The butterfly is like a flower which moves its station every hour. Oh,happy is he on the wing. The vision makes me quick to sing. The flower is open in the sun, And to its heart, true love shall come. The bees shall feast and fly replete With nectar they are now full sweet. I sing of colour and of love; Blessings that rain down from above. I wish to be a flower too. Ah,that the bee could but be you.
Aldeburgh,Sizewell,Dunwich Heath The nuclear bomb shall bring eternal peace Housed between the town and the Reserve Its blackness is ignored by little birds If force deters, then we shall all be saved Or this our world will vanish without trace Innocently playing on the shore Children find old marble unrestored
Birds may sense the blackness of our hearts For, even though unused, the bombs take part They are here where Britten once composed And so the sanctuary ends unsaved,destroyed In between the lover and his rose A screen electric in the silence glows
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times in a very real sense. Mary dreamed Stan was in heaven enjoying the company of Wittgenstein,Jesus and Pascal , not to mention Lady Jane Grey Ann of Cleves,Juliet,Cleopatra and an angel. At least at this point in time he can’t sleep with them ,she thought as she woke up.Though did that matter? Can men be faithful and monogamous? Look at Leonard Cohen.Was he better off flitting from flower to flower? Was he so stunning that women threw themselves at him and he could not resist?Sometimes people are actually afraid of intimacy or feel life is short and want some new experiences.Was he a wolf? It t akes one to know one It was indeed almost the worst of times when Mary remembered she had no food in the house except cat food for Emile.He was all she had now as her daughter Lyra lived in Australia and Stan was in heaven, she hoped. Here I am, she thought, pondering unanswerable questions and not looking after myself .It is probably best to err on the side of buying food and going out rather than lying in the bed wondering if life has any inherent meaning. or if we must create our own. Even discussing that with someone else would be better.But men folk don’t want to discuss serious topics with their lovers. It was an even worse time when she recalled a man who once loved her leaving her because she asked him if he knew what post-modernism was one night after going to the cinema to see a comedy.She realised then that she would have to play a part,To act like a woman.So far it was but moderately successful owing to her myopic view of life If only I had kept quiet, she told herself,I could be lying beside him now enjoying a few kisses and hugs and asking him how to light the electric fire.Still ,there’s many a slip twixt cup and lip Now then, said a loud voice.Stop ruminating and get up. One stitch in time saves nine. Who are you to say that to me, she called nervously ? She wondered of stress had driven her round the bend.She had begun reading a book which said mental illness in not an illness like flu. It is a reaction to bad events and other life strains. It doesn’t matter who I am,just do as I say, came the answer Mary recognised the voice.It was her dad who had died when she was 9. Dad, she called, why are you here now? Because Jesus told us to love our family, he revealed pleasantly. Why now after all these years? she persisted. I have missed you. I always did have a bad sense of direction,he told her.But do as I say.You won’t recover easily if you never get up.Stan is here but he is busy cleaning the gold cutlery for an angel. Alright, but I never knew there was cutlery up there, she murmured as she put on her new clothes.She had bought some purple trousers and two new jumpers.One was pink and one was teal.The trousers were exceptionally comfortable being in a last years’ sale by a famous label..She then found some Weetabix in the cupboard and some long life milk.As she drank her tea she admired the acer’s brilliant red leaves. Almost too bright, she thought.It’s due to the hot September.Plants are affected by their environment and so are we.Especially by bad or hot tempered men and women Poor people may have more than in the past but they tend to live in the ugliest areas of the town with no gardens nor parks. And seeing the better off walk by wearing expensive clothes it is surprising there are not even more muggings. She recalled seeing a man with a Rolex watch and gold earrings on talking on his new iPhone as he wandered through the Mall.I suppose we think everybody else is like us; we don’t mix with very poor or very rich people on the whole.Unless we are one of those two types. Mary went outside and found a neighbour wheeling in her bins. Thanks ,Tom, she cried.I wondered who it was.I am very grateful.What is post modernism,by the way?Nobody will tell me. Emile was watching from the window sill. I knew it was Tom, he mewed. But you didn’t tell me,Mary replied. You didn’t ask. Tom wandered off ,while Mary admired the autumn trees lining the road.Tom turned back and looked at her but she didn’t notice. Time for coffee, she muttered and went inside again.She was embroidering a table mat which said “Rumination is for the birds”.Where it had come from was a puzzle.But it may be a good thought
Oh,mother dear wherever have you been To leave a cat all day is very mean Emile,I need my freedom now and then I can’t love Dave but I would like a man I must go out to buy a handsome coat Cognac is the colour I love most
Emile cried, whatever do you think I saw some frogs a-courting in the sink I was on the draining rack up there They asked me to avert my amber stare Are frogs faithful, don’t they just leave spawn? They are cold towards tadpoles unborn We saw them by Moss Bank in shallow pools Mary wonders if all frogs are cruel Stan came in with his angels right behind They are tired of heaven, they’ve resigned Here’s a pin upon which they can dance Mary was delighted and entranced Do you need a dinner now you’ve died? I wouldn’t mind a steak, the old man sighed Some buttered new potatoes and a fool Rhubarb or vanilla would be cool I have done no shopping, Mary cried I have no money for the food you like Shall I get a pizza, fish and chips That will put some colour in your lips I am only joking, Stanley said I shall merely visit you in bed Emile wept with joy to see his Dad What a spirit, is he going mad? In came Annie in her long green coat Her eyes were black and scratched was her throat I fell into the Croal when eating chips See the bruises on my purple lips Never walk on water,Mary screeched Even when you cross all Southport Beach Stay away from danger,I’ll ring Dave He will dress your bruises with his gauze
Annie did not tell them all the truth She had fallen off the sloping roof
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
I missed the flowering of the maple tree Where red leaves swell like baby’s growing fists i fear to struggle there, what shall I see, Just the doves and sparrows flying free? Missed the flowering of the maple tree But watched less subtle human comedy Saw politicians flounder, saw ships list Missed the burning of some red leaved tree I wonder when they’ll break the baby’s wrists?
We climbed a stile oh what a reservoir Water from our hills served other towns If you’re listening, theres no editor We climbed a stile, surprised the reservoir We don’t have our pure water anymore We may have perfect kitchens but we frown We loved the stile, we saw the reservoir Water from our hills stole by yon’ towns