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
Category: poem
Can the war be won?
Trump will win the war, he’s very sure.
He’s got the biggest bombers ever seen
For everything that’s wrong, a bomb’s the cure
Trump will win the war he’s very sure.
And of Iranian people, there’ll be fewer.
Fire the bullets now, death is the cure
Bomb their whole world flat while babies scream
Trump will win the war, he’s very clear.
See him grinning now on all your screens.
The liturgy of the birds
The force and beauty of the wild North Sea
The coast of Norfolk,sands so white,so free.
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
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
It’s good to look outside

The grieving one who never looks outside.
Suffers like a prisoner in a cell Yet they have some freedom to decide
To grieve, yet view our holy world as well.
To turn the eyes back to the lost and dead.
Is what we all may do in painful times But to this natural world, we must be wed;
And under suffering, draw a heavy line.
From despair, we rise to be renewed;
To see our friends and make our hearts feel glad. And look behind us with a gentler view
See the joys mixed with the loss we’ve had.
In the sea of grief, we’ll swim not drown,
And cast away lead weights which pull us down.
Crushed my mind
Drowning in the seas of grief again
A sudden fever crushed my anxious mind
Can I learn to float, to bear the pain?
How come the world is bad, am I to blame?
Now my friends are cruel who were once kind
Drowning in the sea of grief again
She who injured me cannot be named.
Nothing seems to help but passing time.
Can I learn to float amidst the pain?
I must be perfect so I can’t complain.
Nothing seems to help but nursery rhymes
Drowning in the sea of grief again.
Is there not a God to grief contain
Now I know why faces old are lined
Who knows how to float through seas of pain?
I thought I had seen much but I am blind
The scholars mind lacks common sense to bind
Drowning in the sea of grief again
Teach me how to float through all this pain
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
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 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?
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 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
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

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

