A Salopian in Suffolk to paints and writes herself into existence …
I catch a glimpse of
Gainsborough’s knee.
Brush and palette
above it stand
floating.
Protruding.
A man at war,
with gun to kill –
half-cocked –
not ready.
He hesitates a while –
allows other men
to do the job
in hand.
He watches, thinks, but
feels unable to run.
Feet frozen,
tailcoat stuck.
Committed.
Obedient.
Recording the
years passing.
Copyright owned by Jay Cool, September 2018
 |
| Felixstowe, Suffolk |
No.
Not in this car.
Not in an 1100cc Ford Escort.
It’s not a hill we’ll ever make
our way up
to the front.
Us kids in the back –
we’ll fall back down,
slip backwards –
disjointed.
Whilst our parents;
our mother, and
our father at the wheel
carry on up
to the top.
I close my eyes
and pray.
God, please,
take us to the top.
Don’t let me
and don’t let my brother
fall back down
to
the
bottom.
At forty-eight, I stand at the top.
And look out
to the sea.
I made it.
Big brother?
Copyright of text and photographs owned by Jay Cool, September 2018
 |
| ‘Flowers in Hartlepool’ by Jay Cool |
Do a project, the teacher said.
You can choose the title.
Spend some time, just with your friend,
reading books and writing.
We collected books, ’bout every flower,
copied, coloured, outlined them.
About each flower, I remember nothing –
no name, no colour, no hue.
But, if I could, from my window view,
see a garden full of flowers,
I’d be content in every way.
And live life to the full.
In flowery tribute to Ricardo Scribblero (the famous rhyming poet), by Jay Cool, September 2018.
 |
| ‘Handshake’ courtesy of Pixabay.com (Creative Commons) |
Take my hand
in your hand.
Hold it.
Clasp it.
Love it.
Accept me.
Love me.
And be.
Copyright owned by Jay Cool, September 2018
Stencilled
on
flowers.
And
a
silver spoon.
Scooping
up
the yolk from
a golden flower.
I feel the sun
in my gullet,
pick up my pencil
and
write.
Copyright owned by Jay Cool, September 2018
 |
| ‘Floorboards in a Cafe’ by Jay Cool |
Green nail
end.
Paint splattered
onto wood.
Trees in foliage
remembering
life.
Copyright owned by Jay Cool, September 2018
Inspired by a family get together!
Cousins catching up,
chatting,
comparing.
Shoulders not yet
on a
level.
But getting there.
Next time.
Next year.
Maybe.
Copyright of text, and photograph, owned by Jay Cool, September 2018
Inspired by a portrait on display at a Prado Lounge Café Bar.
 |
|
Portrait in Prado Lounge Café Bar
(artist unknown to author)
|
Marbled fingers,
pen in hand,
barely gripped –
just placed
to sign.
With
inkless nib.
Hands not his own –
dummy’s hands,
Top Shop hands.
Wrists detached,
concealed by
golden-wrist watch.
Arms that exhale
hair, growing;
sinews, fleshed over,
long, thin, stringy,
gluing muscles to bone.
Spasms of feeling,
of pain, messages
from a red-pumping
heart, faltering, needing
to be heard.
Neurons take aim,
signals push and shove,
seek passages;
synapses,
bugle for
living brain.
A brain in situ;
howls frozen,
foxed.
Pen and thoughts
disconnected
by
others.
A protocol
prison.
Copyright owned by Jay Cool, September 2018
 |
| Box Pews at a church in Selattyn, Shropshire |
Doors click open.
Let me in and
latch me in,
keeping me
seated.
Listening.
The Vicar steps up,
announces himself,
boxes himself in and
shouts
The Word –
His Word.
I listen
to myself –
thoughts
bouncing back
at me from
varnished wood.
Dead trees –
now breathing.
Copyright of text and photograph owned by Jay Cool, September 2018
Inspired by a visit to West Stow Anglo-Saxon Village.
Dry-grey thatch.
Gapped.
And drafty.
An ageing roof
in need of repair.
Dry-grey fringe.
Frizzed.
And stringy.
An ageing thatch
in need of repair.
Restoration?
Expensive.
Copyright of text, and photograph,
owned by Jay Cool, September 2018
The Silly-Savvy Salopian in Suffolk: read, believe and write ... 