Category: reflections

When after death I lie deep in the earth

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

Theatre forms the soul

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

Weaving

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

An artist’s canvas stretched, a matricide

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

 

No words existed in its welcome hold

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

 

Choose not death

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.

Daniel writes a litter

nature animal wilderness head
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Dear Malcom

I ‘m surrey it iz zoo long  since we had a feel to gather.I whoop that hence the -pan-de- mer-gimmick is  covert ,we can go to the Zoo  and flee the wild  terminals in fractions that is  a rational  protection
I am still preaching  topology and Harry’s bottle for  Beginners with a  hint of  Jeremiah
I don’t   know why I    lather.Even Newton did not under scan infinitesmals and  how  revealing they might be  in  baiter years.
My sister had a  chip replacement lately.I don’t  relieve the  terrain was unwearable
She is merry stoical, I have churned a lot from hair
I  have to phone  pandemonium and  they take  me to B and Q  or some  preliminary stage where I am triaged by a hearse before a doctor examines me
The adrenalin  aches and I crunch my vertabrae.I do Su Doku to concede the  drain I am in but  improving my gestures would be  bitter
I tried the Times Crossword but I flout even Dirac would have diminished it in a day
So now I  am heating my crutch as I am angry
Hope to key you on Zoom soon
With last wishes
Daniel and  his lion  Ariel

The ladder

I fear  to stand up  tall on this new earth
One hand is on the ground,  my back is bent
Shivering fear, excitement, what’s  this birth?

I climbed , like Wittgenstein, a ladder’s worth
Then threw the ladder down   as my assent
I fear  to stand up  tall on this new earth

Far away, so far, the time of mirth
For sometime a lover I was lent
Shivering fear, excitement, what’s  this birth?

I wonder can I walk ,this step the first
 Love may die and who shall then repent?
I fear  to stand up  tall on this new earth

I see myself in black, the window’s bust
A man climbs out  uncut by accident
Shivering wonder, what allures  such birth?

I see in my mind’s eye  the incident
I  learn to balance  gravity with  sense
I desire  to stand on this new earth
Shivering, wonder, is it birth or curse?

When after death I lie deep in the earth

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

Oh,sweeter than the love of man

· 

Inside my mind I dream of pearls,
Caterpillars,snails with whorls.
I dream contented, all enwrapped;
With reverie and dream I’m lapped.
The inner seas will comfort me,
While gods refine my eyes to see

Oh,sweeter than confectionery
Is my Oxford diction’ry.
The words whirl round then fall to shape
The sentences which my world make.
This furnishing is rich and strange
And magically self arranged.

Oh,sweeter than the love of man
Is reading works of poets long gone;
Feeling deeply their dark tides
.Upon which our boat may glide.
The infinite sea we float upon
Is the same warm sea the ancients swam


Sweeter still is the spring air
And the blossom spreading fair
We’ll drown our selves in grassy fields
To the gods of poetry yield.


We’ll rise again and spring up tall
To grow more rich until we fall.
Then we’re compost for the worms
God enlighten these my poems

Mary climbs a ladder

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.

Mary needs a lock on the door

The doorbell rang yet again.Mary crept into the hall and saw through the  little window  a young man with a van marked Maypole Locksmiths.She opened the door and explained she could not lock her door with a key but only with a  twig from the maple tree.In winter it was not sensible
The man who had looked rather glum brightened up
So where did you buy this lock? he asked humorously
I have no idea
Up ran Annie her late husband’s mistress who  still  lived next door.She was wearing  a lime green faux fur coat over a  purple track suit.The locksmith’s eyes rotated in fear
My husband made that lock from a teak bread  board,just before he eloped, she told them
Well ladies,I have news for you
Mary plucked at  the darning on her wool skirt,looking agitated
Doors are  wood but locks are metal and have metal keys,he informed them
Goodness me,  we are still in the Dark Ages, she cried nervelessly
Yes, the days are short in winter he whispered.My name is Jack by the way
I don’t want any more men,she murmured mutinously
Why, how many have you got? he inquired tenderly with a hint of laughter.
I am not sure but it is not a rational number,Mary declaimed
But what IS a rational number,Annie asked? Three,four,ten, a thousand?
It is zero but I am happy with a ball of wool and Emile, my sweet cat
Miaow,cried Emile
Up the path ran Dave, the transphobic ,asexual paramedic
Emile, are you ok? he muttered in Welsh
Well,I could just  eat tin of salmon, Emile muttered, but we have none
That is a tragedy.I’ll get you some for Xmas
We usually have meat,Mary  told him, but I don’t mind.I hate roasting turkeys.What  have turkeys done to deserve that fate? I’d prefer t adopt some
No, cried Emile.I don’t want any here.
So selfish, said Annie.They are  alive just like we are.
I don’t  give a fig,  the cat boasted
I know a lot of turkeys have died in  refrigerated lorries crossing the channel
But it’s horrible here.I don’t see why a turkey would want to live here,Annie replied
They want  to see Buckingham Palace,I expect and get given free cars  like all our immigrants are given, said Emile.Not to mention free flats in tower blocks covered in asbestos and lead
I’ll  have to change your name to Oswald,Mary said
That is insulting,I am only saying what all the people are saying.Mosley was a an aristocrat,I believe
I am very sad we taught Emile to read and speak.He is getting his news from Facebook, the Mail on Mondays and gossip.
Yes,Stan was a fool.He should have left him like a wild animal.Do you know he watched Stan and me in bed through a mirror
Well,I hope  he didn’t watch me,said Mary.I have to put Nerisone oily
cream on my private parts if I have a flare up but to a cat it might look suspiciously like
self pleasure
Well, why not enjoy it since you have to use it?
Very wise,Mary replied.I’ll have to think abut  that
The locksmith coughed
Madam shall I put this brass lock on the door and a handle so you can pull the door shut more easily
You are very clever,Mary said thoughtlessly.But don’t do a degree.Many minds  have been ruined by studying Rousseau one week , Bertrand Russell the next and Wittgenstein in 10 days.It only makes people seem educated because they now words other people don’t but  wisdom and thought have not  entered their being
I’ll make us all a nice cup of tea, Annie shouted.That will enter all our beings
I thought you’d never ask, cried Dave
And so did all of us

Loss,the winter of the heart

I found it interesting to find a link between being able to be aware of other people as real people like ourselves and being secure in our inner being.That security or trust enables us to have an attitude  called,”Submission to the will of God” in Christian teaching.I am sure it is common to many other religions especially Judaism.
Without trust in others life is much harder as we are always concerned with keeping ourselves safe.I am not sure how much we can change our attitude from Fear to Trust.
I recall  a friend of mine dying when I was 15.We were  taken to the Requiem Mass.I just recall the priest saying in the sermon something from the Bible
The Lord has given and the Lord has taken away
Blessed be the name of the Lord.
In other words,we can’t understand.Life and death are a mystery but we accept this is the will of God
At the time I’m not sure if I believed it.But i think acceptance of pain and grief helps us to cope with it even with the terrible suffering with losing a child.I was the last classmate to see her.It was late October.We left school and walked about 1/2 mile.I lived there but she had to then catch a bus fo ra 4 mile journey
I still see her smiling face.Eight days later she died.
When you suffer a lot it’s hard to trust God,the Universe and all else.And depending on the circumstances it’s easy to be bitter or vengeful.But that will not help.
What I am wondering is:
How much can we change our attitudes by will power.Pr is there another way of changing?
Changing the way we see something may give us a different attitude.Talking to a good person may help.Sometimes we can only endure patiently.Sometimes God comes to us in the wilderness of tragedy,grief and pain.Because  he can get in when we are still and silent.
I suppose going to the desert or on a Retreat may give us the same opportunity.Sometimes we can’t verbalise our suffering but that is not a problem.I found after seeking many ways out that as many people have said:
The way out is through.
But we struggle like hell to avoid it!

As Alchemists foretold

God’s son was born  on earth.

A  young girl gave him birth.

His words remind us of our worth,

Gave hope of heavenly mirth.

He brought the gifts of love-

To cure our bad eyesight.

But we don’t want to see,

Bear painfulness of light.

We love our flaws unknowing,

Even as we’re sorrow sowing

We rage when someone points  them out,

We’d rather stay in dark and doubt

Than have our weakness showing

But when  we  seek advice

From someone  wise and true,

They tell us that our hearts will be

Healed when we can bear to see

The mirror’s total view,

The looking glass is truth

It’s painfully acquired.

But, oddly ,when we face the glass,

A transformation comes to pass,

And our souls change from black to gold,

As Alchemists foretold

Choose not death

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  my 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.

 

 

 

 

 

An artist’s canvas stretched , a matricide

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

 

What did Hannah Arendt really mean by the banality of evil? | Aeon Ideas

https://aeon.co/ideas/what-did-hannah-arendt-really-mean-by-the-banality-of-evil

he banality-of-evil thesis was a flashpoint for controversy. To Arendt’s critics, it seemed absolutely inexplicable that Eichmann could have played a key role in the Nazi genocide yet have no evil intentions. Gershom Scholem, a fellow philosopher (and theologian), wrote to Arendt in 1963 that her banality-of-evil thesis was merely a slogan that ‘does not impress me, certainly, as the product of profound analysis’. Mary McCarthy, a novelist and good friend of Arendt, voiced sheer incomprehension: ‘[I]t seems to me that what you are saying is that Eichmann lacks an inherent human quality: the capacity for thought, consciousness – conscience. But then isn’t he a monster simply?’

Wandering   with no haste we see far more

In the pools, reflections , colours, gleam
Like watercolour paintings in a stream
Another world, a mirror to our lives
A way to extricate us from the cave

People have distinctive motions,shapes
When vision’s poor  the curve, the back, display
I recognise you not by face alone
But by the  pictures you make in the rain

Wandering down the avenues and lanes
The eyes are open wider, vision’s gain
The little muscles  slacken round our eyes
We see the broader images come by

Wandering   with no haste we see far more
Our inner eyes have opened like a door

Happiness

Are fish happy dancing through the waves?

Darting through the pearls and crystal caves?

Singing as they wander with their mates

No anxious thoughts of money nor of fate.

Through the salty water on they glide

Happy with the temperature and tide.

I wish that I could swim beneath the sea

No painful joints nor mental agony.

I liked the teal green seas we saw at Hythe

Coming down the Saxon Cliffs we sighed.

The burning cornfields sent their red smoke high.

I wish we were together in the car

Driving down to Kent, it’s not so far

Jesus must be free

Jesus does not live within the church

Like the wild birds of the sky he’s free

Jesus is in no parrot with a perch

Nor does he require a bended knee

In the ancient buildings there’s some air

Quiet years of prayer have left a mark.

Yet its sad destructions caused despair.

The abbot of old Glastonbury stark

The restless ashes spread as in the air

The winds of love are heartless yet demure

Would it be a way to make things fair?

If there is a God he must be there.

Not with those who scandal eyes the poor

Soon they’ll have no shoes nor much to wear

Whores do not pay tax, oh what allure.

Christ and Mary Magdalene come by

How economics causes men to lie

The power of mathematics made the bomb

Soon the the earth shall burn to kingdom come.

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 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?

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.

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.

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

 

 

 

Isolation makes me feel alone

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

This isolation is not good for me
Unless there is a God,how could it be?

The viruses are not like friends who talk
Yet they can come with you on a walk

Invisible to naked human eyes
Viruses are now akin to spies

Who is watching me as I write this?
I’ve now forgotten who Paul Dirac was

Should I block the camera with white tape?
It might bring me some pleasure,ah, too late

Is it wrong for women to read books
New ideas might make us into freaks

Yesterday was warm but now it snows
I’ve got itchy spots and feel morose

Should I buy merino knickers now?
Should I breed some sheep or just a cow?

Why algebra exists is really queer
If you spot it then you are a seer.

Rings and groups and donuts are germane
Topology has driven me insane

What is small yet makes the gradient clear?
Calculus is like an atmosphere

Did you say Eureka in the bath?
It means you’ve met yourself without the glass

The microphone is faulty I proclaim
Perhaps I’m going deaf, we’re all insane

The phone is complex, perfect and effete
I cannot hear the voices when they speak

I got up in the night and wet my pants
That’s my husband’s ghost, the miscreant!

I had to wash pyjamas every day
4 pairs are enough if you are gay

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