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	<title>Writing on the Wall</title>
	<link>http://www.beverleyfry.co.uk/blog</link>
	<description>Words by Beverley Fry</description>
	<pubDate>Mon, 01 Mar 2010 20:11:02 +0000</pubDate>
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		<title>The Call</title>
		<link>http://www.beverleyfry.co.uk/blog/archives/49</link>
		<comments>http://www.beverleyfry.co.uk/blog/archives/49#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 01 Mar 2010 17:06:39 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>bevblog</dc:creator>
		
	<category>Bev's Blog</category>
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		<description><![CDATA[As I grow old around the eyes
protect myself from wrinkles
you arrive.
Head grapefruit size, hazelnut shape,
tucked-chin a lovely sleepy face
that screws in moments
to an aging crone.
Luminous chameleon skin,
flame-soft skin, and lines
mature beyond eight hours old.
Wide expressive lips
pout-peace and bliss and pain,
a sudden blush of body strain
understanding guts and need,
you feed.
Perfect hands. Tiny fingers. Minute nails.
Impossible to [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Panning</title>
		<link>http://www.beverleyfry.co.uk/blog/archives/48</link>
		<comments>http://www.beverleyfry.co.uk/blog/archives/48#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 22 Jan 2010 12:24:29 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>bevblog</dc:creator>
		
	<category>Bev's Blog</category>
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		<description><![CDATA[She’d shifted stones,
stirred debris, swished gravel
and searched countless streams
in Scotland, Canada, The States.
The rings they forged
with gold she dug,
from leggy youth,
beneath a shining sieve
she saw her pink feet grow.
Panning skills came with
learning to endure aching limbs,
hardship and biting bugs.
But always a thrill
to press her finger on wet glitter,
see the yellow dust crown the tip,
then drop [...]]]></description>
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		<title>January Day, 2010</title>
		<link>http://www.beverleyfry.co.uk/blog/archives/46</link>
		<comments>http://www.beverleyfry.co.uk/blog/archives/46#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 14 Jan 2010 19:04:47 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>bevblog</dc:creator>
		
	<category>Bev's Blog</category>
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		<description><![CDATA[Robin calls brighten the dull matt of a sunless day and at a woodpecker angle sparrows pick grit from loose mortar that bonds stones in the wall,
it is an uncharacteristic pose for them. Heavy snow-covering has made their usual hunting ground inaccessible.
No tyre indentations from traffic around the house this week, my car is almost hidden and [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRSS>http://www.beverleyfry.co.uk/blog/archives/46/feed/</wfw:commentRSS>
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		<item>
		<title>The fireball sun</title>
		<link>http://www.beverleyfry.co.uk/blog/archives/45</link>
		<comments>http://www.beverleyfry.co.uk/blog/archives/45#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 05 Nov 2009 16:40:54 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>bevblog</dc:creator>
		
	<category>Bev's Blog</category>
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		<description><![CDATA[The fireball sun burns
night-mist off window glass,
reveals a solitary bird
and warms a bare twig call.
Others jet over,
in five of spades formation,
plump underbellies hot-pink 
and dark wings in sequence
beat blue space, 
breath clear cold air
where once were stars.
]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRSS>http://www.beverleyfry.co.uk/blog/archives/45/feed/</wfw:commentRSS>
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		<item>
		<title>Passing Manor Park.</title>
		<link>http://www.beverleyfry.co.uk/blog/archives/43</link>
		<comments>http://www.beverleyfry.co.uk/blog/archives/43#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 26 Aug 2009 12:16:42 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>bevblog</dc:creator>
		
	<category>Bev's Blog</category>
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		<description><![CDATA[Sounds of rail rhythms rock us
along the backs of houses.
A red rose blooms,
two sunflowers hang heads
over wilderness and tipped settees, 
before Manor Park a faded orange rug
carpets a fence.
Stratford flashes past,
with new high rise homes, cranes
and bright clad men shifting stones.
London’s primrose brick, graffiti walls
and the Gherkin rockets
to an uncertain sky.
Spiked buddleia-shoots point up
this Norfolk trips [...]]]></description>
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		<title>View from up here</title>
		<link>http://www.beverleyfry.co.uk/blog/archives/42</link>
		<comments>http://www.beverleyfry.co.uk/blog/archives/42#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 18 Jul 2009 09:51:26 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>bevblog</dc:creator>
		
	<category>Bev's Blog</category>
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		<description><![CDATA[Dudmaston.
Ahead, and scattered far and wide
discarded feathers, preened out,
strew the waterside.
My child selects those that are slender, thin,
the plumes they tickle him beneath his chin
and laughing he finds more,
from wings the shafts are firm straight quills.
In ripples of air he feels their lift,
and thrills, he knows for sure they’ll drift
along the lake-edge yellow iris bloom,
golden [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRSS>http://www.beverleyfry.co.uk/blog/archives/42/feed/</wfw:commentRSS>
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		<title>Connections</title>
		<link>http://www.beverleyfry.co.uk/blog/archives/40</link>
		<comments>http://www.beverleyfry.co.uk/blog/archives/40#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 16 Jul 2009 09:21:32 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>bevblog</dc:creator>
		
	<category>Bev's Blog</category>
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		<description><![CDATA[London July 2009
Washed up in Euston’s railway tide
we take the tube to riverside
you stay a stranger but I find
regret, we don’t connect, collide,
and as we move through tunnels blind,
your image imprints on my mind.
Here, from a place to you unknown
the time we shared is on rewind, 
that slate blue dress, an even tone
of natural linen lightly [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRSS>http://www.beverleyfry.co.uk/blog/archives/40/feed/</wfw:commentRSS>
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		<item>
		<title>Going down</title>
		<link>http://www.beverleyfry.co.uk/blog/archives/39</link>
		<comments>http://www.beverleyfry.co.uk/blog/archives/39#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 04 Jun 2009 11:28:06 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>bevblog</dc:creator>
		
	<category>Bev's Blog</category>
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		<description><![CDATA[

A diaphanous tail, a shock
of pink leads down to dusk&#8217;s 
azure blue-indigo horizon.
It&#8217;s broad and bright; 
a blushing exclamations passing mark,
that bruises into turquoise, purple, blue.
 
Once an engines blaze of steam, 
out over the worlds edge,
beyond all horizons,
left to mark a passing.
 
For they left no farewell trail
of messages on sinking mobile phones.
No desperate goodbyes 
swallowed by darkness and sea.
Just a massive silent [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRSS>http://www.beverleyfry.co.uk/blog/archives/39/feed/</wfw:commentRSS>
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		<item>
		<title>The painting, ‘Hill Farm’</title>
		<link>http://www.beverleyfry.co.uk/blog/archives/37</link>
		<comments>http://www.beverleyfry.co.uk/blog/archives/37#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 08 Oct 2008 07:20:23 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>bevblog</dc:creator>
		
	<category>Bev's Blog</category>
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		<description><![CDATA[
Character;   house in the picture.

You think you know me, staring from your passing car.
You want to know me, for an instant you maybe do.
You don’t of course, you can’t, not really.
But something in my remoteness and rising smoke
casts magic finger spells that curl 
a streaming S upon the sky.
My smoky wood-breath gathers on wind,
blows through your [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRSS>http://www.beverleyfry.co.uk/blog/archives/37/feed/</wfw:commentRSS>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Magpies and sunflowers</title>
		<link>http://www.beverleyfry.co.uk/blog/archives/33</link>
		<comments>http://www.beverleyfry.co.uk/blog/archives/33#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 11 Aug 2008 08:22:43 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>bevblog</dc:creator>
		
	<category>Bev's Blog</category>
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		<description><![CDATA[Bev&#8217;s Diary Sunday. 10. August 2008.
It&#8217;s about 6.30am,
I am up with the birds who are very quiet this morning.
It&#8217;s NOT raining, the sun has risen with long low bars of cloud and bright bits where it&#8217;s peeping through.
 
The cows beyond the pools are still in mist, but the poorly cow I have, with her calf [...]]]></description>
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