The sky is distant, cold
Neither Fall not Winter
Colour light mauvy yellow
No birds àbout, full silence
hangs like a dead bell
No thoughts,no emotion stir my
mind
This does not flatter
Death hides in the shrubs
Chased out by a cat,it floats
away like a coat someone hung
there for a moment
To lie in the dead leaves
Leaving mistletoe weeping in old
jealousy
We will have to kiss
Please call back after I rise from the bed
I am not here.Well,I am now but I won’t be when you call.
When you hear the pips,squeak.
Do you want to leave a message?Annoying isn’t it?
Would you kindly email me.I am deaf.
Did you want a chat? Well,I don’t.Especially if it is UHU
If you see me,please don’t say anything.I don’t know you.
My mother said not to speak to strange men.If you are well known leave your message after the moan
If that is the doctor,i feel in the pink.If not,I am feeling numb all over.
If you are from soul mates,.go back where you came from.
If you fancy women,I am a hermaphrodite.
Don’t try selling me anything.I am very evil.It’s my eye.
Kindly tell your lies to your own answering machine.
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
Posted
As I’m wrung, by semiotics drained
I wonder if I’m wrong to write, explain
The rose unread, the apple not yet born
A poet reveals her mind, which draws down storms
Better be a scientist than a poet
Negative, uncertain, when she wrote
A lab with nuclei all dead and still
The world has ended, death by overkill
Not I, but someone in me, seems to choose
What I write of, what I might well leave
Else obsessional I’d be found here still
Having lost the power of choice and will.
Can we trust the silence and the voice?
Humbly, we must kneel before we choose.
L
God
Jesus
Einstein
Mendelsohn
Mahler
Bob Dylan
The Rothschilds
Saatchis
St Paul
The disciples
L.Cohen
Maimonides
St Peter
St Teresa of Avila
St John of the Cross
Moses
Abraham
Mary mother of Jesus
Jeremiah
Emmanuel Levinas
Yehudi Menuhin
Yehuda Amichai
Abraham
Isaac
Jeremiah
King David
Ruth
Adam and Eve….. all of us
“5 per cent of the people in the study died or were treated for suicide.”
How? Resurrected?
Independent Newspaper 15 June 2019
How my heart sings 