Happiness was like a golden shawl

The pebbled beach  on which we walked at dawn
The sun was dancing  singing  stone to stone
The sea was pale as silk and gently ran
The tide was coming in, the day began

Why is my memory so deficient here?
I remember little but you near
I remember Portland Bill at dusk
The sea was wilder then with many thrusts

Happiness was like a golden shawl
A  world like Eden, man before the Fall
Today they say, illusion, I say, no
What matters  is where this insight makes you go

The fruits of meditation are its test
May we be generous, may our souls be blessed

No defeat

Letting go of all my self defence
As if I might touch all of you at once
I opened up my body to the winds
And covered you  by lying skin to skin

In the cradle of my  being held
Like an infant  needing mother’s aid
I did not move to break the chysallis
Both of us were melting in that space

Whose the hand and whose the mind  that work
Metaphors may  guide  and also hurt
Remorseless is the process that goes on
Until the new forms break this one to one

At last the work is done,  the task complete
Dead or living, this is no defeat

The astral body

Tenderly I held him  took him in
As though we touched each other skin to skin
Dying is what everyone must do
Even when it splits the Me from You

What we took for granted  every day
Had its end like any mortal’s play
The length of life is just enough to lie
It’s not here forever, don’t you cry

We are on no plateau   but a slope
Slight at first, so we don’t  see and note
Gently we are led to where it ends
Beautiful and foolish  like ourselves

How can we be split when we are one?
In deep darkness dies the winter sun

Like babies

Sunday dinner. roasted  spuds and meat
Yorkshire puddings, gravy,pepper,salt
These are what the English like to eat
Though microwaves  may bring it to  a halt

Roly poly,syrup sponge and cream
Apple dumplings,marmalade on toast
Men adore hot puddings gently steamed
Though who will  have the time to be a host?

Now we buy sponge puddings ready made
Bread and butter custard ,raisins,hot
How did  women manage in past days?
Spotted Dick, brown sugar,that’s the lot

We seem to love the sweet yet we are rude
Still like babies, ignorant  and confused

The labour and the  hurt that life will cure

I found a pair of knickers on the chair
They must be mine,oh dear, that is bizarre
I did not take them off,I am quite sure
They make the entire room seem quite impure

Yet why are knickers   thought to  be like porn
When they adorn the  place where life is born?
If you  hung the washing out to dry
You might see an angel in the sky

Most of us traversed the  holy path
We suffered pain but hope it did not last
Mothers too have struggled and endured
The labour and the  hurt that life will cure

The simplest items, pretty, well designed
Tomorrow I shall hang them on the line