Fishing

Poachers caught the geese from off the Lea

They roasted them for Xmas so we hear

If I asked they might get one for me

Not what we desire for Xmas tea

The same is true for Kentish wine and beer

Unless we all get drunk beneath the tree

We could go fishing in the river Lea

If we had a boat then I could steer

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

The river in flood

Cold from storming rain and full of mud

The river Lea in winter turns to flood

Across the Abbey Meadows rings the bell

Brings back the ghosts, bring back the holy spell

King Harald lost his crown and all his land

The Norman Vikings, men with bloody hands

The life boat crew

The life boat crew are safely home
They’ve brought the shipwrecked sailors too.
The storm has passed, the wind has dropped
The sea is swaying softly now.

Wrapped in soft night clothes, their offspring
Are all in world of dream still lost.
Their fathers’ safely home this time.
They save wrecked ships despite the cost.

Will any lifeboat crew be there
To help less blessed ones from despair,
And lives, too many , spent in care
No fathers and no mothers near?

The sea we certainly must fear,
But more we fear the acts of those
Who try to buy our minds and wills,
For votes in the election booths.

Oh hush my baby, go to sleep,
It is your mammy’s job to weep.
I wish I knew just what to do
To empower the lives of wains like you.

Sleep well, sleep well, my little child.
The sun will rise, the air is mild.
We’ll trust that when we all set sail
Our love and courage will not fail.

Oh,hush my sweet one, I am near.
The world’s too big for bairns to bear.
We’ll do much better this time round.
We’ll not let this boat run aground.

And on the world shall I bestow my wrath?


26233478_1054089244730953_3622257819011378810_o

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

Soil

I am feeling for the many roots that curve beneath the soil

Where insects scuttle silently, where kindly beetles toil.

Roots keep huge trees from falling down,an anchor and a friend

They feed the trees and crops and flowers in spring when life expands.

I place my feelers out to learn

what other life forms know.

Everywhere the mind can think

imagination goes

Photo by Jill Burrow on Pexels.com

Grace of Love

We became like children once again

Rolling down a grassy bank in glee

Gone was all our worry and the pain

Though we never sought to flee.

For a while we felt like little lambs

Leaping in the Pennines lower parts .

Confident we trusted in God’s hands

For noone human fully undrstands

Now I see you at the be very end

In the grace that love had kindly lent

Leaking into earth

My boundaries broken, leaks my soul to earth

Disdained by helpers out flies my own worth

My door won’t close,my body is unsafe

Being cleaned by others seems like rape

No time is free for they come when they will

Losing one’s autonomy can kill

To break into the sacred heart brings death

Destroying or debasing with cold wrath

Soup

Photo by Tobias Bju00f8rkli on Pexels.com

The parsnip soup was delicate yet strong..

Here the flavour lingers on my tongue

We had chopped fruit and ice cream in a tub

All I need is he whom I still love.

I need to be caressed but not too much

I shall beat off strangers with a crutch

For women are no longer victims of strong men

Hear my words and write them with a pen

Don’t lie so still

Ah,brother I don’t want you to lie still

No blood to circulate,no thoughts,no will

No help,no humour.jokes no

sharp true eye

From our old shared pram,to live, to die.

I used to do your homework

late at night

Abstract thought to you was no delight.

You wondered over X and y and z

Preferred the shapes of Nature in your. head.

I shall retain the memories of the good

You who taught me speech and hate and love

Goldenrod

On Sunday we would stroll to old Deane Road

My brother used to speak in. Code

My baby sister in her pram so bold

Now both have died and passed away

I can’t forget the golden rods and Mum’s coat frayed

The cemetery where we used to pray

Now Mum is dead will there be room for me

I prefer to lie beneath my tree

I hope I shall be eaten like the Host

Though I am no Saviour I have done my best

And crave the peace of nature and her rest.

The church bells ring again in harmony

Asking for some peace and charity

I rode on Daddy s shoulders held his ears

He sang and whistled I wished he was still here