About the golden light what can I say
Love is near and we don’t need to pray
Enter into darkness without fear
Another hand will guide us help us steer
I had lost my faith I was bereft
I could not speak, and sinking was my raft
Then the soft bright cloud embraced me whole.
I felt a presence and I saw the light
Why should I be helped when many die?
The mysteriou.s hand of God, the soul destroyed
God is not the cold condemning Judge
He is a Golden Light,he loves us much
We meet him in our agonised despair
When doubts have killed us like the lack of air.
He will warm us; we can live again.
Despite the suffering and the intense pain.
He will come to us in tongues of flame.
Mysterious fire,oh love without a name
Now all the tree is gleaming in the sun
Red and golden light shines out again
My heart is happy as I wield my pen
The metaphoric sun will dry the Fen
He isn’t here
The air rippled like sea
Niarbyll bay and butterflies
I caught a glance
In water
Shining
He isn’t here
Waves blind me
With white heads
Sunlight in the morning
Hit the fridge door
He isn’t here
The teapot glinted
An eye,perhaps.
The warmth is unusual for February
I went to the hospital again
He wasn’t there
He wasn’t there
He wasn’t there
Saturday was shopping then a walk
Epping,Ongar,Finchingfield by car
Reading book reviews and chewing stalks
Buttercups and meadows,Henry Moore
Driving back from Chelmsford, cornfields flamed
Smoke and fire and earth, the sun dismayed
Farmers working hard, a harvest, grain
The sky through mist a cobalt blue displayed
Standon with its fords and wandering cows
Little rivers,Essex, flowing down
The Stort joins with the Lea,a gurglimg sound
Water for the Thames and mossy ground
The earth feels like my body sacrificed
An artist’s canvas stretched , a matricide
Great Britain is a nation of sport
Chasing foxes which cannot be fought
Playing cricket in summer
Is Starmer a runner?
I badgered my mother
She knows how I love her
Since she was left holding the fort
Glory be to despots who lie.
Who fleece the earth and enslave the men
Release the women, and bog off.You are raving
Oh brother who darts in Severn
Mellow is your crime
Your income stuns, you are never done
Oh, Earth,sky;oh,raven.
I hear all you say,you are very well read
Lead us by our sensations:deliver us from weasels
Not again
Our Father who starts the eleven
We follow all your games
If England wins,our will is done
On earth though we are raving
Letters displayed are mainly read
Forgive us our emphasis, as we forgive those who emphasise yet remain with us
And lead us not into irritation.
Yet again
How my heart sings 