Our eyes will melt and souls combine.

Down daisied fields, sweet grasses grow
Down these green fields, I know, I know.
In unploughed, fields where wild flowers blow
We’ll meet again, I Iove you so.

It was in the first soft summer light
I saw you standing, face so bright.
I saw you by the drystone wall.
I never doubted you at all.

When Meadows bright all bloom again
I know we’ll see you coming then.
in sunny fields where wildflowers hide
I know my love is by my side.

Oh,come, dear heart, do not delay.
We are not long till in the clay.
I’ll stand upon the beacon here
And never rest, till you are near.

When flowering buds all open wide
When bees to poppies swiftly glide.
When your dear heart is pressed to mine
Our eyes will melt and souls combine.

Oh, where are you, my dearest one
All too soon our lives are gone
I gaze across the fields and hills.
As sunset-sky with flames is filled.

When buttercups and celandine
Beckon to me in my dreams.
When apple blossom fills the tree
I believe, with love I’ll see.

The buttercups are burning in the fields

The buttercups are burning in the fields
The sun is hanging low as if to see
The Ash fall to the earth, the level sealed

The grass turns brown ,the barley ripe will kneel.
The hares are leaping,wait, I watch them flee.
The buttercups are burning in the fields

The Honeysuckle curves like a red wheel
Hanging flowers still humming with brown bees
The ashes to the earth dark riches yield

This fiery land will flaunt its bright appeal
As from the trees hang ghosts of still born leaves
The buttercups are burning in the fields

The spiders wait, the rabbits ,raunchy, reel.
What is this Earth our eyes, all new, perceive
Where ashes to the earth dark riches yield?

Who are we such dark gold to receive
When humans trick each other and deceive?
The buttercups are burning in the fields
Their ashes shall redeem as richness yields

Only the daisies know

The trees made a wavering line
across the edge of the field
and I saw you standing beneath the oak
holding yourself upright just about.
I asked you why you had come
and you said it was only the yellow of the buttercups
that you dreamed of all winter
that had given you strength to walk so far.
the trees gazed down benignly
there was a river at the bottom of the dip
and we used to play there once
when we were children.I don’t know
why we don’t remember the important
feelings and places.Only the daisies know
that we grow where we can.Time shot past
like a flash of lightning,
Will I see you again?
Blue is your colour.I know this.
Grass is softer than stone pavements
And our hearts were not made to last forever,

No sound, no touch, no smell, no sight, no seeing.

In fields of lushest buttercups we ‘d lie
We’d watch the clouds as gently they blew by.
Love was born we thought would never die.
But you are gone, and so I sadly sigh

That love itself remains without your form
Yet tears of loss enfold me like a storm.
I knew you’d never hurt or do me harm.
I felt your smile’s embrace, so wide, so warm.

How is the world,now emptied of your being?
No sound, no touch, no smell, no sight, no seeing.
How is the world when you have gone ahead
Yet I must linger in this empty bed?

Yet those who’ved loved are grateful for that gift
Our sorrow is that life itself’s too swift

The buttercups

The fields that once held buttercups are gone

Giant furrows pattern that long land

Made by huge machines whose time has come

Precise as old account books , now forlorn.

As moving as are waves on desert sand

The fields that once held buttercups have gone

Nothing human-sized remains untorn

Nowhere for dear lovers hand in hand

Killed by huge machines whose time has come

But young folk do not court, they hurry on

Annihilating what we elders understand

The fields that once held buttercups have gone

All too rapidly our world’s undone

To the deserts of the heart we’re sent

Dragged by by huge machines whose time has come

Can no passion change the way nor lend

Creative means to pacify and mend?

The fields that once held buttercups have gone

Ground by huge machines,death times have come

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Why Elder Abuse Happens

https://www.edmontonpolice.ca/CommunityPolicing/FamilyProtection/ElderAbuse/WhyElderAbuseHappens#:~:text=Whether%20intentional%20or%20not%2C%20abuse,that%20can%20accompany%20old%20age.

Abusive style of interaction

In some families, the members have a way of relating to each other that is generally hostile and non-nurturing. The adult children may have been abused by their parents, and having learned to interact in such a manner, carry it on into the next generation. Or there may be some unresolved family conflicts which foster abuse. The family may have a history of wife abuse which carries on into old age.

My sweet fate

The roses by your gate
Revealed my sweet fate:
That I would love you in summertime,
That my poetry would always rhyme,
That a dream of petals falling from above
Would drench us both with sunshine’s golden love;
That we would fall into deep grassy meadows
Full of daisies,lie on our backs.Swallows
Darting across the sky would see
Our shapes intertwined with bright buttercups.
Who knows when love will erupt
And carry us on its flowing waters
To places unreachable in summer saunters?
Into the eye of love itself

THE MEMORY LASTS

midsummer days evoke the trancelike past
where children played in joyous, daisied fields
with buttercups so bright the memory lasts
a freedom that our conscious growth will steal.

those stones and leaves and many coloured flowers
were gathered into images that glow
yet later we forget those treasured hours
when for a while we lived in life’s deep flow

we did not look and see,but felt at one
we lived as did the birds high in the trees
now we write , experiencing has gone
we cannot live like flowers filled with bright bees

to lose ourselves in nature is a joy
which to our adult selves we must restore

The buttercups

The fields that once held buttercups are gone

Giant furrows pattern that long land

Made by huge machines whose time has come

Precise as old account books , now forlorn.

As moving as are waves on desert sand

The fields that once held buttercups have gone

Nothing human-sized remains untorn

Nowhere for dear lovers hand in hand

Killed by huge machines whose time has come

But young folk do not court, they hurry on

Annihilating what we elders understand

The fields that once held buttercups have gone

All too rapidly our world’s undone

To the deserts of the heart we’re sent

Dragged by by huge machines whose time has come

Can no passion change the way nor lend

Creative means to pacify and mend?

The fields that once held buttercups have gone

Ground by huge machines,death times have come

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Abusive style of interaction

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