I wrote this when I was starting out and I noticed I was drawn to images of worms and beetles and life in the darkness under us.I was not aware of that when I began to write
Winter weather, frost, dark 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
How sad it is to see dried river beds
The clouds no longer weep my love is dead
The water does not flow, there is no breeze
The leaves have fallen from the summer trees
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
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You must make a start
Grab your courage strongly
Love is on your chart
Do not wander wildly
Still your gentle heart
The sun shines on the river and it gleams
Sparkling water,bouncing golden beams
Two ducks float without much will or hope
Let them find it some pleasure as they mope
I wish I were a wild wild goose
And I could fly and seek
Looking for my lost lost love .
With eyes that cannot weep.
What is my life when I love none
And noone loveth me
When all are fled when all are gone
Take me to the sea
I saw the hills I saw the lakes
I saw the mighty ocean
What is beauty what is joy
When my true love is broken
I peck my breast I shed my blood
The pure white goose would die
Take me to the cold. cold earth
Under a cruel white sky
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.
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.
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
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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?
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
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.
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?
When soft winds blow and air strokes our bare skin .When days are long like melodies of youth, when light wakes up the soul from out her sin Then shall we know when this sweet life is truth? When flowers droop and leaves are dried and brown; When water’s short and all the ground’s forlorn Then do not meet disaster with a frown, For out of heartfelt sorrow new life’s born .When winter’s here and all is quiet and still And nothing seems to move or grow or speak Then we shall learn the limits of our will When through the soil the first green shoots will break .For seasons change and actors come and go. Yet through such changes, life is what we know
We are swimming in deep water,deep and green I am coming towards you with my fingers stretched Our bodies pale as fish, our soft hair streams
The deep sea has no sun, yet we can see The retina is waiting, ready,etched We are swimming in deep water,deep and green
I see your face and eyes,how well they gleam Do we have to undergo a test? Our bodies pale as fish, our soft hair streams
Underneath the ocean are strange scenes I will tell you later, we are blessed We are swimming in sea water,deep and green
Our fingers meet, our lips share silver sheens We float in circles, weightless is our flesh Our bodies pale as fish, our soft hair stream
What will happen, what shall we do next Inspiration,grace, we are perplexed We are floating in deep water,deep and green Our bodies pale as fish, our soft hair streams
We walk along the Pennine way some years If farmers let the bulls out,we don’t care I like stiles and jumping over walls But then I’m not a man with stuff to haul I like mountains,I like lakes and boats I like being tickled as we float I like sheep that follow me all day Trying to find the perfect spot to pray Up near Dent the sheep beg very well They learn to knit while sitting on a Fell In the winter Dent is somewhat cold It feels more frosty to the very old I’ll never go to Dent or Alston now Unless the bull is gone and there’s a cow I’ll never climb up Coniston Old Man Nor meet Mary,Annie, Dave or Stan T hey are in another kinder place Where one the women made the famous lace On the River Trent come down the Peak Do not wear your shoes unless you’ve feet
On summer days the cliff at Weybourne sang Of finest grass entwined with tiny flowers The butterflies were floating on the wind
We walked along contented, hand in hand In Sheringham we saw no faces dour On summer days the cliffs at Weybourne sang
We met no wasps nor anything that stings The footpath was kept clear, no weeds to sour The butterflies were resting on the wind
I looked at bluebells,insects hear their ring So we passed with pleasure our free hours On summer days, the cliffs at Weybourne sang
Was it for this perfection Adam sinned? No human joy is with us very long The butterflies were resting on the wind
On summer days the cliff at Weybourne sang Of grass so fine and of its tiny flowers The butterflies were floating on the wind
In winter the North wind will make beasts cower No need for ventilation,faces glower On summer days the cliff at Weybourne sang The butterflies float through my mind, bright, winged