Every garden has a song, a song beyond all words.

sit in silence there to hear cheeps from distant birds.

Every garden has its silence, special to that place

.stand beneath the maple tree, gaze up the crown’s wide space. 

Every garden’s part of all, linked through heart of earth stand in one, you ‘re inside al

l, your spirit takes new birth,

Every garden wants to sing, green calls out so sweet,

shows us Eden, long ago, where Adam kissed Eve’s dear feet. I gaze up through bare winter trees, the song is softer now.

No golden finch,no sparrow cheeps. All’s covered by the snow. Deep in the heart I

And if dark ,life sparks again and the green shoots come.

so we wait in harmony till our garden sings out then

The heart that touched my heart I feel no more
Alone in some great space. I feel afraid
Like a conductor who has lost the Score
The soul that touched my soul I feel no more
As other orders that soul did obey
The heart that touched my heart I feel no more
Alone in the abyss. I feel afraid

I’d like to write a villanelle today

There’s something satisfactory in that form

But do I still have anything to say

In the past old women used to pray.

At least that did not do them any harm

I’d like to write a villanelle today

For every wrong we do we have to pay

My doctor said that I should feel more calm

Is that all that I have got to say?

I wish I were more virtuous  every day

I’ve spoken about nature and her charms

I’d like to push a villain off today

Even an old donkey wants to bray

Give up poetry write a few more yarns ?

Have I got a purpose, what do you say?

Everybody’s got a lot to learn

Don’t tell the teacher when it is your turn

I’d like to write a villanelle today

I don’t know if I’ve got a word to say

Kieran Setiya

Love is not one single thing, in distinguishing attachment from concern. I see that there is room for loving-kindness, wanting the best for someone, without being attached to them, unable to let go. There is a way to accept mortality in which there

The hill rises as steeply as a horse’s neck

And the hill itself is Marked with limestone like a horse’s spine

When you reach the head you can see the other side

Poole harbour beautiful, blue and sweet as a berry

We have wooden walking sticks which seem to help with the hills

So you can walk right along to Corfe Castle

I am caught with wonderful surprise after all this is not a mountain not even the real hill

Nearby on Durlston Head there are many many butterflies and the land ends in startling cliffs

The birds and the butterfly can fly out over the sea but we can’t

I don’t go too near the edge because my legs tremble.

See  all the wildflowers in bloom.

More modest than our cultivated gardens but strong

What flowers did they have in the holy land when Jesus was alive?

Consider the lilies of the field and I stand there and I do consider them

They will never be as rich as Donald Trump or even me

And Elon  Musk would not be impressed by a daisy

They would dig them all up not knowing they would destroy the world that way

Yes without the butterflies and insects

Without the bees and the bugs the crops would die

And so would we  the powerful human race.

There is no race for the wild flowers. 

Why are we called the human race anyway ?

Yes the strong will win the race but the weak with inherit the earth

Because they already possess it

I thought I would try writing a poem which rhymes the same throughout. Well it is possible but I don’t think it’s successful I think you need at least two different rhymes to make the poem work so I shant do it again especially as there are a lot of words which have that many rhymes unless you’re very very skillful thinking of esoteric words and I dont that’s what poetry is about

I wish I were in Purbeck now with you

The hills that are the spine, oh what a view

The harbour there of poole the sea so blue

I lost my breath in wonder that’s the clue.

We see at times s this world as if its new

I want to worship colour and its hues

And by the ancient church the ancient yews

The baptism font the coffin track unused

Clambering up the limestone path amused

Of joy and humour I will now accuse

You the one I loved,oh where are you ?

https://www.theguardian.com/society/2025/jun/06/stress-crisis-uk-financial-health-housing-insecurity?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other