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.

The looking glass is truth

How my heart sings


I 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


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,

They tell us that our hearts will…

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Love You Always

How my heart sings

I remember using a
poem generator before but this is very facile


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



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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Too much rain

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.