Category: poetry

When I saw with no intent to look


I love Picasso, it’s his line,you know
How he evokes the movement fast or slow
The sundered parts arranged in a new form
The image still and yet depicting storms

The unexpecting vision threw me down
My mind was blown and I lay on the ground
I heard no sound except for music lite
For I was in a shop,not an art site

I did not think I’d see great art in there
My fences bypassed by such beauty bare
The light of art burns into human souls
May shatter or fragment, create new wholes


Noone ever knew the blow I took
When I saw with no intent to look

The angst and joy of life

The clock electric does not need to tick
The seconds pass unheard by any ear
If you watch, the hands don’t seem to move
Eternal is the memory of love

So my life is passing as I write
I see the seconds hand move fast as light
The memories stored inside my brain,my mind
Will influence all I do, will make designs

When this my heart stops ticking like a clock
The cells of all my body run amok
Who will mourn for me when I am gone?
The angst and joy of life will soon be done

The golden numbers move in patterns bright
The sun defeats the ogres of the night

As good as a wink

About gravity, he was specific
His research was attacked by a critic
So he went off to Mars
And opened the bars
The folk living there were illicit

The world feels both deadly and grave
Just keep on working, be brave
Unless you make bombs
Which is evil and wrong
You can’t wash guilt off when you bathe

Meanwhile we must eat and drink
The vodka is under the sink
You are a drip
Don’t give us lip
A nod is as good as a wink

From the world of kindness do not flee


Defend yourself with fences and high walls
Then cringe in fear from what you cannot see
Imagined there are monsters which appall

Pain has purpose, for attention calls
With more defence,less possibility
If we defend ourselves with iron walls

We may have windows but they are quite small
Closed or partly open,which to be?
Imagined are most monsters that appall

Our reflections flash in mirrored hall~
And on the ghastly surface of dark sea
That we can’t defend with any walls

Are we sinners, was there any Fall?
Can we give the stranger Charity?
Are we ourselves the monsters that appall?

From the world of kindness do not flee
Take more risks, though slighted you may be
Defend yourself with fences and high walls
Then you’ll get your Fuhrer, mobs ,Hell, Heil

Illegitimate and born in desert grey.

So you are gone  who once declared your love
For that phantasm conjured in your mind
For onto me you brought down from above
A torment bitter and   some words unkind.

Used to  friendship from within your books
You did not understand that I was real
Irritation grew as you did look;
You threw your poisoned  arrows  at my heel.

What once you loved then you began to hate
If not perfect then intolerable I must be
And then you cursed me with this  sorry fate
Our child was born and him you’ll never see.

Illegitimate and born in desert grey.
I carried him alone from death’s dark way.

Love will need no trick

In my despair I felt that I was stuck
Paralysed by  grief and guilt I failed
By the end I had tried every trick

From prayer unthought to deeps of logic black
My  life, my engine ,juddered off the  rails
I hated God and of “his” Church was  sick

Starving  and alone I was in shock
The death of one I loved   had made me frail
By the end I had tried every trick


I felt  love’s arms around me,  death to block
I knew   this goodness,  why else would I wail?
I   thought I hated God  but Love had struck

Warm and golden light  that  did me hold
Where are you now when refugees  die cold?
Kind despair  that  made me long time sit
By the end I knew  Love needs no trick

The Iron Fist

I missed the flowering of the maple tree
Where red leaves swell like baby’s growing fists
i fear to struggle there, what shall I see,
Just the doves and sparrows flying free?
Missed the flowering of the maple tree
But watched less subtle human comedy
Saw politicians flounder, saw ships list
Missed the burning of some red leaved tree
I wonder when they’ll break the baby’s wrists?

Heart

A meta- poet who writes about the art
Who wonders if we need a special gift
A better poet who writes from their deep heart

A problem is the first line where we start
Do not try to make that writing swift
A meta- poet who writes about the art

In my mind the little fishes dart
I try to focus on the ones bereft
A better poet who writes from their own heart

In live writing there’s no graph or chart
No wondering whether we go right or left
A meta- poet who writes about the art

There’s little to be gained by being smart
We need slowness though we must be deft
A better poet who writes from their own heart

Slowly we combine the warp and weft
The sentences of God are hard to match
A meta- poet who writes about the art
A better poet, a universal heart

Water from our hills

We climbed a stile oh what a reservoir
Water from our hills served other towns
If you’re listening, theres no editor
We climbed a stile, surprised the reservoir
We don’t have our pure water anymore
We may have perfect kitchens but we frown
We loved the stile, we saw the reservoir
Water from our hills stole by yon’ towns

I may be a weed

Think of this, a weed still has its flowers
They may be small, like ivy  they may spread 
We must  display ourselves, not cower
Until  the   moment comes when we are dead

Does it matter that you hate my guts?
That you dislike my face so pink and white?
I am happy to deflect your bombs so hot
The nuclear  option seems so very trite

I am me and I may be a weed
The definition falters as we talk
Let us be judged by all our deeds
The sparrow  must be careless of the hawk

I no longer want your letters vile
Be gone from me and you will make me smile

Fallen apples

Fallen apples cannot reverse  time
If they fell unnripe, that is their   doom
Broken churchbells can no longer chime

Nothing good comes  just by changing names
The dark sky is a portent of our   gloom
Fallen apples cannot reverse  time

The expert  hates  both metre and  these rhymes
The piano now demands to  be untuned
Broken bells  no longer want to chime

Wasps and ants will never become tame
Overhead the thunder bangs and fumes
Fallen apples cannot   turn back   time

In the zoo were vultures on short chains
For such creatures death can’t come too soon
Broken bells  no longer want to chime

Shall we  talk to others using Zoom
Shall we wear a mask, will love resume?
Fallen apples cannot reverse  time
Broken churchbells cannot try  to chime

 

 

In the desert grey

I walked across a desert grey and bleak
All alone, with nothing there to eat
I shuddered when I realised the truth
I was giving birth;I was refuse.

Cast out for some failing quite unknown
My baby was too small and I alone
A doctor with no face appeared and said
This baby died for he was never fed

He flung my baby  to the heap of dead
I lay in the dirt,  now red with blood
I  had to leave or I  would  die of grief
The will to live is stronger than a thief

I went to kiss my baby, then he smiled
He was still alive, my love,my child

Loss is like a real and bloody wound

Loss is like a  real wound in the heart
From knife, from dagger,sword or  scimitar
When your own beloved must depart

Or hearts may split in two, may crack or smart
Listening to dear Cohen with guitar
Loss was like a  real wound in his heart

I felt  my wound would widen, blood might  squirt
Cover me in red,oh,mad, bizarre
When  my own beloved chose “Depart”

Sometimes when I walked I used to lurch
Once into the road ,between two cars
Loss is like a  real wound in the heart

I wandered through the graveyard, ancient church
Castigate me not ,peculiar
Like a bird  his soul sought for its perch

As far as  Mirth, as far as the North Star
Noone   knows the vastness nor would dare
Loss is like a  cut,a wound, oh heart
When your own beloved must depart

 

 

 

A  song  that has no words nor any tune

Your absence from our home is a  still  a wound 
A  bruise upon my heart, a  knock, a blow
 A  song  that has no words nor any tune
That hovers in my ear,is loth to go

Yet I am glad I helped you to let go
I would not wish that you were here alone
But when the lake of tears still overflows
I wish that I could reach you on my phone

I am not lonely,I am missing you
Your tenor voice, your loving touch and words
The distance when you from the world withdrew.
Seems to me,   few  voices I have heard.

Yet I accept all living creatures die
But why are widows not allowed to cry?

The first step

Attracted by the window and the light
I walked towards it, those were my  first steps
The memory of an act  creates insight

Oh,mother I can leave you,I can fight
Now I move and noone can me stop
Desirous of the window and the light

Implicit in the action is the flight
Growing is not smooth, it is abrupt
The memory of an act  creates insight

Yet somewhere other, there is greater might
That one day caused me angst, that made me trip
Humbled by the window and the light

After every day, there comes a night
Abjection is the cup that each must sip
The repeating of an act  creates insight

Children are  not injured when they slip
When they rise, they quickly can forget
Attracted by the window and the sight
We all must stand and walk but  in curved lines

 

 

We sense the sacred in these peaceful walls

We sense the sacred in these peaceful walls
Yet men have died in places that appal
Women too and children then unborn
Fell into cold dark earth in lands forlorn

As our weapons grow, our hearts are hard
The people live in Gaza behind bars
The water all polluted as taps drip
Is this war or is it vengeance fit?

In Britain, it’s the poor who lose the war
As it was when Jesus Mary bore
Yet here are clerics blessing marching bands
A military show for all the land

The genocide in Europe of the Jews
The self destructive actions of the proud
The fields of France filled sick with blood and bone
Who are we to cast judgemental stones?

The War’s not over when the fighting stops
The soldiers and the tortured suffer shock
The widows and the parents all bereaved.
The unborn children hover in unease

We let the remnants out from camps of death
But who would take them in or take their path?
The injuries will travel down the years
As still we fight and still we live in fear

It’s Europe’s grasp and greed which was the cause
Of death in Gaza, Syria, in long wars
Yet we judge we are more civilised
As we self defend with careful lies

There we kissed, uniting Real and Dream

The sands at Old Hunstanton pale like cream
The sea was lapping gently  on our feet
There we walked and felt our love, a dream

Facing North ,we saw the sun’s June beams
Then it crossed the sky, its death to meet
The sands at Old Hunstanton pale like cream

The yellow gorse   is scented, spikes are green
Brilliant flowers in gardens,ordered,neat
There we walked and felt our love, a dream

In  this place our souls soon feel redeemed
With  herbs, with flowers, with perfume pungent, sweet
The sands at Old Hunstanton pale like cream

If there were a heaven, it would be near
The images, the sea, the sky,oh, sweet
There we walked and felt our love, a dream

We see the surface, not what’s underneath
We feel the breeze, the spirit’s  holy breath
The sands at Old Hunstanton pale like cream
There we kissed, uniting Real and Dream

 

The rippling waves stretch out  like children’s hands

You are smiling on the pier above the sands
The rippling waves stretch out  like children’s hands
You look so strong I cannot comprehend
Your fatal illness and its grievous end
You were not a patient on dry land
You were living well  and ” feeling grand”
We crossed the road ; I  held   your cold thin hand
I suffered so much torment,would  I mend?
I saw a  fluid shape as dark it pranced
Through the open door  it swiftly danced
Slipped in with the wiles  of  Tudor kings
Hoping   they can  make it on the wing
I learned with grief , it came to take you  back
Across the river wide ,my love, my lack

I’m not frightened of you anymore

I’ m not frightened of you anymore
I’ll tell you that I hope I did  my best
God, you made the world that we destroy

You want us to  make meaning, learn the laws
Life  for many is  a fearsome task
Yet I’ m not frightened of you anymore

Why  has Beirut  suffered, what’s death for?
The people wander, by  great wounds   undressed
God, you made the world,who can restore?

Thousands injured ,millions more distraught
Will we give them aid and make it fast?
I’ m not frightened of God anymore

As we age, our hearts and souls must mourn
Living as the present hurries past
God, you made the world,will  tears restore?

In the  startling Universe so  vast
The Play  is here and we must be the Cast
I’ m not frightened of you anymore
God, you made a world so full of tears

 

 

 

 

I’ll follow where love leads

I heard the thud our cat made on the stair
But when I looked there was no creature there
Can our longing make us hear strange sounds;
Delusions,wish-fulfilment, breaking bounds?

I heard the wrens sing by the kitchen door
At least there is no cat to  make them fewer
I want to make some tea but I feel stuck
I’ll fill the pan, while love my heart strings plucks

For aeons I feel I’m paralysed by grief
The caterpillars gnaw upon  green leaves
I judge myself incompetent,too  slow.
Yet would I judge another, wound with blows?

I  feel half-way between the real, the dream
In reverie I’ll follow where love leads

Love and blindness

Love and structure made  our life secure
Although outside our tent, the gales still blew
Now alone,I fear I can’t endure
Your loving presence made my life secure
Now I stand on air ,supportless,poor
Love and structure made  our life secure
Now I am afraid and pale my hue
Love and  blindness made us feel secure
I forgot ,outside the tent,  wild gales still  blew

Love flowed

All we had was the cooker and the bed
I bought some sheets and blankets up the road
The Coop had a  shop, it saved my head
All we had was the cooker and the bed
We  must have had some plates, yes, they were red
Indicating we were not well bred
Cutlery and mugs were gifts bestowed
All we had was much love and a bed
I  made a meal and after that we flowed

Now is lost

The face that was familiar  now is lost
You seem as far away  as is the moon
My heart has paid  for you the savage cost
The face that was so loved, by  now is lost
And my own inner being  is fear- tossed
Though  five  long, weary years have wandered past
I no longer  fear to meet my doom
The face that was familiar  now is lost
Love seems far away,  like a new moon

Connections,maps and roads

Roman roads connected in straight lines
The cities they had built in wealthy times
The remains of one  goes past my garden gate
Do ghosts of Roman legions pass at night?

I like to see connections,maps and roads
Others  love  old cities ,walls and moats
My road ran to Lincoln  near the Wash
Migrating birds and swans  go there to rest

Going South, there is the Pilgrim’s Way
Canterbury, Becket,murder, prayer
Julius Caesar, Deal,  the Roman hordes
Boudicea,  and her fighting Lords

Layers of history, meaning,love and death
Still we argue  what should be our path

No Summer Dresses

Button Detailed Midi Cardigan Image 1 of 4

Women can’t wear frocks and aprons now
We have to look like men  but well endowed
No man would wear a cardigan so long
Behind his wardrobe it would  soon be flung

Shorts are hot in summer, I shall sigh
Why do women have to have a fly?
If you  need to pee  while in a wood
A skirt  provides some cover  for the flood

I’d like a dress like mother used to wear.
As we walked to Grandad’s, she had flair
She knitted  lacy jumpers for  the heat
Even knitted  wool socks for my  feet

We  look like alien creatures  from elsewhere
I’m going to wear my sundress, I don’t care.

Holy heart’s affection,beating pulse

One single tear   expresses  love and loss
Dramatic storms  excess may make folk pause
Who  will notice  one tear and its  cost?

A little stone near water may grow moss
But only mountains bring a sense of awe
One single tear   expresses  love and loss

Grief  must not wallowed in, like  baths
Philosophers not hurt  their minds   uncaused
Who  then will  observe   the tear,  the  cost?

To an ant, a pebble is quite gross
To a widow, death has hungry jaws
One single tear  may   show how she is lost

The entire self is  tear-filled  like  a marsh
We weep  till love itself becomes remorse
Let  one tear out and hide its  anguished cost

The heart’s affections use  poetic laws
Holy  circulation,  blood that draws
One single tear  falls down like bladed grass
Who  will care for  this tear, bear  its  cost?

 

 

 

 

Heart and art

Limestone’s softness lets its cracks appear
Wildflowers,daisies,foxgloves love to grow
While little rivers  to the South Tyne veer

Alston on the hill  to me is dear
The main street in the winter’s under snow
Limestone’s softness lets its cracks appear

Granite hard as marble seems to jeer
Limestone  lets the seeds and grass stay,
While little rivers  to the South Tyne veer

The savage Pennines can cause panic fear
Their shadow in the sun, a fearsome layer
Limestone’s softness lets its cracks appear

Do we shift our vision far and near?
The panorama  of the Lakes is fair
The little rivers  to the South Tyne veer

Limestone,like a  woman, let’s love grow
Thus it is creative ,heart and Art
Limestone’s softness lets  broad cracks appear
Thus  streams, well  filled with seeds, are made home there

 

 

 

 

One tear

A silver tear rolled lonely as sliced moon
Down my pallid cheek  and wet my lip
Your loss turned me to sadness and damp gloom

My future  seemed, not promising, but doomed
The icy nails of death gave me a nip
A little tear rolled lonely as lost moons

Yet, in my mind, I heard L Cohen’s tunes
“There ain’t no cure for love” on this our trip
Your loss turned me to sadness ,clouds of gloom

Yet soft, deep darkness  need not lead to doom
Come,I’ll take a lover, board a ship
A starry tear rolled lonely as   new moon

I will  love,I ‘ll seek  for new  hope soon
Will I descend to stealing from a skip?
Your loss sent me to sadness like a room

I  need no LSD to take a trip
My open senses give me what I miss
A silver tear rolled lonely as cruel moon
Your loss turned me to beauty,life resumes

 

 

In honour of Paul Tillich

Paul Tillich gave our spirit proper place.

He showed us courage as a  space to dwell.

He wrote for us and left us with   his  grace

With hope he might  well speak and he might tell.

So many people ignored Fascist speech

And lived with mind cut off from  their own soul

With pen in hand he wrote his soul to reach

And touch us as we strive towards the whole.

Expelled from his own country, he wrote on

Continuing during  tortuous war long years

He lived, he loved ,he wrote, he died and then

His books continue to dispatch our fears.

For many men have lived and have destroyed.
 Tillich showed  us how to face the  void

 

The loss of dignity, the face unread

His face was black, he fell against my breast
Dying in an armchair by his bed
While nurses gossiped,he was  alone left

The  doctor said it would be for the best
The rehab is not meant for those  near death
His face was black, he fell against my breast

I asked him,dearest, do you feel depressed?
He nodded  with a gravity like lead
While nurses gossiped,he was lonely left

Then I realised   my  wifely task
I was even asked to lift him to his bed
No longer  as my bridegroom at the feast

The loss of dignity, the face unread
The  blindness of the staff,  the broken head
His face was black, he fell against my breast
While nurses gossiped,he was fading fast

 

 

My first attempt: wind and eye

An ancient one roomed building was  once home
Lit and warmed by fire,heat upward flowed
The smoke escaped  through one small  hole or “eye”
The winter wind  would fight to get inside.

Like a human eye, it was a breach
The bones of head and face allow this reach
We must see out and not live all within
Wolves, those metaphors. might  bite our skin

Enclosed spaces need  selected gaps
Few would enjoy choking in a trap.
We need a way to breath, to see, to touch
Sophisticated means, this eye  to watch

Sitting round the fire we hear  Wind howl
Through the eye, we see the moon,our jewel