Category: poetry

Like butter in the sun

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

My heart is soft like butter left in sun.
Much more heat and it will melt and run
Oh, why do we have feelings,why engage
When friendship turns into such bitter rage?

I do not wish to live remote and stern
As if I am so perfect I can’t learn
Pain too deep can mortify the flesh
Turn us into robots fit for trash



All I need is an enormous fridge
Which will make me harder than sweet fudge
I’ll go inside and pray for peace each day
If I freeze to death,I shall not say.

Oh, be of merry heart,my friends and foes
When love comes in, a little hate will go

Revolution

A strange comingling of the mills and moors
Green of nature,smoke from chimneys glowers
While sheep graze their wool is touched by smoke
But higher up the ground is bare of hope

Peering down I recognise the view
Rows of terraced houses share a loo
Women wear their aprons with panache
Boys are playing,give or take a bash.

Miners walking home with faces black
Painters with their ladders and their sacks
Little girls are skipping with their ropes
Cats are watching idly, kittens mope

Which way shall we go, we must decide
The green hill with no walls, the red brick eyes?

Deep roots

When we drove to Cornwall in the spring
The wild flowers in the lane burst into song
We stopped in Weymouth,saw the curving shore
Love seeped even deeper to our cores
The peninsula of Roseland washed our souls
The higher sun shone widely over all
Yet Cornwall is not English,I am sure
Though noone on our isle is truly pure
Hereford and Worcester home of larks
Their green inlands such orchards of the heart
The love that blossoms must gain deep,deep roots
As far below the ground as upper shoots
In that hidden world where beetles creep
Roots grow strong and tangled while we sleep
On the marriage bed we two were one
Now I am alone for you have gone
Yet underneath all vision we are coiled
Your roots and mine live mingled and unspoiled

Dried flowers

Unconscious of our cruelty, we sin
Yet pride ourselves as worthy and refined
Those who know themselves are modest souls
Who do to those around them little harm

Blinded to our our faults we strut about
Causing pain to others, oh what charm
If we break the rules,we have no doubts
From our errors we can never learn

So I look on your insults and smile
Self image admits nothing makes a change
I shall not keep your sentences in files
Unlike dried flowers in vases well arranged

Yet though you now evade a little pain
Your company will never be the same

Now there is no road

No rought beast shall slouch to Bethlehem
There is no track or pattern to our fate
Once Jesus’ feet were bathed by Magdalen
Now communities of love disintegrate.

The world does fall apart, the centre’s gone
There is no named War, but armies kill
Or single, abject men who carry guns
On other nearby folk will shoot at will

There seem to be no ” better” sort of men
But all lack much conviction,common good
They follow gold with bent accountant’s pen
Calvin’s “way to heaven”, Noah’s flood

Now there is no road nor path nor beast
Confusion,chaos,populism will feast

Jesus,where’re your nails?

I’m getting a gold medal for my Mail
My inbox emptied yet itr neve whines
I’ve squared the circle,I don’t need no nail

The Met have found me, fined me,what,no bail?
I’ve never known a Pritti dame so kind
I’m getting a rude letter in my Mail

Human rights are blown out by March gales
Home Secretary,are you going blind ?
I’ve squared the circle,Jesus,where’re your nails?

Leave off murdering women and young girls
Don’t handcuff the survivors,pay their fines
I’m getting bloody metal in my Mail

Our arteries are squeezing,hearts will fail
For the hell, O writer, leave us signs
The circle’s square, I’m hanging by a nail

Well, what do you think of Britain in decline
The police resent ,mad Governments tell lies
I’m getting silver pieces in my Mail
Who’s crucified our God with varnished nails?

As waves die

The music is the waves as they run high
Across the pebbly sands onto the road
Then groaning of the shingle as waves die

The fish that dwell deep in the dark, dark brine
The flow within as outer waters flow
The music of the waves as they run high

The moon reflects sun’s light to other eyes
Above the seas which rise up to its goad.
Then groans the shingle as the steep waves die

The sea holds hidden goods where we can’t pry
In the deep the heavy water moulds
The music of the waves as they run high

All the day and all of the black night
The seas and oceans change from high to low
Ah, groans the earth as each wave has to die

Re-hear these sounds, are they a sacred code?
As angels wrestled, Jacob feared the Lord
His music is the waves as they run high
His groaning is the shingle as waves die

Revealed by love


A beam of light passed through my eyes
And showed to me a world disguised
So near,yet far,we do not see,
Unless by gift of grace redeemed.
That world is full of peace and calm
Its colors mingle,like a balm.
In such a moment all thought dies
Revealing Love which underlies.
Colors caress my naked eyes.
Sunlight blesses new designs.
I stand enthralled,and do not wish
For one delight,other than this.
My breath slows down, and filled with joy,
I rove my eyes with bliss to toy.
Everything is just itself.
This is now my living wealth.
Beneath the noise of city cars,
This mellow joy in love endears
This depth and peace, is always near
When we choose Love and turn from Fear

Air strokes our bare skin



When soft winds blow and air strokes our bare skin
.When days are long like melodies of youth,
when light wakes up the soul from out her sin
Then shall we know when this sweet life is truth?

When flowers droop and leaves are dried and brown;
When water’s short and all the ground’s forlorn
Then do not meet disaster with a frown,
For out of heartfelt sorrow new life’s born


.When winter’s here and all is quiet and still
And nothing seems to move or grow or speak
Then we shall learn the limits of our will
When through the soil the first green shoots will break


.For seasons change and actors come and go.
Yet through such changes, life is what we know

Our bodies pale as fish

We are swimming in deep water,deep and green
I am coming towards you with my fingers stretched
Our bodies pale as fish, our soft hair streams

The deep sea has no sun, yet we can see
The retina is waiting, ready,etched
We are swimming in deep water,deep and green

I see your face and eyes,how well they gleam
Do we have to undergo a test?
Our bodies pale as fish, our soft hair streams

Underneath the ocean are strange scenes
I will tell you later, we are blessed
We are swimming in sea water,deep and green

Our fingers meet, our lips share silver sheen
We float in circles, weightless is our flesh
Our bodies pale as fish, our soft hair streams

What will happen, what shall we do next
Inspiration,grace, we are perplexed
We are floating in deep water,deep and green
Our bodies pale as fish, our soft hair streams

First class ass

I am very clever,give me that
I have got a first class aegrotat
Do you feel that you would like one too ?
Just get chicken pox or maybe flu

I went to York in winter,this is true
Hebden Bridge had icebergs in the loo
Then we were near Grimsby in thick fog
The Humber Ferry crossed like coppers plod

In Hull they gave degrees in geography
Now they teach the gross democracy
That may be where I caught Golders Green
My face is apple and my eyes are teal

I could have done degrees in Law or Greek
I love to hear the way the foreign speak
Give me Aramaic for my tea
Give me ancient Hebrew,I am he.

I learned Dutch but I was not first class
In fact I failed completely,I’m an ass


Unless you’ve feet

We walk along the Pennine way some years
If farmers let the bulls out,we don’t care
I like stiles and jumping over walls
But then I’m not a man with stuff to haul
I like mountains,I like lakes and boats
I like being tickled as we float
I like sheep that follow me all day
Trying to find the perfect spot to pray
Up near Dent the sheep beg very well
They learn to knit while sitting on a Fell
In the winter Dent is somewhat cold
It feels more frosty to the very old
I’ll never go to Dent or Alston now
Unless the bull is gone and there’s a cow
I’ll never climb up Coniston Old Man
Nor meet Mary,Annie, Dave or Stan
They are in another kinder place
Where one the women made the famous lace
On the River Trent come down the Peak
Do not wear your shoes unless you’ve feet

Float through my mind like flowers

On summer days the cliff at Weybourne sang
Of finest grass entwined with tiny flowers
The butterflies were floating on the wind

We walked along contented, hand in hand
In Sheringham we saw no faces dour
On summer days the cliffs at Weybourne sang

We met no wasps nor anything that stings
The footpath was kept clear, no weeds to sour
The butterflies were resting on the wind

I looked at bluebells,insects hear their ring
So we passed with pleasure our free hours
On summer days, the cliffs at Weybourne sang

Was it for this perfection Adam sinned?
No human joy is with us very long
The butterflies were resting on the wind

On summer days the cliff at Weybourne sang
Of grass so fine and of its tiny flowers
The butterflies were floating on the wind

In winter the North wind will make beasts cower
No need for ventilation,faces glower
On summer days the cliff at Weybourne sang
The butterflies float through my mind, bright, winged


Now shivering alive

The myriad random movements, words and signs
Inanimate, cold blooded,hot or warm
In mystery make the world, complete, designed

From the stars at night, to needles’ eyes
Every size is present eye to horn
The myriad random movements, words and signs

Yet, not robotic, shivering, alive
Like a human baby when new born
In mystery the world is fresh, designed

So every morning we awake surprised
The dreams we had afflict us like flung stones
The random movements, words and latent signs

Are dreams the truth or can the unknown lie?
Are we subject to their nightly roams?
The mystery is the world makes its designs


As the wild geese land at one in storms
The murmurations of the starlings charm
The myriad random movements, words and signs
In mystery make the world, replete,divine

The life boat crew

The life boat crew are safely home
They’ve brought the shipwrecked sailors too.
The storm has passed, the wind has dropped
The sea is swaying softly now.

Wrapped in soft night clothes, their offspring
Are all in world of dream still lost.
Their fathers’ safely home this time.
They save wrecked ships despite the cost.

Will any lifeboat crew be there
To help less blessed ones from despair,
And lives, too many , spent in care
No fathers and no mothers near?

The sea we certainly must fear,
But more we fear the acts of those
Who try to buy our minds and wills,
For votes in the election booths.

Oh hush my baby, go to sleep,
It is your mammy’s job to weep.
I wish I knew just what to do
To empower the lives of wains like you.

Sleep well, sleep well, my little child.
The sun will rise, the air is mild.
We’ll trust that when we all set sail
Our love and courage will not fail.

Oh,hush my sweet one, I am near.
The world’s too big for bairns to bear.
We’ll do much better this time round.
We’ll not let this boat run aground.

Now speaks the Earth


Now speaks the earth of spring and all its joys.

Now flowers and blossom soothe our  lonely eyes.

So happy are the lovers, girls and boys,

As in the  daisied meadows they may lie.

Now speaks the sun and makes us  want to grow

to open like the flowers for his love

To let the life within us start to flow.

With  blessings sent down to us  from above.

Now every part of nature is in flood

Fresh leaves point down from trees to holy nests

The birds are active in this little wood,

And dwelling on the tree branch breast to breast.

Oh let’s not waste time glued to inner thoughts.

For we may miss the joy which spring has brought

It fell to earth with solemn gravity

Another branch has fallen from the tree
For nine short months, it weakened and grew dry.
It fell to  earth with utter gravity

Is comparing us to trees good simile?
I’d find a better if I’d wits to try
Another branch  has fallen from the tree

The tree grieves not, for trees like to be free
Their main desire is stature, to be high.
Dead branches fall to earth by gravity

Some compare life to a drunken sea;
Or to the sky where dance wild nuclei
Yet our most holy symbol is the tree

The strong hang on in their tenacity
Even as their leaves and berries fly
Weaker branches fall  with gravity

Death comes  so much harder to the high
This is no truth but neither do I lie
Another branch has broken from the tree
Thus disconnected , it is down and free

Yet life endures

Since you died I learned to use a crutch
I have noone to lean on, none to touch
I wanted you to die with kindly ease
Now I miss another I could tease

Noone knows what was our special tree
Nor why the pain of loss dwells in my knee
As if I cannot stand or wait alone
Dark earth is softer than these paving stones

The trees you loved my neighbours see as weeds
I shan’t recite a list of their misdeeds
Others gossip of my coloured coats
A widow’s weeds aren’t teal, they grin, they gloat

Before you went I saw the cloth of gold
Coming down from heaven to enfold
Then it rose, its satin thick and pure
Taking you away, yet life endures

The emptiness, the void, the loss, the pain
The crash severe we know is foreordained



The handkerchief pan

In the evening. simmering handkerchiefs
Perfumed the air with odours I can’t tell
Mother scrubbed them, hung them on the line
Then I had to iron them, folded well

Now we have our tissues, we don’t need
Hankies that need scrubbing many times
The oceans  deep are  poisoned  with our  waste
Is the use of tissues a  new crime?

While we did our  homework  after tea
My brother  liked his Wagner at  full blast
Imagine  learning Latin  with that din
Now the time for anger  has  long passed

Bad memories change  by  newly given grace
Evoking hints of  mother and her face

The cake tins

I see the tins I used for Christmas Cakes
The Russian Cheese Cake and the apple tart
Nowadays do younger women bake?

I remember mother making Buns
Hot,uncross, she made cakes with her heart
Her apple suet pudding beat her plum

The kitchen was a room with its own fire
There we ate and cooked and fought,alarmed
Children pinch and nip and even bite

I banged my head upon the table sharp
The corners seemed to hate me,even spurn
I wished I were a dog so I could bark

I fell down the stairs, it was a thrill
It hurt less than the beatings made me smart
Children were deprived of any will

Shall these cake tins from my home depart?
Shall I make a small cake from a chart?
I hold the tin I used for Christmas Cake
Watching TV where new experts bake