Category: poem

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

Being alive unchosen may be worse

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.

Love’s victory

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

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

Eden for 1-hour

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

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

Creating tragic plays and untold wars

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

Sailing like a flower across the sky

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

Blythburgh thoughts

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?

s

Poetry and lovely images

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

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.

 

 

 

 

 

I do not feel the love I felt before

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.

God have mercy as the devil can’t

In the bitter depths of winter night
Boil the kettle, lose your human rights
If you feel depressed then eat our bread
It will remove the skull from off your head


Are you feeling lonesome in the crowd?
Buy our lipstick then men will be cowed
Did you think ceramic hobs were best?
Come to us and have your IQ blessed


I want a pan for halogen hot plates
I’d ask the cat but it’s out on a date
I need to boil my head and clean my feet
I guess that I ain’t smelling very sweet


Does Confession really help the damned?
God have mercy as the Devil can’t

On calling mathematics quantitative methods to make it sound easier!

It seems quite clear that maths should take the blame

As quantity and quality. are not the same

The Hebrew temple used the number pi.

And pi is not a quantity, I say.

So pi is not as a measurable as 10.

It’s decimal expansion never ends

There is no pattern, how God condescends.

  Don’t think about this funny stuff it drives you round the bend     

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

When red sun drops

When red sun  drops and  cooling night  rolls in
Darkness masks both danger and our vision
Ancient minds fear day won’t come again
Courage for the  delicate   seems thin
We  wrestle  with  our indecision
When  sun  drops and night  rolls darkly in
But now , new stricken by   a dread of sin
Who shall aid  the souls   derision?
Our  ancient minds fears   day won’t come again
When  we sleep we we’re entertained within
Deft dreams squander all illusion
When the sun  drops and  the night  rolls in
In reverie we’e loved  and  so  open
Then  fancy turns to full communion
While ancient minds fear   day wont come again
And so  it was that our own life began
When sperm leaped up in  proud confusion.
When  deep sun  dropped and  a   new night  rolled in
When  ancient  hearts cried Day  shall come again”

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?

 

 

 

A golden sheet

I saw your soul like that of a wild bird


Someone other guided me to act
Deep inside my voice had been unlocked
I sang the psalms and then a lullaby
Not aware in thought that you would die.


I fed you with a teaspoon the mashed fish
From a plate as good as one might wish
Like a little child you tried your best
You smiled at me and gazed like one who’s blessed


You sat up with a brighter face at last
Then lay back and God knows all the rest

Oh, don’t go yet ,my darling,I am here
The floor of heaven came down amidst my tears
Made of sumptuous satin, gold,revered
For a little moment it hung low
Then it rose and took you in its glow
I saw your soul like that of a wild bird
Taken by the Power who spoke the Word


A sheet of tears fell down from my closed eyes
It’s hard ,so hard when those you love must die

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, 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 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.

Which way?

My path has been obscured by heavy rain

Tangled ancient brambles bite my flesh.

I am lost, will I get home again?

No one here will help me they all laugh

The rain that fell was not a cleansing wash

My path has been obscured by heavy rain

I did no wrong but still I feel ashamed.

My mind and my emotions sadly crashed

I am lost I can’t get home again

Wandering on my own without a path

Have I become a beggar, poor unwashed?

My path has been obscured by heavy rain.

Life is not a jigsaw nor a game

Did anyone at all ask where I was?

Feeling lost I can’t get home again

I must find a way I have no map.

Take me, take me, take me from this trap

My path was washed away by heavy rain

I’ve come so far, I wish my route was plain.

Happiness is like a golden shawl

The pebbled beach on which we walked at dawn

The sun was dancing singing stone to stone

The sea was pale as silk and gently ran

The tide was coming in, the day began

Why is my memory so deficient here?

I remember little but you near

I remember Portland Bill at dusk

The sea was wilder then with many thrusts

Happiness was like a golden shawl

A world like Eden, man before the Fall

Today they say, illusion, I say, no

What matters is where this insight makes you go.

The fruits of meditation are its test

May we be generous, may our souls be blessed

Copyright © Katherine 

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

Jesus must be free

Jesus does not live within the church

Like the wild birds of the sky he’s free

Jesus is in no parrot with a perch

Nor does he require a bended knee

In the ancient buildings there’s some air

Quiet years of prayer have left a mark.

Yet its sad destructions caused despair.

The abbot of old Glastonbury stark

The restless ashes spread as in the air

The winds of love are heartless yet demure

Would it be a way to make things fair?

If there is a God he must be there.

Not with those who scandal eyes the poor

Soon they’ll have no shoes nor much to wear

Whores do not pay tax, oh what allure.

Christ and Mary Magdalene come by

How economics causes men to lie

The power of mathematics made the bomb

Soon the the earth shall burn to kingdom come.

Down the other side of the mountain

From the high peak of the middle years

We walk downwards slowly but it’s clear.

We lose our parents siblings other kin

Who will now agree we are born to win?

Our bodies stiffen while we’re yet alive

Who will die,atone,does God decide?

From the man he takes the caring wife

The heart itself will harden in the strife

Last Man standing is a bag of bones

In his grave the king decays alone.

[Does God live there any more?]

Come here ,Kathryn, come here quick,
‘Cos your Daddy’s very sick.
Run as fast as fast, you can,
Get the priest, get Father Dan.
Run,run went my eight year old feet,
Down the lane and up the street
I ran right up to Father’s door,
[Does God live there any more?]
“Come please, Mam said Daddy’s ill”
“Oh”,said Father,”that I will.”
Revving up his motor bike
With The Sacrament beside;
He lifted me up onto the back
And roared off up the church-side track.
It was the best thrill of my life;
If only Daddy had not died.