Month: Nov 2026

Singing of the beauty of desire

When we walked  I  held your hand in mine

We walked  round a small lake  to see geese fly

We  sauntered, in a rhythm were aligned

Time had stopped, the geese  in circles climbed

Then swept  onto the path as we came by

When we walked  I  held your hand in mine

Like a natural god, the geese divine

Landed  in their beauty with a sigh

We  entered  a new rhythm, were aligned

On the shining water  geese in line

Float and hunt for food with little cries

When we walked  I  held your hand in mine

 In our garden for your love I pine

I may never love another  till I die

We  sauntered, in a rhythm were aligned

God is on the mountain with his lyre

Singing of the beauty of desire

When we walked  I  warmed your hand in mine

We  lived attuned  to love  until you died

How to understand rhythm in poetry – BBC Bitesize

https://www.bbc.co.uk/bitesize/articles/zmpxbdm#zpwm7yc

I am sorry that going to the pain in my hands at the moment I cannot do copying and pasting but this article is very worthwhile and it includes a video

It’s hard to find something at the right level and it does not make you have to memorize lots of long names that you will never really find useful in your writing

Because what matters is to write not to fast examinations about writing although it’s obviously very useful to know as much as you can manage of techniques even if you  don’t want to use them.

The rhythms of love

We fell into a rhythm as we walked
Arm in arm we wandered as we talked
We looked into folks’ windows as dusk came
Tried to guess their furnishings and names

Some had nothing but the ironing stacked
Others had the furniture we lacked
I bought a chest of drawers for just three pounds
We had a double bed where our cat lounged

I bought a little table made of oak
Fifty pence at auction, go for broke!
A few old armchairs covered in green cloth
Too severe to be a home for moths

Now I look at pictures on the walls
I see the sun turn mauve as down dusk falls
Images both simple and robust
One a choice the other nature’s lust

I see my sofa like a treasure ship
I lie upon it dreaming humorous quips
I dream of journeys on the little train
That signifies what sleep means to my brain

The rocking chair is empty of the cat
I see one in my garden, not my lap.
I try to tame this immigrant I like
I shall give him food and call him Mike.

Oh,dear that is my brother, will he mind?
I know he loves the birds, and cats do bite
He is not living here in my old road
Otherwise he’ll hear me shouting “Claude”

Perhaps I’ll call the cat Tamara Jane
In case they’re very sensitive to names
For I know not the gender of the beast
They may be quite fluid at the least

Now my husband cannot calm me down
I’d like his verdict on my new nightgown
But all I can remember is that rhythm
I fell into walking out with him

Like wet paint from the artist’s brush

My old blue fountain pen allows
The ink across the page to flow
Like wet paint from an artist’s brush;
And words come in a rush.

Enchanted by the hand that writes,
Bewitched by art, beauty alights.
The script is like a music score
Through which we pass as through a door.
Imagination’s home.

As,mysteriously,to you,to me,
The spirits of our hearts are tamed,
By rhythms of pen,of brush,of mind,
They enter vision quite unplanned,
Like moths to flutter softly round
Fire joined heart and hand.

The pen slows down,the hand goes still
And just as dreams at daybreak will,
They shrink,they disappear,they’re gone.

The artist’s play is done

The mirror of your face

I knew myself in his face when he lived

But now I have no mirror,I’m alone.

I learned myself reflected in his love.

An actual mirror seems like a dull stone

I was alive when mirrored his eyes

For those who hate us do not give us life.

What’s the answer when the loved one dies?

Without a husband there can be no wife.

All alone my blood seems not to flow.

The wellspring of my heart is arid,dry.

My hands curl up protective on my heart

I have no tears and so I cannot cry.

Yet I bleed inside from every part.

So where is my reflection, where my grace?

I can’t live without his tender face

The pyjamas

Stan was a very naughty man because he winked at his dear wife before dying and she had no chance to respond. That is so typical of Stan, she said to Annie, her best friend. Well, at least he went peacefully.Annie replied in a kindly tone And to think I had just bought him 6 new pairs of pyjamas. You can’t blame him for that.You always buy too much, Annie murmured politely Well, I suppose I like to be prepared, Mary muttered.I felt so helpless as he went thinner and thinner. What are you going to do with them all, Annie whispered. There’s only one solution.I’ll have to find a man to fit the pyjamas and marry him That’s a strange way of choosing a new husband, Annie said in a shocked voice. In the end however rational we try to be, life is down to luck. Yes, didn’t Churchill say, chance favours the prepared mind? It wasn’t Churchill, it was Blaise Pascal.Mary told her in of voice rich with wisdom to Well, why not marry him? He sounds intriguing He’s dead, Mary responded succinctly

Oh, what a pity.He sounded just right for you, Annie said tearfully.Are we going to the funeral? I am afraid he died before we were born, Mary said in an anguished tone.
, he’s no use.Anyone else you fancy?How about Dante? Annie screamed Which Dante do you mean?I thought he was Italian, Mary informed her. It’s not far by plane, though Brexit might be a problem, Annie said wisely. Let’s be realistic.No dead, great genius will be revived by the Lord to marry me.Mary said as if she were lecturing to a big class on differential geometry and its use in economics.No wonder we had the Depression That might be blasphemy, Annie informed her.After all, if God is omnipotent he can do anything at all. To me, he sometimes seems incompetent, said Mary wildly.And of all the lonely people in the world, why should he aid me in my grief? Anway male geniuses are very demanding.I think a cook or chef might be more practical. Oh, look, we’ve missed Mass again. We’ve not been for 40 years and just when we decided to go we started talking about these powerful creatures and a husband for you Never mind, why don’t we wait till Xmas? And so say all of us.