Category: villanelle

Without  love’s consolations in my bed

I have not seen forsythia  glow so bright
The  flowers exult  in yellow on  the shed
Even in the  darkening of the light

 



For many days my mind has  been upset
 I  did not know where  I had lost my head
I have not seen  forsythia glow so bright

 

My eyes were focussed where our terrors bite
Without  love’s consolations in my bed
Even in the  darkening of the light

 

Barbaric words of humans hate incite
As the Prophets sadly  have long said
I have not seen  the sun glow quite so bright

 

The dirty look, the eye so sly, the night
The terror in   our dreams, the bloody heads
Here they come, in  darkness, in our flight

 

Come my dearest,take me as I’m read
By words expressed, the dangers have now fled
I have not seen forsythia  glow so bright
Now  the darkness  dances with the light

Christ came down  as weak as candle light

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

 

 

She drowned in mobile phones which could not speak

Drowned by words whose owner could not speak
Disordered  and untimely they came down
Her   mind had lost its  senses, its critiques

She did not wish to see a world so bleak
She  lay  there  like a fox  on bloody ground
Crowded by the  slobbering hounds  she shrieked

I asked  if Su Doku would bring  her peace
She  beat me with a heavy pan  all round
Her   mind had lost its  pity in her grief

I begged her use a hammer,kill or tease
She  cried  out, oh, my wi fi has gone down
She drowned in mobile phones which could not speak

She begged me  to cook dumplings with the  beef
Atora still make suet, it’s renowned,
Her   mind had lost its  legacies, its reach

I  bought a bunch of roses from a clown
The thorns  a  sharp reminder of  her nouns
Spared the  words  this woman could not speak
Our silence  gave me comfort,  yet I weep

They’ve offered me a job dry cleaning Hell

Hypothermia made me write so well
The pen froze to my hand and would not leave
They’ve offered me a job dry cleaning Hell

Just in case my head should start to swell
I made myself a hat from dried brown leaves
Hypothermia made me write real well

The government is giving us free bells
So they will ring whenever we’re deceived
They’ve offered me a job dry cleaning Hell

Hell is very fiery but with gel
I can get it clean from all disease
Hypothermia made me write,oh very well

I tell a lie, the cold invades my cells
I can’t clean out a bottle in a breeze
They’ve offered me a job dry cleaning Hell

My husband is asthmatic, he can wheeze
He has inhalers as his lungs will tease
Hypothermia made me write so well

They’ve offered me a column, what the hell

The art of doing nothing

The art of doing nothing’s hard to learn
To sit and daydream till we get new thoughts
It’s immoral, say the Puritans reformed

Harder to accept the need to mourn
So many ancient losses strip our hearts.
The art of doing nothing’s hard to learn

The feelings  that seemed hardest to be borne
We could have looked for maps or sought out charts
It’s immoral to seek help  so we’ve been told

Here we weep when our skinned hearts are torn
We fear we may have forfeited love’s balm
The art of doing nothing’s hard to learn

We only know our self when love is born
In another’s eyes we find our calm
Reject the harshness of old Luther’s forms

Fear not death, for there are strong wide arms
God is not a monster who wills harm
The art of doing nothing will prepare
For when we meet one day his welcome stare

The vital line-Picasso

The vital line was drawn with one brush stroke
The way the back leant curving into space
The dance and danger are thus well evoked

Like a play, a drama, fire and smoke
A dance performed so swiftly and with grace
The vital line was drawn with one brush stroke

The heavy bull is pounding,is provoked.
A threat, a man, intrudes into his space
The dance and danger both are still evoked

See, the matador throws out his cloak
A dash of black, and here we see his face
The vital line was drawn with one brush stroke

The mind needs just a hint to see the whole
We fill the present with our past distaste
The dance and danger, mirroring dark smoke

Acting both dramatic and displaced
The artist may still love what he forsakes
The vital line was drawn with one brush stroke
The dance and danger , life and death evoked

Cobblestones and weeds

 

 

DandelionClocks
Image by Mike Flemming.Copyright,

Cracks in pavements,cobbles,gutters,weeds
In the little street  we  children played
While nature fought back, spreading out  wild seeds

Old women reached for grace with rosary beads
When I call.I don’t know what to say
Cracks in pavements,cobbles,gutters,weeds

Neighbours borrowed eggs and helped in need
What was my entire world has shrunk, decayed
Still nature fights back,  flinging out wild seeds

The cobbles have been tarmacked till aggrieved
Here we once enjoyed school holidays
Cracks  for insects,cobbles,gutters,weeds

Girls played  with doll’s prams,boys disagreed
All the world was here, where’s left today?
While nature  blackened, blasting out her seeds

Where are mother,father,oh dismay
I am old and they lie in the clay
Cracks in pavements,cobbles,gutters,weeds
Nature acts still, spreads out flying seeds

 

 

Without your love, I’m nobody I know.

Without your love, I’m nobody I know.
Our conjoined self, dismembered, broke apart
Give me courage on the journey slow

In good times , we may lose our self in flow
To be self-conscious makes shame rule my heart
Without your love, I’m nobody I know.

Do we have no self when partners die?
Bewildered, can I find the way to start
Give me courage on the journey slow

Where is my best path to discover
The way to mend a self, holed by grief’s darts?
Without your gaze, I’m nobody I know

Like a ship strikes rocks deep down below
I risk getting hit without some charts
Give me courage on the journey slow

Will I know myself when new betrothed
To mirrors unfamiliar to me old?
Without your love, I’m nobody I know.
Give me courage in the darkness gross.

Love will need no trick

In my despair I felt that I was stuck
Paralysed by  grief and guilt I failed
By the end I had tried every trick

From prayer unthought to deeps of logic black
My  life, my engine ,juddered off the  rails
I hated God and of “his” Church was  sick

Starving  and alone I was in shock
The death of one I loved   had made me frail
By the end I had tried every trick


I felt  Love’s arms around me, death was blocked
I knew   this goodness,  why else would I wail?
I   thought I hated God  but Love had struck

Warm and golden light  that  did me hold
Where are you now when Evil has grown bold?
Kind despair  that  made me long time sit
By the end I learned Love needs no trick

He is alive

In my dream, I gave birth to a child
The doctor said that he would die quite soon
My feelings overwhelming made me wild

The Nazi doctor threw him on a pile
I lay nearby unmoving as I keened
In my dream,I gave birth to a child

A week passed by,I knew that death beguiled
Frozen lips made no sound, song or tune
My feelings overwhelming made me wild

I had to rise and say my black goodbye.
My baby with the others;horror loomed
In my dream I gave birth to a child

I picked him up , when suddenly he smiled
I held him to my breast, my songs I crooned
My feelings overwhelming drove me wild

I had to carry him, the landscape gloom
A desert grey aand rocky like some moon
In my dream I gave birth to a child

In terror I had walked yet love consoled

What I did not know held me in trust

The grey cloud of unknowing held me fast
I knew reality unsymbolised
I gaped at trees with blossom till it passed

I would have paid no heed to stinging wasps
The strange, lost feeling  blinded heart and eyes
The grey cloud of unknowing held me fast

Is this why girls self harm to feel at last?
Inner pain  too deep to make us cry
I look at trees with blossom, this shall pass

Numbness,nothingness,the  human test
To try  our being ,show our hearts can die
The grey cloud of unknowing taught me fast

Who owns life and whose forefinger traced
The universe, the stars, the earth and sky?
I look at trees with blossom,self effaced

Our  words are maps,our sentences are lace
That weave us into being, all engrossed
The grey cloud of unknowing held me fast
What I did not know held me in trust

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

Oh, gentle Light

I ‘ll try to get it right for one more time
You did not converse with me in words
You were simply present in your Light

Nowhere did I feel your power and might
You were no eagle, but a strong wild bird
I ‘ll try to get it right just one more time.

Who made our language with its subtle rhymes?
The ancient people had their well trained Scribes
You were always there,oh gentle Light

You gave me warmth, you changed my too fixed sight
A comforter , a Spirit, how describe?
I ‘ll try to get it right a final time.

The agony inside me lost its bite
I wanted to go on, to be alive
You do not always show your golden Light

We do not know when we at last arrive
We do not reach this meeting place by strife
I ‘ve tried to get it right this final time
I never saw such Gold until that night

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

 

 

 

The words we heard when we  learned how to swear

The pleated skirts that teachers  used to wear
The tight permed hair, the handbag and the pearls
The words we heard when we  learned how to swear

With words we threw out what we could not bear
Then simpered by the window lips uncoiled
The fleeing minds that we dare not declare

The worst came out and everybody stared
My head was turned, inside my mind  still whirled
The  muck we heard when we first  had to swear

Now we wear   our jeggings, pleats are rare
Yet there’s elegance in skirts that   swirl
Depleted teens  with beauty gone awry

We did some Hardy and into Shakespeare tore
Now we read  Ted Hughes and  Sylvia’s pearls
The  midden  reeks,hate makes the goldfish swear.

The gold rimmed glasses in the mist and murk
The  hairnets, the control, the constrained smirk
The worn out books, the  turning   of the years
The words of joy  and woe, we learn our  prayer

 

 

 

 

Dream like memories

Hollyhocks,delphinium and phlox
Foxgloves,cat mint, nettles,near by docks
The blind man breathed in air full of wild scent
His daughted named the colours now absent

High up on the Kentish cliffs we sat
Capel-le -Ferne I found it on a map
We listened to this girl, we did not speak
Absorbing by our senses,proud and meek

Now I recollect the details very well
In those dream like memories I dwell
Snapdragons growing just beside my chair
I smell the scent as if I were still there

I may be blinded by the tears of loss
But I remember, love, our happiness

Love will need no trick

In my despair I felt that I was stuck
Paralysed by  grief and guilt I failed
By the end I had tried every trick

From prayer unthought to deeps of logic black
My  life, my engine ,juddered off the  rails
I hated God and of “his” Church was  sick

Starving  and alone I was in shock
The death of one I loved   had made me frail
By the end I had tried every trick


I felt  Love’s arms around me, death was blocked
I knew   this goodness,  why else would I wail?
I   thought I hated God  but Love had struck

Warm and golden light  that  did me hold
Where are you now when Evil has grown bold?
Kind despair  that  made me long time sit
By the end I learned Love needs no trick

If we can’t make distinctions, the world does not exist

If everything is relative and nothing’s true or false
We can’t make distinctions, the world does not exist
Meaning leaks out faster than a a list of all our faults

The patient is unconscious but  he/she  has a pulse
Waiting for the Coming of the Saviour or the Beast
But everything is relative and nothing’s true or false

We think  existential problems will be solved by someone else
In the Vomitorium the leaders have their Feast
Meaning leaks out faster by decision or default

The Leader’s being neutered;the people get more tense
Then s/he went to Downing Street  to get themself more pissed
Drunkenness is relative ; the reading’s not the best

There is still  a Dictionary; the words do not make sense
We fall  into chaos but we don’t know Them we’ve missed
Meaning leaks out faster as we  do not love pretence

I went  to have my Orals,but they asked me to desist
Every system’s incomplete,I wrote it on my wrist
If everything is relative and nothing’s true or false
Meaning  has no meaning; what will we all do next?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The gift of sight, fine flowers, blue butterflies

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In my hedge of beech mixed into yew
The wrens have nested,now they learn to fly
I felt my heart grow lighter at this view

When the heart is lifted,that’s a clue
That symbols of new life are coming by
From my hedge of beech mixed into yew

Keeping vision clear,look out and bow
What lives now  must shrink and one day die
I felt my heart ache taking  such a view

With many gifts  we humans are endowed
The gift of sight, fine flowers,  blue butterflies
By my hedge of beech mixed into yew

The gift of tongues, creation of the new
From  sweet Joan Baez to little babies’ cries
I felt my heart swell in my breast anew

Conception, growth,maturity,goodbye
Like the flying star we  shall go far
By my hedge of beech mixed into yew
I felt my heart  beat stronger than I knew

 

 

The wrens

My front hedge is so thick, wrens made a nest
I saw a small bird flying low and swift
With my garden I feel human, blessed

The bonsai beech has grown till almost dense
It has no trunk, the leaves are tiny  gifts
My front hedge is so full, wrens made a nest

My clematis has flowered beyond  all sense
When I looked  I felt my soft heart lift
In my garden, know that I am blessed

In a deep green  wood the eye can rest
Open eyed, a look  must not be fast
My front hedge welcomes wrens ,oh,love,a nest!

Deep happiness connects us  to what’s best
The dark blue sky, the sunset flaming,  brief.
With my garden I feel love, I ‘m blessed

 Be alive, don’t dwell on thoughts too sweet
The natural world   brings virtue  and deceit
My front hedge is so thick, wrens made a nest
These tiny  creatures filled with  love and zest

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

Please teach me how to cry

Daddy, how we missed you when you died
I had not been told when I was five
Come back,Daddy,miss your smiling eyes

We were told that we must never  cry
When the cancer took your earthly life
Daddy, how  you suffered ,then you died

When you wanted company, I tried
I was too articulate to thrive
Come back,Daddy,miss my  Daddy’s  eyes

By the  flower  beds,  you wanted a guide
You wanted me to talk.I  really tried.
Daddy we  fell down a black hole, why d’y die?

You slept all alone, the pain arrived
We slept with our mammy, on your side
Come back,Daddy, don’t you miss my eyes?

I  always hum like you did though I’m shy
You are singing through me, close  and wise
Daddy, we still  miss you and your pride
Come back,Daddy, teach me how  to cry.

 

 

 

Dream like memories

Hollyhocks,delphinium and phlox
Foxgloves,cat mint, nettles,near by docks
The blind man breathed in air full of wild scent
His daughted named the colours now absent

High up on the Kentish cliffs we sat
Capel-le -Ferne I found it on a map
We listened to this girl, we did not speak
Absorbing by our senses,proud and meek

Now I recollect the details very well
In those dream like memories I dwell
Snapdragons growing just beside my chair
I smell the scent as if I were still there

I may be blinded by the tears of loss
But I remember, love, our happiness

Oh, gentle Light

I ‘ll try to get it right just one more time
You did not converse with me in words
You were simply present with your Light

Nowhere did I feel your power and might
You were no eagle, but a little bird
I ‘ll try to get it right just one more time.pp

Who made our language with its subtle rhymes?
The ancient people had their well trained Scribes
You were always there,oh gentle Light

You gave me warmth, you changed my too fixed sight
A comforter , a Spirit, how describe?
I ‘ll try to get it right a final time.

The agony inside me lost its bitep
I wanted to go on, to be alive
You do not always show your golden Light

We do not know when we at last arrive
We do not reach this meeting place by strife
I ‘ve tried to get it right this final time
I never saw such Gold until that night

Now shivering alive

The myriad random movements, words and signs
Inanimate, cold blooded,hot or warm
In mystery make the world, complete, designed

From the stars at night, to needles’ eyes
Every size is present eye to horn
The myriad random movements, words and signs

Yet, not robotic, shivering, alive
Like a human baby when new born
In mystery the world is fresh, designed

So every morning we awake surprised
The dreams we had afflict us like flung stones
The random movements, words and latent signs

Are dreams the truth or can the unknown lie?
Are we subject to their nightly roams?
The mystery is the world makes its designs


As the wild geese land at one in storms
The murmurations of the starlings charm
The myriad random movements, words and signs
In mystery make the world, replete,divine

Bless the hand that points us past the known

I cannot mend the lamp that we both chose
The top and bottom split when  he fell down
But I can make it look as if it glows

The candle burns, has fragrance of a rose
That takes away my sadness and my frown
I cannot mend the lamp that we both chose

I find it hard to  bear the pain of loss
The concept is  more verbal than it’s noun
But in my home  the candle  brightly glows

In Blythburgh church, a lighted candle  bless
See the painted angels and their crowns!
I  will bear this breakage and its cost

I will get the strength to bear my cross
Oh,haul me, holy one, if I fall down.
Beyond  these lights we sense  the Light of God

Bless the hand that points us past the known
Where each of us must travel, perhaps alone
I cannot mend our lamp that we both chose
I  wander in my grief amongst the low

Oh, gentle Light

I ‘ll try to get it right for one more time
You did not converse with me in words
You were simply present in your Light

Nowhere did I feel your power and might
You were no eagle, but a little bird
I ‘ll try to get it right just one more time.

Who made our language with its subtle rhymes?
The ancient people had their well trained Scribes
You were always there,oh gentle Light

You gave me warmth, you changed my too fixed sight
A comforter , a Spirit, how describe?
I ‘ll try to get it right a final time.

The agony inside me lost its bite
I wanted to go on, to be alive
You do not always show your golden Light

We do not know when we at last arrive
We do not reach this meeting place by strife
I ‘ve tried to get it right this final time
I never saw such Gold until that night

Bless the hand that points us past the known

I cannot mend the lamp that we both chose
The top and bottom split when  he fell down
But I can make it look as if it glows

The candle burns, has fragrance of a rose
That takes away my sadness and my frown
I cannot mend the lamp that we both chose

I find it hard to  bear the pain of loss
The concept is  more verbal than it’s noun
But in my home  the candle  brightly glows

In Blythburgh church, a lighted candle  bless
See the painted angels and their crowns!
I  will bear this breakage and its cost

I will get the strength to bear my cross
Oh,haul me, holy one, if I fall down.
Beyond  these lights we sense  the Light of God

Bless the hand that points us past the known
Where each of us must travel, perhaps alone
I cannot mend our lamp that we both chose
I  wander in my grief amongst the low

Now shivering alive

The myriad random movements, words and signs
Inanimate, cold blooded,hot or warm
In mystery make the world, complete, designed

From the stars at night, to needles’ eyes
Every size is present eye to horn
The myriad random movements, words and signs

Yet, not robotic, shivering, alive
Like a human baby when new born
In mystery the world is fresh, designed

So every morning we awake surprised
The dreams we had afflict us like flung stones
The random movements, words and latent signs

Are dreams the truth or can the unknown lie?
Are we subject to their nightly roams?
The mystery is the world makes its designs


As the wild geese land at one in storms
The murmurations of the starlings charm
The myriad random movements, words and signs
In mystery make the world, replete,divine

The vital line

The vital line was drawn with one brush stroke
The way the back leant curving into space
The dance and danger are thus well evoked

Like a play, a drama, fire and smoke
A dance performed so swiftly and with grace
The vital line was drawn with one brush stroke

The heavy bull is pounding,is provoked.
A threat, a man, intrudes into his space
The dance and danger both are still evoked

See, the matador throws out his cloak
A dash of black, and here we see his face
The vital line was drawn with one brush stroke

The mind needs just a hint to see the whole
We fill the present with our past distaste
The dance and danger, mirroring dark smoke

Acting both dramatic and displaced
The artist may still love what he forsakes
The vital line was drawn with one brush stroke
The dance and danger , life and death evoked

Some shelled shore

Walking to the bus stop from our door
We fell into a subtle harmony 
Like little children   dawdling  on the shore

No haste, no chiding, wanting nothing more
Like swimming in a balmy pale blue sea
Or walking to the bus stop from our door

Who is known and which one is the knower?
What is here and what is yet to be
For little children   dawdling  on the shore?

Setting aspirations ever lower
No competing, rush nor victory
Just walking to the bus stop from our door

Though human   who gave us creative power?
Who has loved and who evoked in  me
The feel  of   dawdling  on the sea, the shore?

Who  hears the sorrow, plangent , of the sea
Where earth and stars  reflect  so rhythmically
Walking with you touching nevermore
Oh, that I were with  you on some shelled shore