Day: May 11, 2017

Don’t leave me

He went away.Away.I didn’t know where

where

he had gone

where had he gone?

The call came.:

call came….

Man, white, good health

Has died.

Has died alone

Died alone in a hotel room.

So a stranger would find him.

Man alone;

man alone in hotel room.

there was a man

alone

in his hotel room.

Not wanting to be any trouble.

Trouble, no trouble alone

in his hotel room

not his room, you see.

not a shared room…

An hotel room.

Tall man with light brown hair

alone in a small hotel room

with no TV.

We had no smartphones

Smart

Phones

No, don’t tell  me

Not me , not yet.

Not me.

He was all alone.

He was behind glass

glass walls

windows

a window of glass.

I could never touch him.

I could not touch him.

not touch, no, never,

hardly ever

Man alone.

Solitary man.

Tall man with brown hair.

Beds for loving

Beds for leaving.

Don’t you die alone

in that hotel room.

Don’t die

Don’t go

You wanted to be alone,

I thought…

you were

afraid to feel.

Thin skinned and pale like a torn petal from a wild plant.

You were alone again

And you left me all alone;

alone without you.

Now I’m alone

in my hotel room.

my room.

Someone knocks.

I’m dreaming of you

wishing you were near me.

dreaming , wishing,

lonely for you.

He was all alone, they said.In a hotel room.

His doom

In a lonely bedroom.

Don’t leave me yet.

Yet you were never here

behind your window

I see you

but can’t touch you.

Can’t touch you.

Can’t touch.

Touch me.

Touch me again.

Love me…

You were all alone

alone.

Why did I not break the glass?

Break the glass;

The glass.

Touch  me again

Don’t leave me.

Touch me again

Don’t leave me.

I’m stuck outside the glass

The familiar  does not feel quite right to me;
That uncanny state post -holidays.
I cannot click back in
I feel I am no thing
Lonely is the world without your light

I do the things I need to do quite well.
No-one else has noticed, I can tell.
I’m stuck outside the glass
Where the demons gasp
Lonely is the world without your sight.

A feeling hard to transmit by English words
The football players look like circling birds
I feel them dance around
I’m underneath the ground
Lonely is the world I feel at night.

I wonder if I can do this all alone
My heart has never been as hard as stone.
Who will carry me
Across the final sea?
Lonely is the world without your light

If I feel a little better, I feel worse
I feel as if the suffering is a curse.
Yet almost everyone
From Jesus to Marcon
Has suffered but not written it in a verse.

Millions  have been tortured even killed
I wonder what it  means about God’s will?
God seems helpless too
Jesus was a Jew
Lonely is the godless world I feel.

Like the dust motes dancing

If we see some cherries
Hanging from a branch
We’ll pick the fruit and eat them
It is our last chance

When our end is nearing
We must live far more
Like the dust motes dancing
In the sun, in joy.

See the clouds all blowing…
Where is it they go?
Like the leaves and flowers
Like the rivers flow.

See the face beloved
Known, not understood.
See the human mystery
Feel how love can flood.

See the smoke blow upwards
See the children gaze
Innocence and beauty
Newborn each day.

The first time our eyes opened
We saw a human face.
The last time we close them
Let us then embrace.

Though the day is ending
Do not cut it short.
Live each moment till the last
In love as we were taught

Ironic humour draped with British smog

Now we women can’t assume we’re done.
No more can we wear fleeces and old rags.
The French have shown how age is overcome

In certain ways,  for men, this might be fun
But not at the expense writing blogs
With a  blog,  our writing ‘s never done.

The way we dress should be the way we pun.
Ironic humour  draped with British smog
Brigitte shows how age is overcome

She looks as if she’s partial to a run
And never eats a wild French boar or hog
Now we women can’t assume we’re done.

A dose of HRT, we are no nuns.
Look, see the world is  smilingly agog
The French have shown how age is overcome.

Well,I have malformed feet  with bony knobs.
I can’t afford to buy in Knightsbridge  shops
Folk assume I’m   too old to want fun.
The mind can be where age is overcome

We lose the power to think, as we aspire.

Catholic in the production of its flowers
The  shrub is bent, adorned with them all day
Behind them there an  ancient holly towers
The shrub is kneeling, see it wants to pray!

The endless cycle continues year by year
Unable to choose far fewer,new  offspring
And so it is with our consumption here
There is no end to what we want to spend.

Economies powered by growth pull on  desire
We do not realise how little we resist
We lose the power to think, as we aspire.
We make anew our lengthy shopping list

Too much growth can kill as we know well
Yet we wander blithely down to hell.