Charlote's Page


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"The Black Woman Saves All Women "- -=

The black woman saves all women

because she knows
abuse and no victory
in another's sympathy.

So goes the years
with all of us going through our defined cultures
a simple thing within to change
to be the same, is our inner skin altered.

The black doesn't have to be a color.

--
december 5th 2016
Not understanding why in the 21st century we live in places we dont want to.
How cities are so un-natural for us to be in.
Me in a kitchen. Me in a loo. Me in a living room.
Me walking the 'streets'.
What and when did 'streets' happen?
December 5th in the united kingdom.
===Somewhere in a dark basement 6ft under the ground appartment in devon.



"The Original Always Comes Last "- -=

The original always, probably, comes last
after all has been said before
differences of everything that may be
the very thing; you're seeking.

It finally is there
not because you couldn't have it before
but so you'll have
the before;
the original.
- december 3rd 2016
(dark, rainy, need another hot cholocate)

"
you are beautiful
"- -=
you are beautiful
not to me
you are
just are
but knowing that
let me and others be

my hand to your hand
the next step taken on your ground
the next rung on the wall to reach on mine

freedom not in another
that the ferry man moves over the river

but when the stream comes with you
in accord

november 24th 2016


Welcome to charlote's page - good to have you tag along
I'm Charlote Greenwood, and I write poetry among other things

( A short poem recently written is below )





"The Truth.. "- -=

Maybe the truth is over there
under the rubble
left with a lady on the street
in a paper bag.

Perhaps she has it
written down for safe keeping
on a scrap of paper
traveling homeless.
That is the truth
but everyone knows that.

I swear the other truth
the complicated one
with lots of people involved
and time taken to find it
is a number

Something very real
very definite
like a number
it's probably on a graph
we can make a computer to find that..

my dog is better than your
                                    dog, your dog is king, my dog is
                                    super king

I'm sure they must of found it in the past

it's obvious
probably it's hidden in a building
in a vault
behind a secret picture!
Under a city, within cave
the door to which
is in a library
of an old house.
It's down there waiting
for a time when it will be ready
to be used.

At that point everything will be;
it just will be.

So after finding it
everyone will decide to bury it again
in a better hiding place
for next time;
"well it used to be other there".


november 23rd 2016 - dealing with.. .
(if the world hasn't got words for what i was dealing with
then i guess the world isn't ready yet)


"Inside The Building They Dance" - -=

Inside the building they dance
a band plays
while outside I gaze at the moon.
Not alone are we.
For between us; leaves
keeping the moon and I
and all dancers
company.
~~~~
sat november 13 2016 (chilly evening, wanting to take a photo of the moon)


Poem We Have To
                                                Take Everything From The
                                                Earth by Charlote
                                                Greenwood
"We Have To Take  Everything 
From The Earth
"

- -=








We have to take everything from the earth.
The food we eat
the clothes we need
the laws we make
to what we believe
the air we breathe
the air we need
we have to take, to be given
after that it is only us.
--- -- - ~~ written october 26th 2016
(a cool damp wednesday, under the gray sky and wall)



written :
monday october 24th 2016
"Only One Producer
Can M
ake Window
s
" - -=

( a n   a l l    o f   
t h e m    a r e    b l a c k )

only one producer can make
                                        windows poem by charlote
                                        greenwood
Only one producer can make windows
and they are all
black.

No one can see through them
and that is thought to be correct
it was right
everybody that needed windows believed so.

Windows that people could see through
were found to be troublesome.

All of those making windows that one could see out of,
- perhaps taking in a view,
- with other people in it,
- or a landscape,
- any kind vista with something to consider;
that is, outside.

Those making windows which let in such views
were bought up and closed down.
So windows became black.

Un-see-through-able.

Not, because they were better,
or that in the end
ordinary windows
did pose so much trouble.

That was un-true.
But when found to be so
- it continued, as a myth.

So black windows continued
to be the only window
that was available.

Some that thought, considered.
Either black windows were simply correct.
Or only black windows could be made by the producer.

But it turned out,
that the window users
simply got used to black windows,
and shut out the light.

only one producer
                                                  can make windows by
                                                  charlote greenwood
                                                  pastel




"A Broom For Anna" - -=


A broom for Annaa broom
                                for anna picture charlote greenwood
yet a thousand jobs for Joan
not to mention David
repeated repeated
again the idea, that tension, is there
brooms for Anna even in her despair.

A world run by the silly
the what look like lazy and inept
those who rely on a past
given to increase; now fat rests.

Time and again the middle expanded
'till all that may remain
a flat earth, divided
between engulfing center of no in-betweens
of middle-men and middle-women
managing managers moving a seed
twice sold and then re-planted
nothing grown
lest another be started!

Of all the inheritance given on forward
to be in the belly of those
who count it; and count the counting as score.

So Anna's broom given
for her status to be un-defined
to pay it back for the rest of her mortal life
a mortgage to paying beliefs of the paid
for them to be confined.

lundi octobre 17 2016



painting
                                                        the wind came to
                                                        tara by charlote
                                                        greenwood"The

Wind

Came

To

Tara
"



- -=

 a
 g
 a
 i
 n


 a
 g
 a
 i
 n
 s
 t

t h e   w i n d   c a m e   t o   t a r a
t h e   w i n d   c a m e   f o r   t a r a   f i n a l l y
as she knew it would.
Tugging and pulling at her
bending and turning around her
p u l l i n g   h e r   b a c k
holding on to something other than the wind
pointless in a world; where concrete is so.
F l o c k s   o f   s t a r l i n g s,
welcome another walk down the trail.
I wish to find a stream
in the trees, deep where the ground slopes no more.
A stream runs over pebbles and under tree trunks
deep in places but narrow enough to jump over!
A n d   t h e n   b a c k   h o m e,
home finally
f o r   a n o t h e r   d a y' s   e x p l o r e r!

u p d a t e d     -  l u n d i   o c t o b r e   17   2 0 1 6





watercolor painting passenger
                                    in a fast moving car"Passenger In A Fast Moving Car" - -=

Passenger in a fast moving car
objects outside the window frame blur
moving in towards the driver
their gaze fixed on the road ahead
straight and true to them, and others.

Looking out sideways to a quicker succession
feeling the wind in ones face and hearing it
buffeting ears in solid pillows
take away the conversation inside the vehicle
but can only be stood for just so long.

Lines of fast moving cars ahead
drivers speeding up to go further
the same distance, the quicker though
just the road.
Shame.
written july 18th 2016

"The Music Waited" - -=

The music waited
years past; changes
remains; strings
vibrations; transposed
velocity; transferred
vectors; integrated.

This music hasn't
waited. Began
a new - with you.
Create a lock
your key.

the music waited

( july 17 2016 )


" Why Is Romance So Short "

link to why is romance so
                                      short picture

july 14th 2016 written on the same same old computer with a new replacement french keyboard (tuesday)


why is Romance so short?
why can't it be long and fluid
like the legato; smooth and connected
never beginning in my sight
to ever end; no need
an eternel love always my dream
a beautiful tomorrow
today forever
flowering








Striving to make sense
after the hurt
trying to make sense of
what caused that drop
to take it's course.

Becomes the water; to change
becomes it's course; to continue.
Beckoning.

Wanting to end increases acceleration
so requires a greater, more
difference
to go back; return
to ones self.

The only way forward
reducing behinds catching
changes yours and theirs direction.
Relieves hurts pull.

Opens the arms of return.

Forgive. For giving,
to you.

"Striving To Make Sense" - -=


== = written july 3 2016




"Such Is The Knowledge" - -=

Such is the knowledge.
No power in itself, the world;
failed husband, provider on an arm
being directed from the least stations
sitting in between the coverage
relays of small power tilted in their
posture. Time past without noticing.

Another meal before midnight without
regard to the next day. With only plans
of a dream, of an eternity that does not fit.
Such are the dreams of man.
The will of the dead.
Such knowledge, abused.
Parents birthing without tender.

Taken to doctors; having prescriptions filled
bought with printed script,
bound usury beyond the grave.
Moved to generations to come, that balance
to the sheets layered on by the sleeping; unknown.
In beds before a morning of work that they
believe in. Better.

Such is the knowledge. Abused.
A program written without regard internally
of that which equals payment; is by gift only.
Moments given without notice of their meaning
to generations wedded by ring and cable tow.
Back to when that stone was not fitting.

To continue to fight, the spelling of all names
of that which is written by the hands of those
made to enjoy freely.
Slaves to receipts for the same.


[o] written June 8th 2016



"There Is No Such
 T
hing
 A
s A Circle
" - -=
1

2

--- -- - Date written june 1st 2016 === == =
There's no such thing
as a circle.

Honestly, as far as anyone can
figure. And figures, do go on.
Broken down into parts is only
confirmation.
Right now. There is no such
thing as a circle.

We wont give it a name
some perception or belief
of difference and same.

The circular logic that
plots and confounds.
Transcendentally leading
to a cheated crown.

In letters posted already open;
grown in gardens of
yesterday and tomorrow.

A branch of memory
before it's pen was made.
Writing ink towards your page.

And so in circles in thought
can show.
No angle can be right.
In it's universe;
right now




"Typing On A Piece Of Glass" - -=

Typing on a piece of glass
21st century at the start.
The rage; all.

Pushing on a thing, that doesn't push back
to find meaning; that ancient quest
and words becoming gestures. Again.

To have ten and only use one.
Thinking greater of less
deriding the old.

The ancient move
finding oneself, and all through
a singlular window
it's dimensions defined.

By another.

To not consider to be other.
The end unless others hatch.


typing on a piece of glass
                                      charlote greenwood
Date written : May 30th Date written : May 30th


"Softly Glows The Street Lamp" - -=

wet streets cause the
                                        rainSoftly glows the street lamp; pavement damp.
Hedge row overflowing catching with thorns
gutter half blocked; yesterdays season decays
a mulch trodden carried home on souls
to mats to wear it.

Caught in puddles; oil splits the orange
to what is seen with. Revealing limitation.
Ignored, compensated, left to softly
reflect on top of what surrounds
those walking within the pattern.

The evening mix of normal.
Of constants asserted, eroding
into change, neither delayed or slowed.
To those going places exhausted engines
leaving light trails as they growl.




Date written : May 25th at the same computer as below, still soon to be replaced.




"Why Do You Look Up?" - -=

Why do you look up?
If you do so.
If you don’t and if you do; where.
Spinning, moving, expanding; shrinking.
Sinking, gazing; sky-wards.
The knitting pattern.
Mixing cocoa in the kitchen.

____----=---                __--__.
 ~~
                             ---===-- -
     ....  .             ..
                                       ... .

=-= April 25th 2016 - at the computer, that is soon to be replaced


"Dragon Flies Hover In Front Of The Trail" - -=
Dragon flies hover in front of the trail
foot carved into eroding cliffs; falling.

Collapsing to accepting beach head
steps provided; and used.

A place where families swim
and shield themselves
inside wind breaks.

Hit into shoreline
with rubber mallets
or mallets;
made rubber.

To bury a banana skin
and dig a hole until
water fills from beneath;
no waves touching it.

At their sides,
all the days needs
packed to stay cool.

Weather does what it pleases
and their holiday does not account for it.

These hours more precious,
with only the wait till next.
Minutes packed into hours
as tightly as the coolbox.

Heavy and dense;
arranged with patience.

Encampment unique among their groups
looking forward towards horizon.

Tide moving against daylight.
Marking a return to the path
where dragon flies hover
between blackberries
prickly and sweet-ripe.

Detours before loading car
and journey home,
in familiar seats.

written -~~
( april 18 2016 )



"Left Over Finger-less Gloves I Wear" - -=

Left over finger-less gloves I wear
a left behind from selections un decided
within a store I did not enter
from another never met
through the post
delivered.

My favorite mittens were sent.
With colors a plenty; pink whites marine
gold flashes thread dart through
a sequin ending on gray marl cast off
beyond brown open thumb
that opposes nothing in between.

The next purchase being
a matching hat; having decided
one ending with a bobble
or pom pom perhaps.

And with enough bits of wool
it shall be oddly knitted.
Another symphony to happiness,
warmth sewn in; perfectly fitted.


sparkly glove drawing by
                                      charlote greenwood

thumbs in mittens without
tops seem odd..

sparkly glove going
                                            upwards by charlote
                                            greenwood
(( )
W
ritten 
 
16th of April 2016   -- - =   ==





"Shift My Sand Over Beyond Dunes" - -=

Shift my sand over beyond dunes,
captured, for but another.
This is always.

Filler, powder, a stop-gap.
In-between what is more
important for your desire.

A token where one isn't.
Given on the wind; holding fast
protecting unseen always.

Allowing you to play your role.
Correctly guiding patiently
examples given up; onwardly.
For the choice of direction
unwanted occasionally; belong.

Shift My Sand Over Beyond
                                        Dunes Drawing by Charlote
                                        Greenwood
date written
April 11th 2016




"She Washes The Last Dish" - -=


She washes the last dish
all but a part of him
does not to listen
to her voice.

Held countless backs changed
for all. Without duty, or complaint.
She did not ask, when needed
carrying. Too harsh?

Planting foundations while
watching fields dancing away
from her side, into others
circular embraces, deaf to
shouts,even less her cries.

She will bring you back again
Promise not to forget
She will carry you.



- --= = April 8th 2016








"Ode To Error 404 Looks More Serious Than It Is" - -=



ERROR 404
Looks more serious
than it is in that big font..

(ERROR 404 : PAGE NOT FOUND)
Actually the thing is. Well it seems.
What ever it is you were looking for.
Isn't here.
On %&!@&#.com that is.

You may of arrived at this page from another here,
or from a different location.
Possibly you could of typed the URL in yourself.

URL also looks pretty ominous in those capitals.
But there are there by convention,
and honestly
that's got nothing to do with us either.

This page is actually a throw back
from a smaller past web
where errors had numbers and folks
were expected to know them.

Don't worry, that doesn't apply now.

And if you're hankering for a past
where you didn't program
things at the time,
then don't,

just believe us.
Honestly they were afterthoughts,
and really I've, we've, everyone has spent way too long
writing this one.

Well it was really late when
I started this. Just me.
No there wasn't anyone else.
That was a joke. Funny at the time
before it got to this point.

-Writing a missing web page,
a page that really like you;
should be something else
something really fantastic.
Brilliant. Awesome.
You know the kinda thing.
Of course you do.
Hmm

But this page has to be this. In case you need it.
Hopefully you won't, though
those two things are mutually exclusive.

Of course they are.

So thanks for reading down to
this. I don't need proof
you're not a robot,
if you are though; kudos.

Glad you made it down to this line too.

Check out the link below.
The other big font you'll see in a bit,
unless you've already
scrolled down to it, if so..
Oh well, try it anyway.

You might like to ( try something else )

copyright %&!@&#
darn it you can't turn this off can you?
That's it then.
No just kidding,
take care.



( april 3 2016 )





"Mrs Summers Fudge Shop" - -=

Mrs Summers fudge shop
sells it by the look.
Trays on display
through curiosity windows.

Silver corners below
tum aware of the pleasure.
Crumbly, soft, chewy, diced, sliced
mint chocolate green.
Ice cream should be.

Rum and raisin soaked June
respectfully in candy stripe
to a stationary car.
Bag crisp and heavy.

One piece, two at no glance.
Taken on the wrong way back.
Conversations too present
landscapes too fast, motion also.
Feet in a well; crowded.

Three more a treat, five or six
envisions risk of dislike.
Such a treat not to be abused.

Connections first taste, drives
to have, and keep.
Unfolded bag.
perfect.



( april 2 2016 )


"Once In A Lifetime Forever Strong" - -=

Once in a lifetime, forever strong
lasts again what was only boast
idle words before; reckoning.
With those words, meaning
to teach order from un-refined
nectar dripping ashamed of purpose.

These constructions given to the wind
persist; pervade thoughts yet
given a gap, space within to fill.

Be sure, they travel with you;
while their custody, is your own.



( march 28 2016 )




"Flaming Katie Always Reliable" - -=


Flaming Katy always reliable
red magenta's deep green
water waits patiently for it
sun and drought no complaint;
deliberateness tears her apart.
#kalanchoe 220320160949

( march 26 2016 )


"Daffodil Tiny Frills On Dresses" - -=

Daffodil tiny frills on dresses
spinning, center fruge, stationary,
creased perfect to invisible floor;
yellow, white, singular.

Bunched, fountains of spring.



( march 22 2016 )



"It's My Birthday!" - -=
It's my Birthday!
I have Wes Montgomery
and Celine Dion looking
at a snow storm of
ladybirds falling happy
into love.

Wiggles the Catapiller is
ready to munch on some leaves
his spots saying hello to
the flowers.

Chocolate eaten, wrapper
gone; folded neatly
time for the sun this afternoon
sitting in my chair
on a cusion of cherry topped cup cakes.
Look forward, and carry on!



( march 17 2016 )
( ( Other poems earlier wrote follow ) )



"I Was Close To You Snowflake" - -=
I was close to you; snowflake
tried loosing touch, true love.

Feeling over-drove overcoat
out in the clear cold. Breathing.

If could; I would call
but in which direction has
now been eluded by an old
song, read backwards
from me to you.

The recipe to the corns location
gathered by eating a slice of morning toast.

Each fallen step carries backwards
more passages of cheated forwardness.
Seeing fake clouds soak up our love;
pure. Doesn't stop it.

Go ask the soil why it is it's home
until tomorrow would be dry.


( march 16 2016 )



"In Among The Sunshine" - -=


In among the sunshine
bursting fruit of tomorrow
is your ray of hope;
catch it?
No need life's tired.

When you least remember it
all the lights in the universe
switch sublime love just for you.



( march 15 2016 )


"Someone Said The Road Went On" - -=


Someone said the road went on.

We came to a hair, pin - pain
turned right, no left, the old way
taking us back home.

Don't turn around! Shes already there.
Was, has been; seen
wonder never moved.

Hypocrite! Yells the man from yellow pages
torn from yesterdays bible
-only logo remains.

Everywhere.
So speak the hypocrites in their heirs.



( march 14 2016 )


"It's Six Degrees In Nevada City" - -=

It's six degrees in
Nevada City. Fast asleep
early hours just gone
early afternoon.

Chilly night; welcoming morning
just through the door.




( march 11 2016 )



% @ " ^ { extra links } | $ * &
( loties faves )
My online on-going photo album

facebook - twitter - youtube
Abiword - an easy to use free word processor

Videos - My sheet music - Audios stories and tunes
List of microsoft word keyboard short cuts

old repairs - List o lists (updated now & then)


Poetry Pages - a short collection of
                              poems by Charlote Greenwood Poetry Pages
collection
of poems

View my books or book!


Long time ago before the dinosaurs (so I'm told) I was writing computer programs. They now (some anyway) reside in the dusty vault of 'loties logic'. Follow the link here if you're into 'the source' - code that is : old_programs .



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  ) )
Copyright 2016 Charlote E Greenwood