Day: March 2, 2020

I suck upon this lump

I suck upon this lump, this errant growth
As if it were a sweet or tooth unbroke
It cannot be removed  but will it die
Ot getting spiteful ,will it multiply?

I suck on it though never on my thumb
Being deprived  by mouth will make me dumb
It’s cheaper than a cigarette or sweet
Next I’ll be a cannibal,my meat,

I suck it hoping I can make it die
And then the world will feel much less awry
I want back my own mouth as a clear space
Not this horrid monster of disgrace

Yet how divert my self from its own thoughts
Feeling toothless, humour can’t be bought

Little hands

Ten thousand words, a million diagrams
Noone can know others nor themselves
Nor the errant ways, the  wavering spans

Flee the fluttering of a diaphragm
Blind  the eyes and ears to all this wealth
Ten million days, a  thousand diamonds

Fifty million cells in a doll’s pram
Life is  touch and go and needs our stealth
Not the errant ways, the  wavering  plans

No matter how I speak I can’t command
The instant  of his death,his plangent depths
Ten thousand gasps,  the weight  about a gram

God below, with worms he understands
He needs no words, no pictures, nor  new hells
The trains to Auschwitz,  had no waving   hands

By  Dunwich Beach we hear submerged church  bells
Golden angels   fly  from one, Cromwell
Ten  mighty words show less than one diagram
See the watery   childrens’ little hands

Feel the woodland beauty as in prayer

The hurricane has turned into a breeze
The sun shines on a squirrel leaping high
The  birds are hiding in the holly tree

Every human being will agree
We’d better live, if soon we  knew we’d  die
The hurricane has turned into a breeze

Soon will come the butterfly and bee
And every little insect that can fly
The  birds are hiding in the holly tree

I like hills.my lover likes the sea…..
Different people different loves arise
The hurricane has shrunk into a breeze

Lilies hide, so deep, love’s mystery
Then  its offspring decorate our days
The  blackbird sings  atop the holly tree

Feel the woodland beauty as in prayer
Trust the unknown darkness at its core
The scary wind has turned into a  breeze
The  doves are  cooing from the maple tree