Deep roots

When we drove to Cornwall in the spring
The wild flowers in the lane burst into song
We stopped in Weymouth,saw the curving shore
Love seeped even deeper to our cores
The peninsula of Roseland washed our souls
The higher sun shone widely over all
Yet Cornwall is not English,I am sure
Though noone on our isle is truly pure
Hereford and Worcester home of larks
Their green inlands such orchards of the heart
The love that blossoms must gain deep,deep roots
As far below the ground as upper shoots
In that hidden world where beetles creep
Roots grow strong and tangled while we sleep
On the marriage bed we two were one
Now I am alone for you have gone
Yet underneath all vision we are coiled
Your roots and mine live mingled and unspoiled

So you want the stars to play with

Like me,my dad sang a lot and at night he sang this to me.I have very few memories of him except for the singing.Celtic people often do love singing and talking too

Then when my husband was dying, my mouth opened by itself and I , or something inside me, sang this

My husband lifted his head and smiled, then he was gone like a bird.

What,meaning?

Meaning can’t be carried in mere words
Only pity and the less absurd
Hitler was a Catholic I read
Was he redeemed by Christ,my conscience said?
Who am I to cast the stone at him
I’d shoot him with a bullet,Oh Martin
Luther hated Jews and wrote it out
Hitler destroyed Europe with his clout
The USA felled Japan with the bomb
Full of glee they dropped another one
Now the natural world is dying too
Wring your hands, the devil’s here for you
He seems to be inside the human mind
We are wicked blinded, and resigned
Yet love is still well present if we care
Create a meaning welcome if you dare

I’m chased by signs,equations and cats’ eyes

Cats by Katherine

My nightmare lives in bed,  oh fire,burned bright
I’m chased by signs,equations and cats’ eyes
After  I’ve turned out  the bedside light

I am far too weary for a flight
I see  the art and love yet all’s awry
My nightmare  comes to  bed, oh heck,it might

Can you tell me  more about my sight?
I seem  no longer ept with eggs to fry
Before  I have put on  the bedside light

The Hebrew letters  make my heart turn white
Denoting  both infinities not pi
The nightmare re-occurs, obnoxious site

Then its almost  Grecian  at its height
The tragedy of theatre, does that lie?
Forget about the bed and its gold light

The cat  bemoans it’s eyelessness  and  sighs
We’re not in Gaza yet but  don’t say  die!
My nightmare lives in bed but I shall write
After  I’ve turned on my little light

The cat

Photo by Marko Blazevic on Pexels.com

My cat crouched in a shoebox,eyes of green
Amber, gold, and wide as summer sky
She had all the dignity of queens
My cat was in a shoebox,eyes of green
Alas we did not have a bowl of cream
She was still afraid but never mean
I was singing.feeling, rather high
My cat sat in a shoebox,eyes of green
Amber, gold,oh curl up now and dream



Dried flowers

Unconscious of our cruelty, we sin
Yet pride ourselves as worthy and refined
Those who know themselves are modest souls
Who do to those around them little harm

Blinded to our our faults we strut about
Causing pain to others, oh what charm
If we break the rules,we have no doubts
From our errors we can never learn

So I look on your insults and smile
Self image admits nothing makes a change
I shall not keep your sentences in files
Unlike dried flowers in vases well arranged

Yet though you now evade a little pain
Your company will never be the same