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
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
Rolling marbles made of coloured glass
Skipping rope and learning ancient rhymes
Filling inkwells , polishing the brass
With dip-in pens we wrote upon the lines
Licking out the bowl where cakes were mixed
Running wild with brothers and their friends
Wonder at those fireworks Daddy fixed
Catherine wheels rotating, transcendent
Mother smiling in her flowery dress
Little rocking chairs where we placed dolls
Daddy saying,Good night and God Bless
Teddies with no fur left, ask our Paul
Little sisters, brothers’ cricket balls
Hot coal fires where kettles used to boil
Old gas cookers, scabbed knees from our falls
Fuses blowing, making light bulbs fail
In our bed , we whispered little tales
In the morning feeling warm and dazed
Love was in the air, the baby wailed
Dad so pleased with Mother’s happy face
I see the cobblestones all hot with sun
The Street Party , the Coronation
T
Where is the land of Luthany,
Where is the tract of Elenore?
I am bound therefore.‘Pierce thy heart to find the key
When to the new eyes of thee
All things by immortal power,
Near or far,
Hiddenly
To each other linked are,
That thou canst not stir a flower
Without troubling of a star;
When thy song is shield and mirror
To the fair snake curled pain,
Where thou dar’st affront her terror
That on her thou may’st attain
Persean Conquest; seek no more,
O seek no more!
Pass the gates of Luthany,
Tread the region Elenore!
Francis Thompson
XXXTags: connection, death, flower, hope, knowledge, learning, life, light, loss, quest, sight, star,
One damaged cell can divides until it kills.
For in the end we pay the rich man’s bills.
The air polluted ravages and maims
Now it’s cruelly late to curse and blame
Oh sister how we played with our dolls’ prams
In our industrial town there were no lambs.
No sheep could safely graze in smokey streets.
No lark would rise amazed, the dawn to greet.
For you my sister breathed in that bad air
We hear the tread, the foot steps on the stair.
So patient stil, I wish that you would shout.
From your eye I see one tear fall out.
My single sister I can see your pain
Your lips are dry you cough and cough again.
Your mouth is hurting so you cannot eat.
And on the telephone you barely speak
In the world some million others groan
Yes we’re fragile merely flesh and bone
Even so the tears run in my sleep.
Into my face these tears will slowly seep.
I didn’t grasp at first that she would die
And leave me here alone to curse and cry
Hold me in your arms my kindly friends.
From your touch a little peace descends
Living life in all its fierceness, Birth and death and joy and pain We struggle on our unknown journey, Sometimes lost and found again. We are indeed like lambs to slaughter Death will be our final goal. But while we live,let us live bravely. Let us not destroy our souls. Climbing in the hills and moorlands In the heather, children play. The sun half blinds me with its light Yet still I see the given way. I received a call to climb. These hills are my essential home. My vocation is to dwell here While in the silence,mind may roam. Noise in cities is destructive. Though nature's fierce,it's also true. Struggling on life's craggy slopes I offer up my words to you.
I have become interested in virtue and perception.It began when I read a littleAristotle about virtue being a habit.That was quite recent.Before that for many years I believed virtuous acts would follow from being able to perceive well.But when we are fraught our minds and eyes tighten up and so we perceive only what may be a danger to us.To perceive others well we need to be in a position to trust others and we need to feel secure.How is this possible?From my studies I read that our ability to trust begins with a trusted caregiver in infancy,[See” atttachment and loss “by John Bowlby reference to come] We may be able to become more secure later by good fortune,friendship and love.If not,I seem to get the idea that if we are insecure and nervous we cannot truly perceive others and they may be in the same position.If we are very afraid then virtuous acts may be hard to accomplish. The reason is obvious… when. we are concerned with mere survival as a person , in that state what we do to others may be impossible for us to consider.We cannot truly see them and so we cannot act well towards them except by good luck.Or if we are able to tolerate great anxiety,we may see better…. if not we are incapable…. Those whom we cannot see properly we cannot truly consider with feeling and act on this feeling.We see them partly or mainly in terms of the fearful fantasies in our minds and cannot see them as other and interesting.When we make a friend online we may feel safer but in fact we are more likely to misperceive them. When we are from a sad a or difficut background it may help greatly if we have some friends who might point out our errors if we trust enough to tell them.Or we may pretend to be hard and tough.Neither leads to virtue.If we trust God it may help but I believe we see God through the lens of our parents.. which is not good…depending on the parents. When we live in fear,we cannot see what is there before us.We cannot let go.We cannot accept grace and love nor give it.We will try to live by will power.Ironically people who are fearful inside can develop a shell of toughness and pride and so are not seen as vulnerable and/or lovable.Tbey may seem frightening to others. This account may help to explain why politics is the way it is and also we see that arguing is not persuasive when the other is not able to open up and see things more broadly.Arguing makes us tighten up and see less well.And it can be frightening too though some cultures find it more acceptable than others.
Here are some relevant blogs and articles
This author had a lot to say about perception…http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/obituary-marion-milner-1163951.html http://susannanelson.wordpress.com/2014/03/02/happy-go-lucky/
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
The end of values, kindness, earned respect
The loss of wisdom,history and truth
The pillars of democracy are cracked.
The centre of the heart,who can protect?
Conspiracy and madness unseat proof
An end of values, kindness, earned respect
Violence is admired though lives are wrecked
The lasting triumph of the folk uncouth
The pillars of the Western Mind have cracked
Their minds unfurnished seem bereft of tact
They tread on others words like horses’ hooves
The end of values, kindness, earned respect
How can such opponents make a pact?
The calculating crucify our youth
The pillars of the Western Mind have cracked
Yet Western Empire builders had no ruth
They tortured those they conquered group by group
On such ground just madmen earn respect
The altars of the Western Mind have cracked
Cold from storming rain and full of mud
The river Lea in winter turns to flood
Across the Abbey Meadows rings the bell
Brings back the ghosts, bring back the holy spell
King Harald lost his crown and all his land
The Norman Vikings, men with bloody hands
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
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
Saturday was shopping then a walk
Epping,Ongar,Finchingfield by car
Reading book reviews and chewing stalks
Buttercups and meadows,Henry Moore
Driving back from Chelmsford, cornfields flamed
Smoke and fire and earth, the sun dismayed
Farmers working hard, a harvest, grain
The sky through mist a cobalt blue displayed
Standon with its fords and wandering cows
Little rivers,Essex, flowing down
The Stort joins with the Lea,a gurglimg sound
Water for the Thames and mossy ground
The earth feels like my body sacrificed
An artist’s canvas stretched , a matricide
The crushing grief when someone chooses death
When life had shown much promise and much hope
Turns the ones who loved to find new paths
Some may sin, encouraged by cruel wrath
Against the one who chose the wicked rope
The shock of grief at such too early death
Others freeze and cannot take a breath
Scarcely moving as their mind elopes
Making then impossible their path
The mountains of deep grief I could not pass
Until a warm gold light caressed my0 heart
The wounds of grief , the sacrifice, the Mass
Do not dwell in darkness and distress
Follow me he murmured while we start
I will help you find a different path
The golden light had brought for me a chart
The sea of life had ripples ,brilliant sparks
The suffering and the grief from such a death
Turned the one who loved onto this path.
Now the high ups fight about some tapes
Princess Di spoke of her rage and grief
Releasing secrets is akin to rape
If we had no Brexit and some hope
The government would not be such a thief
Wasting time to fight about 1some tapes
What if there were tapes made by a Pope
Would it shatter all Christian belief?
Releasing secrets is a kind of rape
Why can’t we do work that brings us hope
Brings some peace and gives our hearts relief?
Instead, the high ups fight about some tapes
As individuals, we can seek for help
Or do creative acts that we believe
Releasing secrets is a kind of rape
The government’s the habitat of thieves
Into the the river Thames let them be heaved!
Now the Lords and Ladies hear Di’s tapes
Releasing secrets, does it seem like rape?
Now the high ups fight about some tapes
Princess Di spoke of her rage and grief
Releasing secrets is akin to rape
If we had no Brexit and some hope
The government would not be such a thief
Wasting time to fight about some tapes
What if there were tapes made by a Pope
Would it shatter all Christian belief?
Releasing secrets is a kind of rape
Why can’t we do work that brings us hope
Brings some peace and gives our hearts relief?
Instead, the high ups fight about some tapes
As individuals, we can seek for help
Or do creative acts that we believe
Releasing secrets is a kind of rape
The government’s the habitat of thieves
Into the the river Thames let them be heaved!
Now the Lords and Ladies hear Di’s tapes
Releasing secrets, does it seem like rape?
Cold from storming rain and full of mud
The river Lea in winter turns to flood
Across the Abbey Meadows rings the bell
Brings back the ghosts, bring back the holy spell
King Harald lost his crown and all his land
The Norman Vikings, men with bloody hands
The roses by your gate
Revealed my sweet fate:
That I would love you in summertime,
That my poetry would always rhyme,
That a dream of petals falling from above
Would drench us both with sunshine’s golden love;
That we would fall into deep grassy meadows
Full of daisies,lie on our backs.Swallows
Darting across the sky would see
Our shapes intertwined with bright buttercups.
Who knows when love will erupt
And carry us on its flowing waters
To places unreachable in summer saunters?
Into the eye of love itself
Saturday was shopping then a walk
Epping,Ongar,Finchingfield by car
Reading book reviews and chewing stalks
Buttercups and meadows,Henry Moore
Driving back from Chelmsford, cornfields flamed
Smoke and fire and earth, the sun dismayed
Farmers working hard, a harvest, grain
The sky through mist a cobalt blue displayed
Standon with its fords and wandering cows
Little rivers,Essex, flowing down
The Stort joins with the Lea,a gurglimg sound
Water for the Thames and mossy ground
The earth feels like my body sacrificed
An artist’s canvas stretched , a matricide
Attracted by the window and the light
I walked towards it, those were my first steps
The memory of an act creates insight
Oh,mother I can leave you,I can fight
Now I move and noone can me stop
Desirous of the window and the light
Implicit in the action is the flight
Growing is not smooth, it is abrupt
The memory of an act creates insight
Yet somewhere other, there is greater might
That one day caused me angst, that made me trip
Humbled by the window and the light
After every day, there comes a night
Abjection is the cup that each must sip
The repeating of an act creates insight
Children are not injured when they slip
When they rise, they quickly can forget
Attracted by the window and the sight
We all must stand and walk but in curved lines
I know that's how death will come,
Suddenly flying into another orbit when I am photographing flowers
It's not a gentle transition.
No-one will know where I've gone.
One step wrong and I'm off the high wire
And plunging into the no safety net.
Flying for a while
Jumping into hyperspace,spinning electrons
Startle my wide eyes.
Transiting the new black sun
I'm on a double gold helix,
Spider on her web,
Knitting furiously
Into the future heaven on gossamer wings.
Butterfly goodbye,
I'm off to see the stars.
And the black holes.
No one will come with me.
I'm shaking off,evaporating into mist.
I'm a flying saucer on a circus mission.
I can't say no to a new invitation.
Make it fast and break with tradition.
Time is passing smoothly till that break In the music,
I've been transmuted into a different key
someone else will play me on their violin
I'm a tune, I'm a thought, I'm a whisper in your vision.
Goodbye,darling.
I'm under orders Ready to leave for my performance
On the electric carpet.
Death dancing to a tune on a violoncello,
Arpeggionne sonata
I'm playing your words upside down
In a new foreign translation,
Accompanied by solo artists,ice cracking
I'm going in.
It's too sudden.
I'm flying.
Spinning faster to amuse the clowns,
too many ups and no downs.
I'm going right out of orbit
I've broken the pull of gravity,
And fly with pure equanimity
Into my future life,
I'm off at some moment
An instant,a crack,a loud smack
That was me passing
v
I saw the blind man hiding in the doorway of a shop
I went over to him quickly to find out what was up
The noisy drills were violent as men dug up the road.
Noise confused the Old man’s mind
He didn’t know where to go
Gently then I took his hand and we began to walk.
The workmen in their ragged clothes turned the drill right off
They stood in silence watching us,
While the sparrows laughed
After we had crossed the road he said he was ok.
I pressed his hand with my own hand. Then we went our ways
I’ve never seen this man again but I shall not forget
The special silence we walked in that holiday we met
Mary was on a step ladder in the bathroom, spying on her husband Stan,through a hole in the wall.He had drilled this for spying on women sunbathing semi-nude in their private back gardens.
Here he was climbing over the fence with Emile ,their cat, on his shoulder.
I think it’s so ridiculous, she muttered .Surely Emile can jump over the fence by himself.
But Emile was very limp,she saw belatedly,
He can’t be dead,she whispered to herself fearfully.She jumped down off the ladder and hit her head on a tap
Oh,my!That hurt…I’d better be careful. she murmured and she flew down stairs to Stan in the kitchen
Emile has got concussion, Stan said mournfully.
Is he dead , perhaps,?she wondered anxiously.
No, he only fell off Annie’s roof.I am sure he’ll come to.
Good Lord.What made him go up there and more important,how did he do it?
You’d better ring 999,he informed her gently
If you say so ,my dear
Soon Dave,the bisexual transvestite paramedic ran in wearing a sundress and dark glasses with golden sandals from Hooters.
Poor Emile,what have you done?
He fell off Annie’s roof, but we have no theory as to how he got there,said Stan.
Well, there’s no need to think of that… we deal with reality.That’s my modus operandi!
He gave Emile the kiss of life.Emile came to…but was not pleased
Why did you waken me up? I was having a lovely dream of walking down a silver path where I saw a big cat with shining fur and tender eyes looking at me.He just began to miaow when some f**king idiot woke me up… was he God?
I can’t say,Emile,dear.But please do not swear.
I’ll do whatever I f**king well feel like,Emile said. nastily
Good heavens, what has happened.Has he been reading dirty books?
No, he was watching East Enders on TV… they all use the f word constantly.
Well,Emile.God will have to wait… he’ll be glad if you do some kind work here on earth.
Up yours,said Emile.I am sick of living here. I’ve been hoping for years Stan would mate with Annie but he has only managed a kiss.
Perhaps it was the kiss of life,said Mary hopefully
Well, in a sense,you might have hit the snail on the bed said Stan thoughtfully.I know any further mention of philosophy will drive me utterly and eternally mad!
Now,Dave said,shall I make you all some hot tea?
Thank you Stan responded.I am half crazed already.Tea may save my sanity.But for what?
Annie came in wearing her brick red trouser suit and a white sun hat. her face a dark shade of beige and her lips light mauve, with lipstick from Max Fracture’s new range.
Did you know Emile was in a hot air balloon,she said in tones of wonder.How has he got down so fast?
I f**king well fell out, the cat yawned proudly.Then I had a near death experience until this loon here brought me round.
Emile,I ’ve never heard you swear before! she whispered in a strange manner reminiscent of those silent films starring unnamed and forgotten beauties of long ago.
Do you like it,baby? Emile asked.
No I don’t. I’ve never said F*ck in all my life.
Well you have now,the cat informed her with a naughty smile.
I think he’s possessed by demons.We’ll have to have him exorcised.
But I like demons,Emile bawled .I’ve been good all my life and I am bored and depressed.
So you believe swearing will help more than therapy?
Emile got up and lit a cigarette nonchalantly with a certain ,je ne sais lah
Good grief,he’ll be having sex on the sofa next ,said Stan.
What a good idea,said Emile, but I want my own room and an en suite..I mean to impress the next girl friend I have.
Dave drank some tea and watched these old folk ponder.
I am wondering where we went wrong,said Mary.All these years we’ve educate you privately and even had you baptised.
Well.I am going to be a Jew,said Emile.
I don’t think a cat can be a Jew… and you never ever had any interest in the spiritual before,why this?
Well,when I was unconscious I realised that God exists….
But why be a Jew?
Well,they were the first to see God in a Burning Brush.
And the last too, I hope,thought Annie nervously.
Well,said Stan.You want to smoke,swear ,make love and possibly enjoy wine and song.Is that not enough?
Does God smoke and swear?
There was a long silence and Emile answered’
Well,Yes he does.
I’m off said Dave.I have to ring the Pope.
Why? asked Emile. I am not going be a Catholic….
Well,said Dave, he ought to know that God is a cat.
Once I cared for people who were old
Who wet themselves and felt the winter cold
I gave them baths and washed their backs and fronts
Helped them to get dressed and zip their pants
I made them pots of tea and gave them cake
I gave them dinner on a china plate
I listened to their stories of the past
An unknown world of war and terrors vast
And if they cried I’d wipe away their tears
Talk to them till sorrow disappeared
I’d do the washing up and clean the knives
The women missed their being someone’s wife
Now I am old and I have realised
I really had no feel for what it’s like.
Saturday was shopping then a walk
Epping,Ongar,Finchingfield by car
Reading book reviews and chewing stalks
Buttercups and meadows,Henry Moore
Driving back from Chelmsford, cornfields flamed
Smoke and fire and earth, the sun dismayed
Farmers working hard, a harvest, grain
The sky through mist a cobalt blue displayed
Standon with its fords and wandering cows
Little rivers,Essex, flowing down
The Stort joins with the Lea,a gurglimg sound
Water for the Thames and mossy ground
The earth feels like my body sacrificed
An artist’s canvas stretched , a matricide
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
When the fruit has rotted on the stalk
Bruised and broken like the poor in need
When leaders meet but rarely truly talk
When children caught in cross fire lie and bleed
Don’t we see God’s Kingdom is a joke
Ones hundred million lj bodies broke
They lost once and love dies in ktheir gore
Utopia, evolution, grandiose plans
Sacrifice yourself for those to come
We saw the little children hand in hand
Ground mines blow them up, they could not run
One thing’s clear, God’s here or not at all
The future’s fiction, yet I hear its callt
rvr
The world is woven in such different ways
Struts the vertical, the flat below
Oh God who weaves me shall by me be praised
Oh, shall the mystic reach be what she craves
When all the strings release and she falls low
The world is woven in its different ways
Timed by ritual Lady Lazarus rose
And all the eyes that gazed were burning slow
Yes, God who weaves me shall by me be praised
There is a hollow only Ariel knows
As horse and rider as one being flow
The world is sensed in wholly different ways
The body ,home of mind, will run astray
Oh, what seams of evidence forego
Fallen God who unacknowledged knows
Beneath the sea of green the undertow,
Spirits sidle deep like melting snow
The world is woven in such different ways
That God who weaves me shall by me be praised
Saturday was shopping then a walk
Epping,Ongar,Finchingfield by car
Reading book reviews and chewing stalks
Buttercups and meadows,Henry Moore
Driving back from Chelmsford, cornfields flamed
Smoke and fire and earth, the sun dismayed
Farmers working hard, a harvest, grain
The sky through mist a cobalt blue displayed
Standon with its fords and wandering cows
Little rivers,Essex, flowing down
The Stort joins with the Lea,a gurglimg sound
Water for the Thames and mossy ground
The earth feels like my body sacrificed
An artist’s canvas stretched , a matricide
Struggling in the black of sinking sands
As I heard of when a little child
I gave up hope and let myself descend
My garments as a mourner I did rend
Death itself was shown me and beguiled
Struggling in the black of sinking sand
Far away from loved ones ,with no friend
The suffering of the past seemed almost mild
I gave up hope and let myself descend
I felt from every heaven I had been banned
With demons of the Nazis in exile
Struggling in the black of sinking sand
I am not inclined to make demands
Yet then a mystic light caressed my soul
I had lost my hope and feared the end
This golden light enwrapped me like a stole
No words existed in its welcome hold
Struggling in the black of sinking sands
I was lifted out by unknown hands
The crushing grief when someone chooses death
When life had shown much promise and much hope
Turns the ones who loved to find new paths
Some may sin, encouraged by cruel wrath
Against the one who chose the wicked rope
The shock of grief at such too early death
Others freeze and cannot take a breath
Scarcely moving as their mind elopes
Making then impossible their path
The mountains of deep grief I could not pass
Until a warm gold light caressed my0 heart
The wounds of grief , the sacrifice, the Mass
Do not dwell in darkness and distress
Follow me he murmured while we start
I will help you find a different path
The golden light had brought for me a chart
The sea of life had ripples ,brilliant sparks
The suffering and the grief from such a death
Turned the one who loved onto this path.
How my heart sings 