Carnation, orchid, daffodil and rose


How softly sweetly,gently flowers pose
Carnation,orchid ,daffodil and rose.
Their complex petals form a  living shield
Yet bees with much striped force shall make them yield

Appearances,both natural and contrived,
Mixed with the wiles of human nature thrive.

As, knowing not, we pluck the apple rare
And bite its flesh,with teeth we have to bare

.We too deceive the innocent who pass
Not seeing watchers hid behind the glass.
The windows break,the deep earth quakes;
Seized is the maiden ,  he her virtue takes.

Beneath the surface, force and fierceness thrive.
What fearsome, burning God enjoys our lives?

Copyright © Katherine

The anniversary

On this June day, he went away,
That was some years ago
Each dawn was like torture,
The  anguish. the slaughter
No connection  with anyone  near
He gave a  last smile,I  did not cry,
My heart took the weight of the blow

The time goes so slowly,
We can’t control it
Stunned by the sorrow,the flow
How will you manage, he whispered,
We’re married.

Will you be able to steer?
I could not think past it,
His death  would be drastic
My aim was to help him let go

Yet time also races,
We must not waste it

We’re here for a short time, who knows?
One day runs to the next day
My heart aches so  violently
 I  hold it here gently
Why oh love why aren’t you here?

I called after three weeks
I can’t go on like this
Won’t you come back,why’d ye go?
I had no answer, the demons entranced me
They tightened me up with their gears
Like the rack and the  flaying
Skin torn and  bleeding
Yet we’re not meant to let feeling show


In Wenceslaus Square

I am fortunate
If I can find two gloves now
One left and one right

The other problem
My hands are misshapen too
Ladies’ gloves might not fit me.

I can be a man
If I decide I want to be
There! I wear your gloves now.

But I prefer scarves
Made for women, with flowers

My taste is quite good
I know  I like your image
You stand on the bridge in Prague

In Wenceslaus Square
The orchestra played Ma Vlast
The Elektion

Holocaust Museum
Children’s coloured drawings are
Butterflies for God

He died too with them
So we have no  floor to stand on
Everything’s trembling

I forgot I am.
I was lost somewhere other
How I stand on air!