Day: Nov 11, 2019

I thought  I’d write the end before I start

I thought  I’d write the end before I start
The intimations come from my own heart
And also from the words   of loving friends
Who help me on my journey to the end

Our minds grow  from the words of loving friends
Or from their letters if we are apart
They travel with us till we reach the end

Friendships can go wrong, let’s make amends
A word, a look, they  let the process start
Our minds grow  from the words of loving friends

I feel it is  danger to pretend
For then we are at risk of breaking hearts
They cannot travel with us to the end

At  times fine grace and joy  may each descend
Never try to make a map or chart
Our minds grow  from the words of loving friends

Do not end your life with loud lament
Every cell is of  the whole a part
We are one despite the  great torment

 

 

In the road, we played our ancient games

The summer heat made cobblestones like stoves
The Coronation happened, I know now
We played with melted tar, industrial bairns.

My mother’s hands were black and much beloved
The coal and coke had tattooed her, we sa
The summer heat made cobbles hot as stoves.

In the road, we played our ancient games
The older children passed the knowledge down
We played with melted tar, industrial wains.

The bully boys were cruel , did not heed love
A little boy had tried to be a clown
In summer heat, they beat him on the stones.

We were  quiet they flaunted power again;
But in our hearts, we knew we’d let him down
We threw warn melted tar, industrial wains

And in our fantasy, he was alone.
No-one knew who threw the vicious stone
The summer heat made cobbles feel like flames
We played with melted tar, Christ  died again

For we resemble,love, the annual flower

The red leaves of the tree are its last fling
Pretending to vitality and  power
Yet soon  the tree  is bared by  autumn winds

Winter waits, the blackbirds do not sing
The sunset is now earlier by the hour
The red leaves of the tree are its last fling

The tree will grow new leaves in sunny Spring
Showing  death and rebirth  in the bower
Despite   the tree  now stripped by the  strong wind

Like  the red leaves we   must never cling
For we resemble,love, the  annual flower
The red leaves of the tree  oh,let it fling

We fear the darkness,fear  demonic power
We falter  as we age , yet will not cower
The red leaves of the tree are its last fling
For soon  the tree  is undressed by the wind