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

Logic and marriage

Annie ran into Mary’s kitchen wearing a pale green coat and matching suede s oes
Oh,let me tell you my happy news,I am gettng married again
Is that why you are all dressed up?Why green?
Don’t be ridiculous,marriage needs organising
You mean the Ceremony?
Yes, and the meal
I think marriage itself needs organising.Who will pay the bills and bring in the coal?
Which side of the bed will you sleep on?
Oh, I must get larger bed,Annie realised thoughtfully
And who is to be your husband?
I’ve not decided yet,Annie admitted quietly
How many candidates are there for the position,Mary asked quizzically?
Well, the main one is Denis, the psychoanalyst across the road
I expect he already has a big bed..Mary joked knowingly
Yes,I spent a night or so with him and he has a memory foam mattress here.
I hope it doesn’t remember all the women he has slept with
Well, only if they slept there.They might have gone to an hotel or been in a caravan
at Southwold Harbour,Annie rambled on
They might have slept in a wood by a log fire or in a tent on the West Ban
k
So will he be faithful to you?
He’s already told me he adores me more than he knew possible
That will soon wear off when you live together
How cruel you are,Annie sighed ,like martyr waiting to be executed
Shall I make some tea for us both?
Yes and boil my hankies as well,Mary joked.
I shall boil your tongue if you keep teasing me!
They sat down near the window while the sun was setting in a wine coloured sky
I do like your outlook,Annie said
I thought it was Microsoft’s,Mary told her innocently
You silly idiot,I mean your view
I’ve never heard of YourView.Is it a new thing like Zoom? Mary asked nervously
I mean, this view here from your window at dusk
Wow,I am frightened how I assume everything I learn of is related to Modern Technology
Yeah, said Annie,I’ve done it too
You are both stupid,said Emile the resident cat
How rude.Why do you say that,Mary enquired boldly?
It’s the whole human race.All hooked on Skype or a Twatter
What’s a Twattter?
It’s someone who lives on Twitter
You won’t find a bird on Twitter.
So a bird can’t be a Twatter
That is correct.Aristotle would be pleased if he were here
Where is he?
In a book
.

That is end of “Logic made simple” on BBC education

Happiness

Are fish happy dancing through the waves?

Darting through the pearls and crystal caves?

Singing as they wander with their mates

No anxious thoughts of money nor of fate.

Through the salty water on they glide

Happy with the temperature and tide.

I wish that I could swim beneath the sea

No painful joints nor mental agony.

I liked the teal green seas we saw at Hythe

Coming down the Saxon Cliffs we sighed.

The burning cornfields sent their red smoke high.

I wish we were together in the car

Driving down to Kent, it’s not so far

Loving memories

I look up our small street,
To see if you are coming.
I don’t know what time it is,
But I think I hear you humming.

You sang sweet songs for us,
And you could whistle well.
You wore an old tweed jacket
You loved us,I could tell.

I look out there each day,
But I can’t see your tall, thin shape.
I saved your Woodbine packet,
It made me feel some hope.

What does death’s door mean?
Where has Daddy gone?
When will be the welcome day,
When we hear his songs again?

I’ll sing like him all day,
I’ll dream of him all night.
I hope he won’t be angry,
If his cigarettes won’t light!

He can’t write his own songs now.
He went too far away, too soon.
I’ll write down what I think he sang,
And I’ll invent the tune.

I hear him singing now,
He dwells inside my heart.
And though I still can’t see his face,
I recognise his Art.

The dreams, the metaphors of the mind

I wish we were in Alston steep and fine

The Pennines all around, the lakes nearby.

We walked the Pennine way in our own time.

Your heart was in the hills, to teesdale chained.

You didn’t like the urban sprawl, the blight

I wish we were in Alston now and then

The time has passed we find our memories fade.

I miss you,miss you, miss you, I can’t lie

I wish that we were near high force, that air.

And our;United Kingdom’s in decay.

We saw an eagle but it did not fly

0h every breath we took was like a prayer.

I find it hard to walk without a crutch

I can see but I can’t feel your touch

You would hardly know me now I sigh

I wish you were in Alston by my side.

The dreams, the symbols memories combine.

This is how you’re with me for all time

I am very proud because I’ve tried

The neighbour’s cat ate my curry

I left a pan of curry on the stove
Hot as ash combined with burning coal
Yet when I went back in a cat stood there
Eating this strong curry with no care.

It must have had thick skin inside its mouth
Before I looked ,it ran out of the house
To think it gobbled up our supper so
Leaving me with nothing but a glow

So then I made a chilli beef and beans
My heart ached as I listened to puss scream
Can cats learn that pans are out of bounds?
I’d hate to hear again its anguished sounds

Be sure to close the kitchen door or else
You too will suffer torment from cats’ yells

Astonished into bud

Fritillaria sewerzowii Green_15-2 [1024x768]

Flower by Mike Flemming.Copyright 2015

The journey to the heart is graced by love.
And those who need to seek obey their call.
Though virtue and her graces smile above,
We see steep paths ahead with risky falls

With willingness to cross fields deep in mud,
To struggle through the tangled wind bent wood.
Our soul within knows when there’s latent good;
Recalls old trees astonished into bud.

As flowers spring up to gently grace our toes
Encouragement is with much joy received;
And as we smell the fragrance of the rose,
At last we know our souls were not deceived.

For Virgil,fortune favours steadfast feet.
The journey may be long,the end is sweet.

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

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

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

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