I’m in deep now,never been this deep before The world’s hollow like a shell and I’m out its door. In so deep, the ocean has its own startled floor. I’m down,down.down.never been so dark , so more I can’t rightly tell how I got where I am I think I had an accident,fell over, then I swam. Sometimes it’s a loss, be times it’s a man. I guess I only do it cos I know some folk can. I don’t know if the joy is worth the pain Would I choose to relive it if I was born again? The deep joy is the amazing gain. But the sorrow is damn sad, let’s admit it plain. I’m in deep and it’s over my head What was I thinking of,when I fell out of that bed? I look up and the sea’s so turquoise like that mist is red When we get good and mad and wish some loon was dead. At first, it was all just black,black pain But from the bottom of the well, I looked up with awed love again. That’s when I recalled,feelings are sweet and sane Joy is much greater when we’re in the deep,deep zone. I dunno if I’m ever comin’ out. We can’t control it,ain’t that what life’s all about? I’ll never love with innocence again,nor not feel doubt. But I’m no teapot and the devil ain’t got my spout. I’m swimming and the ocean’s so mysteriously bright Down here we don’t have no day nor no night Fish nudge me with big grins and teeth white Sea flowers fondle me and whisper,turn off that light
Day: August 6, 2017
Whitewebbs: Ducks, Heron and Turtles
Source: Whitewebbs: Ducks, Heron and Turtles
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As it’s Sunday, I desire to prey
Hand knitted as my villanelle today
My language has got stuck in some time past
Being Sunday, I desire to prey
My sentence hangs like washing spread on hay
My language needs some air in a great blast
Arthritic is my villanelle today
Hunting, fighting,making an affray
I make the Headlines look like worms outcast
Being Sunday, I desire to prey
My main emotion is a proud dismay
I was not worthy of the National Trust
Cosmetic is my villanelle today
If only Princess Di had turned men gay
The Prince and all his courtiers’ could not fuss.
Grieving Sunday, I desired to pray
If only bread was made to heal the curse.
And wine was poured to calm all human breasts
Comedic was my villanelle, in play
Oh, life is sweet, I love my lady gay
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Dirt=Soil=Life
The only way to keep the kitchen floor completely clean is by dying.
Life =Dirt.
Dirt=soil,
Soil = plants
Soil =crops=food
No soil=death
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Chaos
Chaos :The Roman writer Ovid gave Chaos its modern meaning; that of an unordered and formless primordial mass.
Chaos is from the Greek word Khaos, meaning “gaping void”. There are many explanations as to who or what Chaos is, but most theories state that it was the void from which all things developed into a distinctive entity, or in which they existed in a confused and amorphous shape before they were separated into genera. In other words, Chaos is or was “nothingness.” Though some ancient writers thought it was the primary source of all things, other writers tell of Gaia (Earth) being born from Chaos without a mate, along with Eros and Tartarus. Then from Gaia came Uranus (Heaven or Sky) which gave us Heaven and Earth.Chaos has been described as the great void of emptiness within the universe from which Eros came and it was he who gave divine order and also perfected all things. In later times it was written that Chaos was a confused shapeless mass from which the universe was developed into a cosmos, or harmonious order. For instance, Hesiod’s Theogony says that Erebus and Black Night (Nyx) were born of Chaos, and Ovid the Roman writer described Chaos as an unordered and formless primordial mass. The first Metomorphoses reads, “rather a crude and indigested mass, a lifeless lump, unfashioned and unframed, of jarring seeds and justly Chaos named.”
The Roman writer Ovid gave Chaos its modern meaning; that of an unordered and formless primordial mass.
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Black Britain
Highly thought of Cambridge historian Mary Beard has been viviously attacked on Twitter for suggesting some Roman soldiers here may have been black
https://www.the-tls.co.uk/roman-britain-black-white/
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He said, I’ll be alright tomorrow,won’t I?
I won’t let you
He said, I could go to the City to meet my friends
It’s just you won’t let me
I said, that’s true, I won’t let you.
Sweetheart.
He said, I could get dressed and meet my friends
But you won’t let me.
I said
No ,I won’t let you.
I won’t
let you.
He said, I’ll be alright tomorrow,won’t I? Will you let me?
I said, Yes,I’ll let you.
Then he smiled at me and closed his eyes
And I let him
Go
And he went.
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All the symbols in a rage
All the symbols in a rage
Came dancing off the printed page
The letters Greek that used to be
Mathematics, Poetry
The Hebrew Aleph’s coterie.
The keys these symbols were to be
To other worlds and other seas.
And in my blankness, I’d denied
That there was more than just one side.
The symbols coloured and engaged
Felt too threatened by my cage.
And so they entered dreams and thoughts
Until my mind and heart were caught
Then I gave them equal rights
And they gave me some new insights
I’d trespassed in their sacred space
For logic, beauty left no space.
For love, for life, in gratitude
I review my attitudes.
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Blind sight scattered my wits
Blind sight scattered my wits
Like whitened bones
Across the deserts of my mind.
I descended into blackness.
Love shrank into the tame cat
By the fire, unacknowledged hate
Grew to fill the room.
I stared too much,
A full stop grew gigantic
Crowded out
All the words in the sentence
I saw nothing but this dot
Now a gigantic black hole
Into which I was dragged.
An energy coming from within my own head
Sucked me into the black hole.
That place was the wrong sort of darkness.
Within that full stop,
Love Fundamental became invisible.
Disappeared into the dark.
I dragged my eyes away
And saw the moon appear, so eerie,
It shone, grey silver.
If I had opened my eyes wider
I would not now lament
What I destroyed in the wormhole
Of the black dot that drew my eye
Into a tunnel of darkness
It blinded me to the light
Did not let me read the sentences
Beside the full stop.
An error of focus left hate
Unacknowledged, unmitigated unredeemed,
Kept from love or goodness
Afraid to spoil my love with hate,
The fear of hate became
That which spoiled all all else,
By freezing Love itself.
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A guide to reading poetry
“Try to meet a poem on its terms not yours. If you have to “relate” to a poem in order to understand it, you aren’t reading it sufficiently. In other words, don’t try to fit the poem into your life. Try to see what world the poem creates. Then, if you are lucky, its world will help you re-see your own.”
How my heart sings 