Category: emotion

Like butter in the sun

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

My heart is soft like butter left in sun.
Much more heat and it will melt and run
Oh, why do we have feelings,why engage
When friendship turns into such bitter rage?

I do not wish to live remote and stern
As if I am so perfect I can’t learn
Pain too deep can mortify the flesh
Turn us into robots fit for trash



All I need is an enormous fridge
Which will make me harder than sweet fudge
I’ll go inside and pray for peace each day
If I freeze to death,I shall not say.

Oh, be of merry heart,my friends and foes
When love comes in, a little hate will go

First class ass

I am very clever,give me that
I have got a first class aegrotat
Do you feel that you would like one too ?
Just get chicken pox or maybe flu

I went to York in winter,this is true
Hebden Bridge had icebergs in the loo
Then we were near Grimsby in thick fog
The Humber Ferry crossed like coppers plod

In Hull they gave degrees in geography
Now they teach the gross democracy
That may be where I caught Golders Green
My face is apple and my eyes are teal

I could have done degrees in Law or Greek
I love to hear the way the foreign speak
Give me Aramaic for my tea
Give me ancient Hebrew,I am he.

I learned Dutch but I was not first class
In fact I failed completely,I’m an ass


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.

Yet life endures

Since you died I learned to use a crutch
I have noone to lean on, none to touch
I wanted you to die with kindly ease
Now I miss another I could tease

Noone knows what was our special tree
Nor why the pain of loss dwells in my knee
As if I cannot stand or wait alone
Dark earth is softer than these paving stones

The trees you loved my neighbours see as weeds
I shan’t recite a list of their misdeeds
Others gossip of my coloured coats
A widow’s weeds aren’t teal, they grin, they gloat

Before you went I saw the cloth of gold
Coming down from heaven to enfold
Then it rose, its satin thick and pure
Taking you away, yet life endures

The emptiness, the void, the loss, the pain
The crash severe we know is foreordained



The handkerchief pan

In the evening. simmering handkerchiefs
Perfumed the air with odours I can’t tell
Mother scrubbed them, hung them on the line
Then I had to iron them, folded well

Now we have our tissues, we don’t need
Hankies that need scrubbing many times
The oceans  deep are  poisoned  with our  waste
Is the use of tissues a  new crime?

While we did our  homework  after tea
My brother  liked his Wagner at  full blast
Imagine  learning Latin  with that din
Now the time for anger  has  long passed

Bad memories change  by  newly given grace
Evoking hints of  mother and her face

Pen and bell

In this so called office,I am trapped
Trying hard to write and to adapt
I have numerous pens in this my cell
Reminding me of school, the longed for bell

Ten past four, we put on winter clothes
I crossed the Park in fog, it wet my nose
Walking down our street I’d see the cat
Sitting on the pavement, Ginger spat

I put the kettle on to make our tea
The coal glowed low and red like elves in glee
The aluminium teapot never broke
The kettle had turned black , the milk was smoked

I had that tiny piece from others free
That was when I learned that I am Me

Thoughts at dusk in winter

Four o’clock– and the sun’s still glowing
Four o’clock – of a colour bright day,
Up above, pink-tinged clouds are sliding
Down still sky, sweeping sun away.

Come back sweet sun, do not yet leave us.
Come back bright beams,I need sunlight
Down on earth,it’s witch moon darkness,
When your golden face is out of sight.

I see the orange clouds extending
I feel such sense of sky lit bright.
But gently now, the mist surrounds you
And sweeps away that happy sight.

Into velvet blackness sinking,
The dazzling, dreaming darkness falls.
Goodbye to haste,and glare, and sunshine,
Time for reverie,night time calls.

On the night-trains gentle journeys,
On this trackless train we ride
Strange new visions, haunting pictures
We will see in dreams’ designs.

In my night train,I’ll be happy
In such rich deep reverie.
We visit darkness in our sleeping,
There we learn its ecstasy.

Now we may have no God to hold us,
In His Hands of Living Love,
What will help us trust deep blackness
If there’s no Saviour from above?

Must we enter that great darkness,
Go back to dark from which we came,
Into dark all living creatures,
In that darkness find our home?

Trust the dark unknown, to hold us,
Trust the dark,both night and day.
Must we walk into that darkness
And trust it is our safest way?

Carnation,orchid ,daffodil and rose.

How softly sweetly,gently flowers pose
Carnation,orchid ,daffodil and rose.
Intricate the petals that should shield
Yet bees with striped force shall make them yield.
Appearances,both natural and contrived,
Mixed with the wiles of human nature thrive.
As, knowing not, we pluck the apple rare
And bite its flesh,with teeth we burn to bare.
We too deceive the innocent who pass
Not seeing watchers hid behind the glass.
The windows break,the deep earth quakes;
Seized is the maiden ,he  her virtue takes
.Beneath the surface,force and fierceness thrive.
What fearsome, burning God enjoys our lives?

They haunt the seer

Image result for Pendle Hill

Pendle Hill , the Langdale Pikes are me
They waken up my heart from dull, dark dreams
The marvels are the poignant shapes I see
I recognise them in the grace and fear
Pendle Hill , the Langdale Pikes are me
I’m branded with their shapes so known so dear
Yet how huge shadows frighten,haunt the seer
Pendle Hill , the Langdale Pikes are me
They waken up my heart to what may be

Liquid unmodernity

My brain has turned to liquid and it’s dripping from my ears
I need some kind of tampon to absorb this sudden rush
Why did noone tell me this is frightful to endure?
My brain has turned to liquid and it’s dripping from my ears
I think it’s far too late to expect a total cure
I’ll never hear the little voice nor see the burning bush
My brain has turned to liquid and it’s dripping from my ears
Where’s an alcoholic then, to drink the mighty rush



Tread right on the holy human face

The way to be successful is now clear
Deny your shame,humiliate the poor
Have no friends or mate whom you hold dear
The way to be successful is right here
Control your cronies with a hint of fear
Tread on the lowly, who can but endure
The way to be successful, shed no tears
Repress your shame,humiliate the poor

Accidentally tread on someone’s face
As you run for president again
Make sure their features are unclear,erased
Knowingly tread on the human face
It’s not evil, it is just bad taste
The devil is a clown, we feel no strain
Incidentally tread on someone’s face
As you run for president again

My husband has a rubber face













My husband has a rubber face,
He’s from a subset of the human race.
Some men have faces fixed and set;
My husband’s face is not like that.

He imitates our politicians,
Just like Rory Bremner can.
Though he has no wig or hair piece,
He can look like anyone.

Some nights I waken for I am laughing
While I am quite sound asleep.
I am dreaming of his mobile features,
Contorted to a different shape.

He is skilled at telling jokes.
And he loves a good cartoon.
If I am feeling flu style blueness
I he can get me up again.

He has a rather noble visage.
He gets attention he abbhors.
In the bar on King’s Cross Station—
I was asked was he a Lord!

He’s a Lord of Fun and Humour.
He’s a Lord at Listening Well.
He’s unique, but so are you,
And all creatures that on earth do dwell

	


	



			
				


			

			
Enigmatic  like a midday dream
		
	
	

		

The fallen sun makes black the trees that lean
Its liquid centre thrown up wild and bright
Enigmatic  like a midday dream





The  pinky edges shift in  sun’s bent beams
Do they convey the aura of the light?
The fallen sun makes black the trees that lean





I wonder where my haunted eyes have been
In the forests deeper than the night
Enigmatic  like a midday dream





Schizoid, lacking affect,  a  slit scream
Destroying what is left of love and sight
The fallen sun makes black the trees that lean





Here we saw wild primrose by the stream
The castle of the Tudors soft in  blight
Enigmatic  like a midday dream





Bewildered people  kill their own insight
Toss their fears , into the weak to bite
The failing sun as pure as  boiling screams
Enigmatic  are our midnight dreams

	


	



			
				


			

			
The personality of trees
		
	
	

		






Trees lean over, watchful as we meet
The tall ones do not shiver in the breeze
Trees can hear the torment in our speech

We have flowering cherry in our street
But mine died like my lover with great ease
Trees lean over listening as we meet





The tree won’t bend too close, it will not reach
As panic,worry, horror,nightmares squeeze
Trees discern the music in our squeaks





Alas, no tree has mastered human speech
But when they can, they coax the honey bees
Trees lean over sweetly as we meet





The leaves will rustle,wrestle and may tease
Smile for selfies,what’s the word, it’s cheese
Trees lean over, wonder, and conceive
Yet trees hate noone, nor do they believe

	


	



			
				


			

			
Isolation makes me feel alone
		
	
	

		






OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA










This isolation is not good for me
Unless there is a God,how could it be?

The viruses are not like friends who  talk
Yet they can come with you on a walk





Invisible to naked human eyes
Viruses are now akin to spies





Who is watching me as I write this?
I’ve now forgotten  who Paul Dirac was

Should I block the camera with white tape?
It might bring me some pleasure,ah, too late





Is it wrong  for women to read books
New ideas might make us into freaks





Yesterday was warm but now it snows
I’ve got itchy spots and feel morose





Should I buy merino  knickers now?
Should I breed some sheep  or just a cow?

Why algebra exists is really queer
If you spot it then you are a seer.





Rings and groups and donuts are germane
Topology has driven me insane

What is small yet makes the gradient clear?
Calculus is  like an atmosphere





Did you say Eureka in the  bath?
It means you’ve met yourself without the glass





The microphone is faulty I proclaim
Perhaps I’m going deaf, we’re  all insane





The phone is complex, perfect and effete
I cannot hear the voices when they speak





I got up in the night and wet my pants
That’s my husband’s ghost, the miscreant!





I had to wash pyjamas every day
4 pairs are enough if you are gay

	


	



			
				


			

			
The footstep on the stairs
		
	
	

		

I  remember you  so well  for those eight  years
The nights you sang love’s lullabies  to me
I was fearful of  the  footstep on the stairs





You held me as we paddled in the sea
Maybe Blackpool,maybe Morecambe too
You told me stories as I sat upon your knee

I have  some good memories, too few
Where are all those days we played outdoors?
Who knows  if these memories are true?

In East Lancs and in West Lancs rain will pour
Once you wrapped me in your coat, but then
Mam was angry when we   reached the door





She  told you, you were foolish for  a man
Why should men  be wise, should anyone?
That  was when your illnesses began





You let me lie beside you in your bed
I’d had my tonsils out and felt  unwell
I talked but don’t remember what you said

I didn’t know the meaning of pure hell
I guess I learned that when death you befell
Come back,Daddy,missing you  too well
I’m still your little girl, your smiling belle





















	


	



			
				


			

			
Now the melancholy’s gone
		
	
	

		

Now I’m feeling  kind of numb on this January day
The darkness came down sudden and I feel it’s here to stay
Shall I make some tea and pretend that you are here
I’m naked like the wood underneath that swish veneer.

I’m feeling kinda nothin’ now the melancholy’s gone
Should I be doing something  that will give me, like, some fun?
The silence is not threatening, but neither is it good
Did you ever wish that you weren’t made of flesh and blood?

I’m feeling  so damned stupid  for falling on my back
My shoulder was in agony and there’s whiplash in my neck
The doctor, he injected me, but  he said it’s down to luck
He may have missed the mark, he says,I wish I’d said,oh feck

Apparently  the elderly are not in much demand
I heard a sorta whisper as my head  went  in the sand
We must keep the silence or we’ll frighten off the young
They don’t seem to notice   but the cat  will lick my hand





I  didn’t  know how old I was   till the  clock flew off the wall
Isn’t it uncanny what you see before the Fall?

	


	



			
				


			

			
Love will need no trick
		
	
	

		






In my despair I felt that I was stuck
Paralysed by  grief and guilt I failed
By the end I had tried every trick





From prayer unthought to deeps of logic black
My  life, my engine ,juddered off the  rails
I hated God and of “his” Church was  sick





Starving  and alone I was in shock
The death of one I loved   had made me frail
By the end I had tried every trick






I felt  love’s arms around me,  death to block
I knew   this goodness,  why else would I wail?
I   thought I hated God  but Love had struck





Warm and golden light  that  did me hold
Where are you now when refugees  die cold?
Kind despair  that  made me long time sit
By the end I knew  Love needs no trick

	


	



			
				


			

			
The dam burst
		
	
	

		

Yout letter seems to overflow with rage
The reservoir of hatred has emerged
The loving kindness  vanished without trace





I cannot see the mirror of your face
You used me to contain   your anger’s  surge
Yout letter, wanton, overflows  with rage





Why did you enact   your Play in haste?
Why  treat me so coldly , why me hurt?
Your act  of love has vanished without trace





Do not tell me I was not your taste
You  fantasised an image I  dispute
Yout letter ,sadly, overflows with rage





I hate to see my love  was  to you  waste
Free speech applies to both,  you can’t refute
How could good, true  love leave not a trace?










After this, I  in my world was mute
I could not speak,my heart and soul  pursued
Yout letter uses words to  channel rage
You wished to see me naked,this  the stage

	


	



			
				


			

			
Bill,Bill,my mother’s dad
		
	
	

		

Bill.Bill.my mother’s dad
Down the coal mine he did dig
When he was but a young lad

He was never very big
He spoke in the old dialect
He had a dog, a pipe, no cig

Silent,smiling, starving wrecked
He sent kids to a soup kitchen
Learned to read, but knew few facts

Went to London,saw Big Ben
Still angry from the General Strike
Aye,he were a silent man

He walked at night, he had no bike
To the coal mine with his cat
The cat sat waiting till first light

Then  they walked, he did head maths
His wife had died, the son was born
When he got home, he had a bath





His father worked in fields of corn
Peasants on the Chesire farms
The pay was poor,  were up at dawn

He himself  were on good  terms
With his neighbours, Irish, torn
He went to Mass,so Latin learned

My mum was th’eldest of those born
She had me,my own dad died
She went mad, she was forlorn

Lost her mother, then she tried
To help her Dad with all her heart
Never wept and never cried

Then she made a  different start
Met my dad and married late
So I am here with my own charts





Is it destiny or fate
Why am I down  here, d’you ken?
I  see  you grandad, is it late?