Day: March 21, 2017

Earth

The earth has its own gravity and grace
Perception will develop as we grow
Maintain the sacredness of this dear space

When we live we need to find our place
The process may be long and very slow
The earth has its own gravity and grace

The good and bad both need to be embraced
Grace comes easier to those whoare low.
Maintain the sacredness of this dear space

Good and bad make patterns as in lace
And through the gaps,the living waters flow
The earth has its own gravity and grace

Life must grow at its own steady pace
By our intuition ,we will know.
Maintain the sacredness of this dear space

Of the fruits of earth, the living taste.
Admire the flying birds from thrush to crow
The earth has its own gravity and grace
Maintain the sacredness of this dear space

Not by effort bought

I have  filled my mind   with  dreams   and thoughts
I have drawn conclusions  that seem real.
What’s of  value’s not by effort bought.

As Ted Hughes said,his fishing was the sport
Which brought both meditation and a meal.
I have   studied minds   and  dreams   and thoughts

We see ,like that,new images are caught.
In silence and in noticing  the feel.
What’s of  value’s not by effort bought.

What we find may not be what we sought.
At  first ,it may not show its wise appeal
I have  found  my mind through  dreams and thoughts

In the night the images  take flight.
God’s lioness  destroys what  is  congealed
What’s of  value’s not by effort wrought.

Like a butterfly, a flowering dart
Of love and beauty  which was once concealed,
I have  found my mind  by  dreams, my  wordless thoughts.
What’s of  value’s not by effort bought.

Free offers

DSC00036

Can’t afford a vibrator?Get a nervous tic or tremor free on the NHS
Gone off sex?Try love instead
Impotent? You have diabetes.
Too lustful.Go ape.
Too shy? Become a creative genius like Newton.
Too selfish? Believe them.
Can’t afford birth control? Learn how to breastfeed in public.That  works as lomg as you never go to bed.

I cross my eyes with fingers interlaced

SouthportBeach-1965[640x480

Lancashire coastal space

Between the world and how we represent
The nameless by a name and  even  place
There is a space or void in our intent.

What mother saw, what father really meant
How love and hate might intertwine in space?
In our own world, what can we represent?

In writing, there is lack and letters bent
For  ancient writing often  scholars traced
There is a space or void in our intent.

Today the sun is golden,  gods descend.
With love, for moments, we are all embraced
Of  the felt, what can we represent?

Our willingness unblinds the heart so rent
And then we see the face within his face
The space or void is in our   own intent

I cross my eyes with fingers interlaced:
The crucifix, the love, the death of Christ
Between the world and what we may attempt
There is a space or void where he was sent.

 

The trees are calm for they have grown deep roots

trees paimt

When of the world of doctors,I am sick.
When diagnosis is not any aid
When from the choices given, I cannot pick
Although I feel my deepest debts were paid.

Then off from thinking I must take my mind
To gaze upon the beauty of the woods
And feel the sun not fiery, even kind.
It warms and heartens even my cold blood.

The trees are calm for they have grown deep roots
Though storms may strike their trunks and branches too
breaking off new tender green tipped shoots
They sway and take it without much to do.

Strength needs flexibility and give;
With no such, the brittle shall not live

So he would have waves around his ears.

The paradox  with which Russell  made play,
Is a trick of language ,not the world
For in Jerusalem, the men don’t shave
And as we know, each spectrum has its wave.

The barber was a Jew  quite orthodox
And to his salon, all the rich men flocked
He trimmed his  beard   with my old pinking shears
So he would have waves around his ears.

As  over-educated men made argument
He listened to them with his ear well bent.
But told them not that they were silly fools
For on this earth, the madmen make the rules.

A paradox, a wonder that we love.
When men so cruel will thrash the holy dove.

As long as I’d accept he was a liar

I  got a card declaring  love entire
For now and for the future, fiction yet.
As long as   I’d accept he was a liar

My heart was touched and so was my desire
I stepped into his outstretched fishing net
I had card declaring love entire.

Oh, how we burned in love’s delicious fire.
On marriage then my heart became quite set
As long as   I’d accept he was a liar

We made love in the fields and in the byre
My peachy face by kisses was beset
He sent a  card declaring love entire.

His car had wheels but never knew a  tyre.
For quicksands  are too soft to navigate
I did accept but wished he’d leave these mires

If he said he loved, he loved me not
If he  burned with hate, his love was hot
I  got a card admitting he’d been wired.
I tapped him and enjoyed his well played lyre.