Black pudding is not a dessert
Neither is steak and kidney pudding
Gravy is not grave.
Why do we stuff joints?
Black pudding is not a dessert
Neither is steak and kidney pudding
Gravy is not grave.
Why do we stuff joints?
What if the moon fell from the sky
And all the Bishops told us lies?
Viruses are out to play
We wonder which of us must pay
The snow fell softly on the graves
Who will spend and who will save
Snow up in the Pennines dressed the hills
Though the cautious thought àbout their wills
When we walked I held your hand in mine
We walked round a small lake to see geese fly
We sauntered, in a rhythm were aligned
Time had stopped, the geese in circles climbed
Then swept onto the path as we came by
When we walked I held your hand in mine
Like a natural god, the geese divine
Landed in their beauty with a sigh
We entered a new rhythm, were aligned
On the shining water geese in line
Float and hunt for food with little cries
When we walked I held your hand in mine
In our garden for your love I pine
I cannot love another till I die
We sauntered, in a rhythm were aligned
God is on the mountain with his lyre
Singing of the beauty of desire
When we walked I warmed your hand in mine
We lived attuned to love until you died
Illness pain and treatment sap our strength
Till we wonder is there something left
Why accept the suffering and the angst
Does any God seem worthy of our thanks?
Don’t exercise like soldiers on parade
Be like a tree that in soft breezes sways
The frost and sun make images that sing
To our human hearts much joy they bring
Be less active, let perception be
All that matters to humanity
The pathos of her howl cuts through my bones
Dementia is the illness noone knows
For hours of night and day she calls again
The staff are underpaid,yet care remains
Yet should sick people have to hear her. cries
As some of us will live yet some will die