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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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,
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 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.
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 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
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
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
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 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.
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 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.
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
If you think of Auschwitz think of this
Your children will not die by means of gas
All of us will walk that final path
But we have lived our lives so on we pass
The Jews of Europe killed without a word.
The death of God no longer feels absurd
What they might have given forever lost.
Prescription murder,there will be a cost.
As we walk around in obscene dress
The rational and objective caused this mess
Be thankful that our God did not choose us.
Yet being unchosen and alive is worse.
Turn back, live again, he asked of me
Do not wander in this darkness anymore
One false step might give death victory
We are each connected to that tree
The sunlit top, the roots hid in earth’s floor
Come back, live again, he asked of me
While we live, we’ll live with dignity
Not scrabbling for the gold in blood and gore
One false step will give death victory
The kindness of the golden light was clear
And left an image in my mind’s deep core
Come back, live your life, he then soothed me
Do not wonder now why you are here
We’re here to live and living shall restore
What our suffering self has found so dear
I had never seen the Light before
Only Christ the Tyger with his roar
Come back, live through pain, he asked of me
One right step will give love victory
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
I remember everything you said
As we lay together in our bed
The light of joy lit up my heart and soul
I remember everything we did
On the happy night that we were wed
Fulfilment in our very bones is bred
And from our minds the devils have all fled
As we’re taken back into the fold.
For one small hour in Eden we were glad.
The hatred and the pain for now are shed
With love and hope our lives can be more bold.
Even now when you have gone from sight
I miss the cat that slept upon my bed.
I miss my husbands presence in the night
I miss the words of Love from him who’s dead.
I miss the cat that slept upon my bed
For God is dead unless I find new light
The lonely darkness fills my soul with dread.
I missed the man that slept with me in bed
I miss his presence in the dead of night
In my sleep I dream my unthought thoughts
Creating tragic plays and loathsome wars
I feel the feelings which i have not sought
Healing is not created with an ought
Neither does it come from Santa Claus
In my sleep I dream my unthought thoughts
When I waken up my dreams feel short
They’re more akin to poetry than prose
I feel strange feelings which I have not sought
I feel the pain in my unclothed heart
How little children suffer loss uncaused
In my sleep I dream my unthought thoughts.
I will feel the feelings I abhorr
This is love and we must feel far more
In my dreams I think my unthought thoughts
I will feel the feelings I’ve not sought
I spent my life on books on how to live
Then when death was near I really did
I saw the little smile on my friend’s face
I saw the shining eyes, the lost embrace
I gathered up these books and threw them out
I wasted time in thought and curious doubt
Let’s leave our heads alone and use our sense
To hear a bird sing to enthrall his spouse
To see a swallow dip and fly away\
To see a little orange butterfly
Sailing like a flower across the sky
The silken skin of children and their glee
When father stops to show them the cat’s flea
The smile of mother, her security
Containing all their woe transformed and free
To gather in sweet memories of joy
Noone else can know what our life ‘s for
Today is yellow ochre, damped to grey
Not much contrast from the soft silk sky
No birds nor any brightness, light won’t play
The ones who act so manic are not gay
If there is no truth, there are no lies
Today is yellow ochre, damped to grey
On our backs on Sutton Bank we lay
My acts outcry, my grief I shall defy
No birds nor any life. the light won’t play
Who is born a hunter.who the prey?
The lion has lost the unicorn nearby
Today is yellow ochre, damped to grey
I think of brexit, oh the blush,the shame
The spirits flatten;rise up,do not die
No birds nor any life, the light won’t play
I wonder what the loss is or the gain
I wish we were in Suffolk by the Bly
Today is yellow ochre, damped to grey
No birds, no life ,I’m languid, would you stay?
Poetry and lovely images
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
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.
The face that was familiar is no more.
The world we made seems empty and remote.
I do not feel the love I felt before.
I’m homeless world-less, comfortless at core
Wandering like the Jews with torn ripped coats.
The face that was familiar is no more
Why can this man’s life not be restored?
I cannot eat, a lump has blocked my throat
I do not feel the love I felt before.
In my nightmares, I look for a door.
Or I search the lake from my small boat
That face that was familiar is no more
I beg for grace like some abandoned whore.
That time itself evaporates is gross.
I do not feel the love I felt before
The well is empty,like my husband’s clothes.
When they are gone, what can I then propose?
The face that was familiar is no more.
The love I lost can never be restored.
How my heart sings 