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

Thoughts at dusk in winter

Four o’clock– and the sun’s still glowing
Four o’clock – of a colour bright day,
Up above, pink-tinged clouds are sliding
Down still sky, sweeping sun away.

Come back sweet sun, do not yet leave us.
Come back bright beams,I need sunlight
Down on earth,it’s witch moon darkness,
When your golden face is out of sight.

I see the orange clouds extending
I feel such sense of sky lit bright.
But gently now, the mist surrounds you
And sweeps away that happy sight.

Into velvet blackness sinking,
The dazzling, dreaming darkness falls.
Goodbye to haste,and glare, and sunshine,
Time for reverie,night time calls.

On the night-trains gentle journeys,
On this trackless train we ride
Strange new visions, haunting pictures
We will see in dreams’ designs.

In my night train,I’ll be happy
In such rich deep reverie.
We visit darkness in our sleeping,
There we learn its ecstasy.

Now we may have no God to hold us,
In His Hands of Living Love,
What will help us trust deep blackness
If there’s no Saviour from above?

Must we enter that great darkness,
Go back to dark from which we came,
Into dark all living creatures,
In that darkness find our home?

Trust the dark unknown, to hold us,
Trust the dark,both night and day.
Must we walk into that darkness
And trust it is our safest way?

Tarmac. cobbles, flat slabs  of grey stone

Did   the earth weep when we paved the streets
Tarmac. cobbles, flat slabs  of  grey stone
Leaving  merely holes for trees long roots?

Covering in our cities all that’s deep
Startling ancient graves and  bits of bone
Did the earth weep when we paved the streets?

Motorways  increased that tarmacked  roof
As we drive  our ruinous cars    alone
Leaving  there no holes for trees long roots

In the hidden depths beneath our feet
Live the riches, seeds  awaiting growth
Did the earth weep when we paved the streets?

As the trees bloom  we see our deceit
We want it all  but do not pay nor mourn
Leaving  there  small holes for trees long roots

Once an orchard, now  so sterile,  torn
The gardens   became car parks  bleak, forlorn
Did   the earth  quake when we paved the streets
Leaving  merely holes for trees long roots?

 

 

 

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

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 Pexels.com

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


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