All is This
This is all.
All is this.
Image & text by Jay Cool, March 2023
An exiled-silly-savvy Salopian hides out in Suffolk and writes herself back into existence …
All is This
This is all.
All is this.
Image & text by Jay Cool, March 2023
Quirky, odd, miseverstood, she clutches at
the clouds that cuddle and clasp
the cords that knot together the
pylons that p u l l a p a r t
the pieces of themselves
Words and image by Jay Cool, February 2023
The Man That Is Me
Double-crumpled into U-bend,
I find the man that was me,
still is me – and with boots, rope and crampons –
as keen as ever,
I pull me up my neck and spine,
finding my growing knobbles and sinking crevices peaking
and troughing – perfectly purposed!
Passing over the plateau of myself, I plant a pip, a pop of proof, prior to
p u s h i n g
into the oblivion of my feet,
prevented from pausing by point and protrusion of raggedy toe-nail,
propelling me back up and over,
returning me to
that is the
“Plumb crumble? Double cream?” offers the trolley lady.
“And will that be with tea or coffee?”
And just for a moment, I find that the me that is now,
By Jay Cool, 18th February 2023
Written in the voice of a mountaineer, stopped in his tracks by the onset of Parkinson´s Disease, a progressive and incurable illness that (amongst other painful and debilitating symptoms) has caused a severe curvature of his spine.
Image of mountaineer by sebastian del val from Pixabay.
Image of plums by h kama from Pixabay
Image of apple-crumble cake and coffee by Katja S. Verhoeven from Pixabay
My garden fences being toppled by the high winds of Storm Dudley was only the start of it. A warning of the ferociousness of the storm to come.
the machine of destruction rolls in and over the right to be free from coercive
Dragon fire. Death. Disaster.
The price of fuel, a triviality, considering …
steps taken –
Copyright owned by Jay Cool, Thursday 24th February 2022
Days tumbling in on me,
knocking me flat,
and burying me
Copyright owned by Jay Cool, January, 2022
Header image from pixabay.com
Is it new, to celebrate the start of a year in which one becomes older?
Does the angst of youth miraculously dissipate, or does it accelerate until it can no longer be retained by the brittle shell of depletion?
Copyright of Jay Cool´s thoughts owned by Jay Cool, Saturday 1st January, 2022.
According to The Sun, the coronavirus infection rate is slowing.
According to The Express, today’s coronavirus data is delayed.
According to the The Independent, the latest daily infection rate was 24 hours ago, at 183, 027.
No new updates are due until 7.30 pm today.
According to a Bing search, as of 15.43 today, the 30th December, 2021, the daily rate of infections in the UK was 221, 250!
Be confused no more. As of 20.58 today, The Daily Mail, put the record straight, knocking to total infection rate down to 189,213!
Copyright owned by Jay Cool, 30th December, 2021
Image courtesy of pixabay.com
They had nothing to do with each other. Not really.
Nothing in the way of communication passed between them, although one, it could be argued, was a regular guest of the other. Not by way of invitation; but more in the way of a gatecrasher. Although to use the word gatecrasher might seem to imply intent on the part of the visitor and, in this situation, with this visitor, there was no intent whatsoever.
The involuntary-gatecrasher certainly possessed a multitude of positive attributes; attributes which might, to the uninformed observer, be cited as more than enough to impress the highest calibre of a host. And, yet, it was not, it seemed, enough to earn the guest, even the flicker of hostly acknowledgement. Not that the guest, by way of return, if a lack of acknowledgement can in any way be returned, suffered in any way by such a rebuff. Again, there are some who might point out that, without intent on either the part of the guest or the host, there cannot possibly be the conception of a rebuff.
And, as has already been put forward, they had nothing to do with each other.
Copyright owned by Jay Cool, Tuesday 28th December, 2021
Caving in to my cravings,
considering the consequences,
is carelessly coquettish.
Copyright owned by Jay Cool, December 2021
Lonely in lockdown
I keep company with the colours of the many versions of myself,
all of them, dancing, wriggling, moving and shifting,
adjusting to a new idea of what it is to be
alive and thriving
a life-force, freeing themselves up from the conventions
of what it once was to be constrained, constricted and conquered by
the coiling, controlling, and certifying
constraints of Captains, Commanders and
Copyright of poem & image owned by Jay Cool, December 2020
Fifty million doses.
Enough for two and a half million people.
A good spread.
Not available yet.
Plausible, effective and willing, but not able to
quite r e a c h t h e e d g e s
and not even able to land in the middle.
Not even a droplet
ready for roll-out,
But a big, important – MEGA!
Copyright owned by Jay Cool
Inspired by Downing Street`s Coronavirus Briefing, Monday 15th November, 2020Image by Ken Boyd from Pixabay
Sprogs at school.
Hubby at work.
All breathing, mixing, inhaling.
And all due to return
And here I am. A mum locked
A sitting duck.
Copyright owned by Jay CoolImage by Manfred Richter from Pixabay
Stopped, stopped and more stopped.
Standing still, stalling and
Is this me, starting again?
Copyright owned by Jay Cool, November 2020
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
‘Panic’ is the final of a series of three watercolour landscapes, inspired by my local walks during the UK’s Coronavirus pandemic lockdown.
This scene depicts The Water Mill, in Great Cornard, and is based on a photograph I took, late April, whilst making the most of my once-a-day exercise.
An army of viruses move in, ready to wreak havoc on the residents of Babergh, Suffolk.
The painting is on a 40 X 40 cm cas, and is intended to be displayed as a diamond shape. For maximum image resolution, on my mobile phone’s camera, I depict it here on the diagonal.
Copyright of ‘Panic’ painting owned by Jay Cool, April 2020 (not available for Creative Commons use – please contact me for permission, should you wish to use the image. Alternatively, you can purchase a print, e.g. postcard, letter card, fabric hanging, etc.
Please see the first two paintings in this series, ‘Complacency’ and ‘Anxiety’.
I slaughter the segment of myself that is so special, that at special times, it remains especially – and self-destructively – silent.
by Jay Cool, December 2022
I sit and smile and sit and smile
but the words that leave me behind
bear no witness to the me that
sits and smiles. Sits and smiles.
By Jay Cool, December 2022
Just how long is a person expected to glue themselves to the box today?
And is it socially acceptable to shift oneself from the settee to tackle the overgrown lawn? Will my neighbours complain if I get happy with a strimmer? Do neighbours generally complain when a spot of gardening takes precedence over the funeral of someone´s much-loved Great Granny, Granny and Mother? Probably not. So why today, does Hubby frown at me when he spots me sneaking outside with an extension lead and attempting to marry up plug and socket?
“Wait until 5 o´clock!” he says.
Fearing God´s wrath, on the off chance that King James I had been right all along to insist upon the divine right of monarchs, I retreat.
Back to the settee. Back to the box. Best make the most of it before this Winter´s fuel-bill hike!
Best not think about how many penny boxes remained empty today. Best focus on …
The box within the box. The Great Granny, Granny and Mother within the box within.
And just how many zero-hour contract workers … ?
Best not, not on this occasion, best not to think about it.
Think not outside the box. Focus.
Is it 5pm yet? Strimmer? Electrical strimmer? Fuel bills?
“Hubby, do we have any garden shears?”
By Jay Cool, 19th September, 2022
P.S. Not totally against the monarchy, but not totally for it either. Cannot help but see the irony in it all. But, at the same time, I suspect the Queen, given back the status of ruler, might have done a better job of running the country than our current Parliamentary elect!
Image by Brad Volpe from Pixabay
I knew an old man with a bunion –
it was true, it resembled an onion!
Such long hairs did it sprout, that although it did pout,
it wore plaits and became a Saint Trinian.
By Jay Cool, August 2022
Image by OpenClipart-Vectors from Pixabay
Shadows of middle-age larking around within the mind of
Philip, as he sees the elderly, mouths drooling, and
is fearful of this watery reflection of
skewed ripples, of the spades digging into his own
By Jay Cool, 18th August 2022
Inspired by snippets of Philip Larkin´s poetry, as featured on BBC Four´s Return to Larkinland.
Image by Olle August from Pixabay
Dazzled by a sunset of headlights, but unable to stop and take a photo, I took a mental snap and here is the result:
Credits: With thanks to my mum for her crossword input.