Month: June 2020

The fire of orange leaves me with a glow

The sun sinks but it burns like a great fire;
All the sky’s aflame with fierce intent;
Who thinks of death as weakness, is a liar
Before the end our glory must be spent.

The graphics of the branches look Chinese
As blackened brush is drawn across red silk
Infinite yet countable my days
Running like a river without silt

Thus I am not transcendent in myself
But joined to all that lives I feel I am.
In conjunction we will find our health
Ambivalence contains both lion and lamb.

The fire of orange leaves me with a glow
As into night I with all creatures go

It’s this exposure we all truly crave

My underwear is from the Holy Land
I’ll have to take it off for it’s been banned
Let me walk as naked as a babe
It’s this exposure we all  truly crave

Bethlehem  has got it’s own Wall now
Sign it with a pen, your blood, oh, anyhow
It’s like a plastercast on your own leg
It should come off but we don’t like to beg

I never know  where things I buy are made
My eyesight is not sharp enough for trade
I’ve got reading glasses, magnified  till pure
This loss of sight is hard to feel, endure

I see we still  have Lockdown  for the old
Why not shoot us all  as was foretold?
War is human as are  death and rape
Is the Resurrection true  or a mere jape?

I’d like to write a poem  that would convey
How it feels when I am  really gay
The sun is sinking  in the West tonight
Tomorrow they will change its path of light

The Leader has got chickenpox and flu
Send him postcards via London Zoo
He looks pale and anxious as he speaks
Yet  he has joints which  rarely seem to creak

I did read “Ariel” by Sylvia Plath
After reading that I could not laugh
A brilliant  transposition on the  hoof
The horse flew forward till the  dawn was loose

Should we get to vote I’ll vote  for Woe
Joy is harder, that we  surely know
Both are needed as the warp and weft
Otherwise we humans fall adrift

Do we still have spies and where are they,
In Cambridge changing gender every May?
In Oxford Union  killing a black man
In the garden eating  Tiptree jam

Can I break the code and understand
I am not who God made on demand?
He  creates, it is his personal mode
As  he walks alone down country roads

The Garden of the Heart

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Art is by Katherine

Unnameable the moment when it starts
The sun goes turns black and flowers die on the stalk
The agony in the garden of the heart

Unnatural rhythms subvert accountants’ charts
Poor nestlings feel the onslaught of the hawk

Untraceable the moment when it starts

For always seemed our love, and quiet its art
Banal the labels in a doctor’s talk
Of agony in the gardens of the heart

Speechless,cold and numb the separate parts
Each one with its indirection walks
Untraceable the moment when it starts

That one who knew our measure must depart
Wounds our sense of self now writ in chalk
Such agony in the gardens of the heart

Like a skylark trapped,untimely, caught
I the one time lover fear the night
So minute at the moment when it starts
Agony strips the garden of the heart

All change

What was once familiar  now feels strange
To visit friends and kiss another’s face
To share a cup of tea and discuss change

Politics  has fled  from Shakespeare’s stage

Wisdom and deep thinking seemed erased
What was once familiar echoes strange

The  errors  of the State cause some to rage
Culture has been lessened, is defaced
No shared drinks  , just anger, crowds and change 

Would we even want a wise old sage?
In the mire strange patterns have been traced
What we thought familiar  now looks strange

We’ve seen  hearfelt protests every day
The people once despised have come of age
They   require the world  must  quickly change

So  our hearts and minds are well engaged
Can we  change the patterns quite deranged?
What was once unknown exists, is strange
Raise your drinks to celebrate, all change

 

 

You’re on the edge of my view

When anyone comes here, when anyone phones 
I wonder if it is you
When shadows are moving, when nightfall appears
I  cry ‘cos I’m still feeling blue
And in the soft morning,I see your dear face
Dream thoughts mixed into my view
People say I must not  cry, tears should not enter my eye
I shall  pretend that it’s dew
I still cannot paint or draw, wondering what I saw
You’re on the edge of my view
But when I turn my head around, there’s nothing but birds passing by
How can I love someone new?

The Kingdom of God? Not here

 

Photo by Jose Aragones on Pexels.com
Photo by Jose Aragones on Pexels.com

The Kingdom of God is Within

EXTRACT

The kingdom of God is at the center of the Lord’s Prayer.  Most interesting to me are its petitions, as they are called.  When we pray the Lord’s prayer we don’t ask for “my bread,” but “our bread.”

Accordingly, I know that my heavenly Father has heard my prayer not when there’s bread on my table, or on my immediate family’s table, but when there is bread on my church family’s table. (Perrin, p 216)

Perrin should have said “on everybody’s table.”  Christ breaks open the idea of family, so that includes not just people like me, but socially undesirable others, alien others, strangers. 

The Greek word for “us” is hemon (ἡμῶν, Strong’s number 2257),  In every case the Lord’s Prayer refers to us, not me.  Give us our daily bread. Forgive us our sins.  Lead us not into temptation.  I’m reminded of  Reinhold Niebuhr‘s observation that the worst things we do we do as self-righteous collectives.  Our sins include imperialism, colonialism, slavery.  Our concern should be that everyone in the world has bread, for it is “our bread,” granted to us by “our father.”  The Lord’s Prayer is a prayer in the first-person plural.

Life,the art that needs our hearts

When must we be cautious, when let go?
Who knows how to choose the better  part
When to use our will and when to flow
When to plant  the seed and watch it grow
When  ought we be cautious, when let go?
When to bend  as wilder winds can blow
How to live,the art that needs our hearts
When  may we be cautious, when let go?
Who knows how to guess the better  part?

Who loved the  words, who loved the entire song

The eyes that gazed on me with love profound
The hand the touched me with caresses  true
The one who made me happy on earth’s ground
Who loved the  words, who loved the entire song
Who loved me with rare  subtlety of mind
Whose love was strong, whose being was most kind
And thus with all his qualities imbued
The eyes that gazed,  delighted  I was found
The hand, the touch,  the giving , taking   true

They may carry you to safety too

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You have to be careful  now  not to stand still in London in case a football supporter  urinates on you.
Especially if you are a memorial to a brave police man

Then, thinking about a  holiday.I was expecting to go to Teesdale as my husband loved High Force…… but that will remind me of……urination,Dominic Cummings,Covid 19.lies,BJ, Barnard Castle,and other unpleansant things.
I am thinking Southport will be safer or even Morecambe and the sinking sands ; my garden  will be even safer apart  birds getting angry.

I am wondering what to  read next.Rodham. Gone with the Wind or
War  and Peace?
Or the road atlas?
Can I bear Hillary and Bill in bed? Not with me!
It’s mere fantasy of the lowest type.Who does not know that men get erections and  have intercourse until they get too old?
We need a story.

Love must win

Of love and hatred which is  stronger now?
We destroy the enemy we choose
Love must win, but we ask when and how

Before the force of evil do not bow
But search your heart to find if you have clues
Oh love and hatred which is  stronger now?

In my own  heart, evil   leaves me bruised
What to do when we are so confused
Love must win, but we ask when and how

Others are not there to be misused
The harm we do adheres like strongest glues
Of love and hatred which is stronger now?

There is no heavenly court where we can sue
In the past we know how hatred grew
Love must win, but we ask when and who

Round  the world pandemics of hate flew
With the media  we see more and new
Of love and hatred which is is   growing now?
Love must win, but we ask when and how

Bleeps and pings are not a natural sound.

Diagonal streams now stripe the windowpane
And in them, tiny insects drown and die.
Unexpected ,sudden rain has come.
Those escape who have the wings to fly.
No angels were seen peering at my room
No doubt they have their Sunday wings to press.
No camera ,even with psychotic zoom,
Can catch an angel while she is undressed.
Now the rain has dried and all is sweet
I tend to houseplants standing by the door.
By good luck these houseplants never bleep.
Only in the real world do they flower.
Bleeps and pings are not a natural sound.
But to the artificial we will bound.

Correcting others@P$ speech

photo1796_001-21 (1)

Art by Katherine and her  insect bite

Awry,Tory,Awry,Greenfly,hi
Correction of one’s speech  makes shame oblique
The reddened face the burning of the cheek
What’s your motivation to feel high?

You may know more words and how to say
To give long lectures,talks and answer back
But now you need to know you have a lack
You hurt other people every day

After all, we must communicate
See the posture, see the eyes, the face
Then touch the other with your voice, your speech
Or to be an object of their hate

If you think we’re here to put folk down
You are hurting others.some may drown

There is something sinister unread

I found a strange man sleeping in my bed
He had the static creepiness I dread
Still alive but seeming to be dead

is this a dream that dwells inside my head
I should have dreams  of Errol Flynn instead
Look where that damn garden path has led

Oh,God, the cat has come back to be fed
He eats frogs before they are quite dead
The Sermon on the Mount  is still unread

There was noone in my marriage bed
There is something sinister unread

 

Every time I see yor face I smile

Every time I see yor face I smile
It’s just a dream,I am not reconciled
When I waken up  the tears run by
Remembering or forgetting  where you are

Now you have come back to pick up me
We have  an  newer house down by the sea
Shall we take our books and music there?
I gave away your clothes but you’re not bare

I’ve found it freezing cold  outside your gaze
Without  those conversations every day
Can’t  you stay here for a few more years?
In the dream I  never seem to cry

We seem to be  the actors in this Play
You are calm and dignified, oh stay

Meeting someone’s eyes is like a touch

Meeting someone’s eyes is like a touch
As if our self extends  outside our skin
With no intention to take hold or clutch

Those who do this , how love must be rich
Rarely will they mortify or sin
Meeting someone’s eyes is a kind  touch

If we are afraid, may we find trust
Let us  try again,  why not begin
With no intention to take hold or clutch?

We are human, do we mind who’s first?
Let our minding weigh  less than  a pin
Meeting someone’s eyes is like a touch

In the end we mingle with the dust
Have we made good use of any gift
With no intention to take hold or clutch?

With love around, we  need not be too  swift
Take your own time  wandering through the mist
Meeting someone’s eyes is like a touch
Gentle, do caress, don’t  grasp nor clutch

 

Her eyes shining like melting Danish butter on a hot croissant

Our mood affects the colour of the sky

The park sloped  to a river  behind  trees
 The other side was a large burial ground
Where my father’s body lay, bereaved

In the flowered park we sat and grieved
We heard the thwack of   tennis balls resound
The park sloped  to a river  behind trees

Children can’t imagine mother’s pleased
When her  strong support lies underground
As my father’s body lay, bereaved

Children  torment others , poisoned bees
Sensing sweet fragility inside
The park sloped   down to hide  behind  tall trees

 Now my mother lies where I ‘ve  dripped tears
As if I hope a flowering shrub   will shade
And father’s body lies with mother’s, pleased

Memories may well alter .don’t deny
Our mood affects the colour of the sky
The park sloped  to a river. grave the trees
I once hoped that  my dead could be retrieved

 

Gathering  up the treasures  from the sands

We do not hunt for thoughts,we let them come
Gathering  up the treasures  from the sands
The sea shores of the world in dark,in sun
Where children play  till all the day is  done
The mystery of the deep, of whales and men
We do not hunt for thoughts,we let them come
Sailing in from distant foreign lands
We do not hunt for thoughts,we let them come
Gathering  up the treasures  till the end

Will love last us?

 

DandelionClocksThe art of friendship,is it hard to master?
The interest and  the courtesy and care
Learning  skills together   makes love faster

Best avoid  name calling, like  you bastard!
Testing to destruction, do not dare
The art of friendship,is it hard to master?

If you have a friend then you must ask her
if you treat her lovingly and fair
Learning  skills together  brings love faster

In view of lockdown, you will not now pat her
Nor with a gimlet eye  be keen to stare
The art of friendship,is it hard to master?

Be still, my friend, we are put off by chatter
But do not fret about the clothes you wear
Sewing darning,  mending holes love’s better

There’s love around and much more going  spare
Hope the fabric’s tough and will not wear
The art of friendship,is it hard to master?
Learning  skills together love  will last us

,

Goodness, it’s 11 am

Would you like to go to bed?
Can you be more precise?

Would you like some lamb?
For what?

What do you eat for breakfast?
Mind your own business
That’s not very nice.
Exactly.

Is it time to get up?
No, come down

Shall we pray?
I think it’s too late

Goodness, it’s 11 am
Yes, we have that every day  here

So from now on, we can’t hug the postman
Unless he’s in a Bubble

Shall we call a cab?
Why can’t we ring?
I forgot the bell.I gave it to the cat.
Well, get it back
Actually it was a tiger
I don’t believe that
Wait till you get home
Why?~
He’s on the bed with the bell
We may have to get the police
Do you really think the police will help?
He can eat them first while we run away
Let’s sleep rough.
OK in a holly tree
Or a bed of roses

 

 

You’re weird!

a beautiful scenery
Photo by Asad Photo Maldives on Pexels.com


Shall we go out?
Where is our switch?

Do you want to have a meal?
I’d rather eat it.

I saw a black shape at the door
Probably your shadow.
It followed me in
Next time, go out.
Will it let me?
Just walk through it.

When the doctor smiled at me I saw a  gold fuzzy cloud
That means you don’t need LSD
No,I need a thicker skin and new glasses

I ran back and shook hands with the Consultant
I hope he wasn’t doing surgery.
He was gazing pensively at me then declared
You’re weird!
Is  that ethical?
It depends on what kind of weirdness it is.

He sent me for X rays ,then wept
Was that before or after he saw them?
He cried onto my bare knees
Is that ethical?
Well, no point crying onto an X ray is there?
Is it ethical?
Well, it won’t heal them.
How unethical!
Why can’t they insert new cartilege?
A pity my knee is not a gun
You are weird.Cartridge!