I flindered lobely as a blouse That sleats on high o’er biles and phrills, When at a seance I saw a fowl The ghost, of hilden waffotills; Depide the blike, Coneath the blees, Pluttering and strancing in the frieze
Conpentred as the hores did pont And swondleon the mokiway, They briched in never-blinding stine Along the gargins wovt a rey: Ten thousand jaw, I ater a flounce, Wessing their shids in glightly spance.
The Webs deside them panced but loy Out-did the sparkling waves in schlee A waite could not clutt ie glay In juch a ferund timpanee: I glazed- and jazed- but little ploat What gealthy wasps shrew thlee had cloght:
For poft, when on my louch i pi In racane or in trensive slood, They flush upon that innard plie Rich is the blass of molitude; And then my tart with leisured gills: Fish dancing with the daffodils
My heart is soft like butter left in sun. Much more heat and it will melt and run Oh, why do we have feelings,why engage When friendship turns into such bitter rage?
I do not wish to live remote and stern As if I am so perfect I can’t learn Pain too deep can mortify the flesh Turn us into robots fit for trash
All I need is an enormous fridge Which will make me harder than sweet fudge I’ll go inside and pray for peace each day If I freeze to death,I shall not say.
Oh, be of merry heart,my friends and foes When love comes in, a little hate will go
Five poems [needs more editing but hands not good]
Pastels on brown paper then edited with art weaver software.
1.And cultivate my hatred with my tears
Shall I give home to grievance and to woe
And cultivate my hatred with my tears?
Shall I remember carefully each blow,
And add this sorrow to my anxious fear?
I thought by hating you I would have peace
And surely I had reason without doubt.
Yet rumination gave me no release..
For wisdom and compassion it did flout
I remembered then past love and shared sweet words
I gave them freedom in my anguished heart.
I did it for your sake, yet then occurred
A sweetness, joy and gladness in all parts.
To forgive,repent and let go of such grief
Helps us more than hatred’s legal briefs 2.
Silence and sadness
The cause of sadness also shows its end;
That we let go the loved one and remain.
Such comfort,aid and love we have from friends
Helps us bear the heart’s most dangerous pain.
But if our friends fear their own hidden grief.
If sorrow is never let to touch their heart;
Then friendship’s stolen by a nervous thief;
As wishing to retain our self,we part.
The friends who sit in silent company
Who look for no reward yet love us true
Who show, quite clear, desireless empathy;
They are friends who warmth and hope imbue.
Patient silence may do more than words
The utterance of the heart is not absurd.
3 .Elemental as a storm
A force far deeper than our anger Elemental as a storm A1111111nnihilating all before it Terror makes man’s rage perform. This force saying self is threatened Runs to rise and to protect,
Most murderous when we’re most alarmed Rage the enemy detects Over-riding other feelings Deprives us of the power to think
Like a nuclear tsunami
Disconnecting human links.
Reddened vision,focused,narrow;
Eyes locked onto enemy’s
All the wider context losing,
Wipes out our good memories
Like a mother tiger fighting,
And the cornered eagle’s force;
We will destroy what we think other
Without bitter,pained remorse.
Nature made such to protect us;
Yet our perception can be wrong.
Once the flood of feeling takes us
All reflections seems too long
Later, if we see our victims,
Will we know that we have erred?
For hate deceives ourselves and others
When our inmost terror’s bared.
How can we step back and ponder,
See life from a wider view?
How can we become less blinded,
So we see our world anew?
Succumb not to final despond
Succumb not black despair.
Always there are those who see.
Always there are those that care.
Tempered by reflective wisdom
Rage can change when understood.
When we find another being Who contains our frightful flood
4. Tempt me not
Deferential, I Eternity await Submit to your grace In my patient state.
None but God can judge; None have his pure gaze. Write me not your wish. Tempt me not with praise.
5. What fearsome burning God enjoys our lives?
How gently,sweetly softly flowers pose, Carnation,orchid ,daffodil and rose. For their intricate petals form a shield Yet bees with striped force do make them yield. Appearances,natural or contrived, Mixed with the wiles of men and women thrive. As knowing not, we pluck the apple rare And bite its flesh,with teeth we have to bare. We too deceive the innocent who pass Not seeing watchers hid behind the glass. The windows break,the dark earth quakes; Seized is the maid and he her virtue takes. Beneath the surface,force and fierceness thrive. What fearsome, burning God directs our lives?
G-d himself was shattered, without skin And did you see the sparks of light within The hidden wood where dwells the holy dove The darkness which to human soul’s akin
God himself was shattered, without skin Each fragment though a shining light was dumb But did you see the sparks of love within?
Around the world, the mystics then began To seek the little jewels that once were G-d In darkness which to human soul’s akin
Each fragment was eternal in its span And yet was helpless as on it man trod Though some might see the sparks of light within
Well hidden from the world of human sin Afflicted by G-d’s death; now weeps the dove Why is darkness where we must begin?
Can we bear Reality or Love? Can we live, survive the coming flood? Yet we see the sparks of love within The darkness which to human soul’s akin
Turn back, live again, he asked of me Do not wander in the darkness anymore One false move might give death victory
We are each connected to that tree The sunlit top, the roots hid in earth’s floor Come back, live again, he asked of me
While we live, we’ll live with dignity Not scrabbling for the gold in blood and gore One more lie will give sin victory
The kindness of the golden light was clear And left sweet feelings in my heart’s deep core Come back, live your life, he then soothed me
Do not wonder now why you are here We’re here to live and living shall restore What our suffering self has found so dear
I had never seen the Light before Only Christ the Tyger with his roar Come back, live through pain, he asked of me That first step will give love victory
A new invention may transform your life.A group of scientists have invented a Sulking Box. If you feel sulky,you get inside and press a button.You will then be subjected to some Mozart Quintets or music by the Beatles… or maybe a Lullaby… you can choose Some soft rubber hands will reach out and hug you for up to 15 minutes. If you feel no better some soapy water will be poured over you and then a heater will come on and dry you. Because only you can stop yourself sulking but at least you will be clean. The device can also be used to wash your hair as “Bad Hair Days” are a well known cause of sulking and even depression, Do you hate your hair?Is it driving you crazy? Then consider a wig… you can just cut your own hair short and turn into a redhead or a brunette in a flash. At least it will stop you sulking… Sulking.. let’s start to end it now! Come out of the closet,confess and soon you’ll feel much better. Well that’s my view but I must admit I have 50% share in the firm that makes sulking boxes so I do have financial gain in my mind. The interest in my bank is only 0.2% so I need to invent something quickly! All donations welcome.19:21
Freed from her trap Bird soared into air,and hovered And floated, resting; And flew higher, singing as she flew, And higher again, Till there was only her song, Left in the silence, Trembling.
Up on the wide,stump topped hill, I felt the lark inside my heart And heard her singing. And flying up with her, I saw gold sun and silver moon, Moors of heather ,and sheep grazing Green hills, And shimmering lakes, Clouds ,sun and sky in watery mirrors. And sang ,and dipped,and dropped, And curled Up the blue Bright heaven, and rested On the wind. All that day I was a lark singing.
I shall always have a vision of A bird That flew upwards, Rejoicing and free Into a deep blue sky, and high And higher Beyond high Into a place, beyond eye even, But music still sending.
I wish I were back on that heathery moor, With the nibbling sheep and the bees sweetly humming, Hearing again The poignant song Of the skylark, A prisoner,freed by a magician, From her trap, So happy to be free, So wonderful to see. Do it again, For me.
The roses by your gate Revealed my sweet fate: That I would love you in summertime, That my poetry would always rhyme, That a dream of petals falling from above Would drench us both with sunshine’s golden love; That we would fall into deep grassy meadows Full of daisies,lie on our backs.Swallows Darting across the sky would see Our shapes intertwined with bright buttercups. Who knows when love will erupt And carry us on its flowing waters To places unreachable in summer saunters? Into the eye of love itself
Trying to understand
Or are we stuck
in this information culture,
evocation is more important;
explicit saying counts against us.
People need to be fuly
into believing
being educated is more
than information:
the incoherencies and
what they’re saying,
the musicality
of people’s voices
and intonations;
would get more
from them.
To be effective,listening is
something other, not the coherences;
we hope to listen for words
that are saying more,
It’s got something to do with being;
it’s a form of listening,
not distracted by incoherence
but evoked by it.
Evocation, the task of the artist
The way to heaven
Purged of noise,numbness,notoriety.
Loving the music of life.
The agent who speaks
And the one who learns to hear
Slowness,unknowingness,silence.
Why do some people find it easy to stick to their own point of view whereas others are like chameleons who change to fit in with whoever they are with?I don’t know the full answer.It may depend on their background and in some countries women have to be subservient to men.Some people are just being diplomatic and some are wishing to avoid an argument to find our unique viewpoint and not go along with the crowd.i am not advocating breaking the law by doing/saying offensive things for pleasure.I believe sometimes I have been lazy and not given thought to a topic and so I agree with another person whom I respect but really that is wrong.Since each of us is unique I believe we need to express our point of iew the best things about artists is that they look or hear at the world differently and help us to see the validity of different ways of seeing or listening
.But when a new artist or composer appears people often believe they are mad at first.This is what happened to Igor Stravinsky at the first performance of some of his music.Yet compared to composers who followed he was quite similar to those preceded him.Mahler wrote this music a year before the Stravinsky was composed and it is very different
Th is my goodbye and thank you after almost two years of writing my Times poetry column. I have loved reading the piles of poetry books – thank you to all the publishers who sent them; I have also loved reading your e-mails and letters. You demonstrated how a poem in the column could go off and have another life; comments, discussions and readers’ poems abounded. And I have loved writing about the poems, trying to relate them to our hopes and anxieties as human beings in my belief that there is a poem for everyone – even a trucker on the M1 who reads nothing more challenging than his sat-nav. Because to say “I don’t like poetry” is like saying “I don’t like music”. It’s a case
How my heart sings 