Where angels must not  tread,  there love agrees


By my sister copyright

Colours make us think of love and joy
Forgot the hate beneath which may annoy
As we need respite from the strain of life
So a husband needs a   kindly wife

Forget the new age  politics and rights
The PC speech that  our desire will blight
Underneath there is a river deep
Where man and woman live and  love may leap


The old men still remember  with their hearts
The young  may never feel the union  start
For underneath the gossip and the sleaze
Where angels must not  tread,  there   love agrees

Let the silence of the evening sky
Give us sense to live and sense to die

Where all our darkest shadows live.

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The trees’ roots wind beneath the grass.
Grass so perfect,neatly mown.
In roots entangled,serpents mass
Beneath the fruit trees which now groan.

Another,darker world beneath,
Where the roots  stark homes  do give
To tiny creatures which there seethe,
Where all our darkest shadows live.

From here a serpent  malice took
From our neglect  what we hate.
We see the surface , do  not look
At what lies deeper ,till too late.


And so we live, both deaf and blind
To the depths of our own minds


noun: rhetoric
  1. the art of effective or persuasive speaking or writing, especially the exploitation of figures of speech and other compositional techniques.
    “he is using a common figure of rhetoric, hyperbole”
    synonyms: oratoryeloquence, power of speech, command of language, expression, way with words, deliverydiction

    “he was considered to excel in this form of rhetoric”
    • language designed to have a persuasive or impressive effect, but which is often regarded as lacking in sincerity or meaningful content.
      “all we have from the Opposition is empty rhetoric”
      synonyms: bombast, loftiness, turgidity, grandiloquence, magniloquence, ornateness, portentousness, pomposity, boastfulness, boasting, bragging, heroics, hyperbole, extravagant language, purple prose, pompousness, sonorousness; More

Middle English: from Old French rethorique, via Latin from Greek rhētorikē (tekhnē) ‘(art) of rhetoric’, from rhētōr ‘rhetor’.

Feeling is the highest art of all


How like a prison is a body lame
The mind  calls up desires and feels no shame
But bones and joints all give us  piercing pain
And  who will pay insurance or  take blame?

In my prison,I accept demands
I exercise  and write words out by hand
Encourage heart and  soon  will understand
While down the channel  runs a little sand

I read King Lear and thought the king a  fool
He did not live nor die as monarchs rule
Now I’m stuck inside a structure cruel
I'm the the nail which hides inside the jewel

The body’s more important than the soul
Feeling is the highest art of all