As a lover, he was utterly sublime.
Yet he did it as just a pastime.
He much preferred daydreaming
Or financial scheming
Why,even rewriting my rhymes!
He was in a hurry to get out of bed
He said he’d change when we wed.
But he had three more engagements
And secret arrangements.
Thus was his fantasy fed.
The cyclamen now flower again
Today I dwell alone with them
Their shapely leaves,you did not see
Yet even so,they do please me.
Some are white and some are red
As if on blood the white had fed.
The waxy texture colour takes
So perfectly that my heart breaks.
The little rosemary and sage
Struggle with the winter’s rage.
Yet I think they will survive
For, on this March day, they’re alive.
My heart in pieces and forlorn,
I await the flowers’ charms.
The heat of sun shall give me joy
I am no more your mistress coy.
Like the birds, I’ll find a mate
For my soul to generate.
Grace and love will combat hate
True perception tolerates.
Dear Sue
I wrote this for you
In summertime, our love is limp, like flying blossoms floating in the airy breezes
In wintertime, our love is warm like a new duvet filled with Russian down
If skies are blue, our love is excited — two people kissing in the sunny woodlands
If thunder rolls our love is sadder, a refuge from the warnings of the lashing rain.
When spring flowers bloom, our love is bold, like the purple petals on the pansy.
When autumn leaves fall, our love is gentle, gleaming like a harvest moon.
From Easter till Christmas our love will continue in sweet silence.
From season to season,I hope for your romantic glance and no more..
Meanwhile leave me alone with my books.Don’t phone.Respect my boundaries.
Yours ever,Ron
I am able I am assembled
I aim able.To kill Abel.
I blame Abel,I.
Am I emblematic
Of blame?
Abel,am I to blame?
At home,I am
Unable to tell.
A lamb is an emblem.
I am unable to help Abel.
Help me ,Abel,are you able?
My name is unable to be,
I mean I am unnameable.
I am Abel,I am an object
Of fraternal hate.
Love was unable
to be,to embrace. Enmity and time
Beat me.Killed me.
Dead.
They aim to disable,
A lamb dies.Call him
Abel.
I am bereft, for hate
Was able
To destroy amiability.
I aimed hate at my brother, Abel.
Hate will be unable in the
End to win.
I miss you, Abel.
My brother.
I miserable,Abel.
I am unable ,Abel,
To live,to love.
Abel,I bad.
No balm,no love,
I unable.
I un…
Un,undone.
Oh, Abel.
I bereaved myself,
Unable,
blind.
I lost,ability,
Love.
I live not.Yet
Not able
To die.
Unabled
Undone.
Done for
When Robin Hood hides in our wood
I shall not turn him out
I’ll let his merry gentleme
Hang all their bows about.
So when a swaggering top M.P.
Comes riding by alone
The arrows of the hidden host
Will ring against the stones.
The horse rears up,the man looks round
To see what’s caused the stir
And what he sees amidst the trees
Is green men everywhere
Let him complain to Sheriffs all.
The green men will be gone.
When soldiers come to hunt them out
They’ve vanished every one.
The forests of England are the home
Of rabbit,deer and game.
The green men live their natural life
And we should do the same.
Let us all take to the greenwood life
And feel the strength of trees
They do not change at every poll,
Nor do just what they please.
In Nature all is linked to one
And one to all extends.
If we could change our cut throat ways
Maybe we l could be friends.
The hearts and souls of all of us,
Form a human wood.
So let the love we feel be shared,
And heard for the common good.
If everyone is given their place
Then Robin could go home
His men would not be in my wood,
And M.P.’s could safely roam.
Let us all sing,”Robin for King,”
“We all want Robin Hood.”
“He took the money from the rich
To be spent for the common good
We were alone together
In this sitting room.
I would draw on my laptop,
While he had his camera on zoom.
We were alone together
Now I’m alone alone.
I am studying poetry
Because he’s not on the phone.
We were alone together
As I sat by his bed.
He still didn’t speak but then he winked
As I laid my hand on his head.
I wish I could be with you
Together and not alone
I wish I could be with you
And you were not cold as stone.
I never used a photo editor at one time.But by accident I inverted a photo of a church.I was quite taken with it.Sometimes like in the images above it is not very interesting or successful.I found it was better with buildings.
But after that I started to look at Art software like Pixlr or Artweaver.I couldn’t find much literature about it so I just experimented.I find it’s good when I don’t want to write in words.I got some interesting ones from photos of a bleeding bite on my leg and from a cracked pavement.And even the gate!
How my heart sings 