Now it turns as rapid as dismay

The sky is now pale lilac edged with dark
The   trees where small birds sleep are almost black
A mystic may enjoy a vivid spark
Through having senses other mortals lack.

The sky’s more pale than  it is darker grey
I see a pink, a blue in clarity
Now it turns as rapid  as dismay
Until  devoid of  such variety.

And darker still ,in grey it edges down
Until it’s less distinct from those large trees.
But  with my words  to keep me from a frown
Darkness comes and so my words must cease.

A mirror to the outer world in verse
May save  us all from  wintering with a  curse.

On the motorbike

There were three of us on this motorbike,
Father Dan with me,
And he had Jesus in his bag.
That makes the total three.

Transubstantiation, oh my Lord
I looked at his black bag.
Is Jesus inside there, I thought?
Should it have a tag?

It’s a secret never told
Father Dan gave it me to hold.
So I had Jesus in my lap,
No wonder now I feel a gap.

We zoomed off up an unmade road
As fast as Dan could go.
I felt bewildered and bemused,
I loved my Daddy so.

Father Dan took back his bag,
And went inside our house.
I got my marbles out to roll,
I feared I’d see a mouse.

So Three of had taken a ride
And after that, my Dad had died.
Father Dan said Mass today
Still with Jesus, so I cried.

I have wandered further,longer than

Pamianthe-peruviana_2020-2

I have walked without a map or plan
I have whispered names of people dead.
I have wandered further,longer than.

I have stumbled ,when the able ran.
I have longed for you but never said
I have walked without a map or plan

I have been through places men would ban
I have sung to birds and shared my bread
I have wandered further,longer than.

I have searched for you in nook or cran
I have felt my brain has turned to lead
I have walked without a map or plan

I have sauntered, wandered, I have run
I should have lain down in dry leaves instead
I have wandered further,longer than.

I remember when you shared my bed
I remember all the words we said
I have fallen without map or plan
I am drowning deeper,darker than.

Against sadness.

Against sadness:no-one old must weep

Nor lounge in a melancholy deep Was Van Gogh senseless to permit his muse. For even genius ,is the price too steep?

We see the yellow chair but not his views

Nor his mind where technique made strange leaps.

Nor was his journey broadcast on the news. Against sadness. Happiness or joy is hard to find When we rest, the News lies on our minds

Yet some are cold towards the slaughtered priest His nose a beak of bone in old face lined.

Now Muslims go to Mass and join Christ’s feast Against sadness. What rages in the mind make men kill thus?. In Syrian wars the innocents fare worse.

But these are our near neighbours so we weep. And wonder how to end the frightening curse The sins we once committed hold us deep

We hold our hands out, wanting to be nursed .

Against sadness

Seeing yourself from a distance as my sister did

My astral body floated to the wall

When I looked back I saw myself so pale

I was sitting at the table drinking tea

They told me to be strong but I had failed

I  had never heard of astral  tricks

I was down to earth no mystic bore.

But having cancer tore me into parts.

I felt I could not suffer anymore.

I sent an email to my sister dear

I told her how I felt and felt her near

I asked her could she write a poem sincere

Yet with  some humour to destroy my fear.

Time has passed, I know I’m in my grave

Remember me,oh love me and be brave

Learning and its pleasures

Playing with bright buttons from the tin

I lost myself in patterns colours shapes

Pleasure and  enjoyment is no sin.

Forced learning without joy may feel like rape.

I learnt without the knowledge that I learned.

I lost myself in thoughtless happens tance

And in this way abstraction’s rightly earned.

Does thinking need such joy for  eloquence?

Then children learn unknowing they have learned

I wish I were at home in that old room

The coal fire burning red, the cat asleep

My brother and my sisters went  too soon.

The joy and woe are mixed and so I weep.

How short each stage of life,oh, all too brief

The caterpillar gnaws upon the leaf

Oh,Cumbria

Oh,Cumbria I wish I were with you
Near Ambleside, the stepping stones, the slate
The Langdale Pikes , the valley and the view

The sinking sands, the sprawling sea so blue
The tempting  path across the bay , it’s bait
Oh,Cumbria I wish I were with you

The  thunderstorms, the heavy clouds, the dew
Water is your element, your fate
The Langdale Pikes , the valley and the view

By Buttermere the waterfalls renew
My shoes were pools,my socks a Plathian plaint 
Oh,Cumbria I wish I were with you

I may be human,,I may be astute
My feelings, punctured ,let me lose my state
By Langdale Pikes , huge shadows   stripe the view

The sky is black, the candles  flicker,night
Fear and awe, I kneel  here , faith ignites
Oh,Cumbria I wish I could  see you
The Langdale Pikes , the cliffs,  the distant view

Our house

Outside owa house ‘t new umbrellas drip
~Wun is red and wun is pretty beige
They’re wa sunshades, t’weather’s hit a blip

If A wer a child A’d sail a ship
Or stamp in pools u’ water in mi rage
Outside wa house,’t new umbrellas drip

Times there were Mam’s moods ‘ed get a grip
Then it wer quite hard to re-engage
Hide wa sunshades,mother’s hit a blip

Mam wer clever but she lost her top
The hint of h’ mad sayings has no wage
Outside wa house ,’t new umbrellas drip

Nuns told me off for speaking in my voice
To get to Oxford, I must Me erase
Now I am a foreigner down here
No self, no mam, no sisters,just mi feah

This is called eye dialect: misspell words to make them sound like they do in your dialect.

Foggy park

I went  into the middle of the park
Thick grey fog had made it almost dark
I stood there with my cello and my books
I had found a space where noone looked

There was not much privacy  at all
The front door was left open, neighbours called
Grandad came with Lassy his sheepdog
He gave us sweets and  ate my mother’s bread

Now I have chubb locks on my front door
The neighbours do not walk here anymore
They jump into their cars and speed away
No little chat, no  updates on their day

Locked in metal cars without a map
We’re distant  or too close, so mind that gap

 

 

 

 

w

Bill,Bill,my mother’s dad

Bill.Bill.my mother’s dad
Down the coal mine he did dig
When he was but a young lad

He was never very big
He spoke in the old dialect
He had a dog, a pipe, no cig

Silent,smiling, starving wrecked
He sent kids to a soup kitchen
Learned to read, but knew few facts

Went to London,saw Big Ben
Still angry from the General Strike
Aye,he were a silent man

He walked at night, he had no bike
To the coal mine with his cat
The cat sat waiting till first light

Then they walked, he did head maths
His wife had died, the son was born
When he got home, he had a bath

His father worked in fields of corn
Peasants on the Chesire farms
The pay was poor, were up at dawn

He himself were on good terms
With his neighbours, Irish, torn
He went to Mass,so Latin learned

My mum was th’eldest of those born
She had me,my own dad died
She went mad, she was forlorn

Lost her mother, then she tried
To help her Dad with all her heart
Never wept and never cried

Then she made a different start
Met my dad and married late
So I am here with my own charts

Is it destiny or fate
Why am I down here, d’you ken?
I see you grandad, is it late?



Let your mind wander, don’t retire and stop worrying: surprising ways to help save your brain from the cognitive cliff

https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2026/sep/07/dr-norman-swan-new-book-science-of-ageing-cognitive-decline?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other

No  bridge destroys its power, no currents sin

The geese have moved their flight path to the East
I miss the  gladness of their graceful wings
And wish I were a bird and not a beast

In the river, they have had their feast
While the sparrows watched and gently sang
The geese are gone, their flight path’s to the East

Seeing their grace at sunset gave me peace
The  natural  world such beauty to us brings
The wish I were a bird and not a beast

North East London’s  cut up by the Lea
No  bridge destroys its power, its currents sing
The geese have moved their flight path  further East

The geese do not  make nests  in a  tall tree
But dwell upon the water  like the swans
I wish I were a bird or honey bee.

As the infant  wisely grabs and clings
So the geese will fight  if threat descends
The geese have moved their flight path to the East
Oh, to fly at sunset  with the least

 

 

 

The way into the park

The end of Essex Road, the slope, the gates,

The entrance to the park, the green invites

The swans and geese are wrangling with their mates.

I idle on a bench and contemplate.

In indolence quite diligent I write

The end of that old road, the curve, the gates.

I must embrace this life, enjoy my fate

The scent of hot damp trees, the feel of sight

The swans and geese are mingling with their mates

Oh joy of greeny grass, oh glorious state.

Oh dandelions and weeds, mosquito bites!

I like the way the road slopes through the gates

Oh heaven above, oh,earth beneath, all’s right

The celandines are brilliant with delight

The swans so white are gliding with their mates

The end of this dear road, the curve, the gates.

Your dear eyes

Those dragonflies
Your blue eyes
Lawns with daisies
Poetic phrases
Sparrows cheeps
No mobile bleeps .
Foxes’ eyes
Scrutinize.
Let me be.
Don’t squash me
BBC
Poetry
Earl grey tea.
Rabbits run.
Let’s have fun,
Knitted hats.
Tabby cats
Hot red fires.
Dark quagmires
Lambs and sheep,
Lover’s leap.
Windermere
Glass of beer.
Sun on hills
Watermills
Rabid leavers
Damned deceivers
Facial cancer
Ballet dancer
Skate on ice
Do think twice
Acrobats
Habitats

God was absent then or in some other place

When he went away
He said,”Lehitraot,mama.”
Do vstrechi.
He died, but I’m still here
Yes,in my heart I feel his love.
But why did I live,
And he did not?
Auf wiedersehen
Lehitraot.
Yes,darling,I’ll see you later
,When the sky turns black and all the stars blaze bright
I’ll see you shining in the night.
I’ll see you in my dreams alas.
Do vstrechi.
But why you and not me too?
Araka
I can’t understand
.Lehitraot,beloved.
A plus tard
Some where in this world,you fell
But no-one,not even God, can tell.
God was absent then or in some other place
He’s gone again
.They said He’s died too
,But He didn’t have a mother like you.
Do vstrechi.
My breasts ache and my heart and soul,
My breasts were made to make you whole.
To feed, give love and to console.
A plus tard
And now they ache with grief as my tears fall
.A bientot
My body trembles in the night
As dreams may bring my lost ones to my sight.
A plus
I’d walk across the roughest bleak terrain
If l I could find my loves and hold your hands again.
Do vstrechi
.The bell rings on the ancient clock
As time goes on as normal,  never stops.
Araka
I wish the hands of time could be reversed,
And I was not living with this curse.
People forget that I once had a son.
They think my grieving has been done.
Araka.But grief and loss and pain will never end
Until the curtain of my death descends
Auf wiedersehen.
Meantime I look at flowers and birds and trees
,But it’s really you my deepening insight sees.
Lehitraot.
The inscape of my heart is shown to few.
An artist of the lost would know this view.
I know I want to see just you.
Do vstrechi.
But for me there is no Auf wiedersehen
Never again will you say
What you said that day
Lehitraot,Mama.Papa
A plus tard
Tot ziens.
See you later
See you ,darling
See you soon

Tha end of the Holy Land

Evoking the beauty or stars far away,

I like to watch geese at the end of the day. Patterns and poems disclose other worlds.

Feel the hand of a baby with the fingers all curled See the trust and the smile when the mother is home,

To create entire worlds for the one she has borne.

For chaos and panic are not far away

Even in adults who don’t care to say.

The little hands touch me so deeply, so well;

⁰ How come the world is diving to hell?

How can we kill little wains by the score

Was it for this that I opened your door?

Was it for this that love electrified us,

And we were lost in each other, in the holy white dove.

Was it for war that we gave love our wombs.

Making more soldiers and filling more tombs

The bombs are a-loading they’re having parades. It’s not North Korea, it’s Washington, dude.

Let the tanks roll on Corrie and the Bedouin tribes

Let the allies laugh blindly as the Lord Jesus dies.

O take me, dear mother.Please take me away

I can’t see the point in saying my prayers.

The leaders’ religions are making God frown.

The desert is empty, the tents all dragged down. The centuries of living so free , so mobile;

The holy land blessing as they pause for while.

The little black tents like wombs of the night

Are all gone to shredders as we sing, Silent Night.

Autumn weather geese fly by

Autumn’s coming,geese fly by,
Autumn,rust,red,gold,so gay
Drystone walls edging fields.
Apples gathered,holly berries
Flash so brightly,look like flowers
Sun shines sideways,shadows long
Of trees appear.I dwell among
Woods where gentle beeches sing
Swaying with the sideward wind


See their roots, all intertwined.
Feel their geometry in your mind.
Look up now into the sky,
See the V formation high.

Geese fly home at end of day.


My heart is moved by patterned dance
In this peace and great silence
My mind widens like the sky
And in this moment I would die,
So I could stay with this still vision
Of geese set out on autumn mission.


Snails in rain pools slither near
My feet upon the terrace here
Yet how swiftly life’s destroyed
When blind foot steps into the void.

The sacred spaces

The spaces once held sacred are destroyed

Like Salisbury plain where sheep could safely graze

Now for soldiers use and practice Wars.

The Bedouin who inhabit deserts cry

The Negev is no longer a free space

The places for creation are destroyed

Before the birth of Christ, they wandered by Their little tents and camels no disgrace

Deserts are for practising new Wars

To shepherds and their flocks we say,Good bye.

The land is used for shooting, so debased

The places for creation are destroyed

The Lamb of God is fined and unemployed

Search for peace, be treated with distaste

Deserts are for practising new Wars

Of the Spirit, is there any trace

As the Lord God turns away his Face?

The spaces once held sacred are destroye

Now for soldiers use and Final War.

Copyright@Kathrerine

For as we’re nothing, we are free

Sacred the  love the rose dwells in;
Thorns protect what lies within.
Precious flower designed for bliss
Consummated with a kiss.

Eternity is one moment
When chattering minds are each silent.
The warp and weft of life  itself
Has value more than human wealth.

So passive be, with patience blessed
Focus wide and all relaxed
We wait like this  with music ‘joyed
So quietly played, all hurt’s destroyed.

The rose by nature of design
Gives peace to both the heart and mind.
And so it is with this  green world
Of  blossom,  bush,  and petals curled.

In a storm  small  butterflies
Dance in spaces small yet blithe.
Between the hailstones., they will  live
And of themselves entirely give.

We too  find our sacred space
When with nature we embrace.
We like flowers must grow and die.
We fall to dust and thus shall fly.

In the sunlight dust motes dance
As if by brightness full entranced.
We, like them, do not compete
For  that love which us completes

For as we’re nothing, we are free
For God made you and God made me.
As we have no pride or will
We trust in One who will fulfil.

 

Note : self-abandonment, which is a practice of the mystics .is abandonment to God.This desire for self-abandonment can be used by totalitarian regimes to make the crowd do their will.Like other of our desires, it has to be directed rightly.So we move between this passivity and active thought and will which guides us rightly.We must not abandon ourselves to governments or politicians and leaders,  especially Popes or other religious leaders.

I think I hear you humming

My dad died when I was eight years old today was the day the 8th of September

I look up our small street,

To see if you are coming.

I don’t know what time it is, .

But I think I hear you humming.

You sang sweet songs for us .

And you could whistle well.

You wore an old tweed jacket

You loved us, we could tell. .

I look out there each day,

But I can’t see your tall, thin shape.

I saved your Woodbine packet, It made me feel some hope.

What does death’s door mean? Where has Daddy gone?

When will be the welcome day, When we hear his songs again?

I’ll sing like him all day,

I’ll dream of him all night.

I hope he won’t be angry,

If his cigarettes won’t light!

He can’t write his own songs now. He went too far away, too soon. I’ll write down what I think he sang,

And I’ll invent the tune.

I hear him singing now,

.He dwells inside my heart.

And though I still can’t see his face, I recognise his Art.

Wider than a star

The mind is deeper than a well and wider than a star
I lose myself in waters deep ,symbolic ,sweet and clear
I rest embraced by this love and wish for nothing more
I dream I walk in meadows sweet
The daisies in my hair

The heart has reasons and desires as if it were a mind
If it’s soft as cashmere wool then it will remain kind
Yet if it’s hard then it may crack and we will split ,divide
I dream I walk by river fleet
With heart and mind combined

The other self that dwells alone in privacy divine
Needs sacred care and sweet respect and peace from what’s malign
The inner nature of us all is given and then transformed
I dream I walk on long white sands
By seas. blue, crystalline