Ah,did you throw away the  ripened fruit
Because inside it hid a hardened stone?
As anything not total does not suit
Love’s ambivalence seems to you a crime

Don’t throw away my love when I  offend
For I am human too and lose my sense
As tension makes it difficult to bend
And sometimes even love is too intense.

Rather , see how much love there still may be
And balance that against my human faults
Instead ,one mark ,one sin  one thought unfree
Weighs more than years of love ,binds me in guilt.

As panic  will grow less when we just wait
In such a way , real love can contain hate.

If I  should cease to love you when you die
And quickly fill your space with a new man
Then perhaps my  claiming love was  but a lie
And I can fill  you place  with anyone.

Are not our  friends unique and therefore lost
When death pulls them away to darker shores?
Yet we  will love each one despite the cost.
And when we weep,  is this not  what life’s for?

Loss and gain and loss and gain again
A pattern from the infant to the sage
So joy and pain and joy and pain remain.
Who knows what is inscribed on the page?

To feel,to suffer, then feel joy once more
Will open up  the Heavens’ golden door

Ancient I may be, but I’m not old
I learn new skills and  see in different ways
My heart is kind and never is  it cold
My mind still functions and I’ve much to say

But company is difficult to find
Especially for those handicapped by pain
We all need others outside our own minds
Though loss has struck we look for friends again

I’d like to roam across  the woods and   hills
A gypsy free of home and bills and rules
But in the climate of the British isles
I’d soon be sick and labelled as a fool.

Let’s not accept too many laws of age
As Dylan said, against that we should rage

,

Shall I give home to grievance and  to woe

And cultivate my hatred with my tears?

Shall I remember  carefully each blow,

And add this sorrow to my anxious fear?

 

I  thought by hating you I would have peace;

And surely I had reason without doubt.

Yet  rumination  gave me no  release..

For wisdom and compassion it did flout

 

I remembered then  past love and  shared sweet words

I gave  them freedom in my anguished heart.

I did it for your sake, yet then occurred

A sweetness, joy and gladness in all parts.

 

To  forgive,repent and  let go of such grief

Helps us more than hatred’s legal briefs

Between the wish for  changelessness and thrill
We seldom will be satisfied for long
Neither is controlled by human will
As into  stormy life, we all are flung

Self-deception  shields us from our doubts
We choose to pre-select what we will see.
Pretend to know what our life’s  all about
As in little boats ,we ride a stormy sea.

Then  later we choose danger for its spice
And with daring climb the mountain with no ropes
We resist the offer of    advice
Till ,with broken bones, we sadly mope.

Reality’s too little or too much
So ,on our path, our hearts will often lurch

When doubts and drawbacks struggle in the mind
And certainty seems but a demon dream,
When the faith to love is what no-one can find
And even when asleep, the mind still schemes.

When darkness and defeat seem close at hand
And lights dim even as we pray for peace;
When wrecks and ruins rile the native sands;
When in this life we feel we've lost our place.

Then at the saddest depth we see the light
Surrounding with such warmth,with love adorned.
The path that seemed so wrong now leads us right
And in our hearts, warm feelings are new born

Within each storm there is a calm still eye
From there we see the fearsome clouds pass by

I’d love to write a sonnet but I  daren’t
For in this steamy heat it’s much too hard
So please don’t send me messages that taunt
Nor with disdain compare me to our bard.

.For  not all people have poetic skill
And  what I have will sometimes fall to dust
Like virtue  writing’s not made by the will
Await the grace ,as saints and mystics must

In  the mind an empty bowl of space
We keep to catch the offerings of the gods.
It’s more like contemplation than a race;
For freely, quietly we receive the good.

The lady’s not for   turning words to gold
But with a  chosen few she loves to mould

If  I should change as does our weather now
Then  down to Bedlam I would soon be rushed
One moment  calm,one moment violence blows.
Then apple blossom’s  thrown into a bush.

I think of all the birds that nest so near.
I can’t protect them from this   savage  gale and rain.
They follow Nature’s laws and yet must fear.
For she does not protect them from  the strain.

Why is it that our love and work don’t count?
Nesting  birds  must struggle with this hail.
Destruction or Creation equal mount
Yet birds  will try again who this time fail.

We learn that even when all  seems destroyed
By future  hope our poor spirit is buoyed,

I saw  the sun rise over the North Sea
Accentuating coloured fishing boats.
The beauty of the dawn gave hope to me
A restful pleasure made my  soft eyes  dote.

The peace of this small town has caught my heart.
Scenes from ancient times  come close again
The gulls swoop down and  sketch their flying charts
Remote as ever from the realm of man.

The shingle beach,the  Church  where Britten lies
The in and out of tides  of salty sea;
An exact match of houses,hill and skies;
The   amber shop, the chip shop,the oak tree.

In my mind I walk in love again;
Though of the two, a single one remains

What kind of camera shows the changing light
Upon the yellow blossom as it waves?
The wind has dropped ,the breeze is here, but slight
And on the flowers I in languor gaze

The red leaves of the acers now unfurl-
Two side by side but different in their glow.
The light accentuates  them as they curl
And so gives them the time to unwind slow.

Without the breeze the colour is  varies less.
It’s flatter, less like Monet, yet still bright.
And as a grey cloud  sags across the West
It puts my dreams of colour into flight.

Yearn not for special tools to catch the world.
Just watch a single leaf as it unfurls

With foresight we may see  where  problems lurk
And  root them out before they start to grow
Yet often life’s mysteriously dark
And what we reap is  what another sowed.

In hindsight,  this seems obvious and plain.
But some can  pick the  true out with no pain
Yet others choose  their fantasy again
They amble down a cheerful sunny lane.

Though what is real may not be what we wish
Better truth that hurts  than lies  that charm
Reality is not an easy  choice
Yet falsehood  will mislead and even harm.

Insight grows with patient watching eyes
In the end, the truth is where love lies.

When  mere  genius and expert  create art
And commoners  no  longer  sing and play
Then in this world I wish to play no part
For violins of gypsies I do pray.

Folk dances and melodies  divine
To the public  people once  belonged
On Feast Days we all met  with joy again
With   roasted pig and  cider we did sing.

Society is now truly at  its end
Our rain water to Spanish banks belongs.
Can we into hell further  descend
While famous tenors ravish us with song?

My reservoir is empty and I’m sick;
For all we had is taken by   these tricks

Next year in  Eden  sweet I  hope to  be.
Tasting pears and apples in delight,
Or fruits exotic I have not yet seen
And other glories now hidden from sight.

Yet, for now, I struggle on my way
As if  uncertain whether it is right.
Must I ,alone, decide the price to pay,
And stumble in the weeds in dim twilight?

At times I search  my dreams   for their insight
Or, as if blind, ignore a potent sign.
Anxiety and doubt bring me no light.
To shades and shadows I must be resigned.

Faith and hope we keep  or we shall die.
Can Love itself be nothing but a lie?

When thou hast stripped my   heart  of all its skin
And left me to the wolves  to be consumed
Shall I ask what was my mortal sin,
And hast thou never thought I was redeemed?

The pains I suffer I am loth to take
For I have thrashed been in thy machines
And no more can my little heart now break;
As fragmented it giveth forth its screams.

Yet should I be unwilling to accept?
Is it not the case that thou  made me?
So  shall I sin if I thy will reject,
Not knowing how to live and how to be?

The mystery of suffering is too dark
When shall I see thy living golden spark?

So much depends on mood and time of day

We interpret or mis-shape what we perceive.

The sun may shine to show a better way

Or absent that,a transient cloud deceive.

 

No lowing herds wind down our oil fumed  roads.

Tranquillity at dusk has disappeared.

With artificial light the daytime mode’s

 Prolonged and reverie’s  most feared.

 

To   truly live,we must be incarnate. 

God himself has paid the price alone.

For time misspent we do not get rebate.

As,like the leaves in wind,away we’re blown.

 

To live  aright perception must be clear;

Including in its breadth all that we fear.



When our spirit dwells in our body we are incarnate.Some of us don't 
feel we are fully incarnate.The negative view of the body in does not help.