Day: April 29, 2025

The gift of sight, fine flowers, blue butterflies

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In my hedge of beech mixed into yew
The wrens have nested,now they learn to fly
I felt my heart grow lighter at this view

When the heart is lifted,that’s a clue
That symbols of new life are coming by
From my hedge of beech mixed into yew

Keeping vision clear,look out and bow
What lives now  must shrink and one day die
I felt my heart ache taking  such a view

With many gifts  we humans are endowed
The gift of sight, fine flowers,  blue butterflies
By my hedge of beech mixed into yew

The gift of tongues, creation of the new
From  sweet Joan Baez to little babies’ cries
I felt my heart swell in my breast anew

Conception, growth,maturity,goodbye
Like the flying star we  shall go far
By my hedge of beech mixed into yew
I felt my heart  beat stronger than I knew

 

 

The wrens

My front hedge is so thick, wrens made a nest
I saw a small bird flying low and swift
With my garden I feel human, blessed

The bonsai beech has grown till almost dense
It has no trunk, the leaves are tiny  gifts
My front hedge is so full, wrens made a nest

My clematis has flowered beyond  all sense
When I looked  I felt my soft heart lift
In my garden, know that I am blessed

In a deep green  wood the eye can rest
Open eyed, a look  must not be fast
My front hedge welcomes wrens ,oh,love,a nest!

Deep happiness connects us  to what’s best
The dark blue sky, the sunset flaming,  brief.
With my garden I feel love, I ‘m blessed

 Be alive, don’t dwell on thoughts too sweet
The natural world   brings virtue  and deceit
My front hedge is so thick, wrens made a nest
These tiny  creatures filled with  love and zest

 

 

 

 

Heartache

My photo

My heart was aching like a rotten tooth

I never felt such certainty before

Don’t believe me when I tell the truth

My heart was aching like a rotten tooth

Such a pity that the heart’s not loose.

The fearful pain the anguish at the core.

My heart was aching like a rotten tooth

But now my heart won’t ache, it is no more

There are no sheets in hell

I wish that every woman had the time

To put the washing out and make a rhyme

I wish that men could enjoy changing sheets

The strong and muscular all  fear defeat.

They tremble by the bed, their eyes go blurred.

Then they will pretend they do not care.

This is women’s work we are too weak

Men are not designed to deal with sheets.

The flat ones are not too bad to keep in place

But  the fitted bottom sheets make red my face.

They can pull the beer in barrels strong

But they can’t pull a sheet, there’s something wrong

Never mind there are no sheets in hell

But as your mother told you show don’t tell,

Should I have written poetry instead?

Surprised by  sun I hung the washing out.

Should  I have written poetry instead?

Yet this was a good thing I have no doubt

Surprised by sun I hung my white sheets out

And in my mind I heard my mother shout

Put that book down,, go and make your bed

Surprised by sun I hung the washing out

I wish I’d written poetry instead

The sun pierced both my eyes

The sun pierced both my eyes and then my heart

Enjoyed itself and filled my soul with bliss

As light had to choose it chose that part

I received a gift I had not sought

in truth I must reveal I’d like a kiss

The sun pierced both my eyes and then my heart

Enjoyed itself and filled me with its bliss

The sun

On April 29th the sun shone through

The northwest  window where I  mostly sit

I do not feel that sunlight is my due

On April 29 the sun came through

Shone upon my face my eyes of blue

My heart leapt up and that was truly fit.

On April 29 the sun came through.

The  northwest window was indeed well lit