Category: poetry

The patience of gardens

The enclosed garden had a peaceful air.

Nothing untoward could happen there.

The irises are famous and diverse

No thorns to prick the finger or to curse.

We sat beneath the tree still holding hands

And let the peace  we felt on us descend.

But now I am alone I feel despair

Where now shall I love, where shall I care?

..

We cannot love another till we find

A felt connection to the heart and mind

When we’re anxious we cannot perceive

The mind and feelings shuttered may deceive.

Patience is so hard when we feel sad.

The tears in our own eyes make us feel bad

Loving memories

I look up our small street,
To see if you are coming.
I don’t know what time it is,
But I think I hear you humming.

You sang sweet songs for us,
And you could whistle well.
You wore an old tweed jacket
You loved us,I could tell.

I look out there each day,
But I can’t see your tall, thin shape.
I saved your Woodbine packet,
It made me feel some hope.

What does death’s door mean?
Where has Daddy gone?
When will be the welcome day,
When we hear his songs again?

I’ll sing like him all day,
I’ll dream of him all night.
I hope he won’t be angry,
If his cigarettes won’t light!

He can’t write his own songs now.
He went too far away, too soon.
I’ll write down what I think he sang,
And I’ll invent the tune.

I hear him singing now,
He dwells inside my heart.
And though I still can’t see his face,
I recognise his Art.

On a motorbike with God

There were three of us on this motorbike,
Father Dan with me,
And he had Jesus in his bag.
That makes the total three.

Transubstantiation, oh my Lord
I looked at his black bag.
Is Jesus inside there, I thought?
Should it have a tag?

It’s a secret never told
Father Dan gave it me to hold.
So I had Jesus in my lap,
No wonder now I feel a gap.

We zoomed off up an unmade road
As fast as Dan could go.
I felt bewildered and bemused,
I loved my Daddy so.

Father Dan took back his bag,
And went inside our house.
I got my marbles out to roll,
I feared I’d see a mouse.

So Three of had taken a ride
And after that, my Dad had died.
Father Dan said Mass today
Still with Jesus, so I cried.

Wakening up in the winter

The sun ignores the dark leaved compact tree.

All is silent waiting some decree.

Like a prisoner standing in the dock

Imagining the key that turns the lock

is it bird song, is it my alarm?

In the winter morning holds less charm

Once I had a loved one in my bed.

Are my feelings better left unsaid?

The art and the heart

the art of poetry isn’t hard to master
make the syntax good and  entertaining
the  gruesome heart of poetry   brings disaster

 

a meter errant makes  the lines come faster
an oxford  thesaurus   gets the listeners   waning
the art of poetry  isn’t hard to master.

 

a genius woke and saw a verse rush past her
it only needed polishing and planing
the  gruesome heart of poetry brings  disaster

 

she left the oven on,it gassed her
ever since her folk  groan, paining
the art of poetry  isn’t hard to master.

 

she saw her selves as coloured shapes in plaster
and round her mind, were ghosts all craning
the  gruesome heart of poetry brings disaster

there’s not a lot of hope if we’re complaining
for criticism  from hidden ghosts is draining
the art of poetry isn’t hard to master
the  gruesome  heart of poetry brings disaster

 

 

 

 

 

The dreams, the metaphors of the mind

I wish we were in Alston steep and fine

The Pennines all around, the lakes nearby.

We walked the Pennine way in our own time.

Your heart was in the hills, to teesdale chained.

You didn’t like the urban sprawl, the blight

I wish we were in Alston now and then

The time has passed we find our memories fade.

I miss you,miss you, miss you, I can’t lie

I wish that we were near high force, that air.

And our;United Kingdom’s in decay.

We saw an eagle but it did not fly

0h every breath we took was like a prayer.

I find it hard to walk without a crutch

I can see but I can’t feel your touch

You would hardly know me now I sigh

I wish you were in Alston by my side.

The dreams, the symbols memories combine.

This is how you’re with me for all time

I am very proud because I’ve tried

The neighbour’s cat ate my curry

I left a pan of curry on the stove
Hot as ash combined with burning coal
Yet when I went back in a cat stood there
Eating this strong curry with no care.

It must have had thick skin inside its mouth
Before I looked ,it ran out of the house
To think it gobbled up our supper so
Leaving me with nothing but a glow

So then I made a chilli beef and beans
My heart ached as I listened to puss scream
Can cats learn that pans are out of bounds?
I’d hate to hear again its anguished sounds

Be sure to close the kitchen door or else
You too will suffer torment from cats’ yells

Doctors’ exam questions

How do you treat stage 4 lung cancer?

By surgery to remove the lungs

And how do you treat brain cancer?

Isn’t it obvious? Remove the brain.

What about your heart?

I took my mine out a long time ago.

You didn’t have it done on the NHS then ?

No but I paid myself £10,000 afterwards

Now, let’s do the circulation of the blood.

Which person discovered that the blood circulated around the entire body.

I didn’t even know that anyone had discovered that.

Going back to oncology what about skin cancer?

I thought this was a general oral examination not a specialist one for people studying oncology

Alright what makes your pulse go too low?

Boredom I think.

So what is the cure for that?

Being a medical student

There’s no need to go on. You have failed completely.

Thank you very much sir or madam. I only came here to bring these pens then I thought I would just try to do the exam in case I could become a doctor straight away without doing any training.

They say the people who know the least about a subject are the ones who are more likely to believe they know a great deal about it.

So the more learned you get the more humble you get

Then heaven might be full of scholars but also of people who are highly skilled in other ways such as artists.

. I won’t say they will get on like a house on fire because that might more like hell than heaven.

And what is heaven but a metaphor?

The river in the Chilterns

I wish I were in Hertfordshire again

The River Lea a small and sparkling stream.

As I sit here clutching my gel pen

Facing a blank page, oh paper clean

I think about our holidays and walks

Now I barely get across the room.

I miss you for your feelings and the thoughts.

Sitting on the riverbank relaxed

Where has gone my treasure once unsought?

All alone I sit here and reflect

Loving these quiet memories I have brought

Once your love was here but now it’s gone

You float away like water over stones.

Astonished into bud

The journey to the heart is graced by love.
And those who need to seek obey their call.
Though virtue and her graces smile above,
We see steep paths ahead with risky falls

With willingness to cross fields deep in mud,
To struggle through the tangled wind bent wood.
Our soul within knows when there’s latent good;
Recalls old trees astonished into bud.

As flowers spring up to gently grace our toes
Encouragement is with much joy received;
And as we smell the fragrance of the rose,
At last we know our souls were not deceived.

For Virgil,fortune favours steadfast feet.
The journey may be long,the end is sweet.

Reflections

I knew myself in his face when he lived

But now I have no mirror,I’m alone.

I learned myself reflected in his love.

An actual mirror seems like a dull stone

I was alive when mirrored his eyes

For those who hate us do not give us life.

What’s the answer when when the loved one dies?

Without a husband there can be no wife.

All alone my blood seems not to flow.

The wellspring of my heart is arid,dry.

My hands curl up protective on my heart

I have no tears and so I cannot cry.

Yet I bleed inside from every part.

So where is my reflection, where my grace?

I feel I cannot live without his face.

When we walked  I  warmed your hand in mine

When we walked I held your hand in mine
We walked round a small lake to see geese fly
We sauntered, in a rhythm were aligned

Time had stopped, the geese in circles climbed
Then swept onto the path as we came by
When we walked I held your hand in mine

Like a natural god, the geese divine
Landed in their beauty with a sigh
We entered a new rhythm, were aligned

On the shining water geese in line
Float and hunt for food with little cries
When we walked I held your hand in mine

In our garden for your love I pine
I may never love another till I die
We sauntered, in a rhythm were aligned

God is on the mountain with his lyre
Singing of the beauty of desire
When we walked I warmed your hand in mine
We lived attuned to love until you died

Photo by E.L copyright

Wild Geese

Leaves have gone so suddenly
Small birds float on the wind
Like boats astride a choppy sea.
Their swaying soothes my mind.

Wild geese fly past at dusk again,
They head towards the North.
The holly berries glow in sun,
Nature gives joy birth.

I gaze intently at the sky,
The clouds hang dark and low.
If I too were a mere wild goose
I’d know which way to go

But I am left with only words
To find my destination.
Yet words do carry down to us
Wisdom from past generations

We use old words in unique ways.
We structure them to form
A new design not seen before
A new sentence is born

I send my words with love to you
I hope you safely catch them.
Give me answers from your heart
And I’ll do my best to match them.

A humorous old poem

img_20191126_111302

‘Twas but a reptile passing by.
It flew across the deep blue sky
Why do reptiles fly so high?
I’ll love you till I die.

“Twas but a cat under the moon.
Did you have a silver spoon?
Why can’t cats all waul in tune?
I’ll love you very soon

‘Twas but a wooden legged man,
Carrying a large brass saucepan.
Can men do what women can?
I’ll love you better than.

Why are adverbs?
What are nouns?
why do circuses have clowns?
I’ll love you lying down.

Where do dreams go in the day?
What game can we adults play?
Can you or can you not say?
I’ll love you,i n my way.

‘Twas but a verse that seemed so free.
It floated over my oak tree.
I have eyes but cannot see.
I’ll love you when I be

Raspberry canes that chuckle in the wind

The empty canes of raspberries hang low

Red maple leaves are mashed up in the mud

Nature seems to hover by death’s door

Animals and humans drained as whores

No feeling ,no green sap,no flowing blood

The crackling canes of raspberries hang low as

What can we say un-cliched, metaphored?

At dawn the sun will burn despite the Flood

Nature did not force us through death’s door

Can the death of God mean this and more,

Though love and hate are fractured, life is good?

The chuckling canes the berries sang below

Can a life with heart not be restored?

End retaliation, understand

Nature did not wave us through the door

At the edge of Europe are no hordes

Jesus is more small than any bud

The crackling canes stored laughter in their cores

The remnants of the foxgloves in the wood

Wave politely . even seem to nod

The raspberry canes, the honesty know more

Nature ,light and darkness, affect stored

Sunlight at Easter

The Easter sun came through the rich stained glass

A little child, illuminated,  passed.

The shining floor below the roof above

The glowing light a symbol of deep love

At this moment normal time had gone

Absorbed into the mysteries of the sun.

Then the child ran off, a cloud came by

Eternity has passed with just a sigh.

Little black tents the wombs of the night

The Bedouins, refugees from other times

The places were they live are still the same

But other people founded States and took

The deserts where they roamed ,ancestral nooks.

Ther little tents of black on the hillsides

Have not changed from Mediaeval times

But now they are like flies, unwanted guests

Who will know the tremor in their breasts?

Cruel is the heart of humankind,

The Commandments spat on daily by men blind.

The Bedouins of our spirit need to be

Allowed their space, allowed their deserts free

Nomads of the desert,Jesus Christ,

Nomad of the darkness in our minds

Deep in the ground the worms  drowse mixed with flowers

A day with my own self, such peaceful hours
The inner seas make music as they roll
And in the ground the worms air roots of flowers

The rain comes down in cold but gentle showers
Desiring  to  give moisture to all souls
A symbol of  the value of quiet hours

In Northern hills we looked for  Durham owls
They hunt by day to keep their bodies whole
While in the ground the worms air roots of flowers

My loved one was a native of those towers
Highcliff Nab and Hasty Bank  called home
My days with him a-wandering there for hours

As he died , deep in my heart I howled
I held his hands, remembered , paid the toll
While in the ground the worms digest  the sour

Lying in the heather  we had roamed 
May God  have mercy on his  homing soul
Now I enjoy   in reverie our hours
Deep in the ground the worms  drowse mixed with flowers

 

 

 

Floodlit Cathedral

From the miles of flatness and the fens

Comes the hill where this Cathedral stands

Everyone can see this floodlit site

When the moon is out and there is night.

I saw it through the window as I turned 

It’ struck me down with beauty never learnt.

As I lay surprised upon the stair

I absorbed the beauty I saw there 

Should we worship beauty such as this?

It strikes us with a hammer not a kiss

I think I’ve mislaid my soul

And studying engine ballistics.
but I saw the light.
At midnight one night.
Since when I’m enjoying the Mystics.

I read Meister Eckhart one year.
I found some little bits very clear.
I agree I am naught
In blindness am caught.
I am almost convinced I’m not here.

Doing the pruning is good.
Take off the dead bits of wood.
Oh,God prune my soul,
Help me to be whole.
I may even come into new bud.

Is God just a deep metaphor?
Do you really know who you are?
I was in my room
When a feeling of doom
Made me run straight into this bar!

I think I’ve mislaid my soul
I was washing it in this white bowl.
So well did I rinse,
I’ve not seen it since.
So how will I ever grow whole?

I think the detergent’s too strong.
I felt in my heart,suds were wrong.
A soul is too fine,
For modern design,
and especially for a very sharp tongue.

I always loved contemplation.
I can do it even while I’m waiting.
Life goes so fast,
From the first to the last.
I’ll meditate in your arms on the Station.
Preview
Preview

When that cat  caressed you  with its claw

cats and newspapers
Art by Katherine

Sitting in  a garden down in Kent
A  cat climbed on  your knee  though it was Lent
They should be “fasting”  like the Christians do
Unless that little cat was a  born a Jew

Christians do not fast in more than name
For this deception,  who can   heaven blame?
The Muslims and the Jews  fast from all food
But cats and   heathen people  eat and chew

They drink no water,eat no bread nor meat
Thus their Fasting  is  from animals complete
Their minds receive   perceptions as you saw
When that cat  caressed you  with its  claw

Take another standpoint  once a week
In the garden,  cats may bite your feet

When true love’s gone

Asarum-Jade-Dragon-1

When true love's gone and doom hangs over head
When life runs like a river to the sea
Then shall I take new lovers to my bed
And with their carnal touch consoled be?



When  lovers lie and break my woman's heart.
When life seems grey and rocks bestrew my path.
Then, shall I my life of evil start
And on the world shall I bestow my wrath?


When my love lies and wrecked all loyalty.
When puzzlement makes all the world seem mad.
Then I shall upend causality
And let myself do deeds which make me glad.

I have the fruits of love within my heart.

Sorrow will not tear me into parts

WILD GEESE ARRIVE

Though we use the language we were born into, maybe creating a completely new vision or description of our worlds; we may even invent new words but we are born into a society and a language which structures our perceptions and relationships from infancy onward

English is a very rich language as it has been formed out of a large number of languages of different peoples who have lived here [invaded] from the Romansonwards. Celtic tribes ,Ancient Britons, Anglo Saxons,Vikings,Normans,Flemish immigrants etc etc.We also have many words emanating from classical Greek.
I think that is because until a hundred years ago Education,for those privileged to have access to it,was almost entirely studying Latin and Greek,[ both language and philosophy from the works of Plato,Aristotle etc]
It you wanted to do maths at Cambridge you did Classics first.So all those higher up,educated, wealthy people were familiar with these languages and the classical authors.They would also be very familiar with the writings in The Bible,but probably not Hebrew,Aramaic and related tongues.The Bible was probably read in Latin until the Reformation.So the English Bible is a translation of a translation at the very least

WILD GEESE FLYING OVER OUR GARDEN

Leaves have gone so suddenly

Small birds float on the wind

Like boats astride a choppy sea.

Their swaying soothes my mind.

Wild geese fly past at dusk again,

They head towards the North.

The holly berries glow in sun,

Holy is joy’s birth.

I gaze intently at the sky,

The clouds hang dark and low.

If I were a mere wild goose

I’d know which way to go

But I am left with just these words

To tell my destination.

Words can carry down to me

Wisdom from past generations

We use old words in unique ways.

We structure them to form

A new design not seen before

A new sentence is born

I send my words with love to you

I hope you safely catch them.

Give me answers from your heart

And I’ll do my best to match them.

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 Evil has grown bold?
Kind despair  that  made me long time sit
By the end I learned Love needs no trick

In between the silence and the song

The beach between the low tide and the high

Treasures gather on the pale washed sands

Driftwood shells beneath remorseless clouds

Adults play for safety staying dry

Lightly loved the children’s little hands.

I don’t like the raw sand of the dunes

The tide fling salty water to the sky

Smashing shells make modernistic tunes

Creation and destruction undismayed.

Co-creators in the healing seas

All the laws of gravity obey

Inspiring music as the waters breath

.In between  the silence and the song

The pity of the heavens in mercy hangs

The edge of sight

The impatience of a hunter, keen,intent
Will miss small movements at the edge of sight
Will miss the sacred spirit’s new descent

Relaxing when in danger,insolent,
Will throw a wider beam of golden light
Curb impatience, excess of intent

Slowness is a sign we can present
That’s enough for heart to speak to heart
We see the holy spirit’s new descent

Can we from our eagerness dissent
Lean back, let the other play their part
Curb impatience, excessee of intent?

For my narrow vision,I repent
How I’ve missed the whole with graphs and charts
Now I see the holy spirit’s spent

Scanning with a wider gaze unvites
Calmer ways of living with less spite,
The impatience of a hunter, keen,intent
Will miss the gold of spirit’s new descent

There’s no foe

The mind inhabits every body cell

When we’re tense the mind is tense as well

Thoughts are strangled choked the mind is crazed

All our body cells this crush obey.

Suspicion narrows eyes. And purses lips.

As we tense, the mind itself will shrink

Turning violent, hearts attacked by pain

No good thoughts are nurtured by this strain

How can we relax and trust once more?

The war dead moan, the Jews scream, Ariel roars.

Feel the pain precisely, let it go

Warmer heart remember there’s no foe

Love’s victory

Turn back, live again, he asked of me
Do not wander in this darkness anymore
One false step might give death victory

We are each connected to that tree
The sunlit top, the roots hid in earth’s floor
Come back, live again, he asked of me

While we live, we’ll live with dignity
Not scrabbling for the gold in blood and gore
One false step will give death victory

The kindness of the golden light was clear
And left an image in my mind’s deep core
Come back, live your life, he said to me

Do not wonder now why you are here
We’re here to live and living shall restore
What our suffering self has found so dear

I had never seen the Light before
Only Christ the Tyger with his roar
Come back, live through pain, he asked of me
One right step will give love victory

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 Evil has grown bold?
Kind despair  that  made me long time sit
By the end I learned Love needs no trick

Contractions

We lose our health we lose our lovers friends

Death comes slow but faster at the end

Now we can’t afford to use the lights

We feebly rage against the coming night.

Once our life expanded as we grew

Every year was filled with actions new.

Marriage job promotion travel fun

We never thought that one day we’d be done.

Who can fight against the dying light?

Once so strong and fierce your heart gave up

Oh my love I miss you in the night..

Filled with sorrow, we must drain the cup.

Aging is like dying everyday

Slowly slowly each life ebbs away