Day: December 2, 2025

New books for advent.

Highly defective people. How to be a winner anyway

The highly sensitive merman

6 ways out of claustrophobia. (+Try the exit first)

Repression: the way out of your schism.

The naked person’s guide to shyness/politeness/dryness.

Heal your soles and other useful prayers

The wryly tentative person-

The advent  of hell on earth and other short stories

The highly inimical person

How to change your blame.

God be grateful to me, a winner. The new guide to prayer for narcissists.

Through the fields

More complex than our mind is nature green

The River Lee still murmurs as it flows

Waltham abbey, Eleanor her cross

In the sun, the kingfisher still glows.

Through the fields the river sings her song.

There are grassy banks where we once rolled.

Is there still an innocence of heart?

The shepherd guides the flock into the fold.

In the abbey crypt the sacred dwells

Near the yew trees and king Harold’s grave.

Once there would have been the sound of bells

And in-our hearts we felt that Jesus saves

Let the world receive the humble child.

Who can see the gods in,this world wild?

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

East London view

Looking out across the River Lee

I could not see a place where you might be.

Tower blocks high and low stung both my eyes.

What use are sisters when they seem to die?

I could not see the road to take me home

I closed my lips so none might hear me moan

From another window I looked out

I saw a busy road and heard men shout.

The world was empty to my starving eye.

I saw the ice cream clouds as they went by.

The world I once could see was gone,was bare

I could not see your face,not anywhere.

How could you leave me in this desert harsh ?

The river Lea polluted stinks the marsh

There was no place where little birds could rest.

These feelings were a stone inside my chest.

I feel the grief without that blight despair.

And yet to others everything is fair

Near the Chiltern hills

Near the Chiltern hills the River Lea

Dances like a lamb in spring,in glee

The water’s pure and sweet like wine, like sun

But all is changing as the river runs.

Industrial use and boats pollute the stream

The dirty water does not mirror dreams

At Hoddesden the mill destroys the scene

There are no Argonauts, no golden fleece.

At ancient Waltham  where the river  slows

I see the ruined monks,where did they go?

King Henry wanted money,wanted all

Soon  so soon,his dynasty would fall.

Then soon the Lea will meet the mother Thames

They run into the sea, the rivers end.

Is this the mystic love that some would like?

In the darkest shadow, hides the light.

When its moment comes the golden gleam

Returns our minds to nature and it’s schemes

Thinking about the River Lea again

The River Lea is merry near the source

At the end, near  human with remorse

It’s easy to be happy when all’s well

But when we are more troubled, who can tell? 

Should we envy grass which floats along?

Should we envy sparrows for their song,?

At least we can reflect then we create

Cheerful  through this world to navigate

The river Lea gets dirty and dismayed

When it gets near London its joy fades

It’s used for power and industry and toil

And so its natural charm has been destroyed

Yet  in the  war we needed all its wealth.

Radar was invented here by stealth

Now that’s all long ago but yet we see

The River Lee still crawls towards the sea

And so in human life it is the same.

Human life well lived may make us  lame