Mathematicians don’t need to touch.
There’s no blood in the subject although it does have its own beauty if you don’t fall down a hole on the way m
But touch is more important than mathematicsm
Few are seduced by these angels who have no children.
It’s better than schizophrenia. That is my view
On the motorway standing on the concrete how alone I feel with no one visible
It’s also something to do with size, mine and the roads m
Its like arriving at Manchester Piccadilly station on the train from Birmingham carrying a heavy suitcase and no one to help.
The best thing I decided was to have a cup of tea in the station snack bar.
The water is so good and so are the accents of the people sitting there are talking about the price of butter and the price of men m
An angel is peering through the top window as if considering a cup of tea and a bun. But they turn away for higher designs.
I want to catch a bus outside to take me to to Manchester exchange. It’s hot on the bus and people look fed up
Eventually I see the green curving landscape and the river which tells me I am home. I am me again
Sorrow bites the heart with teeth of ice.
We pay it once but would we pay it twice?
the crucifixion looms, the concrete spins.
Who will pay the price of human sins.
Love your neighbour and your enemy.
The world is much in need of charity
http://www.warpoetry.co.uk/persecution_palestinians.html
Brinda Runghsawmee introduces her poem.
I am from the island of Mauritius, near the big island Madagascar in the Indian Ocean. Just would like peace between Israel and Palestine-Gaza and terrorism will die. What we see on the media is not really the truth. There are hearts that beat behind uniforms. Brainwashed militants or numbed soldiers in solitude do think about buried precious moments from their lives: mums, a dear dog or a fragile bird.
The love birds
One bird is on shrapnel
In Israel
The other one is outside
A blasted tunnel
In Gaza
There is fear
In the eyes
She has always
Been at his side
He has always
Been at her side
The soldier about to launch
A rocket towards Gaza
Has a thought
About his mum
A tear trickles down
His grimy face
When he sees the downcast bird
All white with that lost look
His heart melts
He leaves the rocket
Picks her up
She does not struggle
He puts her inside
His bullet-proof clothes
In a large inside pocket
The Hamas militant
Aims his foreign missile
Against Israel’s border town
Full of olive trees
Swinging music in the gun-fire sky
Which cannot hide the blueness of lofty joy
Where arms do not exist
He hears little sad sounds
He turns round
Sees the white bird
With the lost look
His heart melts
He thinks of his mum
Dead-torn by an Israeli missile
He leaves gun and missile
Goes to the struggling bird
Lowers him inside his soldier’s clothes
Not far from his heart
He turns his back to war
He wants to find his love
He runs, hides towards
The southern border
Where Gaza and Israel meet
To kill
He is a wanted man
In Gaza
A target man
for Israel
The Israeli soldier
Is disturbed by the gentle movements
Inside his pocket
He has not yet fired the rocket
He wants to reunite her
With her beloved
He leaves his post
Behind the safety of olive groves
Runs where she leads him
Towards the desert
It is night
The darkness is disturbed
By war
The animals have fled
Trees and flowers
Have failed to blossom
They almost collide in each other
By the light of war
They see each other’s face
A feeling of ancient hatred
Rises within the folds of their souls
But the stirring within blasts it
The hands of war gently set them free
The lovebirds are reunited
On this desert soil
Two enemies understand
Humanity
As bombs
And shots continue
To mark the sky
With pain
And hearts
With grief
Brinda Runghsawmee
When the weather turns out wet
Emile has to wear a hat
Mary bought it in a Sale
Making sure it was for males.
Yellow with two cotton ties
It keeps the rain from Emile’s eyes
Mary has her own hat too
Bought in Orford, it is blue
Emile as he is a cat
Up a tree does love to sit
But when he’s leaping tree to tree
With his rain hat , he can’t see.
Mary said, “well stay indoors
You can help me with the chores
I’ll make a harness with a cart
You can carry soap.dear heart.”
“Otherwise go visit Anne
Eat the curry in her pan
Scratch her doormat,sniff for mice
Eat her cake and churn her rice”
I think I saw Stan on the stairs
It’s that velvet coat he wears
I may go and have a rest
I can lean upon his chest
Shall we visit him tonight?
Emile,dear, you must not bite
If he is a spirit now
You may only give a bow
Annie came in looking flushed
By the milkman she was kissed
One more man and she will die
Mary says she needs meat pie
Then the ladies make some tea
Gossip till their minds are free
Mary wants to write a book
If dear Anne will learn to cook
Stan is hiding in the coats
He is checking what they write
Then an angel flies to him
God wants enemies within
So practise love and hope and faith
Even though you have no grace
Say God is dead but do not taunt
Jesus preaching on the Mount
Be you friend or be you foe
Through a needle’s eye we go
See, you’re full of love and grace
Now go home and wash your face
How my heart sings 