Category: sonnet

Shall I compare thee to a bird of prey

Shall I compare thee to a bird of prey
Thou art more cruel but hide it  very well
And if perchance thou now find thou art gay
Meet men now down in the fairy’s glen.

I know not how to paint thy long pale face
The hair so thin, she colour of despair
Thou lookest like a Tudor in disgrace
That once was sturdy,strong and very fair

And thy demeanor puzzleth me so much
Thou wert raised with manners of a prince
Why eat  roast pig while thou art in  church?
Even holy bread is seen to wince.

Depart from me,ye green eyed coward and liar
I threw   thy missives  into my bright fire.

Yet to these gaps, wildflowers will be allured.

Life is like a  Northern drystone wall
The limestone’s perfect balance is designed.
But take one stone out and the whole will fall.
For every stone was to the next aligned.

Maybe its new form is strong, secure
But often it collapses, leaving gaps.
Yet to these gaps, wildflowers will  be allured.
And little pools  form, home to frogs  perhaps

As life goes on, our complex structure grows
And in some part, we see collapse contained.
Not just contained, but new life comes and goes.
In the end,  love’s willingness remains.

The journey takes us through a strange terrain.
We are a  whole, though parts are misaligned

Befriend me, each one seems to say

All the fears we push away
Will come back later in the day;
Or when we go to bed at night
They will waken us in fright.

Befriend me, each one seems to say
Like small children fallen at play
When mother’s come a sweet sweet kiss
Returns small children to their bliss.

But where is mother now,we think?
As from our eyes the tears we blink.
Let the bag of tears be drained
Let them ease our awful strain.

Be your mother, be yourself.
Be kind and careful of your health.
Mother lives inside our hearts
If we feel then that’s a start

Wanting to be earthed

Oh..Lord I prayed sincerely to you
To stick my broken teeth well down with glue
But you did not heed my desperate prayer
So I went to my dentist; had to pay her!

So I feel angry  and you are angry too
For you have the entire universe to view.
And you are not my mother, I now see.
You never were and never will you be.

I’m unsure of how to   re-connect to you
Especially when I’m feeling down and blue.
Do you need me and for what was I conceived?
My mother was dead angry.I believe

She blamed my soul for wanting to  be earthed
Abortion was illegal, not so birth

Afraid of falling, slowness, ridicule

The thought of writing sonnets made me scared
I’d read the Shakespeare, Donne , the genius  poets
Marvell , metaphysical, I’d  heard
A plaque marks  Highgate Hill where he once wrote.

I  did not wonder if a female mind
Was impediment to learning further skills
I came to Math and Plath from well behind
With interest, prepared by iron will

At first, I walked on ice in foolish shoes
Afraid of falling, slowness, ridicule
But after trial ,the judgement was defused.
My confidence more logical  when schooled

So having crossed my Alps in wintertime
I knew I’d never want for any rhyme.

For someone non-existent, God has power

For someone non-existent  God has power
To wreck the world he learns from every  hour.
He is not here or there or where at all
And yet we do have evidence of Fall.

Why  must men be angry as they boast,
They can prove there is no Holy Ghost?
No benediction, blessing, nothing good
No meaning, nothing sacred, never Love.

For who is zero,  who’s in the empty set?
God  seems ever harder to forget
Men argue with red cheeks and suffer strokes
While God sits back, enjoys an evening smoke.

While Nothing shall remain and  nausea  sighs
Let’s enjoy the  madness and the lies.

 

Life is what we know

 

When soft winds blow and air strokes our bare skin.
When days are long like melodies of youth,
when light wakes up the soul from out her sin
Then shall we know when this sweet life is truth?

When flowers droop and leaves are dried and brown;
When water’s short and all the ground’s forlorn
Then do not meet disaster with a frown,
For out of heartfelt sorrow new life’s born.

When winter’s here and all is quiet and still
And nothing seems to move or grow or speak
Then we shall learn the limits of our will,
When through the soil the first green shoots will break.

For seasons change and actors come and go.
Yet through such changes, life is what we know

When their loved ones do defect

I still don’t know  how deep inside  my heart
Is a strange belief, he has not died
I can’t believe  he’s never coming back
Is it self-deception or a lie?

I wakened up and thought I heard his breath
Then remembered all the details my loss.
I wonder if I’ll see his shadowed ghost?
And if I do, no doubt I shall get cross

Like children taken from a mother’s arms
When she returns they’re angry  yet forlorn
Too young to speak, to verbally express
They  bite the breast and wish that they were grown.

Even  those who rationally accept
Are struck dumb when  their loved ones  do defect

Offers lines from its unconscious wealth

When a novice writes an early poem
The surprise is not the cuteness of the  rhyme.
But is a moment when a deeper self
Offers lines from its unconscious wealth

Later when re-reading, I’m amazed
That I myself was channel for such  grace.
It may happen  but I  never know
Unless I write and travel with the flow.

To get to know the depths of our own mind
May  enlighten us to when we ‘re  most unkind.
Inside the heart, a bitterness may blind
Yet pain  may hint  we must the heart unchain.

So writing  opens both the soul and mind
Shows we’re one as we’re all humankind

 

 

 

When fantasy and dream become confused

When  others acts push splinters through our souls
And into strangers ears we pour our woes..
When grief and sorrow shudder through our walls.
And whether all is lost we cannot know

When what is in or out we cannot tell
Then fantasy and dream become confused.
When darts of agony are felt to maim each cell.
When sensibility is utterly bemused.

He,in whom I to trusted, willed to fail
For what he  claimed  was friendship  was desire.
Now pain and disappointment make  me frail;
In torment know this person was a liar.

Then, having lost all other means to live,
We turn to darkness where our consolation is.

I wonder when Klein’s bottle will crash down?

Now woollen coats are very hard to find
And imitation fabric is designed
To look like wool ,especially  if you’re blind
But still desire to look    a mite refined!

But polyester has no warmth at all,
Though Rorsach blots on it might  darkly fall.
Mobius strips and scarves are   worn all day
They make me feel so trapped  I seem to sway

I wonder when  Klein’s bottle  will crash down
And give the  students   wiser ways to frown
For clothes with no dimension are a treat
For  those of us who have got  two blue feet.

If you like down  to wear upon your back
You are a goose and have no jokes to crack.

I will taste divine

Make my heart into a cottage pie.
Already it is minced and lies estranged
My   enemies insult me with their lies
And my last will and testament is made.

An onion and a carrot chopped up fine,
Saute  with these my heart till  all are gold
With herbs and spices I will taste divine
A mashed potato will a rooftop mould.

Do not forget my blood to use as sauce
Though now it’s cold, with garlic  make it boil.
For what is gravy but the blood of  choice
With  sliced  onion  fried in olive oil?

O foes and devils eat me and you’ll be
Transformed into  myself, your enemy.

Language wrote both Dante and Mein Kampf

Winter sunshine shows the branches bare

Reveals each shape both elegant and spare

The  little birds fly in and out at will

The low sun’s bright, the wind is light as well

 

  What kind of world has human language made?

   Evolution does not always pay

For language can  tell love but also hate

And brings  to some misfortune and black fate

 

Words can hurt much deeper than a knife

 We may be  traumatised  by our  own life

 the bitch the witch , the charlatan, the  Jew

These categories old, are ever new

 

Language wrote  both Dante and Mein Kampf,

Ecstasy or  Concentration Camp

 

 

Her best and worst are both revealed at once.

Her wrap dress did not cover her large knees
Swollen with arthritis and   long prayers.
And yet she wears this dress the  men to please.
As it reveals her  bosom  beauteous , fair.

The  camel colour suited ill her face.
But the dress was in the sale for half its price
She would not buy a top sky blue with lace,
As with   the  gods of fortune she  would  dice.

A longer length would be a better choice
But she has no tall mirror in  her home
And she does not believe her clothes have voice
As round the parties hunting men she roams

Her best and worst are both revealed at once.
Let  none who hunt  look at  this dame askance

 

 

Again it’s winter in the Natural World

 

Again it’s winter in the Natural World

I saw the snow  fall as  cold clouds unfurled

I like the feeling of  this winter rest

 Though most prefer the heat and summer zest

 

I   like to see the sun like a red ball

On the horizon after  blackbirds call

It tells me  we are animals, we’re flesh

In the  whole of nature we’re enmeshed

 

For now with  artificial light and mobile  phones

We can ignore both  nature  and time zones;

Forget that  we  must communicate  wordless

By touch and sight and feeling, in our flesh.

 

The red sun rising burns   this  day in fire

I stare  now avid with my whole desire.

 

 

 

And as the cocks and chickens try to bleat

Did I say my heart is up the spout
And tea is sitting hotly in the tap
The kettle is complaining I’m a lout
And with its metal hand gives me a rap.

 

Did I say my bed has got no sheets
For I have published them in my new book
And as the cocks and chickens try to bleat
I buy a dress and  hey, it’s my new look

Did I say the cat will not go out
For he is never in, you see my joke
For logic is as stupid as no doubt
And torments  in its ice the evil folk.

Words are signals  telling us  we’re light
And so we float away into the night

The friends who sit in silent company

The cause of sadness also shows its end;
That we let go the loved one and remain.
Such comfort,aid and love we have from friends
Helps us bear the heart’s most dangerous pain.

 

But if our friends  fear their own  hidden  grief.
If sorrow is never let to touch their heart;
Then friendship’s stolen by a nervous thief;
As wishing to retain our self,we part.

 

The friends who sit in silent company
Who look for no reward yet love us true
Who show,  quite clear, desireless empathy;
They are friends who warmth and  hope imbue.

 

Patient silence may do more than  words
The utterance of the heart is not absurd.

Silence in the company of friends

Sometimes silence is so sweet
We need no music other than its song.
But when we’re  tired and suffer a defeat
Then silence feels both threatening and wrong.

We need the company of other human hearts
But now we use our smartphones to connect.
This is where new alienation starts
We’re just a voice, a photo book ransacked.

So much is missed when we have no eye contact
No winks.no silent glances as we pass.
We lack the energy,so disrespect
Evoking rage by our behaviour crass.

Silence in the company of friends
Sings  its song whose  melodies are lent.

Where metal walls echo the coursing blood

A strange and lonely feeling held my heart
Gripping like  some pincers  made of steel.
From my beloved I had had to part
Then  numbness  folded round me like wheel.

And quietness loved  has now turned into threat
Nero like ,I  fiddle with my  tunes
Pie Jesu’s not made top ten yet
Larks’ ascents aren’t worth much  to a loon.

I phoned a friend,her voice did me no good
It echoed in the chambers of my mind
Where metal walls echo the coursing blood
And escalate these feelings so unkind

Though he l loved has gone and is now dead.
I  see his face  upon my  heartless bed

 

 

Artificial

Diagonal streams now  stripe the windowpane
And in them, tiny insects drown and die.
Unexpected ,sudden rain  has come.
Those escape who have  the wings to fly.

No angels were seen peering  at my  room
No doubt they have their  Sunday wings to press.
No  camera ,even with psychotic zoom,
Can catch an angel while she is undressed.

Now the rain has dried and all is sweet
I tend to houseplants standing by the door.
By good luck these houseplants never bleep.
Only in the real world do they flower.

Bleeps and pings are not a natural sound.
But to the artificial   we  will bound

A card to be their presidential meme.

Sometimes I am glad that you are gone
You would be startled to perceive  the strange new scene
That a nation educated  could choose one
A card to be their presidential meme.

Leonard Cohen hung on with his frail thread
But fell when  dreaming of the latest polls
And you, too, are  perhaps comforted  in death
You don’t have  to vote for  shipwrecked fools

Yet we who’re strong must live and hope for good.
The virtues of the noblest minds aid ours.
We must cultivate the tender buds.
And not assume ourselves to be mere cowards.

For one good  person, God would not destroy
The Sodom   we’ve  created in false joy.

 

Enchanted roots all tangled as were one

Who ripped his roots out from my  fragile heart
And left me  hollow ,bleeding and alone?
We who love know all humans must part.
Pain must touch  us women who’re not stone.

Yet I did not understand what we’d become;
Enchanted roots all tangled as were one
When he died , the  wound has made me lame.
For my  roots bereaved seem almost to have gone.

I stand on tilted ground like a ship’s deck
When by  squalls and gales  it  is besieged.
I  picture in my mind my own  such wreck
Yet death does not take all lovers  who’re bereaved.

My roots will spread again when spring comes by.
Till then I lean  and shudder  lest I die

 

 

It is myself to whom I speak in sonnet form

5121

Trapped in  cultivated  ways ,we may  forget
That usefulness can also be a trap.
Am I the one who never makes a bet?
Am I  the one who always has the map?

 

We are no automata, we are flesh.
And even older brains can be rewired
Maybe we need to do what may seem rash
Light   ourselves more brilliant mental fires.

 

Reluctance seems  to  cage us with our fear.
Though ,despite our wishes, we each age and die.
Time goes and  the end will soon be here
But  is it ever too late  for  one try?

 

It is myself to whom I speak in sonnet form
Anxiety is  fierce  until we learn.

The heart releases; to its grace we yield

What shall I do , the  widow asked her friend.
I feel this knife inside my heart again.
What  can I do to make my sorrow end
What can I do to stop the bloody  pain?

Do nothing, the  sweet friend  gently advised
Your task is  to  accept   your own despair
The wisdom in your mind will work, she sighed.
Your body hurts and for such  pain we  care.

Sit here and  count the daisies  in the lawn
No need to talk nor even think  nor will.
As in this peaceful sitting for  a day
Your mind will  rest and hope and trust may call.

Receptive to the shivering, daisied  fields,
The heart releases; to  its  grace  we yield

Rhythm, meter, movement are our guides

Actors are the poets of the real.
They mould the air with bodily appeal
The body is the soul  through which we feel
Imprisoned bodies kill the soul ideal.

Dancers fuse with music stretching air.
They push and pull the freedoms that  live there
They play with Newton’s laws as they change gear
The bodies bend and flow with utter zeal.

Singers touch us deeply to the core.
As we listen with  our shrunken hearts  so sore
We  will cry out, oh, more,oh, more , yes, more.
As deep into our inner self ,they gore.

In every aspect of our human lives
Rhythm, meter, movement are our guides

With faith and trust, we show our human face

Though love is welcome when at first it dawns
And even when it ripens in the sun
Soon  may  come sensations  all forlorn
A dread that asks us what love might become.

For yearning as we do for hope and care
Yet don’t we fear to lose our private self?
And so to wonder,fearful, how we’ll fare
Blighting both our spirits and our health.

The risks of loss and gain are  not yet known
A judgement must be made on partial facts
To be at once too  trapped  and  too alone
To treat the other with  both truth and tact

With faith and trust, we show  our human face
And hope we each survive that sweet embrace

Dust balls

 darliCats on the hill
When yet another fluff ball is discovered
Hiding by the bookcase near my bed.
I ponder on the process which produces this
As I sit here gobbling a large boiled egg.
When yet another stain upon the carpet
Cannot be removed by water or by foam.
I wonder if I’m cut out for cleaning.
This is certainly not a man’s Ideal Home.
But let me not waste time on practicalities.
Life is far more precious than is dirt.
I’ll change my dress and put on a new outfit.
Or perhaps just wear a long white linen shirt.
When he comes home I’ll tell him I’m in love again.
With him who is my darling and my man.

Nor how to count infinity by hand.

Uncanny is a space which I avoid
I do not wish to meet with spirits  vile.
Though with some men,it is true that I have toyed.
I  dropped them all and sane was I the while.

Yet when I met your eyes so dark  and strange
A force more strong than my own pulled me in.
A   premonition that my life would surely change,
Before I knew your double,your dark twin.

In dreams and  in my nightmares he will come
To capture me and take me  to his land.
I do not know what choice to make of man
Nor how to count infinity by hand.

The double is an augury of death
Yet in this space, uncanny is a path

A home is not a place for setting tests

A home can  be a comfort or a cage;
A place to leave or rest in comforts dear.
We may feel like the bears that danced on stage
Or   sometimes find a sanctuary  from fear

Uncertain of our love, a  spouse may be.
And so  they test us when there is no need
Is it not so clear to those who see
The test itself may make our love’s heart bleed?

Testing to destruction  is a crime;
To wound to feel a semblance of our power.
To test is  to make invalid  all good times.
Killers of the heart are loathsome cowards.

 

A home is not a place for setting tests
Be no killer if you long for rest

God’s sacred smile

 

 

fernforestnz

http://home.btconnect.com/mike.flemming/

 

We dwelled inside a sphere of holy love
Which we and angels shared for just a while
Where our below is linked to  heaven above
To  cradle us inside God’s sacred smile.

This state of grace  in which I sang for you
Made all the Ward  turn holy for an hour
As to my love I ever would be true
Even now he was become a withered flower.

Earth to earth and ash to ash we go
With dear hearts holding us in case we fall
And being flesh we all must undergo
An end or new beginning of our call.

 

Once he died, the sphere of grace was gone.
Yet in my mind, that smile will linger on

 

I asked the nurse to give to me her food

Oh evil chance,  one day this week I fell

They  sent  me to thehospital , such fun!

I saw the lovely  nurses in the hall

And hoped they would not send me to the bin

 

The x-ray of my  hand  caused horrid pain

The curled up finger straightened with a push

And this impacted me, my body and my brain

And on my face , it caused a  curious flush

 

There is no obvious fracture to be seen

They reckon it’s a tendon that is stuck

It’s rather difficult pulling up my jeans

What goddess  has given me such luck

 

The snow down fell , the  wind was fierce and  cold

The weather matched the Misery of my moods

But when I had some coffee I felt bold.

I asked the nurse  to give to me her food



I  truly enjoyed going out today

And now I’ll sell my memoirs on E -bray

 

When I did this using the microphone it came up with some very rude words.Of course,  the computer does not know that they  are rude,I suppose!