Category: poem

The liturgy of the birds

The force and beauty of the wild North Sea

The coast of Norfolk where we loved to be

The grief that rips the heart out from its cave

Throws it on the sea to ride the waves

The loss of you and love and all it means

With my inner eye I see these  scenes

The snow that fell on Cromer Easter Day

The lifeboat on the pier, the words to say

Ancient churches guard the holy space

And everything is right and in its place.

Eagles do not live here, but the birds

  Sing  from yellow gorse and know the words

What names might small birds  call us as they  watch?

The world is re created in a snatch.

The word gorse rhymes with norse

In 865 Ivan the Boneless a Viking  invaded East Anglia His army wintered in Thetford forest before heading North where they eventually conquered York

The birds singing in the yellow gorse is a reality but it’s also reminder of the history which the birds may remember more than the humans.

Also because the birds are singing for joy and they know the words it is akin to a liturgical offering

It’s not only humans who can praise. The way that the world is at the moment it may be hard for us to do that

Then I shall upend causality

26233478_1054089244730953_3622257819011378810_o

The image was made by Katherine

When true love’s gone and doom hangs overhead
When life runs like a sewer to the sea
Then shall I take new lovers to my bed.
And with their carnal touch consoled be?

When my love lies and breaks 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 folk glad.

For I have love’s own child inside my soul
I shall care for her until she is grown

Oh, gentle Light

I ‘ll try to get it right for one more time
You did not converse with me in words
You were simply present in your Light

Nowhere did I feel your power and might
You were no eagle, but a strong wild bird
I ‘ll try to get it right just one more time.

Who made our language with its subtle rhymes?
The ancient people had their well trained Scribes
You were always there,oh gentle Light

You gave me warmth, you changed my too fixed sight
A comforter , a Spirit, how describe?
I ‘ll try to get it right a final time.

The agony inside me lost its bite
I wanted to go on, to be alive
You do not always show your golden Light

We do not know when we at last arrive
We do not reach this meeting place by strife
I ‘ve tried to get it right this final time
I never saw such Gold until that night

The northern hills

I wish I were in Arkengarth again

The fierceness of the sheep, the ancient dale.

I want to be with you and it will  rain

I want the pale gold sun, I want the gales.

The earthen privy with  its own two seats

The herbs and flowers growing all around.

The music in the pub, its⁰ Northern beat

It’s good to set the feet on Northern ground.

We went across the Pennines in the car.

The Western side is fiercer in its threat

Here we are in Kendal with its stone

Where’s Penrith with Ullswater beside?

I’d like to sail by steamer waterborne

I’d like to see  Helvellyn, but not stride

Here I am in London in the sun What is ending here up there began.

Before my husband died he kept wanting to see the sea or the northern hills and could not be comforted.

He had a very peaceful ending despite that lack

Stitches in my face

On my face you see the surgeon’s scar

You see the holes where stitches were put in.

Above my eye, blue bruises decorate

And yet the work is sacred, is no sin.

The blood hung from my jaw, its skin a bag stitches connected my new face

Jagged stitches  joined up my new face

My eyes were black as ink, what have they done?

Where is that fine embroidery, where the lace?

25 injections were my fate.

To let the surgeon do his kindly work.

I’d rather be a postman or a nun

And yet to take the cancer knives must hurt.

Mother,father where are you, I sigh?

Oh brother  sister husband, down I lie.

Do not go

Those I thought were friends now slide away

Hiding in the shadows with no light

No mirror can reflect the sun today

Maybe it’s my eyes that cannot see

Blinded by the shock of what I read.

I thought that we were lovers you and me

The looks and glances, what you nearly said.

As for all the others let them lie.

I shall not hear their words my ears are shut

My heart has shrunk, and slow the time goes by

I feel the knife blade but I cannot cut.

Do not cast your friends off with no word.

We do not like to feel the world’s absurd

Oh, gentle Light

I ‘ll try to get it right just one more time
You did not converse with me in words
You were simply present with your Light

Nowhere did I feel your power and might
You were no eagle, but a little bird
I ‘ll try to get it right just one more time.pp

Who made our language with its subtle rhymes?
The ancient people had their well trained Scribes
You were always there,oh gentle Light

You gave me warmth, you changed my too fixed sight
A comforter , a Spirit, how describe?
I ‘ll try to get it right a final time.

The agony inside me lost its bitep
I wanted to go on, to be alive
You do not always show your golden Light

We do not know when we at last arrive
We do not reach this meeting place by strife
I ‘ve tried to get it right this final time
I never saw such Gold until that night

Oh, gentle Light

I ‘ll try to get it right for one more time
You did not converse with me in words
You were simply present in your Light

Nowhere did I feel your power and might
You were no eagle, but a little bird
I ‘ll try to get it right just one more time.

Who made our language with its subtle rhymes?
The ancient people had their well trained Scribes
You were always there,oh gentle Light

You gave me warmth, you changed my too fixed sight
A comforter , a Spirit, how describe?
I ‘ll try to get it right a final time.

The agony inside me lost its bite
I wanted to go on, to be alive
You do not always show your golden Light

We do not know when we at last arrive
We do not reach this meeting place by strife
I ‘ve tried to get it right this final time
I never saw such Gold until that night

A single rose

The fewer our possessions are, the better.

If you have no bread you need no butter.

Turn away from Envy Use your will.

If there is no illness there’s no pill

Comparisons are painful to the weak

If you and they persist the outlook’s bleak.

Be grateful you can see and feel and taste

The wonders of perception go to waste.

When we lose a sense we realise

Nothing can replace our ears and eyes.

Adding more possessions makes more work.

In the maze of choice do not get stuck

In the empty space perception grows

Lots of weeds or just a single rose

The walking frame and the smile

I saw you struggling with your walking frame
Guessed that you must suffer too much pain
I smiled because you caught my sidewards glance
Then  your face too by  smiling was enhanced

So  often older people are ignored
Lost and lonely hidden at the core
Once this man  fought in a  major war
I hope by some fine friend he was  restored

I saw him disappearing  down the  road
His posture more erect,  his back less bowed
And in my heart I felt the smiling too
 Enchanted by the essence , by the cue.

I got on a bus,  ignored my phone,
Smiling   still I  pushed the door key home

The walking frame and the smile

I saw you struggling with your walking frame
Guessed that you must suffer too much pain
I smiled because you caught my sidewards glance
Then  your face too by  smiling was enhanced

So  often older people are ignored
Lost and lonely hidden at the core
Once this man  fought in a  major war
I hope by some fine friend he was  restored

I saw him disappearing  down the  road
His posture more erect,  his back less bowed
And in my heart I felt the smiling too
 Enchanted by the essence , by the cue.

I got on a bus,  ignored my phone,
Smiling   still I  pushed the door key home

And on the world shall I bestow my wrath?

26233478_1054089244730953_3622257819011378810_o

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 breaks my little 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

Sunlight at Easter

The Easter sun came through the rich stained glass

A little child illuminated  passed.

The shining floor below the roof above

The glowing light a symbol of deep love

At this moment normal time had gone

Absorbed into the mysteries of the sun.

Then the child ran off, a cloud came by

Eternity has passed with just a sigh

Oh, gentle Light

I ‘ll try to get it right for one more time
You did not converse with me in words
You were simply present in your Light

Nowhere did I feel your power and might
You were no eagle, but a little bird
I ‘ll try to get it right just one more time.

Who made our language with its subtle rhymes?
The ancient people had their well trained Scribes
You were always there,oh gentle Light

You gave me warmth, you changed my too fixed sight
A comforter , a Spirit, how describe?
I ‘ll try to get it right a final time.

The agony inside me lost its bite
I wanted to go on, to be alive
You do not always show your golden Light

We do not know when we at last arrive
We do not reach this meeting place by strife
I ‘ve tried to get it right this final time
I never saw such Gold until that night

Oh, gentle Light

I ‘ll try to get it right just one more time
You did not converse with me in words
You were simply present with your Light

Nowhere did I feel your power and might
You were no eagle, but a little bird
I ‘ll try to get it right just one more time.pp

Who made our language with its subtle rhymes?
The ancient people had their well trained Scribes
You were always there,oh gentle Light

You gave me warmth, you changed my too fixed sight
A comforter , a Spirit, how describe?
I ‘ll try to get it right a final time.

The agony inside me lost its bitep
I wanted to go on, to be alive
You do not always show your golden Light

We do not know when we at last arrive
We do not reach this meeting place by strife
I ‘ve tried to get it right this final time
I never saw such Gold until that night

Oh,my dear sister what can you see ?

She’d never seem rainwater deeper than eyes
Mystery undisguised.
Round the big puddle she ran and ran;
Too much for her dolly’s pan.
By reflections of trees she was hypnotised.
Curiousity’s often so wise
Oh,my dear sister what see you there?
I hope it’s a vision fair.
What are these ships and the tugs and the tide
Where are the sailors who died?
This is an ocean and I’m in my boat
Come sisters dear,let us float.
We’ll never see daddy again, ‘cos he’s here
And down her face travelled one tear.
I see him afar off, he’s meeting the Lord
There’s the archangel with his sharp sword.
We cannot follow,no, we must go back
We each must stay on our own track.
Three little children with long  golden hair
On this road going to where?
Once three small sisters ,but now only two;
Eyes of one green, the other’s blue.
By the park gate by a pool of sea rain
We shall be three again.
One in a pushchair and one gripping tight.
I push my dear sisters into the light.
Keep hold of the handle and never let go
I loved my  sisters so.
Keep hold of my hands as Dad crosses the sea.
Don’t hope for what cannot be.
I told her it’s only a rainwater pool,
Held in God’s hand like a jewel.
But she saw the patterns and she saw the tides
Which all human beings must ride.
For nothing is “only” and nothing is “just”.
All we can live by is trust

Sunlight at Easter

The Easter sun came through the rich stained glass

A little child illuminated  passed.

The shining floor below the roof above

The glowing light a symbol of deep love

At this moment normal time had gone

Absorbed into the mysteries of the sun.

Then the child ran off, a cloud came by

Eternity has passed with just a sigh

From cats to evil

Mary wants to get a letter

This means she’ is feeling better.

Here’s the postman with his sack

Coming up the garden track

she hears the letterbox go bang

The postman seems to talk in slang

Ear ye are pet ain’t got much

Oh dear Mary mind your crutch.

I have no crutch I have a walker

You are just a nosey parker

No I’m from Warsaw,madam dear.

Well you speak English without fear.

Yes I know I’m feeling proud.

In this country it’s allowed.

Yes said. Mary I know that.

If you’re not sure I’ll ask my cat

Emile opened one green eye.

I’m not here to be a spy.

If Eastern Europe is is in trouble

Get the cats out at the double

That’s what Mrs Johnson said

She saw Boris on the bed

She brought her cat a golden collar.

That’s why Boris’s face turned yellow

There are babies and young children

Little faces all a- quivering.0

See they look like Jews tormented

By the Nazis men demented.

But would you have had the courage.

To stand up to the Nazis savage

How long will we support Ukraine?

Let us not ignore their pain

The Russian wolf is riding high

Threatening Europe from the sky.

The Jews and Yiddish have all gone

From Europe to Babylon.

We heard we must show more courage

But who hears the voices savage?

We feel like children in our hearts

Prepare us adults that’s a start.

Survival as a moral wreckage

Comforts Satan sends a message.

You do not want to know the worst.

The human race may be accursed

Oh,my dear sister what can you see ?

She’d never seem rainwater deeper than eyes
Mystery undisguised.
Round the big puddle she ran and ran;
Too much for her dolly’s pan.
By reflections of trees she was hypnotised.
Curiousity’s often so wise
Oh,my dear sister what see you there?
I hope it’s a vision fair.
What are these ships and the tugs and the tide
Where are the sailors who died?
This is an ocean and I’m in my boat
Come sisters dear,let us float.
We’ll never see daddy again, ‘cos he’s here
And down her face travelled one tear.
I see him afar off, he’s meeting the Lord
There’s the archangel with his sharp sword.
We cannot follow,no, we must go back
We each must stay on our own track.
Three little children with long  golden hair
On this road going to where?
Once three small sisters ,but now only two;
Eyes of one green, the other’s blue.
By the park gate by a pool of sea rain
We shall be three again.
One in a pushchair and one gripping tight.
I push my dear sisters into the light.
Keep hold of the handle and never let go
I loved my  sisters so.
Keep hold of my hands as Dad crosses the sea.
Don’t hope for what cannot be.
I told her it’s only a rainwater pool,
Held in God’s hand like a jewel.
But she saw the patterns and she saw the tides
Which all human beings must ride.
For nothing is “only” and nothing is “just”.
All we can live by is trust

From a poem by Francis Thomson

T

Where is the land of Luthany,
Where is the tract of Elenore?
I am bound therefore.

‘Pierce thy heart to find the key

When to the new eyes of thee
All things by immortal power,
Near or far,
Hiddenly
To each other linked are,
That thou canst not stir a flower
Without troubling of a star;
When thy song is shield and mirror
To the fair snake curled pain,
Where thou dar’st affront her terror
That on her thou may’st attain
Persean Conquest; seek no more,
O seek no more!
Pass the gates of Luthany,
Tread the region Elenore!

Francis Thompson

XXXTags: connection, death, flower, hope, knowledge, learning, life, light, loss, quest, sight, star, 

Creation

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

by Mike Flemming copyright

My old blue fountain pen allows
The ink across this page to flow
Like wet paint from an artist’s brush,
And words come in a rush.
Enchanted by the hand that writes .
Bewitched by art,beauty alights
The script is like a music score
Through which we step as through a door,
Imagination’s home.
As,mysteriously, to you, to me,
The spirits of our hearts are tamed ,
By rhythms of pen,of brush, of mind,
They enter vision quite unplanned,
Like moths to flutter softly round
Fire joined heart and hand
The pen slows down,the hand grows still,
And ,just as dreams at daybreak will,
They shrink,they disappear,they’re gone
Like dew dies in hot sun

Choose not death

The crushing grief when someone chooses death
When life had shown much promise and much hope
Turns the ones who loved to find new paths

Some may sin, encouraged by cruel wrath
Against the one who chose the wicked rope
The shock of grief at such too early death

Others freeze and cannot take a breath
Scarcely moving as their mind elopes
Making then impossible their path

The mountains of deep grief I could not pass
Until a warm gold light caressed my heart
The wounds of grief , the sacrifice, the Mass

Do not dwell in darkness and distress
Follow me he murmured while we start
I will help you find a different path

The golden light had brought for me a chart
The sea of life had ripples ,brilliant sparks
The suffering and the grief from such a death
Turned the one who loved onto this path.

Oh, gentle Light

I ‘ll try to get it right just one more time
You did not converse with me in words
You were simply present with your Light

Nowhere did I feel your power and might
You were no eagle, but a little bird
I ‘ll try to get it right just one more time.pp

Who made our language with its subtle rhymes?
The ancient people had their well trained Scribes
You were always there,oh gentle Light

You gave me warmth, you changed my too fixed sight
A comforter , a Spirit, how describe?
I ‘ll try to get it right a final time.

The agony inside me lost its bitep
I wanted to go on, to be alive
You do not always show your golden Light

We do not know when we at last arrive
We do not reach this meeting place by strife
I ‘ve tried to get it right this final time
I never saw such Gold until that night

The buttercups are burning in the fields

The buttercups are burning in the fields
The sun is hanging low as if to see
The Ash fall to the earth, the level sealed

 

The grass turns brown ,the barley ripe will kneel.
The hares are  leaping,wait, I watch them  flee.
The buttercups are burning in the fields

 

The Honeysuckle  curves like a red  wheel
Hanging  flowers still humming with brown bees
The ashes to the earth   dark riches yield

 

This fiery  land will flaunt its bright appeal
As from the  trees hang ghosts  of still born leaves
The buttercups are burning in the fields

 

The spiders wait, the rabbits ,raunchy,  reel.
What is this Earth  our eyes, all new, perceive
Where ashes to the earth   dark riches yield?

 

Who are we such dark gold to receive
When humans  trick each other and deceive?
The buttercups are burning in the fields
Their ashes  shall redeem as  richness yields

Oh, gentle Light

I ‘ll try to get it right just one more time
You did not converse with me in words
You were simply present with your Light

Nowhere did I feel your power and might
You were no eagle, but a little bird
I ‘ll try to get it right just one more time.

Who made our language with its subtle rhymes?
The ancient people had their well trained Scribes
You were always there,oh gentle Light

You gave me warmth, you changed my too fixed sight
A comforter , a Spirit, how describe?
I ‘ll try to get it right a final time.

The agony inside me lost its bite
I wanted to go on, to be alive
You do not always show your golden Light

We do not know when we at last arrive
We do not reach this meeting place by strife
I ‘ve tried to get it right this final time
I never saw such Gold until that night

The blind man hiding

I saw the blind man hiding in the doorway of a shop

I went over to him quickly to find out what was up

The noisy drills were violent as men dug up the road.

Noise confused the Old man’s mind

He didn’t know where to go

Gently then I took his hand and we began to walk.

The workmen in their ragged clothes turned the drill right off

They stood in silence watching us,

While the sparrows laughed

After we had crossed the road he said he was ok.

I pressed his hand with my own hand. Then we went our ways

I’ve never seen this man again but I shall not forget

The special silence we walked in that holiday we met

Creation

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

by Mike Flemming copyright

My old blue fountain pen allows
The ink across this page to flow
Like wet paint from an artist’s brush,
And words come in a rush.
Enchanted by the hand that writes .
Bewitched by art,beauty alights
The script is like a music score
Through which we step as through a door,
Imagination’s home.
As,mysteriously, to you, to me,
The spirits of our hearts are tamed ,
By rhythms of pen,of brush, of mind,
They enter vision quite unplanned,
Like moths to flutter softly round
Fire joined heart and hand
The pen slows down,the hand grows still,
And ,just as dreams at daybreak will,
They shrink,they disappear,they’re gone
Like dew dies in hot sun

The black cat’s run

The sky is stark, the air is cool and still
The black cat’s run, the birds unfold all day
I sit down here and with my totty pray
Ye cast o’ foolish thoughts, you raped my will
. We’ve each enraged the bureaucratic mill.
Oh frigid purse, I never meant to pay!
The sky ‘s a-spark, the air is warm and shrill
The saturnine demoted knelled their way
With this feathered pounce, my sample quill,
I cite the cheque and date it for next May.
Oh, tit for cat, the tiger’s bed ‘s astray.
Yer life is settled by a harlot’s will
The sky ‘s a shark, the air is sharper still.

Oh, gentle Light

I ‘ll try to get it right just one more time
You did not converse with me in words
You were simply present with your Light

Nowhere did I feel your power and might
You were no eagle, but a little bird
I ‘ll try to get it right just one more time.pp

Who made our language with its subtle rhymes?
The ancient people had their well trained Scribes
You were always there,oh gentle Light

You gave me warmth, you changed my too fixed sight
A comforter , a Spirit, how describe?
I ‘ll try to get it right a final time.

The agony inside me lost its bitep
I wanted to go on, to be alive
You do not always show your golden Light

We do not know when we at last arrive
We do not reach this meeting place by strife
I ‘ve tried to get it right this final time
I never saw such Gold until that night

Choose not death

The crushing grief when someone chooses death
When life had shown much promise and much hope
Turns the ones who loved to find new paths

Some may sin, encouraged by cruel wrath
Against the one who chose the wicked rope
The shock of grief at such too early death

Others freeze and cannot take a breath
Scarcely moving as their mind elopes
Making then impossible their path

The mountains of deep grief I could not pass
Until a warm gold light caressed my0 heart
The wounds of grief , the sacrifice, the Mass

Do not dwell in darkness and distress
Follow me he murmured while we start
I will help you find a different path

The golden light had brought for me a chart
The sea of life had ripples ,brilliant sparks
The suffering and the grief from such a death
Turned the one who loved onto this path.

Essex cornfields

Saturday was shopping then a walk Epping,Ongar,Finchingfield by car

Reading book reviews and chewing stalks

Buttercups and meadows,Henry Moore

Driving back from Chelmsford, cornfields flamed

Smoke and fire and earth, the sun dismayed

Farmers working hard, a harvest, grain

The sky through mist a cobalt blue displayed

Standon with its fords and wandering cows

Little rivers,Essex, flowing down

The Stort joins with the Lea,a gurglimg sound

Water for the Thames and mossy ground

The earth feels like my body sacrificed

The artist’s canvas stretched ,a matricide