Day: December 24, 2019

The world is full of buds of love,respect

The world is full of buds, all interact
Gently touching with  our tender hands
Choosing,using, never going back

Without a choice,  we would not know our lack
Would not know how colours feel and blend
The world is full of buds, we interact

No single answer can be called correct
Uncountable,continuous, are the sands?
Choosing,losing, never looking back

Where we stand determines what are facts
See the children and their  wistful  hands
The world is full of buds, these hands react

Perspective is   a metaphor with tact
Less so  for  soldiers marching to their end
Choosing,losing, never coming back

When the birds cry out we must attend
They see more than we might understand
The world is full of buds of  love,respect
Choosing,opening,  sacredness unpacked

 

 

A sense of rumour

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They say I have a great sense of rumour.
And I am extremely dutiful.
My hair is like spun mould or moss
My eyes are like two isobars.
My nose is ironic like the poet’s wits
All in all I am a site to be ribald.
My cooking is extra-ordinary ,indeed it is plain.
My figure is probably zero writ on a barge.
I am a very rude housekeeper and all the furniture is witless.
My husband buys me furniture polish for Xmas made from bees wax.This is true.
Do bees ever wane?I know they can buzz.
My doctor said I was the second cleverest person she ever met and she should know as there were ten patients signed on there.I still don’t know which one was the cleverest but I don’t believe in IQ anymore.You see mine is 200… and look at my life… then you will wonder whether I have no EQ..none at all..you don’t need it to do theoretical physics.
My therapist admired my dreams as she was in most of then rowing me out to sea.
She wanted to show me a new perspective on life
but we had to call the lifeboat out… should i stop the therapy and have swimming lessons instead ?
I think if one has to keep calling out the lifeboat it is not a good omen and I could save the money and buy more wool to make an Arran sweater.

The mind needs just a hint to see the whole

The vital line was drawn with one brush stroke
The way the back leant curving into space
The dance and danger both are thus evoked

Like a play, a drama, fire and smoke
A dance performed so swiftly and with grace
The vital line was drawn with one brush stroke

The heavy bull is pounding,is provoked.
A threat, a man,  intrudes into his space
The dance and danger both are still evoked

See, the  matador throws out his cloak
A   dash of black, and here we see his face
The vital line was drawn with one brush stroke

The mind needs just a hint to  see the whole
We fill the present with our past distaste
The dance and danger, mirroring dark smoke
 Acting both dramatic and displaced 
The artist may still love what she forsakes 
The vital line was drawn with one brush stroke 
he dance and danger ,life and death evoked