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

Water can’t be tortured

Water can’t be tortured as it’s fluid.

0h every living creature has its bounds

Only God is infinite in size

Though as a still small whisper he’s been found.

When enraged, our hearts turn hard like stone.

Who wants to live like that for very long?

As if the heart itself was just a bone

A heart without a feeling or a song.

Life and love require a softer heart

We may be tortured by the devil’s Kin

Hope and faith aren’t measured on a chart

Nor do they lie inside our precious skin

The Russian madman starts uncivil war

As we are part blood we’re not immune

As we are part flesh that can be pierced

Our heart will dry up, lose its inner tune.

Humans birds and animals have flesh

So unlike rivers they are put to death

By the sea

Photo by Rikonavt on

Her voice was low and kindly yet discreet
Describing all the summer flowers,ah sweet
William,poppy,rosemary, striped bees
A little play we heard when drinking tea

His face was gentle, did not seem aggrieved
He could not see and yet he looked well pleased
Her voice caressed him tenderly and strong
I hoped that she would burst into a song

Loving touch can come from hands or voice
We are not taught such differences or choice
Indeed with teachers stern and parents rough
We may experience touch as cruel and tough

Let our voices do no harm nor hurt
Hell is made of lovers now turned curt


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

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 river in flood

Cold from storming rain and full of mud

The river Lea in winter turns to flood

Across the Abbey Meadows rings the bell

Brings back the ghosts, bring back the holy spell

King Harald lost his crown and all his land

The Norman Vikings, men with bloody hands