Category: reflections

Happiness was like a golden shawl

The pebbled beach  on which we walked at dawn
The sun was dancing  singing  stone to stone
The sea was pale as silk and gently ran
The tide was coming in, the day began

Why is my memory so deficient here?
I remember little but you near
I remember Portland Bill at dusk
The sea was wilder then with many thrusts

Happiness was like a golden shawl
A  world like Eden, man before the Fall
Today they say, illusion, I say, no
What matters  is where this insight makes you go

The fruits of meditation are its test
May we be generous, may our souls be blessed

The astral body

Tenderly I held him  took him in
As though we touched each other skin to skin
Dying is what everyone must do
Even when it splits the Me from You

What we took for granted  every day
Had its end like any mortal’s play
The length of life is just enough to lie
It’s not here forever, don’t you cry

We are on no plateau   but a slope
Slight at first, so we don’t  see and note
Gently we are led to where it ends
Beautiful and foolish  like ourselves

How can we be split when we are one?
In deep darkness dies the winter sun

What is nonsense in the modern age?

To write nonsense one   must think it first
Then translate thought into a  little verse
But what is nonsense in the modern age?
The more I hear, the more I feel enraged.

Yet Lewis Carrol made a lot of notes
Jabberwocky is a  poem he wrote
Where  time was always brillig  in his day
And mimsy was the passion for the stray

And Alice went behind a looking glass
She got trapped and missed the IT class
When she saw the minus and the plus
She said, Oh, my,I thought it  merely glass

Mirrors are a vital  need  we  have
Especially when we lead a  dog to bath
Lacan and Winnicott each  state
The mother’s face will mirror  and emote

So if  your mood swings  are too much
It never helps to go inside a church
Try  a  little dose of opprobrium
The shock is less  if you have  got a chum

I wonder why  the  head is so attacked
Electric shocks, brain surgery from quacks
When massage with essential oil of rose
Curies hysteria and warms the running nose?

I  hate the doctors and their ignorance
I really  ought to  learn to love a  dance
For it’s the entire body that needs aid
It is for this that many people prayed

What is nonsense but a better world
Where babies laugh and little girls have curls?

 

 

 

 

O wounded heart

O wounded heart,I cannot heal your pain
I shall bear it  as it still  remains
But why should I forgive  the one who broke
My tender  heart, my love and all I wrote/

The pride of men, the  anger soon provoked
The  cruel emails and  the  words he spoke
Why can’t we be kinder, more aware
Yet God himself was  killed,  who can compare?

The sadist drawn to those  who seem less strong
Will find  a dozen reasons  to do wrong
They  know their own pain not  the pain they cause
Some will kill  despising land and law

We  choose life despite these cruel  acts  
We ‘ll do well if we can live with tact

The more we hide

More defences make us feel more pain
As if by building walls we  make more real
The  fantasies  we’ve formed in our own brain

The murderers and the thieves all know our name
They  watch our door to enter and to steal
More defences make us feel more pain

We need a  lock or two but more won’t gain
The peace of mind, the peace we wish to feel
Not  fantasies  we’ve formed in our own brain

Ten locks on a front door might break the frame
Send the message we’re well heeled
More defences make us feel more pain

The more we fear, the more  fear we obtain,
The world is our perception ,it seems real
Not  fantasies  we’ve formed in our own brain

The less we try, the less we learn  to feel
The more we hide  more  poignant is our shield
More defences make us feel more pain
Those little  fantasies  we’ve grown in our own brains

 

 

We see what we expect

We are not false and neither are we true.
We’re not propositions,I’m not you
We have our different selves which are displayed
In our manner  and in what we say

To the teacher we may be polite
To a shy young man we show our heart
With the priest we feel  the breath of God
Dying on his Cross misunderstood

We see what we expect not what is here
Eyes are muddled by our wish  and fear
We need each other so that we can share
Perceptions and emotions we can’t bear

Getting new ideas we can grow
Don’t think we just know it  all,t’ain’t so

The things you can practise

You cannot practise dying, though we want to do it well
We don’t want to appear foolish when we might  be in hell
We can practise smiling and opening the door
Unless like me you’re crippled and you’re feeling  very low
You can practise  music, you can practise Art 
You can practise hiding in the burrows of the heart
Then you get to go on stage and  do it all for real
Dying ain’t for  dummies but allow yourself to feel
You can practise for your wedding, your baptism and your fall
In the hall of mirrors where God lives off the wall
You can practise  speaking, you can do it many ways
Then you must stop practising,  and say the words today
In the little spaces  in between the sounds
Let yourself be  emptied, you are on the Holy Ground

Singing silence

I  love the  singing silence as I muse
Listening to the silence  brings delight
Deep within  the silence are the cues

Everything from classic to the blues
Make  my  better sentences take flight
I delight in silence as I muse

Slowness with its thoughtfulness imbues
Words with love and depth  and inward sight
Deep within  the silence are the cues

Not like crosswords cunning  little clues
The cues I find can make the mind ignite
I delight in silence as I muse

Not for me those spikey  high heeled shoes
I want shoes that run  till I take  flight
I delight in silence as I muse.

As we write  we  feel the inner fight
Our language weaves a web but not of spite
I delight in silence as I muse
Deep within  the silence I hear cues

 

 

In a tilted glass

The kaleidescope is  shaken,something moves
Like the height of water in a tilted glass
The beast approaches shuffling off its groove

By poetry we cannot ever prove
We hope for Evocation  like the Mass
The kaleidescope is  shaken,something moves

We forget how culture used to soothe
 The  days of Lent  and then the Friday Fast
The beast approaches shuffling past its groove

Here is Christ, Messiah,King of Jews
Here arrive the endangered and the mad
Are we shaken, are we even moved?

God or Satan, who do you think we choose?
Two heads on one coin, we have  been  had?
The beast approaches shuffling  through the Louvre

The language is too violent,Precious Blood
Better play it softer  or we flood
The kaleidescope is  shaken, let’s be brave
The beast approaches shuffling from its cave

 

 

 

 

Reason by its nature is not Art

Reason by its nature has no heart
No soul,no body,faceless  but for eyes
Feelings are made outlaws. love departs

The schizoid self, the broken appetite
The failure to acknowledge our own lies
Reason by its nature has no heart

Where did we  go wrong, where did we part
From  compassion to the lowly, to  mad heights
Feelings are made outlaws. have no charts

Graphs and figures,lessons maladroit
The Nazis numbered Jews, turned off the lights
Reason by its nature has no heart

Who would do great evil and  make charts
Coded homes,  surveillance is our plight
Feelings are like outlaws.  they depart

Logicians made machines without insight
Do  robots  voices bring us sweet delight?
Reason by its nature has no heart
Feelings  gassed  like insects, love  departs

 

The storm

The rain  has hit on my windows   with great force
Like the horns of bulls  toss bloody matadors
The Spanish rites acquaint us with  our lacks
For in the end we by a horse are dragged

The bull is strong with open fearsome eyes
But in the end it  is the bull that dies
Helplessly  he runs and he rotates
Strength and helplessness are not good mates

The matador takes risks to taunt the beast
From a snack  he  makes us a great feast
Better to   be eaten by a  man
Than make a meal for worms  when death has come

Men may claim they’re strong and great and  pure
In the end it’s  wits that have most power

Come with me

Come with me,I know a secret path
From Windermere  Train Station to the lake
We’ll run down  through the trees and   the lush grass

Coloured boats are sailing,see them pass
And there is a ferry we might take
Come with me,I know the secret path

The wildflowers look eternal in their grace
Here we heal our hearts. compassion waits.
We’ll  go down  through the trees and the lush grass

On these waves I see the Sacred Face
We are not condemned by   God   or fate
Come with me,I know a secret place

In  our time, we find the narrow gate
Open,   if we marry love and  hate
The sunshine  makes my body feel embraced
Oh, Windermere, where birds sing sweet in praise

 

 

 

To heal the earth

Hellebore_2020-5We are not the ones to judge our worth
God’s    attention is  for this alone
We  love and find vocation  on the earth

Some are born with what feels like a  curse
Others have  been keen to cast sharp stones
We are not the best judge of our worth

Accidents of time, of place, of birth
Lack of vision,nowhere to call home
Disrupt the  virtue of our life  on  earth

Important  to love God and  enjoy mirth
To  laugh at our pretensions, grin and groan
We are not the best judge of our worth

There is no linear scale. we should not stress
Some may discern value  we don’t know
Acceptance is the aim of  life on earth

And when we’re stricken by a heavy blow
Inside our little hearts is one who knows
We are not the best judge of our worth
We must love and  work  to heal the earth

 

 

 

 

 

Their lover wants a burglar to alarm

How sad I think of washing the bed sheets
When my partner  holds me in his arms
Instead of kissing me  he   might well shout

Do I get more pleasure as I sleep
Dreaming of a Bendix  and its charms~
How sad I think of washing the bed sheets

Even grown up men are seen to weep
Their lover wants a burglar to alarm
Instead of kissing her , he  might well shriek

Even when it’s raining cats and sleet
Women  hang their washing  in the yard
How sad I think of washing all the  sheets

When we marry we  don’t know these weights
The world sits on  our backs quite unadorned
Instead of kissing  him,she  might well shriek

Now romance  cannot last, and love  lies lame
Buying houses, babies, what to blame?
Women  are still   fraying mind and  sheets
Instead of kissing lovers ,indiscreet

 

In such a moment all thought dies

A beam of light passed through my eyes
And showed to me a world disguised
So near,yet far,we do not see,
Unless by gift of grace redeemed
That world is full of peace and calm
Its colors mingle,like a balm.
In such a moment all thought dies,
Revealing Love which underlies.
Colors caress my naked eyes.
Sunlight blesses new designs.
I stand enthralled,and do not wish
For one delight,other than this.
My breath slows down, and filled with joy,
I rove my eyes with bliss to toy.
Everything is just itself.
This is now my living wealth.
Beneath the noise of city traffic,|
This mellow joy,love soporific,
This depth and peace, is always near
When we choose Love and turn from fear

Aching

My skin is aching,tender, loss  has pierced
My heart needs walls, its boundary has gone
I miss the touch of love from him so dear

A belt of metal pins  brought me tears
Why suffer this till I  am quite undone?
My skin is aching,tender,  by loss pierced

We forget that grief is close to fear
Then alone, we panic, what’s to come?
I ache without the love from him so dear

Psychotic with no unity, who steers
My head  is so remote,I have no plan
My skin is aching,tender, by loss pierced

Cursed be the One who made our sphere
Since Eden went,by  so called  sin undone
I ache without the love from  someone dear

I should   get my cell, like Julian
Hide inside the church wall, will Love come?
My skin is aching,tender, loss  has pierced
Uncaressed by him  whom I held dear

 

 

 

 

 

Ye olde limerick

I once like to make apple tarts
I was never much good throwing darts
To add some confusion
I had a delusion
That life can be lived as an Art

I like making quiche  while at home
The smell of the pastry is warm
I saw a small ghost
Steal my hot  toast
Then he left, he went over to Rome

My husband would pray in the night
Until dawn came with its gentle light
He liked  my strange fiction
Without contradiction
I wish he were still in my sight

I miss his dear face and his smile
He knew  that I had little guile
How will you manage
He died feeling  anguish
The Devil was let out on bail

Faltering voice

The moment that they told me he was gone
I knew I never more would be at one.
The guilt  is bad, the shame is harder still
That I no longer am  what I would will

That I did not perceive the   your state of mind
That to your heart I seemed to have been blind
That I was not enough to keep you here
That life and death most grievous are  so near

Then  shamed by my emotions I withdrew
Into the prison cell  that no-one knew
My soul was  pierced , I could not own my grief
 Limp, submissive , blown away, a leaf.

Shame is deadly, unexposed to speech
With reddened face and   faltering voice I weep

Their own heart

Living with division in the self
Two parts that can’t be joined by any wealth
Worthlessness,  remote the place it starts
Can we heal,rejoin the broken parts?

Must we go back to  places where we failed
Or be unfree, a prisoner with no jail?
Who might knit the stitches that would join
The valued  half, the other part they scorned?

Ways to go down deep might lead to death
Earn the  anger,bait the holy wrath
The earth cracks wide, the precipice appears
Astride the split, there is  no use for tears

So easy to break up , to split ,to part
Who   will hold their self  in their own heart?

 

The enemy of vision

The sacred heart fragmented does not awe
Broken,lost, and trampled, global   wars.
We worship our own selves, by camera formed
There are no depths, no Saviour to be born

The horizontal Flatland  where we crawl
Does not encourage us to stand up tall
There are no experts, no-one  understands
The dignity of art, the  learning scorned

The heart has cracked, the jigsaw can’t be done
We all lose a game that no-one’s won.
Here comes a vacuum cleaner which will suck
The heart of God  mixed with our human muck.

Can we  think there is no vertical
The lost imagination, the strained will

How is this?

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
An unusual image by Mike Flemming 2020 Copyright

I have got more and more incontinent.
Do stop admiring Europe

Why do the government tell us to eat more fruit and veg?
To help evacuate the Common Market from our bodies

Why do the government not have enough beds in hospitals?
They can’t all go to sleep at once

Why are the politicians so stupid?
Because we are.

I am still incontinent
Don’t worry, only another week in the EU
I’ll apply for an Irish passport
You’re not Irish
No, but my parents were

I  will  miss  the Spanish omelettes
But you never go there

I  will not  miss Mass on Sundays.
I will  become an atheist  and worship myself for an hour.Much more satisfying.

I wonder how Enlightened we are.
Well, the light is  not the problem.It’s the vision.

I saw the Light once
Say hello from me.

God is love
So is real love God?

Can we go on the Trans Siberian Express
Only if you are Trans
But how do they know?
Wear a T shirt with Trans on the front
That won’t  be very warm in Siberia
We all have to suffer for our beliefs.
It’s not a belief
What, you don’t believe you are trans?
I believe everything.
You’d better be careful.Some people tell lies
Really? I’d never have guessed
You must  be stupid
How rude.
I am very stupid at  relating to people
That’s honest.But don’t tell anyone
But they’ll know after I’ve insulted them again and again
Just smile and keep quiet.
Smile

The more we hate

Idealisation,violent innocence
The notion that our Faith  comes by our will
The unseen sin,  the lack of penitence

We  think as if we’re still omnipotent
With New Year Resolutions  unfulfilled
Idealisation,violent innocence

Force cannot bring truth nor give souls rest
When the virtues of the heart are  silent, stilled
The unseen sin,  the lack of penitence

Beaten children, broken spirits quenched
What God could wish  for  adult acts that quell?
Idealisation, tyrant’s innocence

The acts of war , the terror, the immense
The more we hate, the more we harm ourselves
The sin denied, the lack of penitence

We do not need  a Saviour,we know best
We boast at  Judgement we shall pass the test
Ideally perfect lives ,   oh, innocence
The  hidden sin,  the stinking penitence

 

 

 

Dreaminess and calm

The  mind with space for reverie  comes  first
There love  can dream and hate can be informed
The inner garden, sanctuary and rest

To live completely, hope  to live with zest
Patience, slowness,   dreaminess and calm,
The  mind with space for reverie   comes first

We all sin and we may not confess
Unless we’re held by love in gentle arms
The inner garden, sanctuary and rest

Preoccupation with  our own self is a  curse
Be ,to your own heart, a lover warm
The  mind with space for reverie  is blessed

Wasted time is never reimbursed
Can we live without  the   holy balm
The inner garden, sanctuary and rest?

Each one lives,creative in her rhymes
Our life is art as  colour washes lines
The  mind with space for reverie  is  first
An inner garden, sanctuary and rest

 

And died in peace

My husband was a very selfish man
He gave me polish in a brand new tin
That was for the furniture not  for me
Well some may lose yet others might well win

He thought that I was programmed by my genes
To bake him cakes and polish  wood and brass
To cook lamb chops and boil  potatoes new
I said we did not learn that in  the maths class

Then he grew enraged that I was bright
He told me off for playing Chess  with men
He told me off for  reading Wittgenstein
What could I do  but drink   all of his gin?

He complained  I knew the villains in a film
My brain was far to fine to make me dear
Perhaps I was a witch   in angel’s clothes
Drinking tea like  others might drink  beer

After he’d unloaded all his  grief
He thanked me for my  love   and  he died  in peace

Wild wallflowers

Wallflowers grow among the ancient stones
From the highest part they cling to  life
Reminding me of Devon  where we roamed

In  the cliffs of Beer, wild  from sea foam
We saw their flowers one  happy Easter time
Wallflowers grow among the ancient stones

Down there I feel there must be little bones
From birds and animals that long time died
Deep in Devon’s cliffs, its muddy  lanes

The wild flowers live  in verges  left un-mown
The little herbs we  crush as on we stride
And wallflowers grow on clffs  or ancient stones

Most of our wild places are unknown
In these tiny homes  God  still resides
I’m humbled by our place in  nature’s schemes

In a flower’s heart designed  to guide
The Lord himself   is wont to   from us  to hide
Wallflowers grow between the ancient stones
Memories  of  much love not passed nor gone

The Fire

The fire  shot out its sparks  like Catherine wheels
The coals  were living creatures and red-faced
Now I’m angry,I know how  they feel

We said night prayers with hearts like stainless steel
Said them fast as if prayer were  a race
The fire  shot out its sparks  like Catherine wheels

My mind was wriggling like an angry eel
As if it sought for subjects to out-face
Now I’m angry,I know how that will feel

The outside stiff, the inner self revealed
The fury at the loss of love’s embrace
The fire shot out its sparks like Catherine wheels

We were raised to keep our wounds concealed
To show no affect, keep a stiffened face
Now I’m angry,I know how that feels

Never given love  nor even praise
Is it a surprise we were ill graced?
The fire  shot out its sparks  like Catherine wheels
Anger made our hearts dance violent reels

The boats on Windermere

When I wake up in the morning I think you are still here
I feel warm and cosy but it doesn’t last for long
The  sudden shock  of memory  fills my heart with fear

The memories of  Brancaster,  of the seats on Southwold Pier
Soothe my  inner being as if I hear birdsong
So I wake up happy,thinking you are here

The cottage of our honeymoon, the love that was so dear
Even though you’ve gone away, with you I will belong
The sudden shock  of memory  fills my heart with fear

Waking up completely seems to  be ,well,  insincere
Here are my  two pillows on the floor where they’ve been flung
When I wake up in the morning I think you are still here

I walk into the bathroom,I must wash my hair
I see your tartan handkerchief, it dispels my song
The burdens  of the  memory ,heart  filled full with fear

I get aching in  my heart, aching lasts so  long
But I will keep on singing, the cat ain’t got my tongue
I wake up in the morning, I think you are still here
But  then  return  sweet memories,  like the boats on Windermere

As the clock ticks

You know you are superfluous,alone
When going to the dentist makes your day
Lying in the chair without a groan
Although you shut your eyes and say a prayer

A gentle hand,  a polite word or four
The nurse who gives you water is so kind
I hope I shall not go there anymore
But what is lurking,waiting in my mind?

Shall I  find dating site and see
The kind of man  attracted by my smile
What is love and what will come to be
I feel a lack of cunning and of wiles.

As the clock ticks, we are  getting old
Who will help us when we feel so cold?

 

Amber eyes

I brought home a kitten from a friend
So tiny yet so fierce he bit my hands
We could not find him  when we came back home
He was   tucked in with the sheet  under the foam

We  had no garden so we  took him out
Wrapped in a wool cardigan,I think
He lay contented on my knee  all day
Looking at the trees and coloured sky

When mature  he roamed the night away
Sleeping in a rocking chair all day
Benjamin, we called him, was run down
In the rush hour by a speeding clown,

The amber eyes of  Benjamin would glow
He gave us  happiness,we  loved him so

When we bombed Iraq

Do you remember when we bombed Iraq?
No doubt the war was for  the good of man
Yeah, some would die,  and others feel their lack

By and large, what does it mean to sack?
Real  democracy  was said to be the plan
Do you remember when we bombed Iraq?

In Downing St will Blair have a blue plaque?
His conviction, where did it begin?
Yeah, some would die,  and others feel their lack

Now  the Leader wanders  in the gaps
But we no longer call such deeds a sin
Do you remember when we bombed Iraq?

At night when we can’t sleep, we see  attacks
Where to start, well Trump  suggests Iran
Yeah, some will die, but  there is  heaven   for wrecks

Since we write, we read  our scripts again
Civilised, we use our manners well
Do you remember when we bombed Iraq?
Yeah,  we chose to   follow   Evil’s tracks

 

 

The raspberry canes, the honesty know more

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

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