Disoriented, lost,the wild goose flew
Seeking for its mate which lately died.
As if it never saw ànd never knew
The mourning song of doves is not a lie
So birds and other creatures share our pain
Hoping that the lost will soon return
Yet this is final, none will come again.
Unless we day dream, till we lose our way
Believing our own fantasies, we pay
And so our heart will freeze or it will burn.
NoteI like the idea that we are healed when we see ourselves truthfully
I think it’s odd that we pay psychotherapists to tell us our defence mechanisms and self deceits,but we don’t like it when friends point them out,free,without charge.I find religious imagery is useful to a poet as a metaphor
Poem
God’s Son was here on earth.
A young girl gave Him birth.
His words remind us of our worth,
Give hope of heavenly mirth.
He brought the gifts of love-
To cure our bad eyesight.
But we don’t want to see,
To have the painfulness of light.
We love our flaws without knowing,
Even when the effects are growing.
We rage when someone points them out,
We’d rather stay in dark and doubt.
Than have our weakness showing
But when you seek advice
From someone kind and true,
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In summertime, our love is peaceful,
like murmuring daisies floating in the soft breeze.
above our faces,tickling us in playful gestures
In wintertime, our love is warmer—
it walks from bath to bed each night
wrapped and rosy
after a day in heavy,hampering clothes
If skies are blue, our love is out of doors
— two people travelling in the sun to an unknown place,
unafraid and filled with joyful hope
If thunder rolls
our love is moody,
a refuge from the skulking rain and hail.
The lightning flirts across our faces.
Reminding of darkness and fear
Lear
Faustus
When spring flowers bloom,
snowdrops unrolled
bluebells dangling by the stream
and the celandine
our love is soft,
like quiet curved petals on the crocus.
When the autumn leaves down fall,
our love is deeper and we…
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Heavy rain has made the river full
It overflows its banks, goes where be it will
From higher Epping rivulets descend
The great trees shed loose leaves as down trunks bend
The birds are silent,hoping for some sun
The people wander weeping like old men
Tears like melting hailstones wet my face
Round the ancient bridges children race.
How my heart sings 