MORE ABOUT ALEX

Alex's poems always move me. They bring him back to life momentarily, and although they often seem sad and foreboding , the person he was couldn't have been further from that. He was a man abounding with life, absolutely passionate about his writing. Always full of fun and optimism, delighted in making people laugh , generally by poking fun at himself. He loved and lived life to the full. His writing included plays, poems, stories and work for the theatre. We were married for 41 years and have a large family. This poem was written in the 70's .


ALIEN

The quiet of the trees.
No wind today. Some rain
falls but does not disturb
the quiet of the trees:

the way a branch would bend
the green veins and its youth,
so much, the skin might tear,
and all the leaves and the air
surrounding it, would follow it round
but not change their course,
this is their direction.

This weird collection of shapes
does not level accusation.
the quiet of it all accepts.

In this - the ugliest child
knows its beauty's in its roots
and the dying know their place,
lay down with dignity,
retaining their attraction
even after death; that's the quiet
which makes men scream like intemperate gods.

by Alex copyright

THE WHITE HERON

Yesterday, looking out of the window, we saw what we thought was a large swan landing in the stream . Suddenly she took off and came closer , landing in our pond to feast on the carp and we realised that she was a beautiful heron. Many herons stop by for lunch but this is the first time I have seen a pure white one; so beautiful she was. We rushed to get the camera, but they are so aware of any movement and she took off! the picture I have posted is courtesy of the net -- perhaps another day....

Living in the countryside is so peaceful. We are lucky here as we have the best of both worlds -we are surrounded by greenery, yet within walking distance (2kms) of a bustling town. One of my New Year's resolutions was to walk into the shops instead of driving - well I made it with all good intentions, however perhaps when Spring arrives.

SOMEWHERE OVER THE RAINBOW............

Bluebirds?

What are your hopes and aspirations for 2009 ?

Inner peace - more love - gentle thoughts - good health for all - new friends - contented family,

just a few of my hopes.

TRUTH -- poem for wednesday

She smelt the country.
I heard her say she liked it.

Once from an upstairs window,
she surveyed her being:

there were lilacs, she said.
It was May, sort of Summer
with it's mouth opening
about to speak. And there was
a little sun, and the radio
barking like a poor man.
But we were deaf for the present;

and just for that moment,
as I saw her, she believed
exactly what her eyes told her.

By Alex

MEN AT WORK ON THE POOL

Well, more about the pool ! The men came and went!!!! But, they did the job ---YIPPEE! But, What a Mess---YUK! They arrived at 8.30 am complete with 4 truckloads of equipment , gravel ,pipes ( with holes in which will allow the water in then be funnelled out the other end onto our lawn), diggers etc; It was hell let loose in a day! I did not dare to go over to see the devastation, but my partner did and he took photos as you can see. I still haven't looked but I shall definitely do so after this posting. Apparently it has all been tidied up and, apart from the fact that they have had to excavate the majority of the newly seeded lawn surround, it is O.K. So now, the BIG TEST! Will the next downpour lift the liner to the surface again? We shall see.

Other news I HAVE STARTED A NEW BLOG! I said I was thinking about doing something new, so I upped and did it. There are no postings yet so I will tell all in my next post here! It is an exciting one for me.

SUNDAY IN FRANCE

Have you ever had that feeling that you want to do something really different, but you have no idea what that is? I woke up with that feeling today and it has persisted. What to do? I just have no idea! It is a Sunday , perhaps the day for reflection, it is a lovely sunny day but very frosty- and I just cannot get my brain into first gear! Everything here is good, we went out for a 'power walk' , did some pruning in the grounds, painted a gate extension, had bacon and eggs for brunch, took afternoon tea with home made bread pudding --- but still that nagging feeling. Perhaps I should start another blog-- from a completely different point of view, perhaps we should buzz off for a few days break down south , perhaps I should just shut up about this!

Tomorrow will be better , more action to get to grips with; the pool men are coming to try to fix their 'mistake' when they constructed the swimming pool , i.e. they did not take into account the fact that the soil is clay here and holds water and they did not put a drain all around the pool. Consequently each time it rains heavily the pool liner floats to the surface of the pool because
water seeps in underneath it! So now they have to dig this deep trench all around our pool and (hopefully) 'make-good' the surround afterwards......... to be continued

PLEASE NOTE
Any poems or writings attributed to Alex
is the copyright of his surviving patner,Delphine
the author of this blog;

CHERRY RIPE

THE ORCHARD

Unusual voices

clamber through the branches

and break up the otherwise

independant wind's consecutive nature;

Tall ladders leaning on the sky,

casual workers, working casually

but quick though to pick cherries,

capture time in a basket.

The fingers pounce,snatch at

and finally dismantle

the weather of several months;

the cherry turns, falls,

comes to rest still looking alive

in a stealthy instant,

internment is always near at hand.

by Alex 1972

Memories of many summers past when we were together. It was a good feeling setting that poem down, especially as it reminded me of the warmth and smells and tastes of early Summer.

In mid France today it is very wet and windy, so no gardening for us, which is a shame such a lot more pruning to be done. There were six ducks on our stream today, tearing around, more males than females so quite a few feathers ruffled. We have deer in our park from time to time; once we counted Five, a family of three young. The stag was teaching his only male offspring to 'Rack' ( is that the right word for antler bashing?) anyway it was wonderful to watch. We hide as they are very perceptive to any movement. hope to get a picture one day, problem is never have the camera to hand at the right moment.

Finally I would like to pay a tribute to the courage of Jade Goody whose TV documentary has restarted . Her battle against her cervical cancer is an example to fellow sufferers, especially as she is continuing as normal her celebrity life ( good luck with the panto) and her home life, and whilst keeping nothing back from her young children she is encouraging them to have faith in her recovery. If you are by any chance reading this Jade -- " GO GIRL" !!! It cannot be easy.

BLOWING A RASPBERRY!

Will you please not photograph me whilst my hair is in a mess!!HAVE YOU NO FEELINGS!

THANK GOODNESS!

Fantastic! It feels good, doesn't it? Just knowing that the future is a little more secure in the hands of a good man. I wonder how he felt when he awoke this morning? All that weight ! Did he feel that? and his family? Such a responsibility - not many men would trade places. But we all felt better didn't we! Except for the cynics - but then they are only happy disagreeing with the majority.
So the next phase begins..........

In my little corner of the world I have been going bonkers trying to find the right containment fencing to keep my dogs from going AWOL! The choices are many, I am thinking right now of the hidden fencing with the correction control collar? Anyone had good results from that? The area I want to cover is about 2 acres so we need a lot of wire , and patience to do ' the training' that's needed. HEY HO!

Before I go I would like to post a quick-th-make recipe from Marianne Rowley a friend of a friend of a friend

METTE'S SNICKERS CAKE
Ingredients

3 egg whites - whisked until stiff
300 ml caster sugar
20 Ritz biscuits- crushed
250 ml peanuts - chopped

method
Mix it all. Spoon the mixture into a greased and floured 23cm round spring form cake tin, with a removable base.
Bake in the oven at 190°c for 20-30 mins. Cool down. Remember to leave the cake in the tin until you have added one of the toppings.

Topping 1-- 300ml whipped double cream ( no sugar)
or
Topping 2 --
60g butter
150g plain chocolate
1 tsp coffee
melt this in a saucepan-- cool down then add
3 egg yolks and 2 tbsp sugar

WOW! Not good for dieters ( smile)

Bye for now, speak soon.....

TEARS.

A cut
draws no blood,
the knife
becomes redundant,
is buried
up to the hilt
in earth,
its warm handle
reminding us
of how we cried
before we couldn't;
tell that
to the worm the blade
has just divided into two
equally unemotional people.

by Alex

All knives should be buried, I reckon, at least 60 ft underground!!

So that nice man will make his speech today, I shall be following his 'career' with good heart. How I wish the world of men would stop war-ing with each other -- think back to Lysistrita(???) she got it right. Let us hope that Obama WILL make some impression! A difficult job, and I wish him and his family the best of luck! They ( the family) are in for a roller coaster ride , I think.

Time for lunch now, bon appetit!

Evening in France

Well, a lot seems to have happened since my last post; firstly I have discovered a wonderful blog, do visit it, see my blog list it's called synch-ro-ni-zing. It will blow you away. Thankyou Ruth for popping in, I value your comments!

Secondly my dogs are REALLY in the dog house! my three 'lovely' ( very questionable) companions decided to go on an adventure! Well two of them did-- they just leapt over my 1m20 high fence ( no mean feat as they had to also negotiate a very prickly hedge) and decided to go and visit my neighbours land, where they keep the most delicious geese and chickens!!! What a palava! Feathers everywhere and a lot of squawking ( and that was just us) the birds wern't too happy either. We managed to finally grab them but the chickens didn't fare too well. The geese had high-tailed it to the back of beyond. To cut an embarassing story short, we had to come clean and visit the owners with a description of the battle. They had been out at the time which actually was a great help, otherwise I might have been left almost dog-less! This pic is the angel of the story who actually remained on our land, can't you see her halo?

BEDROOM SCENE

The mad light
raves, shoots ricochets,
every syllable
a needle where I lie,
returning, fully powered
high geared, emphasized
in constant attack.
Certainly, my creation
this damning electricity
becomes master.
Where was the trap set?
She hasn't spoken once
yet the light knows
everything about us.
She flicks the switch, off,
silence.
But memories of that brilliance
flood the darkness with pain.

by Alex
Another tale from the 'trunk'. I have been searching for something a little lighter, but all the poetry Alex wrote during the 70's seemed to favour the dark side. I have come across, however, a delightful fairy story, which I would like to post sometime.

Today, it is a wet and blustery Sunday in France, but WARM! for the first time in 2-3 weeks! A great time for playing with the computer. Blogs were such a good idea to start with, but, you know, with the millions that are now floating around who is ever going to find this one? Or yours? ( if there is any fellow blogger reading this) - what can be done? Continue for personal satisfaction and that of the family, of course- the way forward is obviously going on to the thousands(?) of search engines, and leaving URLs here there and everywhere, but is that REALLY going to be worth the effort? Especially as I am a real newcomer to all this scene. I started off this particular blog to perhaps get recognition for the work of my late husband, and although I have left messages on Writer's blogs, nothing has come back. I suppose I could start a new blog about how and why we came to be in france ( moved here in 1989), and how successful a journey it has been! You can make it work, you know! Ah well, I think I will go and bake a cake for my self and my friend-( trying to put on a few pounds ) so carry on blogging and reading.................

Poem for today

WAIT.

Dust in the sun
pavement warm,unemployed.
Day quiet, even birds
mime, glide like leaves.
The old men, shadows of them
leaning on walls, waiting
on wooden chairs, waiting.
Glasses of young, mild ale
entered into, remembered;
throats remembering too,
showing signs of it, the movement
breaking the journey's stillness.
A long wait, and birds
fly off in those throats
in all directions, leave their trails.
and an empy glass sometimes
finds dust settling upon it,
and shadows from sun falling
wait discreetly, wait wait
smell the appointment sidling up.

by Alex

Derran Brown mindreader or majician ?

Did you watch Derran Brown on the television last evening? He was very convincing wasnt he, but I went to bed and spent the first hour awake, trying to fathom out how he works. I think I worked out a few of the tricks. Obviously the fake ' passing out' at the end was to give time to feed the updated information scroll into the suspended container. The curtains had to be closed to allow this.
The £500 or £5000 box was just a straight-forward chance as I am sure Derran was honest when he stated at the end that " everybody chooses the £5000".
The floating table worked on the same principles as the "oui-ja" as anyone would know who has seriously taken part in a session.
I think that the 'secret envelope' bowl was swapped twice ( without anyone noticing- like the banana, and the Derran Brown swap on stage) in order for the contents to have been read and then re-sealed and re-placed on stage, however I have no answer as to how he knew the star-signs of the participants.
It was a most enjoyable show, though, and there were some seemingly inexplicable tricks. Anyone else guessed how he does it?
Today here in France it was a little warmer and the dogs actually didn't complain about being out in the garden. The ice on the pond is beginning to thaw and we watched the ducks ice-skating which was hilarious. On the village lake yesterday the locals were feeding bread to the resident muskrat ( not too sure if that's spelt correctly), he was like a HUGE rat. They call them Ragonda here and they are prolific in this area. But they seem to keep to the waterways and are quite tame and don't appear to bother anybody.
Ah well time to think about the evening meal, perhaps lamb chops with a nice glass of red!

My Lovely three dogs

Bonjour tout le monde!

Monday, still white and -6°!! I thought I would introduce you to my three lovely dogs today I have twin Afghan hounds, bitches, and a male Doberman, tricky, you might say, but he paid a visit to the vet quite early in his life ( shame).He is 8years old now and the ladies are 5years. They might be twins but look totally different, one a beautiful blonde, the other an elegant grey and black. The dobie is abit out of frame, sorry about that-must find another picture.

They all have unusual names -- Can you guess them???????

Horses have been another love of my life. At one time I had six, of course was a lot younger in those days! I so miss them, and still do go for the odd hack generally whilst on holiday. Talking of holidays - where to go this year? My favourite place is Italy- love Rome. France is great too, but as I already live there.......................

CHILD LOST

Back to more serious stuff today -- well, it is Sunday.

The following is a poem written by my man, Alex, in July 1973. I love it and hope you do!

CHILD LOST

Bedraggled face wet with confusion, fear,
hangs like a hooked fish among fishermen
limp. All others moving from a to b
and him between, somewhere between the two.
Someone lands him, reels him into their eyes
with gentle words, assurance; a warm voice
knowing the area, leads him, small hand
by larger one, back to familiar sounds,
known aromas and silhouettes that he
is unafaid to embrace. The frank womb
where he may unravel his torn stomach.
Safe now, child, caught in childhood's governed net.
But in the bigger sea, the open world,
often-- no warm voice nor old face to kiss.



Nothing I can add to this today, I find it both painful and joyous sifting through the mountain of work that Alex left. Perhaps I need someone to advise me on ' copyright'! Have a good day everybody, enjoy your partner!

last excerpt from " Eunuchs of the World Unite"

This is the beginning of the ' husbands-of-the-wives-etc" bit. It's where the eunuch grabs a piece of the action; when the unrelenting Company machine begins to turn; when a harmless word, like 'product' becomes more than just a promiscuous object of idle pleasure. So!

Onslaught!

But first! Tke heart. Do not Weaken. Remember the Spirit of the Alamo! You are about to be hit by:

Telephones ( if the kids answer get 'em to speak with a posh accent)
Texts
Memos ( containing double-entendres of the most dubious validity)
counter-memos ( someone must'v got the joke)
Counter counter memos etc
Window displays
Flip charts
Trade figures
Market-share figures
Trade journals ( if you're reading this, you're hooked)
Samples
Portable kiosks
Daily reports
cyclic reports
Sickly reports..........

There is much more; and for all this you have to make house-room!

Added to this there are the apparently endless lists of abbreviations. The MNENONICS. Abounding in absurdity, these gems of Babylonic euphoria will issue from the mouth of your letter-box like they were going out of fashion-- and they probably are. Space - and common decency- prevent me from translating the more obvious ones into good wholesome filth.

This is not, however, something with which the 'other half of CompanyGirl' should concern himself. After all, these, would you believe (?) are our weapons of war. That is to say, from all this we shall derive an income! So, don't get confused. Let me simplify the position - in a nut-shell

'We are incorporated into the structural composition of a structured philosophy, inter-complexed via standardized methods of psychological intent, wherein formalised concepts, conceived and motivated from the earliest conceptual stages emanating from socio-economic pressures upon the Company, are integrated with, and applied to, an overall theme within quasi-ethical bounds, whose charismatic qualities- predetermined per current market trends and their embracing fluctuating accepance attidues- will simultaneously influence and infiltrate, through continuous phase-by-phase analysis, balanced by application of subversive intrusion upon the competitors' integrity, market-availability,thus achieving product growth. "
The resultant factor being --We sell more 'product' than they do!!

So what does all this garbage mean in practical terminology?

EMFFATICS
(Employment of Means, Fair or Foul, to Actuate Total International Control over Sales)

As you are , no doubt, beginning to see, our role in the Company business can be pretty extensive. It can be fun. We don't have to sit at home saying: " If only I'da been a woman it'da
been different" or " There's no justice in this world".Half the judges are women anyway!
No........ we have a positive contribution to make. I's all a question of taking stock of the situation and turning it to our advantage.........................

-----------------------------------------------
That is it for today I hope you enjoyed the excerpt. Ah well time to do the 'woman' thing and prepare supper- best feed the dogs first. Have a good evening ( or day if you are further away)

not all sad

hello again, today is a VERY COLD Thursday morning, around -7°, it's great to be tucked up here in my warm office! I hope you are out of the cold too!

Today I would like you to see the lighter side of my husband's writings, so I am setting down some excerpts from " Eunuchs of the world unite ", written when I had just risen to the 'giddy heights' of being an Area Sales manager WOOOOHHH!! so it begins......


" She is liberated! From what, or whom, I don't know; but, certainly, she has that pragmatic flounce of masculinity about her, which kind'v renders a lot of people submissive, or inadequate.....or both.

She is an executive...

She is a good executive...

She is a successful executive... she is an Area Sales Manager for (mentions Company)
Eat your heart out Boadicea!

'She' is also "manager" of: husband, 1
children, 4
horses, 3
cats, 2
dogs, 1......... fame. My wife!

So where, I frequently, of late, ask myself.........where do I fit into all this?
Any other men out there feel the same way?.....Mmm...I didn't think I was unique.

Well, I am here - as some time husband of this athletic phenomenon- to show how the eunuch can have a place in the ' Company' set-up. He...It?...too will, with some loyal service under the belt, eventually go to that big Bonded Warehouse in the sky.

Prior to the Company's engagement in our lives, of course there were the inevitable bra-burning sessions, and the brief trips to Marks & Spencers for 'y' fronts.On reflection, maybe it was St. Michael who put the final seal on it.... I don't know. All I can say is on joining the Company (note the capital 'C' there. Crawl a little...why be proud) there was a definite aura of a religious nature kind'v tied-up in the initiation ceremony. So much so, in fact, I have only to hear the initials of the Company and I genuflect......... see?... I did it then!

To begin with, I haven't always been a eunuch. And, my wife, she hasn't always been an executive. We have 'become' what we are. The change has been gradual. As far as she is concerned, it was a revitalization over an undefined period of time- not wholly unconnected with the sale of the product. In fact, you'll probably recognise a distinct correlation between Us and the ' hit-men' from the Company. A sort of marriage. I drifted off-shore, let the tide take me. It may sound Victorian...." close your eyes and think of England". But that's the way I am!
To be continued...................

2nd and 3rd of the three poems - 1973

Daily.

Birds
flaunting the air.
Pebbles, like us
promiscuously touching
each other. The blind child
of three, living, living
sees not her daily shadow
behind her. Only the tyrant
watches, waiting to
seize the past by its scrawny throat,
mould it out of the future.

Evening.

Birds
fall down from the sky;
warm grass settles for less than light.
The child of three,
nightdressed once again,
closes her petals,
slopes like the shadows
over her island; dies
in cupped arms.
She has lived.
Still the tyrant wanders
through his dream black sleep.


After moving house, I discovered these verses, written by my late husband, in two huge chests, amongst masses of other 'writings'. I hope you will find them as interesting as I do........ more to come! I would welcome your comments.

Memories of a man I once shared my life with

I have been widowed now for (unbelievingly) nearly eight years. My husband was a prolific writer (unpublished) and I would like to share some of his thoughts;

one of three poems, written in 1973

Seven a.m.

Birds. Air free,
the sun tuning up.
Shadows
of trees, bushes, small stones
warmed, still life
stretching. A nightdressed
child of three wakes,
bare, damp feet,
over the grass; listens
smells, touches this drawing
morning. Somewhere
a tyrant closes his eyes.