|
|||
Quatrain for Robin HoodWhen Robin Hood hides in our wood I shall not turn him out I'll let his merry gentlemen Hang all their bows about. So when a swaggering M.P. Comes riding by alone The arrows of the hidden host Will ring against the stones. The horse rears up,the man looks round To see what's caused the stir And what he sees amidst the trees Is green men everywhere Let him complain to Sheriffs all. The green men will be gone. When soldiers come to hunt them out They've vanished every one. The forests of England are the home Of rabbit,deer and game. The green men live their natural life And we should do the same. let us all take to the greenwood life And feel the strength of trees They do not change at every poll, Nor do just what they please. In Nature all is linked to one And one to all extends. If we could change our cut throat ways Maybe all could be friends. The hearts and souls of all of us, Form a great human wood. So let the love we feel be shared, And heard for the common good. If everyone is given their place Then Robin could go home His men would not be in my wood, And M.P.'s could safely roam. Let us all sing,"Robin for King," "We all want Robin Hood." "He took the money from the rich To be spent for the common good. Copyright © Katherine Braithwaite | |
|||
A beam of lightA beam of light passed through my eyes And showed to me a world disguised So near,yet far,we do not see, Unless by gift of grace redeemed. That world is full of peace and calm Its colors mingle,like a balm. In such a moment all thought dies, Revealing Love which underlies. Colors caress my naked eyes. Sunlight blesses new designs. I stand enthralled,and do not wish For one delight,other than this. My breath slows down, and filled with joy, I rove my eyes with bliss to toy. Everything is just itself. This is now my living wealth. Beneath the noise of city traffic, This mellow joy,love soporific, This depth and peace, is always near When we choose Love and turn from fear Copyright © |
|||
Love too greatLove too great can drown the one adored. As if Jove sent tsunami as a gift Overwhelming all her personal choice. Little offerings gentle and deserved Will not frighten either be too swift Love too great can drown the one adored. Speaking kindly as we find our voice Not shouting love, when we ought to desist Overwhelming other’s personal choice. At other times a lover’s been devoured By that selfishness, we’re not impressed Love too great can drown the one adored. God alone can speak in such a voice By his truth, all other is expressed Overwhelming, merciful and right Eros, selfish, sacred, who resists? Keep your love in bounds, may it be blessed Love too great can drown the one adored. Overwhelming all their personal, unique worth Copyright © |
|||
He whom once I loved He whom once I loved I now do hate |
|||
And cultivate my hatred with my tearsShall I give home to grievance and to woe And cultivate my hatred with my tears? Shall I remember carefully each blow, And add this sorrow to my anxious fear? I thought by hating you I would have peace And surely I had reason without doubt. Yet rumination gave me no release.. For wisdom and compassion it did flout I remembered then past love and shared sweet words I gave them freedom in my anguished heart. I did it for your sake, yet then occurred A sweetness, joy and gladness in all parts. To forgive,repent and let go of such grief Helps us more than hatred’s legal brief |
|||
In my dreams he is alive againThe face that was familiar is no more Yet in my dreams ,he is alive again If ,by a chance, his life could be restored It would affect me like the hidden chord Which played, my own life force would go. That one must live and one must die is plain The face that was familiar is no more. Yet in my dreams ,he is alive again Copyright © Katherine Braithwaite | 2015 |
|||
She loved her adverb more than meMy wife has left me for an adverb. I don't know which one it is! Is it slowly,quickly, nearly? Life should not be like a quiz. She told me that she "nearly" loved me, When "dearly" was what I had hoped. Life is full of lost illusions... How do we 'reaved lovers cope I think I should have kept it secret, For now I sit and sadly grieve. Do you think my wife is cruel? What a strange excuse to leave! Would she leave me for a pronoun? Would she leave for a full stop? Would I leave you for a quote mark? Would I fall down in a black dot? Come back,darling for I love you. I have learned I must take care. I will go for grammar lessons. I am sure I can learn flair! We can write a poem together, You can choose the topic,dear. I will hold my pen and write for They say true love drives out fear. Did I fear her? Did I love her? Was she worthy of my heart? Did she dislike my hairy nostrils? Was that why we had to part? Come back Mary,come back Mavis. Come back Sunny, come back Sue Without my wife I feel so lonely. What is a left man to do? Shall I vote for love or money? Shall I throw my self away? Shall I get a new agenda? Will a new life start today? Come back Miriam,come back Sarah! Where have all the women gone? Come back Rivka with your grammar. I can feed you a cheese scone. I work hard and I can cook. I put fresh linen on the bed. I can pay my bills in full. But without my Love,my heart is dead
|
|||
ReverberationsLike a piece of ground where bombs go off repeatedly, my inner landscape is perpetually marked by these explosions of sorrow, made all the worse by the lack of a listening ear, a warm open heart or an outstrerched hand. I have constructed a map but it's incomplete,by its nature; so even now,I might stumble into an old hole or a new one,created by reverberations underground; the noise like distant music, a constant drumbeat. We do not dance I might call it the Liturgy of Loss, a dance to the music of rhyme; Patterns abd shapes hold the feelings and express them.The shape of these forms is a container for the grief. In this way,I indicate that life will go on;I hear the healing music and sing to its melodies like a mermaid on the edge of the sea in winter when the water is cold and green like his eyes, and the rocks are hard like large fists. Nature can be a s ymbol for such emotion we cannot walk without a tear in ech eye and a softening of our hearts as tenderly we touch the world and are touched in turn by each other. Stretch out your hand to meet mine. We can hold each other better than each can hold theirself. Like in sex, the meaning is not the climax but the giving and being given; receiving and being received. The sacredness of the erotic needs no explanation to a gardener or a fisherman but may need it for the information saturated,postmodern who dwell in the fascist virtual reality we call life on earth today Copyright © Katherine Braithwaite | |
|||
When life seems greyWhen true love’s gone and doom hangs over head When life runs like a river to the sea Then shall I take new lovers to my bed? And with their carnal touch consoled be? When my love lies,so breaks my tender heart. When life seems grey and rocks bestrew my path. Then, shall I my life of evil start? And on the world shall I bestow my wrath? When true love lies and wrecks all loyalty. When puzzlement makes all my world seem mad. Then I shall upend causality And let myself do deeds which make me glad. For I have love’s sweet child inside my soul And I shall tend her till at last she’s whole
|
|||
Watercolor loveLike watercolor pictures left out in the rain Our colors have mingled,yet the originals still remain. Two watercolor paintings without frames, Became one picture over time, Yet two of us still there. Our colors blended naturally, Now all the hues are shared. I love your colors intermixed with mine: Together they have made a new design. A Watercolor picture painted by the rain, We may go, but our Watercolor Love will still remain Copyright |
|||
|