Category: poetry

A cruel hill

We measure walls and windows and the rain
But not the patterns painted on  the  pane
We measure flour and butter and  the tin
But not the love with which we mix them in

There is  no  linear scale in human  minds
Where you are up above and I’m behind
Complexity and wisdom  intertwine
No measure seems quite apt  for those who’re blind

There’s something  Nazi in  the way we rank
The industry of measurement now stinks
Every human  is a  unique  world
Yet into the abyss , they might hurled

We do  not   get perfection as we kill
The Christs who stumble up   their cruel hill

Abbey Steps

I’d like to visit Whitby and its shores
See the Abbey ruins on the cliff
I can’t climb those steep steps any more

The whip of salty sea, the shells, the lore
The  old town with its alleys and its fish
I’d like to visit Whitby and its shores

We heard the seagulls shrieking, Jesus rose
We were in a cottage but in fact
I  won’t climb  those abbey steps no more

In my mind I find an unmarked door
A dream comes by,  who  whipped my tender flesh?
I’d like to visit Whitby and its shores

Fish don’t die like sheep in abbatoirs
But yet it must gruesome so to thrash
I can’t climb those steep steps any more

I don’t like eating fish,I hate their whiff
It makes me conscious of my father’s death
I’d like to visit Whitby and its shores
Who can’t climb those Abbey steps no more?

I wish we were on Sutton Bank again

I wish we were on Sutton Bank again
The Cleveland Hills with heather and bright bees
We lay down in the heather in the sun

We hitched a lift, Osmotherley, a van
Another day was Whitby and the sea
I wish we were on Sutton Bank again

I wish that you were near, my loving one
Your suffering  face was   very  sad to see
We   lay in  purple heather in the sun

What shall I do, what am I  to become?
I  waken up  too early, make my tea
I wish we  lay on Sutton Bank again

Our backs ,warm earth , our faces smiled as one
The  heather a warm bed, no shady tree
We  once lay in the heather in the sun

I miss your face, your eyes, their loving plea
The sun above, the windswept  leafless tree
I wish we were on Sutton Bank again
We ‘d lay down in the heather ,where’ve you gone?

 

 

This treasure

Absenting ourselves from presence in this life
Glued onto the pictures in our minds
It neither matters if  we wish for strife

Or whether they fill needs of better kind.

We know that wish fulfilment comes in dreams
And also in our fantasies by day
When anxious worry fills our mind with schemes
Guilt and shame impede us from our play.

Creative thought requires the loss of self,
And needs our empty soil to plant its gifts
So throw out selfish fancies for this wealth
We’ll let ourselves  go slow, so minds can shift

To waste our days in suffering or false pleasure
Will lose for us this vital, vivid treasure

No map

The more I  write, the more I feel the gap
From  the immense, the real  of skin and eye
To what  I write or draw upon a map

When you  lay still, my skin around you wrapped
I touched you with my  nerves   but made no cry
The more I  write, the more I feel the gap

We can hold  a baby on our lap
But not a  husband who needs space to die
What  could I write or show upon a map?

Words like little wires,  a  rabbit trap,
Catch a moving moment as it flies
The more I  write, the more I feel that gap

There is a silence, music is surpassed
A puzzled truth and not  wordly lie
What to  write or show upon a map?

Can we close the lids, the lover’s eyes
Sorrow  follows  couples like a spy
The more  the words, the more I feel the gap
The real  hides as I write, there is no map

He won’t like  the crap you shed

I am frightened I’ll run out of food
My   insides are in knots that feel glued
I  feel sick tonight
What was I ate?
The cat’s looking mad  yet amused

The Whiska’s beef ‘s  meant for the cat
I trod on him, he is now flat
I stole his dinner
I am a great sinner
I should eat  both the snake and the bat

This epidemic is my fault, you see
I gave away bat food for free
The homeless have soup
And suffer from croup
The rich  folk denounce liberty

A huge sense of guilt is conceit
In a sense it is also deceit
We’re not omnipotent
Nor are we impotent
We’re in the grey, be discreet

I wonder  what new world we’ll get
When Boris  in aspic is set
He’s having a  baby
It happens  now daily
It’s the mother who’s caught in his net

Fancy  a nappy change now?
Boris  is taking a bow
He won’t like  the crap you shed
When you are in his bed
Well, it’s far too late after the plough

I eat cartoons for breakfast with a knife

I  lack the skill of mimicking   a cat
Mimesis  makes me copy  acrobats
I cannot do the crossword in the Times
If I’m free, I marry many  rhymes

A cartoon left me cold,I needed words
I preferred  to talk except to  birds
But now I reach the higher slopes of life
I eat cartoons for breakfast with a knife

In mathematics we use little signs
The science of pattern  circles all my lines
We learn to write  what others knew by craft,
The hand precedes the brain, the warp, the weft

The Scribes were groups  who wrote what others said
Scroll by scroll the Hebrew Bible’s read

That God who weaves me

The world is woven  in such different ways
Struts the vertical, the flat below
Oh God who weaves me shall by me be praised

Oh, shall the mystic reach what she may crave
When all  the strings release and she falls low
The world is woven  in its different ways

Timed by ritual Lady Lazarus rose
And all the eyes that gazed were burning slow
Yes, God who weaves me shall by me be praised

There is a hollow  only Ariel knows
As horse and rider as one being flow
The world is sensed  in  wholly different ways

The body ,home of mind, will   run astray
Oh, what seams of evidence forego
  Fallen God  who unacknowledged knows

Beneath the sea of green the undertow,
Spirits sidle  deep like melting snow
The world is woven  in such different ways
That God who weaves me shall by me be praised

 

How can  a fake virus make men cry?

Fake news,  fake life, fake thought,fake love,fake bug
How  can we know what is a genuine lie?
And I cannot greet you with a hug

Be sure to boil some bleach in every mug
Pour dettol on your head before you fly
Fake news,  fake life,fake love,fake songs,fake bug

Should we tell the children we’ve lost God
New creators seem  in short supply
And I cannot greet all with a hug 

As he drily coughs, peach Don feels  odd
How can  a fake virus make men cry?
Fake news,  fake life,fake love,fake  cries.fake bug

Fighting in the aisles will do us good
Mass may not be said  though  priests may sigh
And  they cannot see God when they would

Self  isolated, God hears babies cry
He withdraws his favours saunters  by
Fake news,  fake life,fake love,fake other bugs
Would a polar bear safe to hug?

 

 

 

I wonder who you are and feel for you

So many people read on WordPress blogs
Many write their own  words down as well
From different countries  all across the world
What the effect is nobody can tell

But  is  it  so  surprising that  all words
Written with a true and thoughtful heart
Can bind together  those of us who care
And  so from cruel Wars we may depart

From Vietnam and China  from Finland
From Maryland,Brasilia,Peru
From   Rome, from Jordan and from Palestine
I wonder who you are ,I care  for you

The mystery is the goodness  we can share
Yet always there’s a darkness in the air

 

Living in our daymares out of bed

Clematis-armandii-2020

Thanks to Mike for allowing us to meditate on  his images which aid the hearts of the suffering and add to the joy of life for all who gaze upon them

More dangerous than our weapons are our minds
The fantasied revenge will do no good
Some kill a neighbour even  when they’re kind

I never thought that I’d ring 999
But why wait  until I lose my only head?
More dangerous than our weapons are our minds

We have  eyes to see  yet we are blind
Living in our daymares out of bed
Some kill a neighbour even  when they’re kind

Though people starve, are tortured all the time
I must not be so  passive in this bog
More dangerous than our weapons are our minds,

Instead of fighting fantasies, let’s write
Slowly choosing words,combined for good
Though humans  torment   friends  and their own kind

Onto Jews we  cast  our shadowed bad
Then we killed our souls to shed their blood
Why were fascists not made into swine?
Where is the precious water and the wine?

I think what others  have suffered when I feel self pity

 

Small and humble

The clouds are large  like galleons on the sea
The sails are rounded swimming on the blue
The earth seems small and humble company

Some take  fright and into dark they flee
Blinded  by the size,ignored the clue
The clouds are whipped  like  icecream into goo

I see a dream that  hangs high on a  tree
A crow stands on its head, the small birds rue
~The earth seems small ,unreal yet company

God wrote us a  letter,that is key
We staggered to the fire,we burned with glee
The clouds  disguise  the sin of  our envy

The dying god hangs through eternity
Shall he be raised, shall we his promise see?
The earth seems small and humble company

Oh, do not  let us kill the sacred tree
Fragmented it wlll split  the Trinity
The clouds are  beads  upon a rosary
The Cross  beseeches.words are  heresy

 

 

 “Day  shall come again”

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 horrid indecision
When  sun  drops deep and  night  rolls  softly in

But now , new stricken by   a dread of sin
Who shall doubt  the soul’s   derision?
Our  ancient minds fear   day won’t come again

When  we sleep we’re entertained within
Dark dreams squander  sweet   illusion
When  deep sun  drops and   gentle night  rolls in

In reverie we’re loved  our hearts widen
Then  fancy turns to full communion
While ancient minds fear   day won’t 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“

Fear of illness

The wasted years  of  our uncivil war
Continue as we fight for toilet rolls
All too soon will come the blood and gore
The bulls escape,we trained no matadors

Tins of soup and packets of  dried meat
Fly from shelves  to baskets as we queue
Fear has grasped  our throats  with its deceit
The faces of the old are  turning blue

Still there is a palace on the hill
A forest where the princes ride  each day
Doused by rumour,fear  that watchers kill
What worth is there in  turning now to prayer?

Stupid and corrupt  we miss our lives
Our children cry,  our  heartfelt anguish writhes

Where God’s in hell

The sadness of the television world
Where actors have no character to share
Where all is flat and perfect but unreal
Where God’s in Hell,  and yet it is concealed

The sadness of a toddler with a phone
Eyes near focussed like he is alone
Where he can see a Zoo in Montreal
Or hear hyenas  as they  make their calls

The sadness as we toss out ancient books
And never teach our children  how to cook
The imaged food is perfect in   young eyes
But when we live on that I think  we die

The sadness  when our neighbours  have blind eyes
The sadness as our culture slowly dies

I get drunk without a single drink

I did not  know my mind was strong a sin
My wickedness was choosing to be thin
My ringlets  seemed  far wilder than cats’ screams
The torture and the vividness of dreams

I picked up books and read them in an hour
How could I guess  the wreckage of men’s power?
I made pastry, I baked cakes of wheat
To honour God , my father, the elite.

In my pram I gave the neighbours shocks
Electric was my verbal skill and luck
They asked me how to vote and who should win
I sucked my dummy as my thoughts all ran

 I  sit and listen by the kitchen sink
For I get drunk without a single drink

Over burned spaghetti and red wine

God has made men suffer making me
As beautiful as morning by the sea
Because I’m only interested in maths
I have long since left the garden path

I never look in mirrors  or deep ponds
Narcissus eat your heart out in ferns’ fronds
I  never used to wonder how I looked
When my eyes were glued on a textbook

What irony that men would love me so
I   thought myopia  would  make them shy
I thought they’d like to talk  of Wittgenstein
Over burned spaghetti and  red wine

But now I’ve learned how beautiful I looked
Lying on the sofa with a book
Alas it is too late for any more
I see the edge of Heaven by the door

God  may seem ironic, it’s a test
I may kiss you once if you insist

Before we have the words

The childish jealousy, the painful heart
The remnants of a past that live within
Which make my  skin  feel pain, that make it smart

Measured feelings  appear   on  noone’s chart
We hide our knowledge of our own dark sin
The childish jealousy, the painful heart

It  comes too fast, takes too long to depart
Before we have the words, can thought  begin?
Unthought knowledge,wordless,  makes skin smart

Can action makes us better deal with thought?
What protection helps the smarting skin,
The childish jealousy, the painful heart?

Can virtue, unlike love, be sold and bought?
Turn the phones off. numb the brain-made din
Unwanted knowledge peeves the soul and heart

Like the dangerous wall that cut Berlin
We defend ourselves,  don’t   let life in
The childish jealousy, the hating heart
Make my  very self  feel pain.I want no part

 

After him

The gravity of loss brought me to earth
Beneath the rotting leaves, I lay with worms.
I wondered if I were of any worth

No more to be enchanted by love’s mirth,
I  with unnamed particles was turned.
The weight of loss bears down the heart to earth.

The weight of  love has readied us for birth
The fragments moulded with the love that burns.
I learned we need  not wonder  over  worth

My sorrow brought no guilt nor fear of wrath
I am both  sharp eyed eagle ,twisted worm.
In my little grave, I  loved the earth.

Like the adder, shocked into rebirth.
I from silent underworld had learned
Not to judge my soul nor think of worth.

I shall not  fear the flames of hell that burn.
When blackness is accepted, may one learn?
The weight of loss breaks down the soul to earth
With dusty shredded leaves, we then convers

I suck upon this lump

I suck upon this lump, this errant growth
As if it were a sweet or tooth unbroke
It cannot be removed  but will it die
Ot getting spiteful ,will it multiply?

I suck on it though never on my thumb
Being deprived  by mouth will make me dumb
It’s cheaper than a cigarette or sweet
Next I’ll be a cannibal,my meat,

I suck it hoping I can make it die
And then the world will feel much less awry
I want back my own mouth as a clear space
Not this horrid monster of disgrace

Yet how divert my self from its own thoughts
Feeling toothless, humour can’t be bought

Little hands

Ten thousand words, a million diagrams
Noone can know others nor themselves
Nor the errant ways, the  wavering spans

Flee the fluttering of a diaphragm
Blind  the eyes and ears to all this wealth
Ten million days, a  thousand diamonds

Fifty million cells in a doll’s pram
Life is  touch and go and needs our stealth
Not the errant ways, the  wavering  plans

No matter how I speak I can’t command
The instant  of his death,his plangent depths
Ten thousand gasps,  the weight  about a gram

God below, with worms he understands
He needs no words, no pictures, nor  new hells
The trains to Auschwitz,  had no waving   hands

By  Dunwich Beach we hear submerged church  bells
Golden angels   fly  from one, Cromwell
Ten  mighty words show less than one diagram
See the watery   childrens’ little hands

Feel the woodland beauty as in prayer

The hurricane has turned into a breeze
The sun shines on a squirrel leaping high
The  birds are hiding in the holly tree

Every human being will agree
We’d better live, if soon we  knew we’d  die
The hurricane has turned into a breeze

Soon will come the butterfly and bee
And every little insect that can fly
The  birds are hiding in the holly tree

I like hills.my lover likes the sea…..
Different people different loves arise
The hurricane has shrunk into a breeze

Lilies hide, so deep, love’s mystery
Then  its offspring decorate our days
The  blackbird sings  atop the holly tree

Feel the woodland beauty as in prayer
Trust the unknown darkness at its core
The scary wind has turned into a  breeze
The  doves are  cooing from the maple tree

Touching

I let my entire being take you in
Surround you like  it were second skin
I made an astral cloak to give your peace
Where I could  share the burden and release

How hard it is to find the  words that say
How we live and die  afresh each day
When we  get a foothold on the hill
We must not hurry , pressed on by  our will

Every instant,every time we breathe 
Eternal life  is here, we’re not deceived
God appears and disappears ,he flames
The Burning Bush, the  prophet and their rage.

Enlightenment  comes after we  have crossed
The  avenues of suffering   and  the cost

I dreamed I rode a tricycle last night

I dreamed I rode a tricycle  last night
Large and painted blue without  a bell
Then I met my doctor,what a sight

He told me he had lately seen the light
And wished to be a monk inside a cell
I dreamed I rode a tricycle  last night 

Ted Hughes had gone out fishing for a pike
The army in my head was doing drill
Then I met my doctor,what a sight

I see the almond  blossom, what delight
My sister thinks I’ve left her in my Will
I dreamed I rode a tricycle  last night 

Yet I am weary with my oversight
I am rarely mad enough to kill
Unless I met a doctor  out on strike

Because of such a strike I lost my sight
The Eye emergency  was  left too late
They say  that if I sue I’ll feel a chill
Surgeons  with knives on my window sill

 

 

Eternal love and hate

Everyone wants to be normal
But nobody knows what it is
It must be ouside of us
Or we’d feel what it was
So is it that we are all God?

Why do we want to be normal
Instead of being ourself?
We want acceptance
For sure and not by chance
Not to mention we all want  more wealth

Maybe there is nobody normal
The median, the mean or the mode
We all need to deviate
From  eternal love and hate
See  here what the Greek Gods still owed

Quivering in the meadows of the heart

We saw the cows at Easter freed from barn
We were on a hill beside our lane  
They were running in the meadow’s  fresh green charm

Renting a small cottage on a farm
Dorset  has its literary fame
We saw the beasts at Easter freed from barn

Beasts will share their feelings  and their heart
Not for them the clever,wordy games
But dancing  in the meadow’s   alien charm

These images annihilate the harm
Suffered by the sick and by the lame
We saw the beasts at Easter freed from barn

The green of spring, the green thoughts, the great calm
Thus poverty brings us emptiness for gain
Running  to shelter of your arms

Was it not a right to be insane
Freed from prison  when the summer came?
We saw the cows at Easter freed from barn
They were  quivering in the meadow while I yearned

 

Your sacred smile

fritillaria_pontica2016-1

Embraced  entire , your sacred smile held me
Until we  both were one deep in  our souls
As still as a white dove  held tenderly

 

For a little time so warm and free
As if your smile contained  me, made me whole
Embraced and loved , your sacred smile  touched me

As  we  cross together the  dark sea
I wish this sacred love could  always hold
As  gently as a dove ,as tenderly

And if I felt the  brilliant light  touch me
My eyes would weep,my tears would turn to gold
Embraced and loved, oh sacramental  tree

Would that humankind were truly free
That in the darkness, we could find our home
As dies  the  fragile Word on Calvary

We fear  the Tempest and we hear the Storm
The still small voice  will whisper , not perform
Embraced  entire , your  smile   encompassed me
As still as a white dove, as tenderly

Take your love and in your arms enfold.

Did anyone believe blind rage expressed
Could benefit the agent without harm?
Did anyone read Freud and then digest?

Feelings need the heat of blacksmith’s fires
Held inside until they find their form
An image worthy of our right desire

As well as rage, we should mistrust love too
Be backward in expression till more’s known
Or risk an avalanche of cruelty.

Take care of others, they are not our fools
From sacred meetings all mankind has grown
We misuse folk to test our worth and tools

Holding in the inner fires our wish
The blackness of the heart can turn to gold
No contradiction hides such sacredness

Take your love and in your arms enfold.
The future of the world is growing cold
We liked to have the choice for rage and death
Until we found the charred remains of bliss

No words

If we had no language,we’d be good
No communication but by sense
What devil conjured up the  demon word 
Made our dealings complex and intense?

No Tower of Babel, nothing but mud huts
Caressing,kissing,kicking,  real contact
Boxing,wrestling,killing the unjust
No law except the fist. no guilt.no wrack

No religion but  a sense of awe
The rising sun, the moon, the distant stars
Oh,bow before the Cedar and the Oak
Anything that is taller than we are

No  books, no news no media,no war
It makes me wonder what live words are for