It looks and speaks just as a sonnet would

This poem is written in the sonnet form,
And yet I have my doubts about its shape
Though nearly to that structure it conforms
There may be holes where nightmare faces gape.

It looks and speaks just as a sonnet would
And talks of metaphysical concerns.
Do we conclude, as poets and readers should,
That in our schizoid age we cannot learn?

For humans may be decked in clothes of wolves;
And lambs be dressed in lion’s fearsome furs.
Thus, sense is tricked and problems are unsolved.
Landscapes etched, yet details seem quite blurred.

It looks like one,it feels like one,it speaks;
Yet from these words, does human feeling leak?

Wild geraniums

 Stepping through the door

I am assailed by perfume
Wild geraniums.

I ease these flowers
Out of  the    patio bed
For they cover sage.

They cover flowers-
Blue geranium and saxifrage
Rosemary  sprawls now

Lavender’s nearby.
Now  inside,  I hear singing.
Bird by the windows.

A robin came in,
Looking for my old man
I said,he’s not here.

Embodying soul
Sacramental  life in scents
Flowers are themselves.

How I’d like to lie
In the poppy-filled meadows
With my beloved.

Or splash through the ford
Near the open air display
Work of Henry Moore.

The topology
Of his sculptures moves my heart
Vast,holy, peaceful.

Massive like  unto God
They transform the soul and body
Into one being.

Then we are all one
With the sloping green meadows
And the wind bent trees.

Most of all,I know
Wildflowers are God’s darlings.
How he dwells in them.

Low,modest beauties
On the verge of the main road
See ,even here, smiles.

To lose one’s own self
To become a wild-flower
Grace will sanctify.

First, grow an ego
Then lose it in these green woods
Unselfconscious, Eve.

“Your hair looks nice”


I found a video I made 3 years ago  in which I tried to talk with my original Northern accent about two people I had met and  interacted with in the town.One was a man with whom I extemporised a mini play
I found it quite  amusing so I sent it to my sister thinking the story was  interesting
After about 3 hours she replied:
Your hair looks nice!

Work needed


It used to happen, and still happens, to me to take no pleasure in a work of art at the first sight of it, because it is too much for me; but if I suspect any merit in it, I try to get at it; and then I never fail to make the most gratifying discoveries, — to find new qualities in the work itself and new faculties in myself.