The life boat crew

The life boat crew are safely home
They’ve brought the shipwrecked sailors too.
The storm has passed, the wind has dropped
The sea is swaying softly now.

Wrapped in soft night clothes, their offspring
Are all in world of dream still lost.
Their fathers’ safely home this time.
They save wrecked ships despite the cost.

Will any lifeboat crew be there
To help less blessed ones from despair,
And lives, too many , spent in care
No fathers and no mothers near?

The sea we certainly must fear,
But more we fear the acts of those
Who try to buy our minds and wills,
For votes in the election booths.

Oh hush my baby, go to sleep,
It is your mammy’s job to weep.
I wish I knew just what to do
To empower the lives of wains like you.

Sleep well, sleep well, my little child.
The sun will rise, the air is mild.
We’ll trust that when we all set sail
Our love and courage will not fail.

Oh,hush my sweet one, I am near.
The world’s too big for bairns to bear.
We’ll do much better this time round.
We’ll not let this boat run aground.

And on the world shall I bestow my wrath?


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

For I have love’s own child inside my soul
And I shall tend her till at last she’s whole

Would I were

I wish I were a wild wild goose

And I could fly and seek

Looking for my lost lost love .

With eyes that cannot weep.

What is my life when I love none

And noone loveth me

When all are fled when all are gone

Take me to the sea

I saw the hills I saw the lakes

I saw the mighty ocean

What is beauty what is joy

When my true love is broken

I peck my breast I shed my blood

The pure white goose would die

Take me to the cold. cold earth

Under a cruel white sky


Photo by Tobias Bju00f8rkli on

The parsnip soup was delicate yet strong..

Here the flavour lingers on my tongue

We had chopped fruit and ice cream in a tub

All I need is he whom I still love.

I need to be caressed but not too much

I shall beat off strangers with a crutch

For women are no longer victims of strong men

Hear my words and write them with a pen

Our bodies and their songs

Your breath became my spirit,made me live
You touch me as I breathe air in and out
I feel your presence in my heart’s inside

You have made our bodies, there’s no doubt
Growing from two cells, the urge is strong
The body’s wishes are not sinful now

In the schizoid era, flesh seems wrong
The intellectuals are the most admired
Yet we need our bodies and their songs

Ideas, more than loving, are desired
Sex and our poor bodies make us sin
Yet th damned chaste sing in Hell’s own choirs

Breath of God, the clay made into flesh
We continue in the holy work
No creation can be kept suppressed

May our lively bodies be well blessed
Loving into being all the world
Breathing in and breathing out God’s dust

Bill,Bill,my mother’s dad mother’s dad
Down the coal mine he did dig
When he was but a young lad

He was never very big
He spoke in the old dialect
He had a dog, a pipe, no cig

Silent,smiling, starving wrecked
He sent kids to a soup kitchen
Learned to read, but knew few facts

Went to London,saw Big Ben
Still angry from the General Strike
Aye,he were a silent man

He walked at night, he had no bike
To the coal mine with his cat
The cat sat waiting till first light

Then they walked, he did head maths
His wife had died, the son was born
When he got home, he had a bath

His father worked in fields of corn
Peasants on the Chesire farms
The pay was poor, were up at dawn

He himself were on good terms
With his neighbours, Irish, torn
He went to Mass,so Latin learned

My mum was th’eldest of those born
She had me,my own dad died
She went mad, she was forlorn

Lost her mother, then she tried
To help her Dad with all her heart
Never wept and never cried

Then she made a different start
Met my dad and married late
So I am here with my own charts

Is it destiny or fate
Why am I down here, d’you ken?
I see you grandad, is it late?

Deep down in the earth

Cold dull winters bring us close to death
The blood grows thick and scarcely does it move
The worms may shudder deep down in the earth

This damp coldness presses out our breath
The frost and ice, the memory delude
Cold dull winters bring us close to death

Do we need the sun to give us worth?
Low in oxygen, the mind’s confused
The worms have nightmares deep down in the earth

Should we pause, these issues to address?
In this Lockdown, where should we confess?
Cold dull winters bring us close to death

Wonder now what makes our voices terse
With no priests, who shall this poor world bless?
The worms may sleep deep down inside the earth

On each other,let us not intrude
Let all loving kindness be our food
Cold dull winters bring us close to death
Like worms that slumber deep down in the earth

We still stand on shifting sands

We walked on sea shores with our mates
Though wide  oceana separate
Now we’re abandoned on the  shores
By  the loves we’ll see no more

We  still stand on shifting  sands
Expecting , needing, helping hands
But most people walk on by
And we’re too afraid to cry

Lost in places we once knew
But recognised by  very few
Our eyes  look out but do not see
Filled by tears we can’t set free

Shall we stay here evermore
Hoping lovers we adored
Are on their way back to their home
As slowly, sadly, we still roam?

The  sturdy walls that bear the sky
Have been shattered from on high
And  feeling smaller than the snails
We hear the long lost sea winds wail

Oh, weep for  him and me, wide seas
Embrace  our souls  in   your salt breeze
See the  crushed and broken shells
Hear the tolling of the bells

The night train

We’re all going on the night train journey
Full of strange and  lovely sights
We’re all going on the night train journey
So we have   the brightest lights

We’re all going on the night train journey
We  don’t pay for our own seats
We’re all going on the night train journey
We’re companions discreet

We’re all going on the night train journey
When we die, is this the route?
We’re all going on the night train journey
Wear pyjamas not  a suit

We’re all going on the night train journey
Might we find our mom and dad?

We’re all going on the night train journey
All the living, and  the dead

We’re all going on the night train journey
Circulating like our blood

We’re all going on the night train journey
Joan of Arc  needs Noah’s Flood

We’re all going on the night train journey
Who  creates us,  makes our form?

We’re all going on the night train journey
Heal us ,we are people,torn




Am I wrong?

I thought I’d write another villanelle
I like  repeated lines as in a song
The music seems to permeate my cells
Inside my entire being music dwells
Would I write another villanelle?
A triolet is shorter, love is long
Musing, I decided villanelle.
I like  repeated lines but am I wrong?

I  wish there were no numbers and no dates

I  wish there were no numbers and no dates
I forget them all , yet memory is like   glue
With counting, with remembrance, with  lost mate

There’s  our sorrow and its seas to navigate
The waves rise up and drop, so old so new
I  wish there were no numbers and no dates

Why are modern  hearts so separate?
The seas of knowledge, all are one in  truth
With counting, with remembrance, with   no trace

Oh,universe, why do you have such space
With patterns in the stars, that might us soothe?
If there were no numbers and no dates

Why are we  self labelled as a race?
Slowly, surely we will  dig up truths
With anguish, with remembrance, oh, lost face

When will grace remake a soul so bruised
  Struggling with  the time scale, still bemused
I  wish there were no numbers and no dates
Nor counting, nor remembrance,  nor lost face


Blue the sky

The  sea shore blue of  operatic sky
Turned to navy then to darkest grey
Dark trees  despise the mysteries of light

The holly has its depth unknown to eye
Hiding fragile wrens  from birds of  prey
The  cerulean blue of soothing sky

And in my room upon my bed I try
What words would come,what humour could you say
Oh trees  held in the mysteries of light?

The words won’t  come,unspeakable the sigh
The weeping  of the sick, the donkey’s bray
Depression of Van Gogh. the lowering  sky

Oh,mother, why must newborn  babies cry?
The Lord ignores, the sheep flee as I pray
The  trees   hold in the mysteries of light

I meet your eye,I’m feeling drawn and grey
You want my love,I fear the  last  mistake
In sinking blue of  dawn and  passive sky
The  trees  despise the virus and the lies




My cat Ben

The first cat,Ben, was tabby, with great eyes
On Sundays we took him riding in  our  car
I used to wrap him in  a woollen scart
For he was very small and very blyth

Ben grew  up so he went out all night
Hunting round the flats for  mice  or hens
Cat suck eggs and don’t care who or when
They run and hunt until the sun arrives

No doubt they  find a mate to  play with, as one might
Father kittens, scatter their seed wide
Ben followed me into the road at five
A rushing car hit my dear cat, Ben died

Soon  my husband’s father went as well
We could not cry, for dried up was the well

New Blue




I wonder what’s the reason  we call a sad mood blue
My fountain pen is coping but I have not got  the glue
I see your eye is staring and I know it is a clue
Send me to the theatre and I will get the cue

I wanted to get  dressed today but I couldn’t find my shoe
I watched a film of cows on heat, all they say is moo
Would they change their attitude if I was  still with you?
Take me to America. take me to the Zoo   

I have got no appetite.I need someone new
The food is very boring,  it’s made with UHU
You put  it in the microwave and send a text or two
Blimey,I forgot it was a homemade real beef stew

Well,  the moon is shining and Paul Robeson  gleams in glee
I want the stars to play with me, they pray for very few

Our own point of view

Why do  some people find it easy to stick to their own point of view whereas others are like chameleons who change to fit in with whoever they are with?I don’t know the full answer.It may depend on their background and in some countries women have to be subservient to men.Some people are just being diplomatic and some are wishing to avoid an argument to find our unique viewpoint and not go along with the crowd.i am not advocating breaking the law by doing/saying offensive things for pleasure.I believe  sometimes I have been lazy and not given thought to a topic and so I agree with another person whom I respect but really that is wrong.Since each of us is unique I believe we need to express our point of  view the best things about artists is that they  look or hear   at the world differently and help us to see the validity of different ways of seeing or listening



.But when a new artist or composer appears people often believe they are mad at first.This is what happened to Igor Stravinsky at the first performance of some of his music.Yet compared to composers who followed he was quite similar to  those  preceded him.Mahler wrote this music  a  year before the Stravinsky was composed and it is very different