Summer is a coming in

And I’m a going out

There is many a myth

Between loss and kiss

Walking a ridge of rock
We saw Poole Harbour blue as ripe Stilton
Blue glints like decorations
I didn’t imagine then
How near we were to the end.
And what are out ends?
Do we choose it or copy?

It’s how we see that matters not what

Out in Morecambe Bay we felt the rain

The lightning flashed and caused the cowards pain

They sent a motor boat to bring us back

From the clouds we heard a fearsome crack.

The sky is tinted mustard almost pale.

The wind is light, we fear no April gale.

The branches of the little tree look black

In holly branches birds will feel no lack

A is for the axioms we use
B for Brownian motion in a glass
C is for the circle that found pi
D is for the dots that we combine
E is the ellipse that I adore
F is for the fraction I deplore
G is for geometry and art
H is for the hidden and unknown
I was once for inkwells filled each day
J is a close relation here of G
K is my own name, I do declare
L is for the loops that string can make
M is mathematics as an art
N is for the numbers that transcend
O might be for zero or the mind
P is for the problems we all meet
Q is for the quantity of life
R is for the random numbers here
S must be statistics, I declare,
T is for topology, that’s clear
U is understanding what we read
V is for the vacuum in the heart~
W is the will power to succeed
X is still unknown but we’ll give in
Y is Yes we understand the game
Z I’ll leave to you to make or maim

A Limerick is a humorous poem

Some folk can really enjoy them

Too mechanical for me

I prefer my Verse free

Even if it really annoys men

Please do not press the big button

For that will fire a bugged time bomb

Nuclear devotion

Will cause an explosion

That will last till the sheep are all mutton

I was troubled by men’s excess hormones

And tickled by their hands and their backbones

I called out,no more

Love is a chore

If I need them I shall buy my own diamonds

I once had a doctor called Rose.

He had the most horrible toes

But he wore shoes so handsome

They cost a king’s ransom

He polished them until they glowed

The tree was creamy pale in morning light.

Now it darkens as we near the night.

The little branches shiver as we do

Hearing Putin’s name is like a blow

“Fear no more the heat o’ the sun” 

BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

(from Cymbeline)

Fear no more the heat o’ the sun,

Nor the furious winter’s rages;

Thou thy worldly task hast done,

Home art gone, and ta’en thy wages:

Golden lads and girls all must,

As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

Fear no more the frown o’ the great;

Thou art past the tyrant’s stroke;

Care no more to clothe and eat;

To thee the reed is as the oak:

The scepter, learning, physic, must

All follow this, and come to dust.

Fear no more the lightning flash,

Nor the all-dreaded thunder stone;

Fear not slander, censure rash;

Thou hast finished joy and moan:

All lovers young, all lovers must

Consign to thee, and come to dust.

No exorciser harm thee!

Nor no witchcraft charm thee!

Ghost unlaid forbear thee!

Nothing ill come near thee!

Quiet consummation have;

And renownèd be thy grave!

More About this Poem

Why is it so easy to destroy?

A life wiped out,a child,a girl a boy .

A railway station shelled as people flee

Death,oh death,my loved ones

lost to me

Cartology,,…….how to manage a horse and cart.

Cynicism,,… cultivating cynics.

Pointillism,,….. giving meaning to even very small things.

Logisticalist,,…..imitating logic.

Impressionism,……looking better than you ought to

Premodernism,…,a forward looking philosophy

Fictionalology,,,. The science of invention

Maternalism,….the love of people of all kinds

Do not take a lover to your bed.

Let him take you home and see you’ re fed.

Do not go on dates with married men

Don’t mistake a peacock for a hen.

if you want more money get a job

No need to fight or kill or rob

I’d like to creep into a double bed

With my dear old husband but he’s dead

I’d like to have my little cat by me

Watching television from my knee
Alas the cat took ill oh what a blow

Which loss was the worse,I do not know.

Now I have a television new

But ,I dont want to watch it with out you

Poetry and Religion
by Les Murray
From book: The daylight moon [

Religions are poems. They concert
our daylight and dreaming mind, our
emotions, instinct, breath and native gesture

into the only whole thinking: poetry.
Nothing’s said till it’s dreamed out in words
and nothing’s true that figures in words only.

A poem, compared with an arrayed religion,
may be like a soldier’s one short marriage night
to die and live by. But that is a small religion.

Full religion is the large poem in loving repetition;
like any poem, it must be inexhaustible and complete
with turns where we ask Now why did the poet do that?

You can’t pray a lie, said Huckleberry Finn;
you can’t poe one either. It is the same mirror:
mobile, glancing, we call it poetry,

fixed centrally, we call it a religion,
and God is the poetry caught in any religion,
caught, not imprisoned. Caught as in a mirror

that he attracted, being in the world as poetry
is in the poem, a law against its closure.
There’ll always be religion around while there is poetry

or a lack of it. Both are given, and intermittent,
as the action of those birds — crested pigeon, rosella parrot —
who fly with wings shut, then beating, and again shut.

From book: The daylight moon

National stealth worship

The devil’s service on Sunday in cemetery.

Fashionable health scares us.

Rational belch servers

What the Brontë was that?

It’s that pan again

Dickens?

No Dora’s.

When did you learn to read?

After I learned to talk

I don’t December any door

My poems are published all over the world by other people.

Plagiarism,,….I have lots of higher degrees and diplomas.

Should I worry?

It’s a compliment!

The poor can’t take this lockdown for too long
They have no back gardens, no birdsong
Their bed rooms shared, or they have none at all
No privacy, no silence, it appals

I hear them talked about in cruel ways
“They go into McDonalds every day”
Would you cook your meals in red wine bathed
If you had only got a microwave?

They can’t keep warm in winter in their homes
McDonald’s is a luxury they earn
Clean and neat with heating and hot drinks
They sit and look at me , like I’m the Sphinx

The average reading age in Britain’s only nine
They can’t read Boris’ letter, that’s malign

Intelligence agency,,…liars

Enormity, ..e book about norms

Academic ……….useless.

Smart,……too quick

Rapidity,… ,. Skill for canoe users.

Visibility,,,,.skill at being seen

Hostility,,,,..skill at receiving Holy Communion.

Flexibility,,…pliability.

Oh charm and beauty be our friends

As on our journey we thus wend

Times are hard and fear gnaws souls

Lord have mercy on us all

Virtuosity,,….being very charitable.

Precocity,,,going mad before most of us do

Animosity,,,. kindness to animals

Ferocity,,.,,having iron teeth and using them.

Democracy,,…. demons running a country.

Humorisity,,,….getting a degree in Yankee jokes

Criminology,,,, understanding criminals

Religiousity,,,.misinterpreting love.

Tasmania,,…going mad in the sunshine.

Curiosity,,,.a desire to heal the sick

Is Lucifer the ruler of the earth?

In that case things are going to get much worse

Living standards rise like bubble gum

Stick a pin in when you’ve done the sun.

The moon is dark and neon lights glare out.

Be alert,we don’t know who’s about.

Satan and his demons run about

Handing out the ethics humans flout.

9

Men wore woollen trousers shades of grey

Jackets with big pockets day by day

Now there is are no adults we wear jeans

Even if we’re fat or very lean

No suits for work no hats and never ties.

No munching in the street no small pork pies

How to get things in proportion every day

Get a new perspective your own way

Climb up Winter Hill to see Welsh hills

Looking down we see old cotton mills

Not so very far away the sea

As placid as a snake or bumble bee

I  see a gentle globe, the winter sun
Setting into softness  like pink down
As if a gentle wind made sunset come

The watercolour  mauve has overrun
Wishing to make light  of winter’s frown
I can see how  winter  hurts the sun

Overhead  it’s soft grey tinged with plum
This is no  fit garment for a clown
But  gentle winter winds made sunset come

A blueness planetary makes our dome
As if a verb is subtly changed to noun
I can see how  night clouds flirt with sun

All the pink is falling,falling ,gone
The sun is left a monarch with no crown
As if a low dark wind made nightfall come

My heart is watered as the colours run
Combining,dying,falling,night has won
I still see a  shadow of the sun
Now   the work  of  wind  is  over, done

A double trunk,a Siamese twin

The tree is two though each is thin.

In summer sun the shadow’s short

The branches stretch with shyness taut

The tree stands gently waiting for the sun

Although trees cannot speak they like a pun

My hair is rough and cannot yet be spun

I’ll make a shawl when all the house works done.