobs 4

On the  back of the small snap was written, again in faded ink, or it could have been indelible pencil. "1926" . Indelible pencil and purple lips; she remembered those pencils and the man in the shop who licked the end to write the price. She couldn't remember the shop. It could have been the hardware shop.  In her memory it seemed to go with long brown coats and bags of nails. Strange how memories danced through her mind when she was alone in the house.

The photo broke into her reverie and danced her back into the present moment and then danced her back again into an uncertain past. The two girls in the photo were obviously friends as they linked arms and laughed into the camera. They were wearing those girdle waist dresses in a light colour. They could have been white, as the black and white photo only gave a hint of shade. The dresses had those scalopped hems. She remembered her mother had something similar in a pale green, eau de nile she thought it was. It had hung in her wardrobe unworn for many a year smelling  of camphor to ward off the moths. Inside the dress there was one of those camphor rings like large polo mints hanging from a purple thread. She had got the dress out one day and her mother became quite cross and said it was not to be touched. Emmie remembered the label inside, "Marshall & Snelgrove ".  I wonder what happened to Marshall & Snelgrove she thought. She remembered the one on Lord Street in Southport but it disappeared. It was near the Kardomah coffee shop where her mother sometimes took her. Here she slipped away again  into the world of coffee and extra special chocolate Kunzle cakes. These sweet remembered pleasures brought the hint of a smile to dance across her lips, a summer day in Southport with Kunzle chocolate cup cakes.

"I bet that was where the girls were, a summer dance." There  used to be summer dances in the park by the bandstand. That was where she had first met David. She remembered the rose garden and the lake. She  had seen him with some friends sitting round a table  drinking cream sodas, no alcohol allowed in the park. He seemed to be a regular to the Sunday afternoon event, as she was, although she had also noticed him rowing a skiff on the lake, a lone rower skimming the surface with the oars. He seemed quite accomplished. 

Then there was the Sunday when he came over to her and asked for the dance. Her friend Lily had gone to the ladies room and although a little uncomfortable taking a partner when her friend was not there, she knew she would not really mind, probably have a little joke about it on the way home. After that it became a regular occurrence and would have become more frequent if David had not been called up. He was almost seven years older than Emmie and they just caught him at  the end of the war. They met again two years later and were married in the  local registry office. It was a very private affair, just a couple of witnesses from work and a cream tea at a nearby Lyons Corner House. 

When the first child was born Emmie wanted her christened in church and so she went to the local Catholic,  St Johns. It was only then that Emmie  found out that David was Jewish by birth and this caused complications. They both had to fill in forms to ask the church for permission.  David had no living relatives. He had been brought up by friends of his family when he came here in the thirties. The war had completed the separation. Emmie was a long way from her parents who still lived up north and she did not wish to involve them. It was too complicated. The forms were signed and they went through a short ceremony on their own to bless the marriage in the Catholic church.

The child was baptised Mary Louise and they were joined by a few close friends for the christening. David was quite happy to have everything signed up and never returned to the idea of his Jewish childhood. In fact it was only after the baby that Emmie returned to her church. They had already decided that the child would be brought up as a catholic even before the papers had been signed.

Emmie had to give up her job at the Revenue when she got married and found it hard, at first to make ends meet. David had a regular job in the tailoring. He had been an apprentice before the war and got his job back but his wages only just covered the rent and basics. She was sorry that the time she had spent doing the shorthand and typing seemed now to be wasted. Maybe she would come back to it later when Mary had gone to school. A little part time job would be nice.

JL July 7 12:12

Drenched

Oh how this rain
Does flail
The fledgling finches
Feeding 
Into flight
Their gold and green
No longer seen
In this lack of light.

Where dark leaves droop 
The flapping courage
Of the collared dove
Is uncommonly confined
To seeking comfort
In the eaves.

And we
Are all cagouled
Before the storm
Jacketed against
A damp and joyless 
Drenched July.

JL July 6 13:10

Inside Out

Walking forward,
I have seen you
Before me,
Caught in sunlight,
Going over
The same old ground,
Leaning on the same gate,
Looking into 
The same fields
Of standing oaten sheaves,
Sitting by
The same river,
Watching ripples pull away.
The profile 
In the same photograph
I recognise in an instant,
The familiar body shape,
But the mirror tells 
A different story.
The clothes
Are inside out.

JL July 5 10:56

Desert

-

Have often 
Been beguiled 
By flowers
In the desert
A sudden turn
A shower shows
And brings  to colour
Where once was barren.

The desert wind
A sudden pollination
A seed fall
And devastation.
And all that means
To human kind
And aspiration.

JL July 4th 12:48

Sandwriting

My sandwriting
Was never very good.

Hearts and arrows 
And I love you,
Knowing all the while 
The message 
Will sift away
On the rising tide.

Perhaps I should
Have bottled it
And in a sense I did.
To confess such things
A stride or tide too far,
Brooking no return 
High and dry.

Some would carve it
In a forest oak
A permanent record
For future forgetfulness.
I am satisfied
With grains of sand .

"This boy should
Improve his sandwriting".

JL 3rd July 11:57

Magic Moments

What is magic?
We need it,
The wisdom of magi,
The flash of genius,
The feel good moment,
The smile in the mind's eye,
The view from a distance,
The  untouchable seed
Held close
Especially on a Monday.

JL July 2nd 11:34

First Sunday in July.

Here again 
The memory 
The darkened chancel,
Rise above the stones
Within the candle smoke 
A lightness  of being
Caught within the chaliced palms
Beyond the mystery
Into the heart of light,
Along the coloured shafts
From saintly scenes 
Dancing dust motes
Call us to infinity
And another life.

JL July 1st 12:04