Category: Courage

I remember everything

I can see you in our house

In the kitchen, on the stairs

I see you  playing in the street

And on your rocking chair.

I see you in Saint Patrick’s church

Were we went on Saturday

And when you were in hospital

You held your beads and prayed.

You had to use your fingertips

Before I bought the beads

I half wish I had died with you

It hurts inside, I bleed

I have got a photograph

It’s us three girls and Mam

Now you’ve gone away with them

My sister,oh my lamb

My   Mother and my Father 

my sisters and one boy

I remember Christmas Day

Happy with our toys

One by one the people go

Till one is left alone

I remember everything

It’s written in my bones

I never thought I’d be alone

When four if us  were here.

I was called The fragile one

I am drowning in my tears

Essex cornfields

Saturday was shopping then a walk Epping,Ongar,Finchingfield by car

Reading book reviews and chewing stalks

Buttercups and meadows,Henry Moore

Driving back from Chelmsford, cornfields flamed

Smoke and fire and earth, the sun dismayed

Farmers working hard, a harvest, grain

The sky through mist a cobalt blue displayed

Standon with its fords and wandering cows

Little rivers,Essex, flowing down

The Stort joins with the Lea,a gurglimg sound

Water for the Thames and mossy ground

The earth feels like my body sacrificed

The artist’s canvas stretched ,a matricide

Daddy’s coming home

At three o’clock, we ran across the park
Then up the Wigan Road, we children roamed
Past the houses and along the fields
Looking for our daddy coming home
Looking for our daddy coming home.

I was only  two or three  at most
We passed our church and saw the Pope in Rome
We climbed a fence and walked by fields of wheat
Looking for our daddy coming home
Looking for our daddy coming home.

From the distance came a tall thin man
A ladder on his shoulder, hair well combed
A bucket full of paints and all his tools
Look, Paul, is that daddy coming home?
Bernard, I think daddy’s coming home!

A look of shock, a smile, a cry, my loves!
He rushed towards us, happy and transformed
What about your mammy does she know?
Yes, yes, yes it’s daddy coming home
Yes, yes, yes, it’s daddy coming home.

Oh,Mammy had no idea   of  it at all
She thought we were just playing by the wall
Children were much bolder and more free
 But Daddy  went to Heaven after that

A golden sheet

I saw your soul like that of a wild bird


Someone other guided me to act
Deep inside my voice had been unlocked
I sang the psalms and then a lullaby
Not aware in thought that you would die.


I fed you with a teaspoon the mashed fish
From a plate as good as one might wish
Like a little child you tried your best
You smiled at me and gazed like one who’s blessed


You sat up with a brighter face at last
Then lay back and God knows all the rest

Oh, don’t go yet ,my darling,I am here
The floor of heaven came down amidst my tears
Made of sumptuous satin, gold,revered
For a little moment it hung low
Then it rose and took you in its glow
I saw your soul like that of a wild bird
Taken by the Power who spoke the Word


A sheet of tears fell down from my closed eyes
It’s hard ,so hard when those you love must die

Essex cornfields

Saturday was shopping then a walk Epping,Ongar,Finchingfield by car

Reading book reviews and chewing stalks

Buttercups and meadows,Henry Moore

Driving back from Chelmsford, cornfields flamed

Smoke and fire and earth, the sun dismayed

Farmers working hard, a harvest, grain

The sky through mist a cobalt blue displayed

Standon with its fords and wandering cows

Little rivers,Essex, flowing down

The Stort joins with the Lea,a gurglimg sound

Water for the Thames and mossy ground

The earth feels like my body sacrificed

The artist’s canvas stretched ,a matricide

Jesus must be free

Jesus does not live within the church

Like the wild birds of the sky he’s free

Jesus is in no parrot with a perch

Nor does he require a bended knee

In the ancient buildings there’s some air

Quiet years of prayer have left a mark.

Yet its sad destructions caused despair.

The abbot of old Glastonbury stark

The restless ashes spread as in the air

The winds of love are heartless yet demure

Would it be a way to make things fair?

If there is a God he must be there.

Not with those who scandal eyes the poor

Soon they’ll have no shoes nor much to wear

Whores do not pay tax, oh what allure.

Christ and Mary Magdalene come by

How economics causes men to lie

The power of mathematics made the bomb

Soon the the earth shall burn to kingdom come.

On a motorbike with God

There were three of us on this motorbike,
Father Dan with me,
And he had Jesus in his bag.
That makes the total three.

Transubstantiation, oh my Lord
I looked at his black bag.
Is Jesus inside there, I thought?
Should it have a tag?

It’s a secret never told
Father Dan gave it me to hold.
So I had Jesus in my lap,
No wonder now I feel a gap.

We zoomed off up an unmade road
As fast as Dan could go.
I felt bewildered and bemused,
I loved my Daddy so.

Father Dan took back his bag,
And went inside our house.
I got my marbles out to roll,
I feared I’d see a mouse.

So Three of had taken a ride
And after that, my Dad had died.
Father Dan said Mass today
Still with Jesus, so I cried.

The art and the heart

the art of poetry isn’t hard to master
make the syntax good and  entertaining
the  gruesome heart of poetry   brings disaster

 

a meter errant makes  the lines come faster
an oxford  thesaurus   gets the listeners   waning
the art of poetry  isn’t hard to master.

 

a genius woke and saw a verse rush past her
it only needed polishing and planing
the  gruesome heart of poetry brings  disaster

 

she left the oven on,it gassed her
ever since her folk  groan, paining
the art of poetry  isn’t hard to master.

 

she saw her selves as coloured shapes in plaster
and round her mind, were ghosts all craning
the  gruesome heart of poetry brings disaster

there’s not a lot of hope if we’re complaining
for criticism  from hidden ghosts is draining
the art of poetry isn’t hard to master
the  gruesome  heart of poetry brings disaster

 

 

 

 

 

Right direction

If you are going in the wrong direction there is no pointt hurrying.

Don’t start walking until you have had a very good look at where you are literally or metaphorically.

.Have you got a map?

If you wear spectacles clean them

In any case .more haste less speed

How do you no if it is the right direction?

By instinct or intuition and by conversations with a good friend

But don’t wait for too long as you might grow roots.

Raspberry canes that chuckle in the wind

The empty canes of raspberries hang low

Red maple leaves are mashed up in the mud

Nature seems to hover by death’s door

Animals and humans drained as whores

No feeling ,no green sap,no flowing blood

The crackling canes of raspberries hang low as

What can we say un-cliched, metaphored?

At dawn the sun will burn despite the Flood

Nature did not force us through death’s door

Can the death of God mean this and more,

Though love and hate are fractured, life is good?

The chuckling canes the berries sang below

Can a life with heart not be restored?

End retaliation, understand

Nature did not wave us through the door

At the edge of Europe are no hordes

Jesus is more small than any bud

The crackling canes stored laughter in their cores

The remnants of the foxgloves in the wood

Wave politely . even seem to nod

The raspberry canes, the honesty know more

Nature ,light and darkness, affect stored

Contractions

We lose our health we lose our lovers friends

Death comes slow but faster at the end

Now we can’t afford to use the lights

We feebly rage against the coming night.

Once our life expanded as we grew

Every year was filled with actions new.

Marriage job promotion travel fun

We never thought that one day we’d be done.

Who can fight against the dying light?

Once so strong and fierce your heart gave up

Oh my love I miss you in the night..

Filled with sorrow, we must drain the cup.

Aging is like dying everyday

Slowly slowly each life ebbs away

Do not go

Those I thought were friends now slide away

Hiding in the shadows with no light

No mirror can reflect the sun today

Maybe it’s my eyes that cannot see

Blinded by the shock of what I read.

I thought that we were lovers you and me

The looks and glances, what you nearly said.

As for all the others let them lie.

I shall not hear their words my ears are shut

My heart has shrunk, and slow the time goes by

I feel the knife blade but I cannot cut.

Do not cast your friends off with no word.

We do not like to feel the world’s absurd

St Margaret’s Bay

St Margaret’s Bay,the lighthouse,the green grass

,The Kentish light,the avenues of glass

See across the Channel where they hide

Drowning migrants rolling on the tide.

Who are they,we say  in cruel tone  ?

Jesus lived in Bethlehem, not Rome

Higher climbs the butterfly in sun .

Disappearing, burnt to Kingdom come

9 Keys to Handling Hostile and Confrontational People | Psychology Today

https://www.psychologytoday.com/gb/blog/communication-success/201510/9-keys-handling-hostile-and-confrontational-people

Escalation

One of the most common characteristics of confrontational and hostile individuals is that they project their aggression to push your buttons and keep you off balance. By doing so, they create an advantage from which they can exploit your weaknesses.

If you are required to deal with a difficult individual, one of the most important rules of thumb to keep your cool. The less reactive you are to provocations, the more you can use your better judgment to handle the situation.

When you feel upset with or challenged by someone, before you say or do something you might later regret, take a deep breath and count slowly to ten. In many instances, by the time you reach ten, you would have regained composure, and figured out a better response to the issue, so that you can reduce, instead of exacerbate the problem. If you’re still upset after counting to ten, take a time out if possible, and revisit the issue after you calm down. If necessary, use phrases such as “this is not a good time for me to talk…,” or “let’s deal with this after we cool off…” to buy yourself time. By maintaining self-control, you leverage more power to manage the situation.

https://0e5d3b1db63291ec355b9740014edb55.safeframe.googlesyndication.com/safeframe/1-0-38/html/container.html

How to Be Better at Stress – Well Guides – The New York Times

https://www.nytimes.com/guides/well/how-to-deal-with-stress

It’s all good

Changing your perception

With stress, the mind and the body are intrinsically linked. You can view stress as something that is wreaking havoc on your body (and it can) or as something that is giving you the strength and energy to overcome adversity. Here’s a quick way to think about these two very different views of stress. Read the statement, and then think about your own reaction 

Joy and woe

The music of the fountain in the pond

The warmth of July sun on face and hands

How you liked sit here for an hour.

And how you loved the shrubs and little flowers.

I still can’t be here without feeling sad.

And yet inside my heart I’m also glad.

For while you lost your appetite for food

Sitting in the courtyard did you good.

And when the little tulips shared their heads

Your joy was sweet, my lover oh our bed.

When you were too weak to hug me more

The images of tulips through me poured.

I close my eyes and see them once again

This helps me survive the grievous pain.

For joy and woe are woven and are one.

The fabric of our life can’t be undone

Rock in the sky

I’d like to stroke your head to soothe your pain

I’d like to hold you while you rest again

Does my fantasy seem much too sweet

Can the heart enjoy such sweet deceit?

I’d like you in pyjamas. by the fire

Feelng cosy though you might be tired

Looking at a Bergman film with me

I do know you like them we will see

Then we could have a fight about my cat

It bit your head off when it lost the rat

I’d make some cocoa read your palm in bed

My eyes are weak so we might kiss instead

The earth would rock the stars crash in the sky

When I sang a dreamy lullaby

No fixed àddress

Noone saw me,no one met my eyes.

I felt the life inside me wilt and die

Of no value to the human race

If no-one saw them they would not exist

Leonard Cohen”s name was on a list.

I almost burned away in hot distress

The charred remains would have no fixed address.

Like the Jews who wandered for a space,

No eyes no gold ,no teeth, I am a Jew

I have no tongue to speak, nor language too.

Touch me

My tree

Holding hands in the dark

Helps us when we cannot talk

Touching, holding, being there

Gives us strength so we can bear

The heavy load,the angst, the care

The holy dove,the hands of love

Down below, up above

Grasp my body, hold me tight

Through the nightmares,give me light

Comfort me, we’re not alone

In the darkness be my home

Religion is good manners

By Katherine 2013 digital art

Be polite and do not kill your friend

Share your food with others every day

Do not gossip,spite is not profound

Share your sorrows and let comfort stay

Treat the poor respectfully and well

Do not steal a woman with a gun

The poor live close to God so there be still

Do not cause ill feelings hating men

It’s all about good manners I perceive

Do not spoil our sojourn with your greed

Musings at dawn

The purple mauve of morning fades away

The sky is soft pale blue,the sun is high

My light reflected in the melting dark

Looked like sunshine soft yet strangely stark

Then the light went out and I felt dim.

I cannot see but that is not a sin

I drank more tea and mused upon my life

Good and evil, fighting in the light

Let Love be strong and further love incite

The strange river

Photo by Katherine

The water ripples in the early sun

The full dark river hurries to the sea

As secretive as an en-cloistered nun

As powerful as s tiger on the run

As poisonous as a snake out having fun

As other as a stranger is to me

As heavy as a heart when love won’t come

And on the world shall I bestow my wrath?

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When true love’s gone and doom hangs over head
When life runs like a river to the sea
Then shall I take new lovers to my bed.
And with their carnal touch consoled be?

When my love lies and break my woman’s heart
. When life seems grey and rocks bestrew my path
. Then, shall I my life of evil start
And on the world shall I bestow my wrath?

When true loves lie and wreck all loyalty.
When puzzlement makes all the world seem mad.
Then I shall upend causality
And let myself do deeds which make me glad.

For I have love’s own child inside my soul
And I shall tend her till at last she’s whole

So lonely

Many lonely people

living in one street

Can they get together nie

why don’t they all meet

Noone likes to bare their soul

Others may attack

But if you need more people

You must show us lack.

You are feeling empty

Hollow in your heart

Nobody may notice

Photo by Tobias Bju00f8rkli on Pexels.com

You must make a start

Grab your courage strongly

Love is on your chart

Do not wander wildly

Still your gentle heart

Too much rain

Heavy rain has made the river full

It overflows its banks, goes where be it will

From higher Epping rivulets descend

The great trees shed loose leaves as down trunks bend

The birds are silent,hoping for some sun

The people wander weeping like old men

Tears like melting hailstones wet my face

Round the ancient bridges children race.