Aural love:be my now

I  kiss your  funny ears ; you kiss mine

I love Beethoven.you have qualms

I lick your ear;your licks  divine.

I love listening ,in your arms

 

I love music;you love song

I kissed your lips.you bit my tongue.

I love rightly;you love  wrong.

I’ll buy a guidebook to learn how to long.

 

 

I lick your whiskers;you shampoo my brow

i love Stravinsky.; i  love  you so.

I’ll be your sweetheart,I am unsure  how.

Since I’m in your arms . you must be my now.

 

 

Never mind the numen,think about the human

I was reading on the blog of an artist how long they spend gazing before they take a photograph.And how long they spend editing or thinking about it before they post it.And therefore criticising people who take lots of photos and post them all quickly

And I truly wish everyone would spend such time before they post a letter or send an email to  a friend..

Still,it’s just a case of the pot calling the kettle black!

Ahaaa

We English have a grating sense of numinosity or did I mean h umorosity?

Never mind the numen*,think about us humans!

Sprechen Sie Freudsch?Lie on my couch, please.Pay first,talk later

“Rudolf Otto “The idea of the holy”

The promised land

England’s green and pleasant Land

England's green  and pleasant Land [from Jerusalem,by William Blake]

Note: This was a surprise to me when I was writing the last part .I will try to explain.At first I started off wanting to write a poem about nature,And evening falling as the sun set.However something else seemed to take over for the last few verses.I was especially surprised by the end….”.at last we have reached the promised land

That is the best thing about writing poetry,that it can surprise the writer as much as if it were written by someone else.Also it is very absorbing so that the time seems to very quickly.Sometimes a serious poem has turned into a funny one and I laugh out loud.So it saves having to buy funny books….I can amuse myself.Writing  is even better than reading.

Just think of anything at all for the first line,then make a second line,then all of a sudden …you are off.Some days are better than others and you need an hour or two to do it.Or come  backto it later to edit it and knock into shape.It is a bit like sculpture,I imagine.

Joy sings out loud in golden light

Yet after day comes black of night.

New moon is rising by gray trees

This earth is where I want to be.

I want the day,I want the night

I want the darkI want the light.

I want to see and to be seen,

And not to lose myself in dreams.

The sun has set ,gray clouds turn black,

The day just gone will not come back.

I’ll rest in quiet reverie

Until the Reapers’s scythe takes me.

And then I drop and mix with dust,

And worms and beetles sate their lust.

I fall into ten thousand motes

And in sunlight ,dance music’s notes.

No more striving.no more ambition,

No more fighting,nor competition.

Every particle’s the same,

Without even a personal name.

And side by side,we all are one.

The lusts of life have been and gone.

We dwell with dirt and grain and sand

At last we’ve reached the Promised Land,

The inarticulate

Beware of people who talk a great deal of their religion,their supposed holiness and their wonderful deeds.For this may be a trap for the innocent.Satan is reputed to have a smooth tongue and an eye for our weaknesses

The poor in spirit, the in articulate,the wounded may he kinder guides to living your life well.

Blessed are the poor in spirit,for they shall see God.

Sun shines sideways

It’s Autumn weather, 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 of gentle beeches sing

Swaying with the sideward wind.

See their roots, all intertwined.

Feel their geometry in the mind.

Look up now into the sky,

See the V formation high.

My heart is moved by patterned dance

In this peace, God’s own 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

And look,upon their whorled backs

All the sense of life is packed.

And yet so easily Life’s destroyed,

When blind foot foot steps into the void