Category: poetry

No purpose, no desire

How can I judge you when I do not know
The river of your heart, it’s undertow
Forgetting  the wide looking that we need
Too attentive  to the goals of speed

I may   compare you to another friend
And in comparison, our love   might end
I may not take you in as one  true whole
How little do we look,  ensnared by goals?

When attention lapses and we  dream
We may see our soul and  its true themes
Too sharp a focus makes our mind compress
Our narrowed eyes  untrue to second guess

With my whole body I  perceive the  true
No purpose , no desire,  nothing  but you.

Without  our love  we give  but our own weeds

How do we know what topic will intrigue,
That draws the mind away from mundane tasks
 What will be fertile like a bursting seed?

What kind of  poetry do folk want to read ?
Must it tell or do  they have to ask?
How do we know what subjects will intrigue?

Emotions  run like water,with no heed
Floods of feeling  overwhelm defence;
Destroy  the berries and the bursting seeds

Strength is  torment, Stalingrad besieged
Rare will we find love without  these risks
We  already know what sense intrigues

The walls break down, the colder water  leads
Who foresaw the Flood and   its dark past?
This drives all away  both raw and seed

The  hand of God, the might, the holy fist
Kneel  before the  the humble,give them rest
We must know while   learning might intrigue
Without  our love  we give  but our own weeds

Grave the undertones  

I ran behind you but the hills were steep
I was frightened, left  behind alone
Now you go ahead into your sleep

Can’t you ever wait, so we could meet
Without you teasing me with  broken bones?
 I ran behind you but the hills were steep

Not held back  by fog or  frost  or sleet
Now you are a husk, where is your home?
 Oh,  must you  go ahead into dark sleep?

You were King , the girls and  boys all leaped
You would not let me use the gramophone
 I  tried  to  meet you,fear and love I keep.

The green sap rose, adventure was the key
Now we’re old so grave the undertones
 Might I murmur while you sink to  sleep?

Let  your hands stretch backward as you go
Before you’re in the earth so bitter,cold
I  passed you as I entered into speech
Yet still you  go ahead  my words can’t reach

 

 

 

 

The world is full of buds of love,respect

The world is full of buds, all interact
Gently touching with  our tender hands
Choosing,using, never going back

Without a choice,  we would not know our lack
Would not know how colours feel and blend
The world is full of buds, we interact

No single answer can be called correct
Uncountable,continuous, are the sands?
Choosing,losing, never looking back

Where we stand determines what are facts
See the children and their  wistful  hands
The world is full of buds, these hands react

Perspective is   a metaphor with tact
Less so  for  soldiers marching to their end
Choosing,losing, never coming back

When the birds cry out we must attend
They see more than we might understand
The world is full of buds of  love,respect
Choosing,opening,  sacredness unpacked

 

 

The War’s not over when the fighting stops

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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 prisoners 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

Seek for conversations that will warm

Emotions can be difficult  to  bear
But maybe they bring something we should hear
A message or a wound we have ignored
Action’s needed or we are destroyed

Being  happy always is unreal
Living  in compartments  now concealed
If you cannot bear  your  pain alone
Seek for conversations that will warm

Loving neighbours comes extremely hard
If from our own  suffering we are barred
Imprisoned feelings make us tense  as boards
Stiff like puppets,stiff  like frozen hearts

As they say, the way  out sends us through
The feelings that we  did  not  know we knew

What you write is  almost never wrong

Do you think that you can’t write a verse
Free or formed, a villanellse or song
 Do you fear the  end , so  feel accursed?

The first words are banana,gold and terse
Start from that new sentence on your tongue
Do you think that you can’t write a verse?

Bananas ,phallic symbols, unrehearsed
What you write is  almost never wrong
Is you fear the  end   be not accursed

Golden is the joy when we’re immersed
In the company  that knows our tongue
Do you think that you can’t write a verse?

My lover speaks but he is often terse
He prefers to use a gesture not a word
Is you fear the  end   you’re not the first

In the mind float symbols , gold, absurd
Metaphors   that hunger to be heard
Do you think that you can’t write a verse?
If you fear the  end , we’re here  at worst

 

 

Could time itself ,this dagger, be reversed

Living in a clockwork Universe
Before we knew the truth  of  random acts
Circles ignored squares , was that perverse?

Clockwork,  logic  Aristotle, terse
This what we thought to be the facts
Living in a clockwork Universe

Yet  could ellipses, circles   us desert
If all seems square  then something has been blocked
Circles married squares , was that perverse?

Could time itself ,this dagger,  be reversed
In stochastic nature, particles might flirt
 There never was a clockwork Universe

Scientists   have imaginations rash
Revolutions happen with a smirk
Circles marry squares ,  are you averse?

Alas no-one can read their latest tracts
The language is  absurd like  poets’ works
Living in a clockwork Universe~
Circles ignored squares , we thought  that crass

He told me once that saying Mass is just a piece of cake

The fishing nets have tangled round a  little submarine
Can the sailors pull it up, or will their nets all break?
We wonder  who might live in it,  it can’t be the Queen

I looked once in the mirror and I see my face is green
Maybe I’ll eat soup again and not a giant rump steak
The fishing nets once tangled round a  little submarine

We once had a Bishop but he just  had a Dean
He told me once that saying Mass is just a piece of cake
We wonder  who might like such food,  it can’t be the Queen

I  get washed  with olive oil and in summer I feel clean
I wish that little wafer were a Cadbury’s chocolate  flake
The fishing nets once wrangled and their maths was quite marine

If I see my boyfriend now,I might let out a scream
Feeling his proximity, my entire heart might break
We wonder  who might  enjoy that  it can’t be the Queen

Life can be  much better with a little pat and stroke
Wash your mate in olive oil, he’s such a lovely bloke
The fishing nets did tangle round a  little submarine
We wonder  who might live in it,  God has not been seen

 

 

Christ came down  as weak as candle light

In a stable with no heat or light
Who will celebrate the birth of God
When we each deny our rage and spite

Psychosis swallows up  the dark of night
The star that shepherds saw  has filled with blood
Above a stable with no heat or light

We live with fear, we  know who has the might
Can our  minds contain both  bad and good
When we each deny our rage and spite?

We fail to know how others suffer fright
That they are persons  too , not understood
 Christ came down  as weak as candle light

We are each a world, there is no fate 
I see the tears  run down the face of God
When we each  engage our rage and  spite

Shall we  lose in darkness  or in  flood?
Asked a  man   bereft of  his  true love
In a stable with no heat or light
Love is born, is  frozen, is denied

 

 

Watched by men who  look  without a face

Boris Johnson  thrown out by his wife
Now he has a different tole in life
He has a  girlfriend will he have more kids?
Lucian Freud was  surely up for this
They say he might have had perhaps  thirty   two
With all that sperm what is a man to do?
He could take Precautions as they say
I  prefer icecream  but let’s go  stray
Lucian Freud  was not a man to  rule
They say he once burned down his own Art School
He married once, he married twice but no
He would not be captured  in Soho
Beautiful and strange he made his mark
Boris Johnson   has a  nuclear heart
Winter will come down upon us all
Europe we are sad, almost appalled
Sadness for the surgeon who cured me
The cancer  grew  like rampant lush ivy
He is Greek and no-one else was skilled
To leave me looking   better  than God willed
Will he  go back   to where  his grandad  came?
Say a little prayer for my dear face
I don’t want  to suffer but  all will
We’ll die sooner,  sadly Boris kills
The NHS is  going slowly  to its grave
Watched by men who  look  without a face

 

We may miss the  very clues we need

Emotional claustrophobia is widespread
We fear   our feelings,fear the sudden dread
We swing between attraction and dismay
Others have been seen to sink to prayer

Yet all alone at Xmas we are sad
Even   our other choice was dread
People who  can madden with crude noise
Feel some  one else might love their voice

Silence is  like music in  its  joy
No intrusion, no strong  words to annoy
But if we flee intrusion   at great speed
We may miss the  very clues we need

Oh, to find a lover  joyful in our space
When we long  for  touch, for wild embrace.

Between intrusion and abandonment

Between intrusion and abandonment
We  hope to find a  place  of trust and care
A place where we can  spend our loving wealth

Communion starts.our hearts enjoy love’s health
Here our bodies and our souls are bared
Between intrusion and abandonment

Walk  as does the tiger with its stealth
Treat your loved one well  as  both prepare
A place where  each can  spend this loving wealth

And if you are  alone, stay with  yourself
Do not neglect   that soul who’s always here
Without intrusion or abandonment

Quietly sings the soul  for all is meant
We’re inspired  by hope  and  not by fear
To  clear  a space , to  learn the dove’s  lament.

Take the tiller, love itself may steer
Our voyage through the  unknown ocean’s near
Between intrusion and abandonment
We  seek a   space  to share our loving wealth

 

 

This frail membrane  is our boundary

My room is warm and comforting and light
This feels  like kindness , brings my skin delight
I remember  being held in loving arms
And soothed by songs  as sweet as any balms

Let the lamplight run across  the eyes
Let them soften to a wider gaze
Let the hair  be free from wax and sprays
Let the skin enclose us, be our way

We can’t deny the skin is often pricked
Or beaten by a parent who’s too strict
More fragile than a leaf from any tree
This frail membrane  is our boundary

Floating into sleep in  reverie
I lose myself  while God imagines me

Never join conspiracies or choirs

Why do we love  those who love us least
To prove we can obtain whom we desire?
He makes cruel comments at the wedding feast

Do not call  this man a nasty beast
An animal is  better than a liar
Why do we love  those who love us   least?

He shouts  in rage because his shirt is creased
Throws your letters into the coal fire
He makes crude comments   at our Xmas feast

I do not mind  if you are dressed in fleece
Wear nylon shirts and  shoes with laces wired
Why do we love   most the late deceased?

Never borrow  men  who have no price
Never join conspiracies or choirs
If they make  “remarks”   don’t on them feast

The  old cathedrals have  the tallest  spires
With older men the risks are  sadly higher
Why do we love  those who love us least
Who  cannot be polite at wedding feasts?

 

I shan’t be alone

In my coffin I will have no phone
At last I shall be free  like  new born babe
But how will people hear my mobile groans?

Who shall write  my story on a  stone?
I can’t ring Emergency  for aid
In my coffin I will have no phone

I must have a linen sheet untorn
Be reminded I’ve already paid
How will people hear my mobile groans?

Out we go, as in we, came alone
Will someone sing for me ,   oh humming bird
In my coffin I will need no phone

We will  die as we have lived, atoned
I hope  a human person hears my words
Help  us all,dear God, to forestall groans

Free  from medications  .free of  nerves
 Straight to Heaven  atop our loved ones prayers
In my coffin I   shan’t  be alone
I want to go with all my garden gnomes

 

 

 

My naked flesh

On my journey into sleep I hold
A little bag which holds a tiny phone
I hold a spray of GNT  to bomb
My arteries as wide as a mother’s thumb

Yet I’d like to go in naked form
Trusting in the darkness as a balm
Before  all, this  I loved my naked flesh
That with my loved one I might be enmeshed

Now I seem in danger from myself
My own heart is severed from its wealth
Migraine of  the heart can lead to death
Through my artery I  express   wrath

What other mysteries can my body  know?
Thank God,I  only signed for Pay and Go

 

When after death I lie deep in the earth

O happy worm that of  my flesh might eat
When after death I lie in deep in the earth
My bosom,hands and eyes  become your meat

You have no sun as you enjoy your feast
And none is  chosen as we were at birth
O happy worm that of  my flesh might eat

All of us are equal in defeat
None are high or low , what are we worth?
My brain,my hands,my eyes  become worms’ meat

In the soil, we rest  in comfort sweet
Let us all be blessed,God  make no curse
You made the happy worms who   will  us  eat

O  remember the deep  ash from Auschwitz’ heat
The little children killed without Kaddish
Those  hearts ,those hands, those eyes   no worm   could eat

,
Why should we  be satisfied by wish
When  people burn or starve  beside our dish
O Godly worm that of  my flesh might eat
Let my very self  become your meat

· Daddy’s coming home

At three o’clock, we ran across the park
Then up the Wigan Road, we children roamed
Past the houses and along the fields
Looking for our daddy coming home
Looking for our daddy coming home.

I was only  two or three  at most
We passed our church and saw the Pope in Rome
We climbed a fence and walked by fields of wheat
Looking for our daddy coming home
Looking for our daddy coming home.

From the distance came a tall thin man
A ladder on his shoulder, hair well combed
A bucket full of paints and all his tools
Look, Paul, is that daddy coming home?
Bernard, I think daddy’s coming home!

A look of shock, a smile, a cry, my loves!
He rushed towards us, happy and transformed
What about your mammy does she know?
Yes, yes, yes it’s daddy coming home
Yes, yes, yes, it’s daddy coming home.

Oh,Mammy had no idea   of  it at all
She thought we were just playing by the wall
Children were much bolder and more free
 But Daddy  went to Heaven after that
Mam was   so depressed   she killed the cat

 

Happy in the golden fields  of joy
Happy with no money  with few toys
 Daddy never walked that road  for long
I missed him so I  cut   off my own tongue

The words were wise, the sentences allured

Once an Empire ,  once an admired place
Great Britain should now be in outer space
We lose connections, cut them with  a sword
No-one  seems to know where dwells the Word

We had  a language rich and full of grace
Apostrophes and commas knew their place
The words were wise, the sentences allured
Shakespeare could  quote  music  sung by birds

We were not wrecked by theories   so base
Enjoyed by French  professors , what disgrace
Sentences should ring  out  and be  shared
The circles  of  our culture can’t squared

Where have gone our manners and our strength?
Where indeed has gone the National Health?

 

We have no  reverie,  we have no time

Belshazzar saw the writing on the wall
The words predicted death  and so it came
The mightiest king is not  preserved from falls

Is there  wisdom  in the deep that calls
True scholarship  is hard , to name unnamed
Belshazzar saw the writing on the wall

 

Even  blatant  evil, none appals
We have no  reverie,  we have no time
The mightiest king ‘s no  safer    with his gold

 

Counted,weighed,divided, aren’t we all?
The words in Aramaic  were  no  rhyme
Belshazzar saw the grave  there on  his wall

Once old ladies smiled  knit  infants shawls
They had joy  though death  came wandering by
The King  of Babylon  deserved his fall

Being alive seems  near to a  great crime
God may die yet love burns its small flame
Belshazzar learned the writing on the wall
The  humbler people are,  the  less the  fall

 

 

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English idioms maze the minds we lost

English idioms maze the minds of most
Every cloud is  lined in silver cloth
I put my foot in it now I’m divorced

If I’m  late the wife will have my guts
What on earth is meant by the Lord’s wrath?
English  natives speak in  words and grunts

 

Straight from the horses mouth,  seems  rather coarse
If you  want    to  bid, you merely cough
I put my foot in it now I’m divorced

There’s no fool like an old one , shall we laugh?
The tea could hardly crawl out of the pot
English  natives speak,  we’re twice as daft?

She looked as nice as pi … is that in maths?
Her wardrobe was the envy of the  gods
I put my foot in it now I’m divorced

Ever seen old boots, well she is not
Ever been  on  Tubes, well mind the doors
English idioms bruise the minds of hosts
I put my foot in it ,now I’m divorced

The cyclamen, the lily and the earth

The cyclamen, the lily and the earth
The potted plants ,green leaves , distil the air
The lily is for peace. the rose for worth

Let no human live in pain or cursed
Let the golden light enwrap  them here
The cyclamen, the lily and the earth

The waxy flowers of cyclamen bring mirth
Bring  gratitude in winter when all’s bare
The lily is for peace. the rose for worth

I feel my hands are reaching for a brush
The watercolour paints    bring their allure
The cyclamen, the lily and the earth

Then I see a flower trod on  and crushed
It seems to bleed like Jesus,tears my eye.
The lily is for peace. the rose for worth

Nature has its truth and so do I
Many times I weep, bewail and cry
The cyclamen, the lily and the earth
The lily is for peace. the rose for birth

I stood  like a stone

Down the kitchen  stairs they carried you
Two men were enough, the coffin crew
I wanted to take off the lid to see
If Daddy was  asleep. had not left me

Mute and frozen I stood  like a stone
In this the place we  loved and made a home
We knelt down by the fire to say night prayers
The flames  stood up like  fingers  in  the air

The soot fell down, we had a little brush
To sweep the ash,remains of  forests crushed.
Later grand-dad died , my brothers  pale
Carried  his dear coffin down the aisle

 Imagined  into being by the Mass
Jesus whispered   when the storm   had passed

As long as I can see  your love and you

 

I  must have shrunk my spectacles fall off
When I bend or when I have a cough
Then it’s hard to find them  on the floor
I stagger to the spare ones in a drawer

I rarely throw most older  glasses out
For  eyes may change and older ones might suit
I’m wearing ones from 13 years ago
No wonder I keep seeing heaps of snow

I wish I could see better but  make do
As long as I can see  your love and you
As long as I can read and choose my clothes
I shall be   patient,silent on these woes

For some born blind will never see the flowers
The eyes of infants, trees and sun  and showers

Love me, love me, someone hold me tight

You were angry ,I was much too bright
You taught me to play chess,  then felt regret
The man must be the one who knows the rites

I didn’t know you minded my insight
When I won the game,  you were upset
You were angry; I was   madly bright

I think you loved my  body in the night
You loved my  golden hair both dry and wet
The man must be the one who knows the rites

At least you did not scratch nor did you bite
I weep for  I  just found   that old chess set
You were  dying but I managed all the rites

Love me, love me, someone hold me tight
I’m crying  for his touch,  my face is wet
The man might be the one   who must depart

I  shall live my future in your debt
You gave me all you had with no regret
You were angry, for an hour,  then  you were calm
As Gd came down and wrapped you  in his arms

 

We’re not supposed to say

You know the widow’s sad and can mourn and grieve all day
But the anger and the hatred,she’s not supposed to say
She can cry  upon the duvet, she can scream under the stairs
But the rage and  irritation are  not to be declared
She can order man size tissues in boxes multiplied
But the venomous ,vindictive  imply that love had died
She can  be  dissociated, she can be without affect
But if  she says how well  she hated him, everybody’s vexed
Who can live so closely for forty and five years
Without needing a  dressmaker to sew up all the tears?
Who can  be accepting when money and time’s scarce
There’s a war inside the heart of us,   everybody knows
Scratched and bitten daily,   struck by falling stars
Who  knows what we’re feeling . what is out too far?

Illusions

Women screen themselves without the veil
Wear their   cream foundation, dye their hair
Get push up bras with wires as thick as cords
Thongs  that I have seen  when jeans are worn!
They wear dark glasses, strands of  lucid pearls
Hoping to attract a deviant earl
They wear pyjamas ,claiming to be cold
Or polyester nighties   men can’t hold
But Shakespeare said that all the world’s a stage
This fills me with  annoyance. even rage
Yet I see it’s true  when I go out
Disguise myself  with crutches and shoes stout
Cut my hair till hardly any’s left
That is right,I  act like I am deaf
I wash it in the kitchen with  the plates
The water’s hot and  hair cannot escape
It looks pathetic  yet I am so old
White hair is the fashion for the bold
I smile with pensive attitude and    plead
Do not  quarrel if I act with speed

A petrol bomb

As down St Giles I cycled late one night
The road as silent as an empty church 
A speeding car  attacked me from the right

I saw, I knew, I felt no touch of fright
Time was stopped until  I felt the punch
As down St Giles I cycled in the night

 Flying like a moth  towards the light
Is this my end or shall  my  mind  come back?
A speeding car  attacked me from the right

The car drove at right angles  to my bike
I had no time to scream or speed my foot
As down St Giles I cycled in the night

I saw stars,  when flung to fearsome flight
I landed on my head, a flash,  a flood
A speeding car  attacked me from the right

The choir   rehearse without  my  voice ,now crushed
To Woodstock  and to Banbury  cars  rush
As down St Giles I cycle in the night
A speeding car, a petrol bomb , ignites

 

 

 

 

Song of the earthworm

They tell me that trees are a wonderful sight
They have leaves hanging on them all day and all night.
They tell me the golden sun shines in the sky
It’s said to be so much brighter so high.
I’d like to hear birdsong and thunder and hail.
At all these pursuits worms are likely to fail.
We only make holes in the soil as we move
And we know almost nothing about feelings and love.
We don’t know why we’re here or what purpose we serve
And our earthen workplace is also our grave.

 

To risk perception is a fear we share

The pools of water on the pavement gleam
Reflect  the colours  of the   shops and cars
Giving us a feeling all’s serene

As I walk I wander and daydream
I sit on an  old wall,  the moss like hair
The pools of water on the pavement gleam

I invent a   sentence and a theme
Will I forget before I have gone far
Taking back the feeling all’s serene?

I notice how the old wall seems to lean
To risk perception is a fear  we share
The pools of water on the pavement gleam

I feel the moss ,I love the colour scheme
I love the texture with my  hand  unbared
Giving me a feeling all’s serene

Each lovely brick is different  yet is fair
Evoking in my mind  the sacred  word
The pools of water on the pavement gleam
A light rain falls and  this world feels serene