tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56088718362234595152024-03-13T18:55:29.196+00:00Beachcombing for the Landlocked haiku & not haiku MarkHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17168466777011523841noreply@blogger.comBlogger303125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608871836223459515.post-12741975243346704662022-03-13T15:38:00.001+00:002022-03-13T15:38:09.009+00:00<p> </p><p>RED KITE SEEN FROM SICK BED ! </p><p><br /></p><p> </p>MarkHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17168466777011523841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608871836223459515.post-75105343123775993912022-03-12T06:53:00.004+00:002022-03-13T15:43:39.058+00:00<p> </p><p>In his dreams, he could do things. </p><p>In his dreams, he assumed </p><p>he would still be able to do those things </p><p>when awake. Car lights traversing the ceiling </p><p>soundlessly until extinguished. </p><p><br /></p><p> </p>MarkHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17168466777011523841noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608871836223459515.post-56373042568567051782022-03-02T14:56:00.004+00:002022-03-13T15:45:20.908+00:00<p> </p><p>Trouble is, he had gone </p><p>from sixty-three to ninety-three </p><p>in about six weeks </p><p>without that customary </p><p>thirty-year adjustment time.</p><p><br /></p><p> </p>MarkHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17168466777011523841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608871836223459515.post-40681913191196421772022-03-02T14:49:00.003+00:002022-03-13T15:46:13.360+00:00<p> </p><p>Daffodil, snowdrop, crocus, hellebore. </p><p>And other small signs. </p><p>In this circumstance, happy and sad </p><p>are not so easy to tell apart. </p><p><br /></p><p> </p>MarkHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17168466777011523841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608871836223459515.post-46375273434371123462022-02-25T14:34:00.003+00:002022-02-25T14:37:03.146+00:00update<p> </p><p>Caught sight of myself in the mirror this morning. Because I have been feeling the cold so much this winter, I’m usually wearing plenty of layers: thermal T-shirt, jumper, fleece, and maybe a dressing gown too. We have only a small shaving mirror in the bathroom. I’d noticed how my face was changing: skin sunken, bone more prominent, neck loose. An uncharacteristic pallor, more recently replaced by a distinct yellow tinge as jaundice is evidently setting in. I had been aware of my weight loss, in terms of numbers, from the bathroom scales. But then, unexpectedly, this morning, shirtless, in the larger mirror upstairs. Jesus! I’m an absolute fucking skeleton! I was profoundly shocked by the sight of myself. Ambushed. Like something out of The Walking Dead, is the most apt allusion I can draw. Things are really getting serious now. My decline has been so swift. Right up until Christmas, I was still a working gardener, even if I had slowed down considerably. But I was still active, able to do things, walk the dog, run errands. Now, I can’t remember when I last went out of the house, even into the garden. So much for being an outdoors guy, eh? Everything is going. Everything. Not even sure I’ll make as far as our son’s 21st birthday at the end of next month, to be honest.</p><p><br /></p><p> </p>MarkHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17168466777011523841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608871836223459515.post-32017261044601270872022-02-24T22:07:00.002+00:002022-02-24T22:07:36.584+00:00<p> </p><p>As the sun moves round, the swaying web under the table fades from view. </p><p><br /></p><p> </p>MarkHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17168466777011523841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608871836223459515.post-53483864378072437182022-02-24T22:06:00.004+00:002022-02-24T22:06:19.353+00:00<p> </p><p><i>[more bad days and nights, utterly grim]</i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i> </i></p>MarkHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17168466777011523841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608871836223459515.post-29046370848584885752022-02-20T19:57:00.000+00:002022-02-20T19:57:17.895+00:00<p> </p><p>Eventually, sitting upright, not awake but not quite asleep, </p><p>he watches morphine dreams on the inside of his eyelids </p><p><br /></p><p> </p>MarkHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17168466777011523841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608871836223459515.post-87699783136921864022022-02-15T20:48:00.002+00:002022-02-15T20:51:15.224+00:00<p> </p><p><i>[another batch of brutal days]</i></p><p><br /></p><p><i>intense nausea, relentless sickness, drinking & eating nothing, dramatic weight loss, exhaustion</i></p><p><i>housebound for a week, bed bound for a day and more</i></p><p><i><br /></i></p>MarkHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17168466777011523841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608871836223459515.post-82990724225549623942022-02-12T18:08:00.003+00:002022-02-12T18:08:30.385+00:00<p> </p><p>He woke suddenly, just after twelve, thinking, <i>What ever did happen to Spudulike?</i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i> </i></p>MarkHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17168466777011523841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608871836223459515.post-13656283197889461722022-02-11T19:09:00.002+00:002022-02-11T19:10:53.483+00:00<p> </p><p>Another last. Such thoughts occur randomly throughout the day. </p><p>The list of things that he <b>now</b> realises that he has done or seen <b>for</b> the last time </p><p>without knowing <b>at</b> the time, grows.</p><p><br /></p><p>for example, Southwold, last August: </p><p>He will not be able to swim in the sea again</p><p>Indeed, he may never even see the sea again </p><p><br /></p><p> </p>MarkHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17168466777011523841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608871836223459515.post-38603009035177140792022-02-08T20:18:00.001+00:002022-02-08T20:18:16.770+00:00<p> </p><p><i>He might have wished for, </i><i>say, another fifteen years, to enjoy being the person he had finally become. </i></p><p><i>Right now, the summer seems an impossible distance away. </i></p><p><br /></p><p> </p>MarkHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17168466777011523841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608871836223459515.post-40136698829823577752022-02-08T20:09:00.003+00:002022-02-08T20:19:10.820+00:00<p> </p><p>Welcome the snowdrops, small, </p><p>the winter jasmine, pale…</p><p>But those aconites, that yellow! </p><p><br /></p><p> </p>MarkHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17168466777011523841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608871836223459515.post-64083590130175038462022-02-07T23:39:00.003+00:002022-02-07T23:41:12.069+00:00<p> </p><p>Slips his fleece off over his head, the dark sparks and crackles </p><p><br /></p><p> </p>MarkHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17168466777011523841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608871836223459515.post-75916313078917012692022-02-07T20:46:00.001+00:002022-02-07T23:39:48.824+00:00<p> </p><p>From his sick bed, the crescent moon, shivering uncontrollably </p><p><br /></p><p> </p>MarkHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17168466777011523841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608871836223459515.post-27474282699375576512022-02-06T09:46:00.004+00:002022-02-06T09:46:43.666+00:00<p> </p><p>[a few really rough days]</p><p><br /></p><p> </p>MarkHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17168466777011523841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608871836223459515.post-84972071052356171942022-02-03T20:44:00.003+00:002022-02-03T20:47:53.882+00:00<p> </p><p><i>We drive around so that I can call in on the first few of my customers. Others to see on </i></p><p><i>other days, most of whom I have known for many years. Their gardens. </i></p><p><i>And in some cases their families. I want to tell them in person that I can no longer work. </i></p><p><i>It’s early February, so there’s time for them to make other arrangements. </i></p><p><i>Afterwards, we stop off at the park. Between the three of us, eight legs need a stretch. </i></p><p><br /></p><p>dog wets </p><p>the foot of </p><p>a pylon </p><p><br /></p><p> </p>MarkHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17168466777011523841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608871836223459515.post-44885396544538095002022-02-03T16:58:00.000+00:002022-02-03T16:58:06.237+00:00<p> </p><p>Listens to the mechanism, </p><p>watches the the pendulum. </p><p>In his sister’s new home </p><p>the grandfather clock their </p><p>grandfather made. </p><p><br /></p><p> </p>MarkHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17168466777011523841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608871836223459515.post-54727468231812933072022-02-01T19:34:00.003+00:002022-02-01T19:34:42.802+00:00<p> </p><p><i>Today I turned down chemo. Decision made. It could only ever have been palliative, never curative. </i></p><p><i>And no other treatment options are available, so I guess that makes my cancer status officially terminal. </i></p><p><i>End stage. But I’ll keep plodding on for as long as I can, of course. </i></p><p><br /></p><p> </p>MarkHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17168466777011523841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608871836223459515.post-17343115934509114092022-01-31T19:51:00.003+00:002022-01-31T20:01:34.114+00:00<p> </p><p>Changes in procedure since he was last at the dentist, two years ago, before the Great Insanity. </p><p>Gaps where the niceties, common courtesies used to be. </p><p>Also missing, those calming posters thumbtacked to the surgery ceiling. Palm trees growing </p><p>out of tropical island sand. White cliffs. Coastal erosion at its most photogenic. </p><p><br /></p><p><i>How to explain to the dentist, who is a) wearing a mask, and b) Spanish, why there may be </i></p><p><i>little point in us making another appointment for six months hence. </i></p><p><i>How to strike the right tone? </i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i> </i></p>MarkHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17168466777011523841noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608871836223459515.post-78954896648116328872022-01-31T19:19:00.004+00:002022-01-31T19:19:52.754+00:00<p> </p><p>Small hours. A gale </p><p>is playing the bedroom window </p><p>as a tuneless harmonica.</p><p>He starts to worry </p><p>about the garden fence. </p><p><br /></p><p> </p>MarkHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17168466777011523841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608871836223459515.post-43375804349777396872022-01-30T20:01:00.011+00:002022-01-30T20:43:25.780+00:00<p> </p><p><i>Elsewhere I am thin but my stomach is swollen by the cancer and sometimes so sore </i></p><p><i>that </i><i>I find myself checking the surgical scar that runs all the way across it </i></p><p><i>in case </i><i>I’m splitting at the seams like a threadbare teddy bear losing its stuffing. </i></p><p><br /></p><p>A buzzard glides low over us </p><p>at the park, as if weighing up the possibilities </p><p>either of me or our small dog. </p><p><br /></p><p> </p>MarkHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17168466777011523841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608871836223459515.post-2896258656972367402022-01-29T19:19:00.004+00:002022-01-29T19:21:31.552+00:00<p> </p><p>Feels the sun on his face and the difference it makes. </p><p><br /></p><p> </p>MarkHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17168466777011523841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608871836223459515.post-87204462707637060822022-01-29T19:17:00.005+00:002022-01-29T19:22:08.272+00:00<p> </p><p>It catches him out, the sight </p><p>of his shoulders in the mirror </p><p>and the thin, dangly things </p><p>his arms are dwindling into. </p><p><br /></p><p> </p>MarkHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17168466777011523841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608871836223459515.post-91250827580015966052022-01-27T16:17:00.002+00:002022-01-29T19:23:16.292+00:00<p> </p><p>Weary-legged, his long shadow leads him back across the park. </p><p><br /></p><p> </p>MarkHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17168466777011523841noreply@blogger.com0