Heart of darkness,
Shadowed, unknown.
Heart of wildness,
Destruction zone,
Heart, once sacred,
Not more a home.
Heart of loving
Now over thrown.
Pity humans,
Not our own.
No society
We’re lost,alone.
Children’s wonder
Christmas blown.
Like the leaves,
El nino’s own.
Heart’s compassion
Make us one.
Lord have mercy
Eleison.
Kyrie
Eleison.
Kyrie
Communion.
How can I find rhymes for gambit?
How can pentameters be iambic?
I am sure to discover
One way or another
But alas the Government has banned it.
Iambic is as Greek to me,
As to the English is drinking hot tea.
We boil the kettle on the fire.
As we empathise with a liar.
Iambic is schizophrenic you see
In my case I’m not Bic I am Shaeffer
I believe pens drink ink on a wafer.
For ink is their Saviour
And improves their behaviour
If no plates passed,what the hell is that tray for?
A wonderful new word is mimetic
Unsuitable for the mental diabetic
It makes one seem scholastic
Without being monastic
In the right voice it may sound charismatic.
Mimesis is imitation of a kind
Which Plato and Aristotle defined.
My nieces are fans
They writes theses when they can
So new words swim around in their minds.
Do you promise to say mimesis tomorrow?
Or does the idea fill your head up with horror?
I agree it is hard
Write it down on a card
Mimesis,mimesis,no worries.
Well,mimesis has had it’s own day
Tomorrow I go out to play.
I will buy myself fruit
And through the paper I’ll root.
As I roast in a single sun ray
Her manner is rather abstract
It does not help her to show tact.
She’s in love with ideas
Yet her rents in arrears.
Let’s hope that her ship is not wrecked.
i saw the abstract for your book.
I’d love a much closer look.
I’ll invite you to tea
Then I can see
Just how discerning you look.
I suppose even Monet is abstract,
For his images with bright dots are packed.
I love them so well
As they both show and tell
Precisely what realism lacked
We think we own our bodies and our minds
Not knowing when we have the gift of health
We use them without thought ,.with vision blind
Yet nature creeps up with her sylvan stealth.
When to work or when to take our ease,
The signals sent may never reach our brains.
But later, they will turn to constant pleas
For help to stop imposing far more strain.
Days we work and never take a rest
Except to slump by TV, tablet,screen.
It takes much time to learn what is the best
If not, what is will soon be ” what has been”
Let us learn our body’s signals clear
For then on earth our life will long endure
The day is passing as our days must do
The sun shines on the holly berries bright
Soon it will be time for me and you.
We must accept the dying of the light.
To fight is not what nature needs
Surrender is the better way to go.
The cat lies hidden in the thickest weeds.
For they have knowledge we folk do not know
At times in life, we fight so many foes
Threats and needs harass and intrude
And as we age we observe highs and lows
In our free time, we suffer and we brood.
Consciousness gives rise to anguished hearts
Yet into death we go and thought departs
I only began to write sonnets a few months ago.I was afraid to try as I imagined it was very hard,but eventually I wanted to try.I sometimes do find it difficult but I am enjoying it now.I was reading a book by Leslie Farber called,The Ways of the Will.In this he says that anxiety neurosis is caused by, “trying to will what cannot be willed.”I found that idea fascinating.
We can make ourselves lie down,but we cannot sleep by will power.
We can sit at a desk all day but cannot will ourselves to get inspiration.
I am sure you can think of many examples yourselves.So we need will sometimes but also we need to allow things to happen;we are not always in control.. we cannot be but we wish to be.
Think of our brains and bodies… it’s all outside our control…as is most of the Universe,God and all… despite our technology and science.
The daydream is despised by many folk
who feel that willpower is the better way.
Yet daydreams often bring creative thoughts
and teach us what to do and what to say.
I fear it is the modern curse to will,
When will cannot achieve the wanted end.
And trying too hard is effort and may kill,
where reverie and dream can make us mend
.
The emptiness of mind is too much feared
As if we do not trust in God nor man.
Yes,take the tiller, and with perception steer…
We do the little that we should and can.
For dreams can work in harmony with will,
As long as we can make our minds quite still.
Whatever evil humankind may do,
The sun will rise and shine on one and all.
Mercy ,grace and love are spread anew
As apples ripen and the sweet birds call.
What is the mystery of the world we know;
That God looks with dispassion on us all?
And what his wondrous virtues are to show
When wolves attack and murder does appall.
Will heaven compensate the refugees
Who starve in camps when money is withheld.
From those who gave us prophets and great seers
We see confusion,fear then ethics felled.
So often we are blind to wider views
And get mere entertainment from the News
He ‘d held me in his arms and said,
what I had never read,
That life is more than learned discourse.
So as he spoke, I watched his face
And his rich dark eyes;of course
His eyes gave out such natural force
More strong and subtle than the song of birds.
Yes,almost like a poet’s words
In how he moved me like no other man;
No matter how they think they can,
They lose the step and do not dance
And never ever chance
A leap when they might lift me high
Above their head. I’d want to fly.
Yes,the form and feeling give an extra note
To express those feelings more remote…..
We do not need to speak or write
We have both touch and our eye sight.
And yet our human discourse is a need
An anchor,lest the current’s speed
Should crash us down on Coniston,
And we’d be gone.
Just write it down
A verb ,a noun..
A string of sighs,our mouths,our eyes.
A paragraph that never dies,
within your finger tips and cries
For pen and paper and my wish to save
Some part of you,some heart some art
far beyond your grave.
Your gaze.
My days
short-eared durham owl meditating over the dale's edge, shadows the fields and folds in elegant diurnal flight. on windside,careful sight may swoop to prey and away. your yellow broad-eyed look, at once both sharp and distant, holds me. oh,silence, oh ,wind on green, oh. earth, sky. immense your held vision, sphere without centre, pied geometer of flight, sketch your descent and ascent.
trees bunched by dry stone wall call heart home.
Butterflies can light upon a rose
And sparrows miss the prickly holly leaf
So thorns deter most larger, useless foes
And safety bring to birds instead of grief.
The butterfly is symbol of the power
That weakness has in entering sacred ground.
A butterfly can fly through hail stormed bowers
His wings send waves across the world by sound.
A cat too has its claws as well as fur
Yet they do have a a modicum of choice.
For those of us for whom they have a care
Claws are held ; mioaws or purrs given voice.
Am I a holly tree or fragrant rose?
Am I the cat who may unsheath her claws?
Could any be more frenemial then a rose
For as we reach to sniff its fragrant scent
It digs its thorns into our hands and clothes
And tetanus is a menace where we’re rent.
And yet this flower is judged to be the queen,
As fragrantly it opens in the sun.
And for a while, we enjoy what we’re seeing
Until its time and purposes are done.
May it be so for people whom we know?
The more they grace, more the harm that’s done.
Attracted by a sweet and charming glow
Our heart is torn and we then beauty shun .
And yet we would not banish flowers like these.
The pain is offset by the ways they please.
PS I invented the word frenemial based on the word frenemy which I posted on yesterday
The old red wall is dressed in stems of wood
In wintertime, we see the ancient bricks.
But in the springtime come the flower buds.
We see no more of Jack Frost and his tricks.
Which vision is the true one, we may ask
Just as with the faces we each show.
But is there any virtue in that task
Reality is impossible to know.
Each perspective gives a vision new.
The more we see , the more we realize.
Other cultures have a different view.
The argument is futile and unwise.
As when and where we stand gives us our view.
l perceive life differently than you
From time and place and season I am lost,
Disorientated ,missing tracks well worn
Do not suppose I’m unaware of cost
Nor label me with epithets of scorn
For usual paths lead to the usual place
The safest way to live and perhaps to die
But wandering through the woods I find new space
and in the wild flowers with the fox I lie.
Through dark trees, i see a way to go
as narrow as a slit in pallid stone
This is my destined way, I seem to know
and courage rises even as I moan.
Remember when we’re lost ,we may then find
Another way,a place,another mind
a
I’d like to have a sausage for my tea
I’d like a roast potato and some greens
You can share my portion for a fee.
Or bring along some tender runner beans.
I know my home is modest but it’s mine
My headboard broke off during a cold night.
Of what despair may that be a dim sign?
My hope of mending myself is very slight.
Still I’ll make a date with you today
Shall we eat our meal with knives and forks?
Chopsticks are de trop,what do you say?
Your eyes are following me as if on stalks.
Some days I feel I should not rhyme again.
But better that than dwell on long dead men
Oh,take me hold me,love me like you do
With kisses sweet commend me to your heart
Love me like a tea of finest brew.
Love me like a coxes pippin tart.
oh,dance me,swing me, let me feel alive.
And let me feel your melody anew.
We get what we desire yet don’t deserve.
When one is made from love between the two.
Oh. lend me your maths textbooks for a while
I love irrational numbers like a child.
and transcendental pies do me beguile
i feel tonight my numbers dancing wild.
So ambiguous is my attitude to men
I wave and then I particle again
Though love is welcome when at first it dawns
And even when it ripens in the sun
Soon may come sensations all forlorn
A dread that asks us what love might become.
For yearning as we do for hope and care
Yet also don’t we fear to lose our self?
And so to wonder fearful how we’ll fare
Blighting both our spirits and our health.
The risks of loss and gain are not yet known
A judgement must be made on partial facts
To be at once too trapped and too alone
To treat the other with both truth and ttact
With faith and trust we show our human face
And hope we each survive that sweet embrace
The comfort of another’s kindly glance
The solace of a writer”s l voice.
These may arrive as if by chance.
To be responsive is in part our choice.
Some days our shell is closed, and all rebuts.
Not even loving arms or lips are felt.
So little on this earth will bring comfort
Until this hardness wants itself to melt.
Be wary as it may not yet be time
Far better hide until right days are born.
To let our soul reject the dagger fine.
We needs respect a fear of ruinous scorn.
Though isolated,lost, uncertain we may feel,
These dream wrought symbols make the soul to heal
In sweet darkness, love calls down a soul
To be embodied in its mother’s’ womb.
Our growing pains by her are soon consoled
In this way we make an inner room.
Our sacred space is where our spirit lives
God alone can enter that deep place.
We touch a shining blackness which so gives
Life itself through fruitful dark ,rich space.
For those whom fortune has too soon betrayed
Whose mothers lacked protection and kind care.
Lack of such a space may soon degrade.
And lead the lost to live in blank despair.
If we have fortune ,let us aid the weak.
And in vain quarrels,silence let us keep
The season alters imperceptibly;
No point exact which demonstrates the turn.
Yet soon come changes which our eyes can see
Leaves dry and crack, the acers seem to burn.
And so it is with human beings too.
Each day our loved one looks the same to us
And yet the body alters like leaves do.
Small changes made with neither noise nor fuss.
We change into transparent ghosts of self
Thus totter down the avenue of life
Soon death approaches with its common stealth.
And separates the husband and the wife.
In winter all is black and we despair
Yet deep in earth,worms silently repair
My faults are now the opposite of sin.
For I was taught that women never swore.
Yet is this but a private world I’m in,
Where women love and men, at least ,adore?
No language Anglo-Saxon did we hear
Ensuring we thought not what “fuck” might mean.
Was it related to good luck yet freer?
My mind throws up a lark in moorland scene
The man who was my father greatly loved;
And often sang us into sleep and dreams.
But sadly from this life he was removed.
Leaving me accursed wtrh blocked out screams .
Today I tell my tale in my own tongue
Translated into melody and song
An apple bit by woman caused our grief
So ordinary yet an act of will.
To think if she had merely bit the leaf
Sweet holiness would surround each human still.
When Sylvia bit Ted Hughes upon his cheek
She marked him for her future appetites.
Consciously she looked for kind love sweet
But marked him more for evil in her rite.
Jonah was not bitten by the whale
Which let him hide inside her womb-like form
And so he was allowed in her to sail
Until his calling hearkened him go home.
Biting wit and words can also cause much grief,
As caterpillars feast upon a leaf..
What love and friendship must at least entail
Are boundaries both elastic and firm.
Yet even that is but a mere detail
Less subtle is the need to do .no harm
For in the flush of youthful spirits strong
We do not like to know that all love fades
For when it does we lovers may do wrong
To wickedness we may find we’ve paid
And with the stone faced demons we belong.
Thus friendship love and joy involve the will
To take the other as she comes to be
For such allowing there’s a constant bill
Acknowledging such truth we’ll surely see.
Accepting that perfection is remote,
We’ll play our tunes and suffer every note
Some folk are made of glass
And when the stormy winds blow
Rubber lets them pass.
i
Some folk have eyes like water
Some folk have eyes like ice.
And when we’re introduced
We do not look there twice.
Some folk have learned to use us
Some folk give us respect.
With those who will not
see us
We cannot connect.
Some folk where born to sunshine
Some folk were born to storm
And fears imagined in the mind
Can cause such dreadful harm
Oh,hold me to your bosom
Oh.hold me close to you
Some folk were made to hate and fear
But love knows what to do
If this be love,then let me have your hate.
If speak you true then I prefer your lies.
For this, my heart, your message comes too late.
As now my need is for the thoughtful wise.
If this be marriage,let me have divorce.
If this be holy, hasten I to hell..
For love comes in its time without such force.
And of its message ẃho am I to tell?
If this be love,then let me dwell alone.
If this be love, I ‘ll be forever chaste.
Your love flew like a brick.that broke my bones
The love that lays your world and mine to waste
.
Love can shake us to our inner core.
Hence of your love I wish to hear no more
Cracks in the pavement Look like rivers approaching an estuary. Natural beauty, the shapes and forms wandering, sanctifies the road. Cherry trees branches, A wide canopy of leaves, Blossom blows away Sung geometry, held still and made eternal, Catches at my throat.
How like a prison is my cubicle How wary is my body on this chair. How still my heart and yet how strangely fickle. How fast it flies to you who are not here. How elegant your letters and your thoughts How gentle was your touch upon my throat. And yet you killed my words and all the sense I brought You loved me not,but like a wasp did gloat As in this mental jail I'm tightly trapped, I'll use my time to write and make my prayer. Perhaps my mind can extricate a map.. From which I'll plot the route to get away. The prisons which seem external are inside Yet in such captive grief so many die.
I love to look into a mirror
My face glows with bright yellow skincream
I love my own image
Even time ravaged
I wonder when I’ll be made Queen.
I bought some shapeware for fat women
As my round bits are all falling down
Now my bum protrubes off the cuff;
And my breasts look like a stiff ruff
I bought chafeless cycling shorts last week
And went for a ride in the woods.
The gynaecologist saw my shorts
She made sardonic remarks.
So my cheeks are all reddened with blood.
She told me that I’ve got anaemia
Yet my irony level is high.
There are 400 different types
Pernicious sounds just right.
I must go and tell my old Guy
My dead husband does not know nothing
He’s in the front room in a bag.
i had him cremated
Rght after we mated.
So now I’m a lonely old hag.
i could have got married to a doctor
And lived in a big detached house
Yet though he loved me so much
I left him in the lurch.
I now live with the church mouse.
y
A map's a guide to find the world Knitted by angels,plain or pearled. Yet though you need a map as guide, Keep your own eyes open wide. I spent a year caught in a map Until I found a big enough gap I crawled out through this exit slit, So here I am,like some half wit. Words can act like heroin, You live so high,where I have been. But onto earth I gladly fall. The air, the sun, the rain, is all. My senses are my lovers long- My ears,my eyes,my skin my tongue. The winds caress my naked flesh, To dwell on earth is all I wish. I'll live with mice and birds and plants, I'll share my food with miscreants I'll keep my words inside a tin, And only,now and then,go in. I'll live with cats and spiders three. And like a wild flower grow quite free. I' ll give my words to those who hear, And eventually I'll disappear Earth to earth then ash to ash When soaked with rain I shall disperse. My atoms wing like butterflies, And to the Flower I'll fly,disguised
I ‘m missing him like we miss that lost tooth till the gum heals.
I ‘ve been in the dentist’s chair
Had the anaesthetic but still felt the tug and force.
And the dentist yelled,look at this,
I got it all out in one
You see,the root was very twisted and tangled
I told him,take it away.
I’m missing my other because his absence makes a hole
like that bloody hollow in your jaw but in the soul.
Came home alone from the clinic
Felt that soul hole.The first time
when he wasn’t here.
God doesn’t do anaesthesia, just burns the bush
I’m missing him because he needed me so much
Now nobody needs me nor notices if I am here except Alfred
Or if I fall over in the garden,will I die and rot down to the earth before
my neighbour recalls he’s not seen me for three weeks.Or maybe five.
I miss J the way you’d miss your flesh
if someone shot you with a rifle and made a tunnel through your body;
took out a lump which would hurtle away and fall to earth.
I’m missing his honey smell.
the knowledge,the feeling he had of me.
The hole in my space is almost tangible
in this room.
I wake up and wonder what he’d like to eat today.
But the dead don’t eat at our tables do they?
I remember I am alone at the table and I can eat whatever I like.
Oh,love,why did you down so fast?When you were the one,solid I leaned on.You were my man and you are gone
Oh how I long,I long to meet with you
Beside the lilac filled with honey dew.
I’d hold you gently in my arms and say
You are me and I’m in love today.
Where is the wickedness in l oving all our self?
Even in the night and when it’s done with stealth?
I dream, I speak and understand myself
Enriched forever with this new and precious wealth
And then I’ll love my neighbour if he’s very kind
And if he has a free and open mind.
For if we love ourselves we are relaxed
And so we need to make no cold attacks.
was in fragments lying on the ground
Until these bits a passing angel found
I was put into a kiln to bake
Thus now I am a brick or maybe a sponge-cake.
Let’s enjoy our humour as we come and go
And as the laughter starts yet tears may flow.
For I was you and you were me not long ago
Accept our losses as we onward flow…
The river runs,the clouds blow by
The heavens open yet my mouth is dry.
Don’t ask a question that begins with why.
Remember just we live and then we die.
Oh,send me roses and your orchids wild
I have loved flowers since I was a child
So when I die, let them die too
First covering me in scent and fragrant dew.
To mystery and darkness we are sent at last
As nightfall comes and our day has passed.
To dreams of heaven and the long ago
When Eden was on earth and gentle winds did blow
How my heart speaks 