Oh..Lord I prayed sincerely to you
To stick my broken teeth well down with glue
But you did not heed my desperate prayer
So I went to my dentist; had to pay her!

So I feel angry  and you are angry too
For you have the entire universe to view.
And you are not my mother, I now see.
You never were and never will you be.

I’m unsure of how to   re-connect to you
Especially when I’m feeling down and blue.
Do you need me and for what was I conceived?
My mother was dead angry.I believe

She blamed my soul for wanting to  be earthed
Abortion was illegal, not so birth

The thought of writing sonnets made me scared
I’d read the Shakespeare, Donne , the genius  poets
Marvell , metaphysical, I’d  heard
A plaque marks  Highgate Hill where he once wrote.

I  did not wonder if a female mind
Was impediment to learning further skills
I came to Math and Plath from well behind
With interest, prepared by iron will

At first, I walked on ice in foolish shoes
Afraid of falling, slowness, ridicule
But after trial ,the judgement was defused.
My confidence more logical  when schooled

So having crossed my Alps in wintertime
I knew I’d never want for any rhyme.

For someone non-existent  God has power
To wreck the world he learns from every  hour.
He is not here or there or where at all
And yet we do have evidence of Fall.

Why  must men be angry as they boast,
They can prove there is no Holy Ghost?
No benediction, blessing, nothing good
No meaning, nothing sacred, never Love.

For who is zero,  who’s in the empty set?
God  seems ever harder to forget
Men argue with red cheeks and suffer strokes
While God sits back, enjoys an evening smoke.

While Nothing shall remain and  nausea  sighs
Let’s enjoy the  madness and the lies.

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?

I still don’t know  how deep inside  my heart
Is a strange belief, he has not died
I can’t believe  he’s never coming back
Is it self-deception or a lie?

I wakened up and thought I heard his breath
Then remembered all the details my loss.
I wonder if I’ll see his shadowed ghost?
And if I do, no doubt I shall get cross

Like children taken from a mother’s arms
When she returns they’re angry  yet forlorn
Too young to speak, to verbally express
They  bite the breast and wish that they were grown.

Even  those who rationally accept
Are struck dumb when  their loved ones  do defect

When a novice writes an early poem
The surprise is not the cuteness of the  rhyme.
But is a moment when a deeper self
Offers lines from its unconscious wealth

Later when re-reading, I’m amazed
That I myself was channel for such  grace.
It may happen  but I  never know
Unless I write and travel with the flow.

To get to know the depths of our own mind
May  enlighten us to when we ‘re  most unkind.
Inside the heart, a bitterness may blind
Yet pain  may hint  we must the heart unchain.

So writing  opens both the soul and mind
Shows we’re one as we’re all humankind

Again it’s winter in the Natural World

I saw the snow  fall as  cold clouds unfurled

I like the feeling of  this winter rest

 Though most prefer the heat and summer zest

I   like to see the sun like a red ball

On the horizon after  blackbirds call

It tells me  we are animals, we’re flesh

In the  whole of nature we’re enmeshed

For now with  artificial light and mobile  phones

We can ignore both  nature  and time zones;

Forget that  we  must communicate  wordless

By touch and sight and feeling, in our flesh.

The red sun rising burns   this  day in fire

I stare  now avid with my whole desire.

A strange and lonely feeling held my heart
Gripping like  some pincers  made of steel.
From my beloved I had had to part
Then  numbness  folded round me like wheel.

And quietness loved  has now turned into threat
Nero like ,I  fiddle with my  tunes
Pie Jesu’s not made top ten yet
Larks’ ascents aren’t worth much  to a loon.

I phoned a friend,her voice did me no good
It echoed in the chambers of my mind
Where metal walls echo the coursing blood
And escalate these feelings so unkind

Though he l loved has gone and is now dead.
I  see his face  upon my  heartless bed

Diagonal streams now  stripe the windowpane
And in them, tiny insects drown and die.
Unexpected ,sudden rain  has come.
Those escape who have  the wings to fly.

No angels were seen peering  at my  room
No doubt they have their  Sunday wings to press.
No  camera ,even with psychotic zoom,
Can catch an angel while she is undressed.

Now the rain has dried and all is sweet
I tend to houseplants standing by the door.
By good luck these houseplants never bleep.
Only in the real world do they flower.

Bleeps and pings are not a natural sound.
But to the artificial   we  will bound

Sometimes I am glad that you are gone
You would be startled to perceive  the strange new scene
That a nation educated  could choose one
A card to be their presidential meme.

Leonard Cohen hung on with his frail thread
But fell when  dreaming of the latest polls
And you, too, are  perhaps comforted  in death
You don’t have  to vote for  shipwrecked fools

Yet we who’re strong must live and hope for good.
The virtues of the noblest minds aid ours.
We must cultivate the tender buds.
And not assume ourselves to be mere cowards.

For one good  person, God would not destroy
The Sodom   we’ve  created in false joy.

Who ripped his roots out from my  fragile heart
And left me  hollow ,bleeding and alone?
We who love know all humans must part.
Pain must touch  us women who’re not stone.

Yet I did not understand what we’d become;
Enchanted roots all tangled as were one
When he died , the  wound has made me lame.
For my  roots bereaved seem almost to have gone.

I stand on tilted ground like a ship’s deck
When by  squalls and gales  it  is besieged.
I  picture in my mind my own  such wreck
Yet death does not take all lovers  who’re bereaved.

My roots will spread again when spring comes by.
Till then I lean  and shudder  lest I die