Day: May 13, 2016
What feels a loss may foretell growth.
When first I saw your soulful face,
Then wished I most to you embrace.
I wished as well to clothe you in
The sacred images within.
To find a home for love without;
To fold my dreams all round about
Your loving body and your face
Were covered in such joy and grace.
But now my dreams are cast aside
The world of meaning denied life.
What seemed most precious now is fled…
And I lie sleepless in my bed.
What is the world when unadorned
With all that in my heart I’ve formed?
There is no meaning I can trace.
As in a mother’s empty face.
On these grey rocks my path is hard.
From paradise, my self is barred.
To struggle or to grief succumb
When this dark day of mourning’s done?
Into His dazzling darkness dart
My dreams and love like dying sparks.
Into His Mystery so fair
I’ll cast both hope and my despair.
Thus my dreams will be transformed
To show themselves in other forms.
What feels a loss may foretell growth.
On my hope,I’ll take an oath
That nothing in my life is waste,
That I have not for phantasms chased.
And you are human,as am I.
Let’s live again until we die
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IQ?
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We can’t go back and repeat the experience
We were sitting as usual by the window
gazing at the wintry trees
You began to cry out:
The house is under attack,
A storm is coming .
The glass windows will shatter
We’ll be stabbed.
We’ll be injured
We’ll be killed. I must get outLooking out,.I saw only the calm bare branches
gazing at the wintry trees
You began to cry out:
The house is under attack,
A storm is coming .
The glass windows will shatter
We’ll be stabbed.
We’ll be injured
We’ll be killed. I must get outLooking out,.I saw only the calm bare branches
Looking out,.I saw only the calm bare branches
Of the maple
And two wood pigeons in the fir tree
were chuckling to each other.
The wind had not changed.I know it’s midwinter with the bitter
breeze with an edge to it ,like a knife.
The sun low like lemonade in an almost emptied glass.
Sending light through the forsythia onto the bent old fence.I turned to you puzzled
Reached out my hands to comfort;
But you shouted
Keep away
as you got your thick coat out
and ran from the back door right into the dark woods.If there were real danger,why did you desert me?
Years later you told me of bad news you’d had.
Seemed like the inside and outside got confused.
I became a Fascist.I was a flaxen Anglo-Saxon.
I was Hitler’s grand-daughter.
I was a descendant of the Borgia Pope.
A witch , a demon, a torturer.
You believed that
I would break my glass; cut your face
with the jagged edges and laugh
like we once saw in a film.
Of the maple
And two wood pigeons in the fir tree
were chuckling to each other.
The wind had not changed.I know it’s midwinter with the bitter
breeze with an edge to it ,like a knife.
The sun low like lemonade in an almost emptied glass.
Sending light through the forsythia onto the bent old fence.I turned to you puzzled
Reached out my hands to comfort;
But you shouted
Keep away
as you got your thick coat out
and ran from the back door right into the dark woods.If there were real danger,why did you desert me?
Years later you told me of bad news you’d had.
Seemed like the inside and outside got confused.
I became a Fascist.I was a flaxen Anglo-Saxon.
I was Hitler’s grand-daughter.
I was a descendant of the Borgia Pope.
A witch , a demon, a torturer.
You believed that
I would break my glass; cut your face
with the jagged edges and laugh
like we once saw in a film.
Unlike in science,
We can’t go back and repeat the experience
as if it were an experiment.
See if we were drawing the right conclusions
If you’d stayed a few minutes more
You might have realised
You were half asleep
And dreaming.
It was a daymare that escaped.
Once gone,you never returned
To the house where it seemed the glass broke
into shards and cut you to shreds.
And a woman loved you.
I don’t blame you
though I weep.
We are often deceived by our imaginations
We see not what’s here
But what we most fear.
And flee the human contact
Which, alone, might help.I always leave the door ajar
And some food on the kitchen table;
In case you come back hungry and tired.
though I weep.
We are often deceived by our imaginations
We see not what’s here
But what we most fear.
And flee the human contact
Which, alone, might help.I always leave the door ajar
And some food on the kitchen table;
In case you come back hungry and tired.
It was your mind that shattered,not the glass…
And that’s much harder to mend.
But it can be done
If you stop fighting.
And let the inner seas flow free.
You need a hand
But it also frightens you.
Besides, my hand is not strong enough to hold you.
Only to touch you gently
To say how sad I am.
And that’s much harder to mend.
But it can be done
If you stop fighting.
And let the inner seas flow free.
You need a hand
But it also frightens you.
Besides, my hand is not strong enough to hold you.
Only to touch you gently
To say how sad I am.
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He liked to excite women with his studied impropriety
He was a picky person with a penchant for piss artistry
He liked to excite women with his studied impropriety.
He often went to bed with a woman of society
Then she would be troubled by her sudden notoriety.
As demanding as a pigeon with one eye and no stability;
Although he had been gifted with a wide range of abilities.
He always told the truth in a manner Jesuitical
It gave rise to deep wounds and to curious thoughts inimical.
It gave rise to deep wounds and to curious thoughts inimical.
He read between the lines and fantasised romanticly
He knew his Greek and Latin and corrected folk pedantically.
He liked to drink ripe brandy and practise tantric gallantry.
Until it led to arguments and words fired off too frantically.
He said he felt real lonesome even when he was in intimacy
Wished he’d never bothered to lose his youth’s virginity
He did too much for others and got stressed out by an accident
Until his control broke and gave rise to a grave incident.
So now he is in prison and finds it suits him perfectly.
He was made to be a hermit and he lives his life less jerkily.
All he misses now is the ladies so beloved of him…
He wonders if they can be jailed and share his cell and comfort him?
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Come live with me
Come live with me and be my helpmeet now
I’ll share my only bed with you and how!
If you let me love you
I’ll darn your old gloves 4 you..
If you come and meet me brow to brow.
Come live with me and teach me all you know
About poetic licence and Soho
I’ll mend your vacuum cleaner
And learn expressions meaner.
How cheerfully the hours to come will go.
Come live with me and be my lover true
Without one,however will we do?
I’ll set up model railways
And learn the Jewish weekdays
Come live with me and I will sweep your flue.
Come live with me in Norway on a fjord
I’ll mend my Canon PowerShot if I’m bored.
I’ll watch the flowers growing
And then we must be sowing.
How happy Wittgenstein’d be if he’d knowed.
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If I should cease to love you
If I should cease to love you when you die
And quickly fill your space with a new man
Then perhaps my claiming love was but a lie
And I can fill you place with anyone.
Are not our friends unique and therefore lost
When death pulls them away to darker shores?
Yet we will love each one despite the cost.
And when we weep, is this not what life’s for?
Loss and gain and loss and gain again
A pattern from the infant to the sage
So joy and pain and joy and pain remain.
Who knows what is inscribed on the page?
To feel,to suffer, then feel joy once more
Will open up the Heavens’ golden door
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Losing ourselves
Photo by Mike Flemming.Copyright.
I think many of us would agree that we are happiest when we lose ourselves in some activity.And then how fast time seems to go.Like when you kiss your beloved
When we are feeling down it’s not so easy to forget our self.We often think distractedly trying to find a reason for our discomfiture.
This is why writing,painting photography give us the chance to look outward.And so even if your work is not very good it’s still worth doing it.Photography is in some ways the best because usually unless we do portraits we will be outside looking at birds,trees,flowers and so on.Also we might meet a neighbour;I met one yesterday who has seen two blue moths in his garden which I’ve not seen for years.
Sometimes we compare our work to other people’s and feel despondent.But all learning takes lots of practise.And blurred photos make a good starting point for using Artweaver or Pixlr online editor.
Also learning new things makes everyone anxious.Some people give up because of that but if you keep going it will pass.
People think that if you are intelligent you can learn or even know things without learning them,like being a concert pianist!
Yesterday I had an instance of this.I met a neighbour for tea.She has just got a tablet.She thinks it’s a Kindle Fire but it’s not.
Anyway she asked me to set it so that English and Hebrew or both available.~Well I didn’t even know that was possible .I fiddled with it for a while and managed to do it.. so she was impressed but one thing I know is that there are only so many possibilities and if you go through them you will find the one you want..Of course we were relaxed, unlike in an exam and that helps.If you are tense your vision narrows,so I read.
I tried it on my Kindle Fire and it just went entirely into Hebrew so if you see my next post from that do remember to read right to left
It’s quite hard to change it back if you don’t know the language.But I did it!The art of doing things is to keep trying different possibilities…but sometimes one can get obsessed so use a timer and stop after a certain length of time.
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Birds in May
How my heart sings 