Category: love

Love’s victory

Turn back, live again, he asked of me
Do not wander in this darkness anymore
One false step might give death victory

We are each connected to that tree
The sunlit top, the roots hid in earth’s floor
Come back, live again, he asked of me

While we live, we’ll live with dignity
Not scrabbling for the gold in blood and gore
One false step will give death victory

The kindness of the golden light was clear
And left an image in my mind’s deep core
Come back, live your life, he said to me

Do not wonder now why you are here
We’re here to live and living shall restore
What our suffering self has found so dear

I had never seen the Light before
Only Christ the Tyger with his roar
Come back, live through pain, he asked of me
One right step will give love victory

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 Evil has grown bold?
Kind despair  that  made me long time sit
By the end I learned Love needs no trick

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

Round the bend

The Wash, Lincolnshire, England | Images of england, Lincolnshire, England




Oh,Mary is in horrid pain
It’s her sciatica again.
No pills can cure but nettles might
She will roll in them tonight
Emile is aware of this
He gives her a loving kiss

Emile, I’ve told you it’s not done
To kiss your mother though in fun
What would Stan think,were he here
Drinking from a can of beer?
What would Annie think of this?
Go, give her a big wet kiss

Oh,mother I might bite her lip
As my teeth are made to nip
Take my emery board and smooth
Your pointed teeth and any grooves
Can I use Stan’s old toothbrush
No, I threw it in the Wash

Maybe seals will use it there
Send them combs and do not swear
I did not mean to curse again
My back is aching,I’ve no pluck
Mother, dearest, don’t say fuck

Well, that’s Irish, it’s ok
The Catholics wlil offer prayers
I pray too for all my friends
Those bereaved or round the bend
Do you mean those who see ghosts ?
Maybe it’s the heavenly Host

As long as you look clean and neat
Noone will see your hooves or feet
Noone will know you see and hear
Emissaries from other spheres.
Don’t meet eyes nor stare at men
And always write with a good pen

You may be in another realm
Dave can see you’r overwhelmed
He will pat your head this day
For this he gets his kicks and pay
When you feel yourself again
See it you can spot old Stan

Where is Annie,Mary’s friend?
Where the Spirit which descends
Where are our neighbours whom we love?
Singing with the turtle dove
All the Saints will chant along
As Jesus sings his ancient songs

Spirits rise and Love is here
Drinking in the atmosphere

Like swallows

Homesick for the home I used to have
The two of us and friends who were much loved
The  parents who had never had a car
We took them out to Essex  near and far

We went to Henry Moore’s home,saw his shed
Collections of old seashells,spiders’webs
The monumental scuptures   touched my soul
The grass so green, the lawns precisely mown

We went to Whipsnade Zoo  which Ma much liked
A tiger and her cub  were a great sight
Then we went to Berkhamsted  then home
Graham Greene grew up there, Chilterns roamed

Now all but I   like swallows  have flown high
Migrating to   far lands where earth meets sky

Blythburgh angels

By Blythburgh church, the cottage was unique
At night the floodlight  made me catch my breath
So beautiful the sight,I could not speak
I felt my soul awaken from its sleep
The Cathedral of the marshes is unique
The  soaring space,the stone, the river deep
The images that fade, the angels’ laugh
By Blythburgh church, the cottage was unique
In  the  dark , the floodlight caught my breath

Oh,steam iron I worship you


Photo by Gabriela Palai on Pexels.com

Oh,steam iron how I love your heat
And how you make my clothes so neat.
A flat iron is no use to me
No open fire is here,you see
And though I liked the flickering coals
I feared those faces that looked droll.
They were in the flames and peered
At anyone who ventured near.
I wonder how the people past
Kept their trousers neat and pressed
Now I’ve bought a hand steamer
To keep the germs off my femurs
I didn’t like to say,my crotch,
In case the devil is on watch.
I never ever used to think
My body perfume was distinct.
And yet it may appeal to men
I don’t want to try again.
One dear husband is enough
Though he did enjoy a cough
He had asthma and bad eyes
Looking out with wild surmise.
He saw my golden hair float by
As by his window it did fly
All at once he fell for me
And we sat by an apple tree.
His clothes were wrinkled so I thought
I would iron them for a start.
He could darn and polish floors
Cook lamb chops and apple cores
So my steam iron sees much use
I wonder if it’s self abuse
For as a woman feminist
I’m not meant to iron vests
I’m not meant to boil men’s socks
Nor their pants of interlock
I’m not meant to make them tea
What a naughty person,me!
I must confess these strangling sins
Then I’ll polish my old bin.
Satan wants me down in hell
Don’t say he needs my iron as well
As he was an angel proud
I’ll save him into One Drive Cloud

How to successfully waste even more money

Why not buy yourself a brand new winter coat in your favourite colour even if you already have 10 winter coats

And since the autumn is coming on why don’t we subscribw to our favourite magazines as the weather gets bad and we can’t get out to the newsagents to buy them.

Doesn’t every woman deserve some new new leather boots for the winter even if it never snows where she lives.

Why bother to go shopping stock up your food cupboard or fridge when you can order a takeaway delivered to your door every evening?

Oh maybe one of your friends would like to eat in restaurant with you. You can pay with your credit card.

Why not start the academic year with a new watch so that you get to the lecture room on time and don’t take the students waiting.

If you work in an office that’s a reason to buy a new watch

Your sister will need one too.Buy online and have it delivered. You need to show how much you love her and you can’t see how to do it without spending a lot of money

Because everybody else including your sister will buy one and you can get some with red straps and red faces that will keep winter depression at bay. Though it might bring on panic disorder when you get new credit card bill and then you have to pay a therapist to help you with your depression

Then you might think why am I wasting money on the cheap therapist when I can spend 10 years in 4 times a week Freudian psycho analysis. That will help me to get to the bottom of why do I waste money on things I don’t need and it will also make me bankrupt at the same time

Fiery air

Autumn time in Essex  where we drove
When farmers burned the stubble of the corn
The earth itself was  fiery  like young love
The smokey air rose like a  cloud  new born

The Kentish  landlocked   cliffs  are  wide and steep
The farmers grow  their grain on land beneath
And there too we  have seen the holy fire
The flames  and smoke arrest me with desire

The earth and soil, the  harvest  we find there
Give me joy  both full of wheat or bare
Why did burning stubble   make me glow?
These images affect the heart’s deep core

Now  fires are banned., they damage our pure air
And I   did not like the murder of the hare

Praise these creatures in the grime

Winter weather, frost, grey sky,
See white geese and silver stars.
Two cooing doves with collars red,
Are watching out for seeded bread.

From the sun, low in the sky,
Light falls slantwise to my eyes.
Trees bud, though invisibly,
Nothing that our eyes can see.

Bulbs shoot up from dark cold soil
Where worms and beetles quietly toil.
We take for granted air and sky,
Love the birds we see fly by.

But who can love the worms and slugs
And those creatures we call bugs?
So in our dark cold winter time,
Praise these creatures in the grime.

Without these worms, our crops would die.
No cornfields for us to lie,
Amidst the poppies’   wild red  blooms.
So we forget all winter’s gloom
.

Praise the snails and bees and ants
For these and spiders, let’s give thanks.
As the lightness needs the dark,
From darkness come life-giving sparks.

Enrich darkness with our gifts.
Look not always to the swift.
Slow and patient like these worms,
Nature’s lowness is my theme

The far side

Sundays we sent up onto the Moors

Breathing the sweet air one finds up there

Though Winter Hill is bleak we liked the view

I only wish today I might see you.

So far away that no way could I see

The far side of the earth where love roams free

Emile and Smokey

Annie went into Mary’s kitchen to look at her new  grey kitten
Will Emile not be jealous of Smokey,she asked nervously?
No, he says he’d like to pass on his knowledge to  other cats,Mary sighed
What knowledge? Annie said intrusively?
Well, how to get on with me  like Stan,Mary murmured
Surely all  men are different,Annie said thoughtfully?
I suppose so, but they do have somethings in common,Mary rambled on
Such as?
I’ll have to be careful or I will be hounded by  the politically fairly correct,said poor Mary
How can you be fairly correct? Annie enquired
It’s like fuzzy logic….. a thing is no longer right or wrong, true or false,and so on
It’s a many valued logic,Mary said in her peculiar  manner ;  very rapid speaking  combining  a Northern accent with the vocabulary of a scientist thus rendering her unfit to read the Newsfor the BBC,ITV Israel, Al Jazeera
or indeed any  TV service anywhere at all especially  China.
I suppose in reality few things are just black or white , remarked Stan jovially.
I have made a cake he announced proudly
What sort, shouted Annie hungrily?
A chocolate cake.I  made icing by melting a bar of chocolate in a pan with some buttera
then it spreads easily.
So does my waist, said Mary.I used to be almost flat  but now I am 3 dimension.I know I was too thin but now I am obese
So it’s not just your waist,said Annie.
Oh,give over.Stop me feeling worse
Well, you look ok to  me, said Stan.I am proud to be your husband
And I am proud to be your mistress, Annie said to Stan
Surely you should not say that in front of me, Mary said
But you know,Annie said in a matter of fact manner,  her eyes gleaming with blue and gold eye shadow and green mascara
It’s one thing knowing something, another hearing it said  out loud,Mary told her sharply
So, if we don’t believe in God, we should not say so and visa versa.Annie added
My goodness Annie, your IQ is rising like bread in a hot oven,Mary exclaimed
On the whole it’s better to keep quiet and only tell people something if it is essential.
Stan’s brother was in South Africa, they say he was in the ANC
What is an ANC, a mental health unit?
Anxiety Not Conversation
Angst Never Converts
Anguished No Clue
Anxiety Not Condemned
Anguish Now Cool
It was a political movement to get rights for the black people in South Africa
Was Stan’s brother black?
Possibly but he died long ago.
Stan, was your brother black?
No, he was just a priest from England who got sent out there to  teach black students in the apartheid era,
Wow, why did you not tell us,asked Annie
As I said before, do you need to know?
No, but it’s interesting, she said
You should do something useful instead of gossiping,Stan cried
Annie hit him with a big umbrella which, alas, knocked him out
Oh,no, said Emile, how can I look after Smokey when  I will have to ring 999?
I shall call them, said Mary, and get the police here to arrest Annie
Stan jumped up.
I was not unconcious he said.Not totally, but don’t do it again as it is common assault
The doorbell rang and in ran  dear Dave, the transgender  gay and well dressed paramedic
We’ve not even phoned 999, said Emile
Dave cried,I just knew something was wrong
Well,Emile said,I am taking Smokey upstairs.And we will have a good sleep
Maybe you should all do the same
And so say all of us

o

 

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

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

Goose

Disoriented, lost,the wild goose flew

Seeking for its mate which lately died.

As if it never saw ànd never knew

The mourning song of doves is not a lie

So birds and other creatures share our pain

Hoping that the lost will soon return

Yet this is final, none will come again.

Unless we day dream, till we lose our way

Believing our own fantasies, we pay

And so our heart will freeze or it will burn.

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

Without you

I didn’t like to go there without you

I didn’t like to be there without you

I didn’t like to come back without you

I don’t like to be here without you

No,not without you

While the gossips chat

And I see that caf

I don’t want to live without you

And they say I’m strong

They can’t understand

I don’t want all this without you

They put me in

A metal van

It hurt my back

It’s you I lack

Tell them you’re near

And you can hear

What they don’t say

What they don’t pray

I miss you.I miss you

Come with me.

Be with me

Forgive me

Must I suffer for ever

Don’t leave me

I can’t go on with the pain

But that’s what remains

Without you

Space to be alone

My presence gave him space to be alone
He concentrated on the world I could not see
Dying is an art if we’re not stones

We may marry but we do not own
Every spirit must feel it is free
My presence gave him space to be alone

At the end God makes his own Self known
His Word hangs like a Light upon a tree
Dying is an art if we’re not stones

I sat there in silence,overthrown
There is no need for money nor a fee
My presence gave him space to be alone

And as for the hereafter, that’s unknown
As is the port when ships cross a new sea
Dying is an art if we’re not stones

No need to pray or make a heartfelt plea
Sitting by his side,I let him be
My presence gave him space to be alone
Dying is for humans, not for stones

In between two numbers

In between two numbers there are so many more
Uncountable and infinite this is their allure
And then there is the circle, unmatchable, unsquare.
There is stern white beauty, the air is very pure

In between two numbers, a dancing pair can kiss
The band has paused to take a breath, the space is not amiss
The music has its rhythmic beat, how different from mere noise
Listen to the humming, listen to its voice

In between two numbers,puzzled and unsure
I try to guess the one you sent, your manners are obscure
Am I thinking in straight lines, when curves would tell me more
I see the comic sanctions that down on me will pour

In between two raindrops, in between two tears
In between our words and songs, love displaces fear

Humming in the mind

Emotions flow like music in the mind
A humming deep within the very self
Even in our sleep the patterns wind
Transformed to opera,images and health

The hum of children’s voices is benign
Two and two are four, oh Alice knows
Who has made thes minds so well designed?
Who has suffered well the pain, the blow?

Cut out the music, worship reason pure
Kant the human suffered it in shock
And in his way he wandered as a cure
Konigsburg with bridges was well stocked

Freed up in our humming, glad to hear
The music of the heart, the dark, the spheres

Blinded by the past

The old man and the seea were calm as glass
The Cafe was surrounded by mixed blooms
He was listening to a lady who described
The flowers, their colour,name all afternoon

He could not see at all yet was relaxed
Indeed he was delighted in the sun
I thought blind men were piteous,full of fear
That tells you more of me, than of the men

Below the steep cliff path, in ran the sea
I can’t imagine how our Airforce fought
Barely trained young men went out to war
Is Brexit Britain worthy of their Cause?

Now the blind man gazes out to sea
Was he one of those who kept us free?

Dream like memories

Hollyhocks,delphinium and phlox
Foxgloves,cat mint, nettles,near by docks
The blind man breathed in air full of wild scent
His daughted named the colours now absent

High up on the Kentish cliffs we sat
Capel-le -Ferne I found it on a map
We listened to this girl, we did not speak
Absorbing by our senses,proud and meek

Now I recollect the details very well
In those dream like memories I dwell
Snapdragons growing just beside my chair
I smell the scent as if I were still there

I may be blinded by the tears of loss
But I remember, love, our happiness

Another mind

From time and place and season I am lost,
Disorientated ,missing tracks well worn
.Do not suppose I’m unaware of cost,
Nor label me with epithets of scorn.

For usual paths lead to the usual place.
the safest way to live and perhaps to die,
But wandering through the woods I find new space
and in wild grasses with the fox I lie

.Through distant trees, I see a way to go
As narrow as a slit in pale limestone
.I pass in silence as if in deep,deep snow
.My courage rises even as I groan.

Remember when we’re lost ,we may then find
Another way,a place,another mind.

The mystery of love and what we sing

The proper conscience does not wound our hearts
But tells us truly when we have done wrong
It does not injure love before love starts

Its voice is still and small, it is not sharp
Sometimes it impresses us by song
The goodly conscience does not wound our hearts

Yet conscience is no angel with an harp
Unheard when minds are crowded, with thought thronged
It does not tear up love before life starts

It does not use great force, no threats shall rape
But talks to each in their own native tongue
The moral conscience does not wound our hearts

But what of evil men,Satanic sharks,
The mysteries of genocide and bombs?
Do they tear up love’s roots from their hearts?


Even good folk suffer like the lambs
We must enter darkness with blind hands
The proper conscience does not wound our hearts
It does not curse our love before life starts

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

Revolution

A strange comingling of the mills and moors
Green of nature,smoke from chimneys glowers
While sheep graze their wool is touched by smoke
But higher up the ground is bare of hope

Peering down I recognise the view
Rows of terraced houses share a loo
Women wear their aprons with panache
Boys are playing,give or take a bash.

Miners walking home with faces black
Painters with their ladders and their sacks
Little girls are skipping with their ropes
Cats are watching idly, kittens mope

Which way shall we go, we must decide
The green hill with no walls, the red brick eyes?

Revealed by love


A beam of light passed through my eyes
And showed to me a world disguised
So near,yet far,we do not see,
Unless by gift of grace redeemed.
That world is full of peace and calm
Its colors mingle,like a balm.
In such a moment all thought dies
Revealing Love which underlies.
Colors caress my naked eyes.
Sunlight blesses new designs.
I stand enthralled,and do not wish
For one delight,other than this.
My breath slows down, and filled with joy,
I rove my eyes with bliss to toy.
Everything is just itself.
This is now my living wealth.
Beneath the noise of city cars,
This mellow joy in love endears
This depth and peace, is always near
When we choose Love and turn from Fear