Day: June 27, 2016

What God endowed the owl with such excess

The owl can see with wide and narrow view
Focuses  both poets and artists knew.
The broad sweep on the canvas makes a place
Where details and designs can have their space.

What God endowed the owl with such excess;
When all her progeny enjoy such   bliss?
 I think,  where is the snake with frightening hiss?
What startling accident  created this?

Eagles,hawks and owls must kill to eat.
No blandishments nor kindness make them sweet.
What God could make an Eden this deceit;
Where lambs are snatched up while their mothers bleat

So God himself destroys to fill his leisure;
Such fearsome revelations show his measure

Break it,brexit,yah!

From the bus today,
To the Urgent Care Centre,
Clouds rushed like scared mice.

Humid, I sweated
They said it’s  the ligaments
What  strange word  is that?

Waiting for an X ray
Requiescat in pace
The clouds darkened.

The  coffee machine
Stole my money,gave no change
People  numb  yet smiled

We could go there days;
Nights in the churchyard by yew
Eat in McDonalds

Dropping out  of life
Will  make new our perspectives.
See from the  worm’s view.

In my selfie now
My eyes gleam like a lighthouse.
Whom have I  rescued?

Pass the news along.
Love shared is  a better way
If we can bear  its risks.

The bus-driver spoke
Be careful, he said to me.
Break it,brexit,yah!

Be  very afraid
Sphinxes may  begin to speak
And someone will pay.

Out of Europe?

 

4288When we think of the riots in 2011 it was clear that people were angry about the political scene here.Many were given longer than usual jail sentences.Of course some were criminals and deserved that.But did the government  not realise  people were getting more and more angry.I believe it was a vote against  the elite not really a vote against Europe.And it is self destructive but  sometimes people don’t care.

Dover Beach by Matthew Arnold

P1000310

 

A famous and appropriate poem from  the Poetry Foundation website

Dover Beach
BY MATTHEW ARNOLD
The sea is calm tonight.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.
Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the Ægean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.
The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth’s shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.
Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.
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