Day: December 21, 2019

Painted by the rain




photo0224-rty-rtyu88-1-1-1
Made by Katherine

Like watercolour pictures  in the rain
Our colours mingle  yet the originals  remain.
Two watercolor paintings without frames,
Became one picture over time,
Yet both of us are 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 Watercolour painted by the rain,
We shall go, but our Watercolor Love remains

The sentences of God  are hard to match

A meta- poet who writes about the art
Who wonders if  we need a special gift
A better poet who writes from their deep heart

A problem is the first line where we start
Do not  try to make that writing swift
A meta- poet who writes about the art

In my mind the little fishes dart
I try to focus on the ones  bereft
A better poet who writes  from their own heart

In  live  writing there’s no graph or chart
No wondering whether we go right or left
A meta- poet who writes about the art

There’s little to be gained by being  smart
We need slowness though we must be deft
A better poet who writes  from their own heart

Slowly we   combine the warp and weft
The sentences of God  are hard to match
A meta- poet who writes about the art
A better poet, a universal heart

 

 

 

 

How words die

Can anyone write poetry if they try
Or is it a vocation for the few
Inherited by  feeling how  words lie?

Is there new equipment I can buy
With  sense and music writing to imbue
Can anyone write poetry if they try?

Ambitious how  the people   each will vie
To be the first in any kind of queue
Undisturbed by   knowing how  words lie?

For a  talent, who can multiply?
Compound interest shows a startling view
Can anyone write poetry if they try?

Transcendental number start with e and pi
I wonder, shall I eat my words for you
Undisturbed by   knowing how  they lie?

I feel  so bright, I  seem to have turned blue
Throw me in the ocean,  let me stew
Can anyone write poetry if they try
Unknowing  how, not  seeing that  words die?

 

English irony is our defence

Immigrants are very useful now
Roast a Turk  to  share with all your street
Eat a Greek and let the people squeak
A Viking flames the pudding with a bow

Try a German sausage  in the Court
Eat him with a knife and fork  and bread
Frenchmen taste delicious  so it’s said
Finish  with a sailor drowned in Port

A Syrian child is now the Lamb of God
Dying for our sins and  for our hate
Yet Jesus was a Jew. a piece of bait
We eat  him every Sunday  in  the Bread

Let the refugees in, we shall see
One of them is you and one is me

Is the loss a sadness or defect?

The first line that we write  may hold some clues
Whether in the words  or their effect
That form a background to  the writer’s  views

The soft effect of adjectives imbues
The sentences  and words  with their affect
The first line that we write  may hold some clues

Lacking feeling,  what is it we lose? 
Is  the  loss a sadness or defect
That forms a background to  the writer’s  views

Can we show emotion if we choose
Or  have we got no space where we reflect?
The first line that we write  may hold some clues

A loving friend  shares  warmth with their virtues
Silence may be best  to  hold,react
Form and shape give passage to our views

We may fear the bold and their attacks
As their vibrant voices air attack
The first line that we write  may hide the clues
That form an understanding  of our views