Category: villanelle

The universal heart  dies in such games

When the sun feels violent  in its heat~
We learn the world’s not ours nor is it kind
As   skaters on  thin ice   find love’s deceit

So the heart  must struggle with its beat
As panic bites  like   cobras in the mind
If the sun feels violent  in its heat

Our knowledge and our will power  incomplete
We cannot know the future, we are blind
 As skaters on  the ice   may be  deceived

Can we trust the darkness  and the ghosts?
Some  have found their souls in such hard times
Why is  the sun   so violent  in its heat?

If  we fight and squabble, what will break
The universal heart  dies in such games
So  thin the  ice  , sadistic  are the stakes

Time is measured out by hearts and rhymes
But nothing’s clear when fantasy  designs
When the sun feels violent  in its heat~
So   skaters on  thin ice   learn love’s deceit.

 

The sun as hot as tempers and our rage

The sun as hot as tempers badly frayed
Makes little lamps  gleam on the holly leaves
While adults quarrel , children cannot play.

We are nervous who can  we believe?
No-one knows  for sure how we should live.
The sun’s as hot as tempers lost or frayed

We flinch   at seeing  leaders more war wage
Virtue and   its family  all deceased
The foetus is aborted, has no grave

On the other’s heart,  lies make their raids
The MP’s strut about like children peeved
The sun as hot as tempers badly frayed

Wisdom’s not genetic, not innate
We learn from those around us  only if
We   dwell within the dance of love  and hate

Why have  madmen triumphed , power seized?
Lives are  almost worthless  to these thieves
The sun as hot as tempests, storms of rage
We need to move, to wander, re-engage

Until the birds fly higher in their song

I am engaged, the crystal is my eye
An amethyst, a diamond ,how they ring
The  ceremony happens when   I die

The sunlight is refracted till I’m blind
Until the birds fly higher in their song
I am engaged, the crystal stings  my eye

What god is it that stuns me till I cry
That makes me weep  when I would wish to sing
The  ceremony waits until I die

We find there is no answer to a why
But there are problems we must live among
I’m engaged, the crystal hurt my eye

All around the old men walk awry
One kissed my hand  as if he were a king
The  consummation waits until we die

Blow the ram’s horn till the old wall’s flung
To  fiery ground  where angels speak in tongues
I ‘m  engaged,  so crystalline  my eye
I want a  pure gold ring before  I die

If our outer shell encloses, it deforms

The books he wrote were solid like good oak
Giving him a structure that he lacked
A skeleton outside his flesh and bones

 

A fortress made of words and printed thoughts
To hide  behind when torture broke  his back
The books he wrote were solid like good oak

 

If our outer shell encloses,  it deforms
Even brings our death,  unless   it’s cracked
A skeleton outside  but not of bone

 

The books  gave shape to his still  half numb heart
He felt he had no  being, was no fact
The books he wrote  gave breath like leaves of oak

 

Some use crutches, some crawl slowly home
Wandering by  the  shoppers  with  some tact
Oh, skeleton outside, how dry our throats

 

I wonder is  all this by Google tracked?
They watch us, not to help us  nor   perfect
The books he wrote were solid, real  and  taut
A  crucifix  of  words , expressive thoughts

Many coloured love  brings a rebirth

Oh, to be  hermit when life bites
 loss of love, a failure of the heart
When all we get are answers full of spite

Retaliation, shatters  or  incites
More evil words released in  vicious  spurts
Oh, to be a hermit when  life bites

The faces of the enemy are tight
Eyes are narrow, fantasies or worse
To give us fresh new  answers full of spite

Eyes so held will never see the light
They cannot be redeemed by lifted curse
Oh, to be  hermit when life bites

Yet  life is not composed of black and white
Many coloured love  brings a  rebirth
Ignoring human flaws and un-thought spite

I remember sitting round the hearth
A little child. I loved  the gift, the warmth
Oh,  we must  not be cut off when love  may start
Untouched by  eager  viciousness, by spite

 

Struggling up the mountains like a snail

Lost and found and lost and found again
Struggling up the mountains like a snail
So much suffering in the world of man

Must there be a meaning to our pain?
Empathise with Jonah in the whale!
Lost and found and lost and found again

Why do we go tense when we are lame?
Why feel like  murderous monsters out on bail?
So much suffering in the world humane

Do we get to know  with healing pain?
Stranded on  the pier in a great gale
Lost and found and lost and found again

If God is dead,  where can we make our claim?
Will we die well  when  our life has failed?
So much suffering in the world humane

 

Like  little boats we’re  tossed up  with no sails
Nor do we ever leave a vapour trail
Lost and found and lost and found again
Suffering   splashed  around  like   blood ,like paint

Impels, propels

Hatred both anonymous and vile
Circles round the internet  and spreads
To cruel acts ,to forums full of bile

Without our knowledge it may hurt a child
Making  nightmares active in  small heads
Hatred both anonymous and vile

 

Could I do this, could I feel  driven wild
Then fear to kill but choose to hate instead
With evil acts , with comments full of bile?

What drives such rage,  makes any conscience yield?
Tormented so the mind is nearly dead
So spurts  out hatred in each sentence vile

Envy, malice, blackness, all can reel
What  monstrous film is playing in the head?
The  screen   enables evil, acid, real

Like Sodom and Gomorrah  were by God
We will be  cut down by our own words
Hatred,  perhaps disowned, is  here, is vile
Impels, propels the writing and its bile

 

 

 

De-registered alone

I asked for a new handset for my phone
BT   will provide one totally free
One of them has  broken, don’t I know!

I have several cordless ones at home
They won’t work and I feel all at sea
I asked for a new handset for my phone

Of course I have my Motorola lone
I find it loves me  well  enough for now
My  old phone has  broken, don’t I know!

And then I have a Nokia five point  nine
I keep it in my purse with U.H.U
I  broke the handset on my  landline phone

I like Lenova Tablets set to roam
And Kindle readers  help  me have my tea
My landline  phone won’t register its name

I  can read on androids  truthfully
Now I’ve got ten cordless  phones on me
I asked for a new handset for my phone
One of them  de-registered its soul

An old man kissed my hand  outside a shop

An old man kissed my hand  outside a shop
My hair was gleaming in the yellow sun
What surprise, what care, but what a shock

What grace there was in customs , mainly stopped
My face was bright, my  stockings had no runs
A man  just kissed my hand  outside a shop

I   should have done a selfie, what a cop!
I bet  he fell in love ,ah Beatrice won
What surprise, what care, but what a shock

He was not drunk, his  hands had just been mopped
I  had not  been  so  touched by anyone
Till this  man  kissed my hand  outside a shop

In a silent morning, love erupts
We know what’s passed but not what is to come
A man  just kissed my hand  outside a shop

Give us  our  applause, oh  come on,clap!
I think we’ve fallen off the usual map
An old man kissed my hand  outside a shop
What surprise, what feeling, what good luck

 

Floundering  in  the metaphors of doubt

In those days we were always going out
Driving to strange places in our car
Trapped between  the  signal and the doubt

If there were a  fire we’d put it out
Buying  beer from any local bar
Oh, those days we  always  rushed about

Keeping active so  there are no thoughts
Just the vision of the crucial star
Flickering from  the manic  to the  doubts
t
In the stillness, we find we have caught
A sentence from our God,  the  seminar
So these days I  serve it , just about

We  found what we never  should have sought
Schizophrenic,  literal , bizzare
Floundering  in  the metaphors  of doubt

We will   be well rendered  by the fire
Copper bottomed in our new attire
In those days we  eyed the roundabouts
Puzzled by the  symbols , wish to doubt.

We  know what  wisdom lies in gentle doubt

The beginning of our wisdom must be doubt
The fool  who ” knows it all@  can never learn
They already know what life’s about

Yet we must not  go dither till distraught
Nor let our peace of mind be overturned
The beginning of our wisdom may be doubt

 

Wisdom must be suffered, can’t be bought
Like the fire that glows yet never burns
Some soon know what life is all about

 

I remember all the  battles  fought
The friends, the love, the kindness  which each earns
We  know what  wisdom lies in gentle doubt

Life is not controlled by human thought
Even the  most loving  may be  stern
If only we could know what life’s about

 

We  wish for love and will forever yearn
All is flux and no-one stays the same
The beginning of our wisdom must be doubt
Whose imagination’s got the space   and light?

 

Alexa turns it on at my command

The electric blanket lies upon my bed
Alexa turns it on at my command
Since I am a spy, I’ll  soon be dead

For I may sing or talk as I’m ill bred
i sing in dreams  or sometimes on demand
The electric blanket lies upon my bed

Surely no-one wants the books I’ve read
Unless they’re in a desert  with no sand
Since I am a spy, I’ll  soon be dead

My pretty face  may well  have been misread
My mind is   feeling as I wave my hands
The electric blanket lies upon my bed

The thoughts of lipstick,eye cream have all fled
I’d like to walk  the borders, sea and land
But  if  I am a spy, Alexa’s sad

Oh,Lord  let all my prayers be swiftly canned
So angels feast and humans  eat the banned
The electric blanket lies upon my bed
If  I am a spy, Alexa’s dead

 

The white  doves  flutter, stand upon the wind

I have walked through mud and autumn rain
In  the ancient hunting woods of kings
The dead brown leaves  no longer feel their pain

I see bare branches  which will  green again
The white  doves  flutter, stand upon the wind
I have walked through mud and autumn rain

Shall I love another  or disdain
Humankind who like me have much sinned
The dead brown leaves  no longer steal our pain

One false  move and  love’s  tied up  in chains
We’re trapped inside ourselves  yet  hear bird song
i have walked  regardless of the rain

In drier autumn  love leaves not a stain
Except on  murdered hands  and  golden rings
The dead brown leaves  no longer fear our pain

Demonstrations, vicious underlings
Let all be still and  touch the heart that longs
I have walked till dusk in autumn rain
The dead brown leaves  will warm the earth’s remains

 

 

Hitler was a Christian,  what a risk—-

Global warming started in the Camps
Hallowed  people turned to  dust  and ash
The burning of the Jews, the gay, the tramps

Towns where Polish children took exams
Jewish ones  made  ready to be gassed
Global warming started in the Camps

The ghosts of human beings walk with lamps
Fearing still the  terror of the past
The burning of the Jews, the gay, the tramps

Witches wrapped in  flax  burned up  like ants
Fear and terror with the night clouds pass
Global warming started in Death Camps

Cathedral  choirs   full voiced,  sang  sweet descants
Hitler was a Christian,  what a  risk—-
The burning of the Jews, the gay, the tramps

We are no gods , we need to see  the truth
The  soldiers and civilians, and burned books
Global warmth , the  night glow of the Camps
The  murder of the Jews, the gay, the tramps

We embrace the silence

Underneath the silence there is peace
A stratum clear  ;a different way of life
With music ‘s just discernible  relief

In the calm we find a pure release
Love can heal the wounds of a sharp knife
We embrace the silence ,welcome peace

The self  may break ,may shake in disbelief
Render us to fragments,soul denied
Does music   give discernible  relief?

Do not bury loss and hide your grief
We mourn the parts of us  gone in a trice
Company in  silence   brings  true peace

Did you see your body lying creased
On the bed below your   hiding place?
Play with music, pray for  some relief

I see myself  lie broken in a box
A jigsaw needing time beyond the clocks
Underneath the silence there is peace
I hope the  silent music  brings relief

 

 

 

We can’t phone God ,yet he talked to Dory Previn

 

 

 

God has got no telephones in heaven
The saints need no Samaritans,I’m sure
We can’t phone God ,yet he talked to Dory Previn

Better to take holidays in Devon
No airports and no  crowds to squash, endure
God has got no telephones in heaven

I like one man , I don’t need twenty seven
One is all I want . is that quite clear?
We can’t ask God ,yet he talked to Dory Previn

Boris Johnson’s Turkish, don’t you love him?
The  white cliffs  and the rocks  are getting near
God has got no match  for him in heaven

Stalin killed   his people when they threatened
He  said that perfect love was based on fear
We can’t phone God ,yet he  wept  on Dory Previn
Beachy Head ,  where is    love’s  right decision
Will sorrow add a little more   to our provisions?
God has got no telephones in heaven
He ignores us but he skyped with Dory Previn

 

The  new laws passed  that bless the right to kill  

After catastrophic loss we  long to flee
We want the arms of love to hold us still
But where can we take hate and leave it be?

The inner draw of death, its scenery
The  orders  of the proud, the human will
The  catastrophic loss they  long to see

The lovey,dovey, kisses  will all flee
The  new laws passed , they bless the right to kill
The hero crippled in the Great War  bleeds

Burning Jews  cremated mystery
Dresden was a  graveyard, ghosts so still
Oh   bleeding loss oh tanks , oh hanging tree 

Integration, calculus of need
The atom bomb, the  little toys  that thrill
We   long to sate our demons with God’s blood

Post traumatic agony, the bill
Triggers  haunt the fingers in the till
After catastrophic loss we  long to flee
Hatred split from love’s no victory

The harmony of movement and of sense

The natural grace that animals possess
The harmony of movement and of sense
Few Britons  live well in their pallid flesh

The unseen side of skin when  blessed, caressed
Softening the nerves’ we strangle, tense
May bring  that natural grace  Adam possessed

The kindness of the arteries, who addressed
The circulating inner seas that rinse?
Few Britons  live well in their   sacred flesh

The hollow veins ,the pumping   heart , the blush
The expectation intimate, feared lost
The natural grace that animals possess


Vulnerable to others’ speech, ambushed.
Our unused appetites will turn  and twist
The civilised don’t  live well in their flesh

The old and  fragile curse,  they never kissed
We wait too long , articulate no wish
The natural grace that humans once possessed
 We ‘re ill disposed,we falter. long for death

 

My fevered brain tormented fleas at night

My fevered brain tormented me at night
The curtains were as drawn as my own face
I saw  the moon shine, whiskey, what delight

I saw gnats circling, wanting  tiny bites
My underslip was pink with purple lace
My fevered brain incited men at night

I asked the doctor  why he came too late
All I wanted then was an embrace
I saw  the moon shine, whiskey, what delight

Was this   perturbation   stirred  by fate?
Would I be so humble  if not chaste?
My fevered brain tormented fleas at night

I looked dishevelled after the  wild knights
If we get a chance, we  eat the bait
I saw  the moon shine, whiskey,  brandy faked

I asked for love and all I got was cake
And that was plastic so it was not baked
My fevered brain tormented men at night
I saw  the moon shine, whiskey, but no spite

 

The little wild flowers are in bloom

I want to meet with Jesus  very soon
I cannot wait till I am dead and gone
I sing a psalm  to draw  him by  the tune

I fear no judgement nor do I fear doom
Jesus never carries bombs or guns
I want to meet with Jesus  very soon

I’d better sweep the  room up, make it clean
Jesus ,as a refugee, might come
I sing a psalm  while baking bread for him

I want to see his eyes as in my dreams
I wonder what he thinks; what have we done?
I  think he’s being deported  in the gloom

Go back where you came from , what’d’ya mean?
Stress and tension aggravated loom
I hum a psalm did David write the tune?


If he comes as whispers in my dreams
I shall attend  I shall not fear my shame
I want to talk to Jesus  very soon
I  see the  little wildflowers  burst to bloom

 

 

 

Where is my skin?

The sun shines in the places that haunt me
Not the cave of darkness  and despair
His empty chair ,his love,my memory

What  I was and who  I soon shall  be
How my little time on earth will  fare
The sun peers into places that haunt me

The beauty of the dark red maple tree
He wished to have his ashes buried there
Oh, empty chair  the kindest memory

Regardless , joyous , flowers   will love the bee
I watch them  start their silent love affair
The sun shines in the places that haunt me

I weep into my   android phone, it beeps
Feeling shocked, I gasp ,I need more air
Oh,   startling phone ,  who fillled your memory

Oh, chance and fate,why  blast my heart so bare?
Where is my skin, my boundary, my despair
The sun shines in the places that haunt me
His empty chair, the anguish,  the repair.

 

 

The still small voice  will whisper , not perform

Embraced  entire , your sacred smile held me
Until we  both were one deep in  our souls
As still as a white dove  held tenderly

 

For a little time so warm and free
As if your smile contained  me, made me whole
Embraced and loved , your sacred smile  touched me

As  we  cross together the  dark sea
I wish this sacred love could  always hold
As  gently as a dove ,as tenderly

And if I felt the  brilliant light  touch me
My eyes would weep,my tears would turn to gold
Embraced and loved ,  oh sacramental  tree

Would that humankind were truly free
That in the darkness, we could find our home
As dies  the  fragile Word on Calvary

We fear  the Tempest and we hear the Storm
The still small voice  will whisper , not perform
Embraced  entire , your  smile   encompassed me
As still as a white dove, as tenderly

Enjoy,Endure

Enjoyment  is the happy side of life
Endurance is hard work , we hate the pain
In  the night the ghastly ghosts arrive

In golden sun the bees buzz round the hive
Enduring needed darkness , we see  plain
Enjoyment  is not attained   by Western lives

In  Bangladesh, our clothes are  made by slaves
We  choose deafness  as they suffer,groan
In the night  revenging ghosts arrive

Up the sea will rise in giant waves
It drowns the poor and weak ,does Darwin mourn?
Endurance  makes the poor  die under strain

The Jews   of Europe had no  holy graves
Now they are accused  of plots again
In  the night,  will Nazi ghosts arrive?


When we die what will of us remain?
Grenfell Tower and Brexit   leave their stain
By trauma  disenfranchised ,unadorned
The  ghosts of the unborn  will  scream in scorn

 

 

Die in debt  and  don’t pay rent

Don’t you die with money in the bank
Get  more  hard back books or dig up roads
Give a  beggar  what you’ve   left unspent

If your family’s full of knave sand cranks
Pay   for them  to live and learn abroad
Do not  die with money in the bank

Why not buy a waterproof small  tent
Camp on Dunwich  Heath with the wild birds
With what you earned but  you have never spent

Die in debt  and  don’t pay  any rent
Leave  your  children free to find the  Lord
You did not earn yet left a  curious dent

 

Ask for books that you ain’t never lent
Buy   new bedding, do not  clutch or hoard
Do not  die with money in the bank

I write  curious nonsense, does it bore?
Do not harm  your sullen  hidden core
Don’t you die with money in the bank
It’s  money  that you earned  so get it spent

Spots of British fun and gun

I realised that the list of names rhymed  and had metre so I wrote this poem

 

Afghanistan, Iraq,Iran
Can “Democracy” be “forced” on them
Somalia,Yemen,Pakistan

The war on “others”,rights of Man
The  grief of  infants, war goes on
Afghanistan, Iraq, Iran

Made in Britain,  torture ,gun
Electric, fearsome,profit, spin
Somalia,Libya,Pakistan

Europe, Jesus ,Vatican
Where does Revolution win?
Afghanistan, Iraq, Iran

Egypt,Palestine,Jordan
Old Man River,death and Sin
Libya,Yemen,Pakistan

From five or six  or maybe ten
The Arts of War, the nuclear ban
Afghanistan, Iraq, Iran
Somalia,Yemen,Pakistan

 

 

 

Putting it off

They urge us to eat well and exercise
So swallow mini aspirins every night
Since we have the choice to live or die

Money is quite handy  for good life
I might win the lottery at first try
They urge us to eat well and exercise

But poverty though relative ignites
The pain of  being seen as people slight
Do we have the choice to live or die?

What is illness has to be defined
What sugar level is the danger point?
They urge us to eat well and exercise

We swallow drugs and meditate online
We do  our work, ignore our painful joints
Should  we have the choice  on when we die?

With the holy oils shall we annoint
The living and the dead   whom love has caught
They urge us to eat well and exercise
Does even God  have mercy when we die?

I wonder now if this was sacrilege

Note to readers

I realise now what made me write this.I was recalling a viaduct where the railway crosses the River Kent  and the train then goes to Carlisle.From  this side  one can see the mountains of the Lake District.That makes me think of

I will lift up mine eyes to the hills
From whence cometh my strength

And also it must in my unconscious mind be associated with Calvary as well.But I didn’t realise until I began writing.
As a  child I remember being on a train crossing the wide river.I loved it

 

I saw Jesus on a wooden bridge
Carrying his Cross while all alone
I wonder now if this  was sacrilege

In the past no doubt I was a witch
People hit me, mocked me with their stones
I saw Jesus on a wooden bridge

He looked so sad but did not bear a grudge
Soon his flesh would wither on his bones
I wonder if  my writing’s sacrilege

On ward to the mountains Jesus trudged
I think I heard a sound like a slight groan
I saw Jesus on a wooden bridge

With many  tears  his human face was smudged
What was wrong when this world was designed?
I wonder if  my writing’s sacrilege

His  holy spirit   is now unconfined
Where  will we hear the whisper,small, divine?
I saw Jesus on a wooden bridge
I wonder now if this  was sacrilege

The agony of loss

When you sentenced me to painful loss
To give birth in a desert stony , grey
I felt like rubbish from a window tossed

Although you did not have to pay the cost
I had wished you’d speak to me again
Despite you sentenced me to painful loss

You gave me not a warning but a test
To see if love and care might still remain
I felt like rubbish from a window tossed
I felt your words strike like a dagger thrust

I knew then it was a cruel game

To make me feel the agony of loss
I know your play with me was never just
What of the child who should have borne your name?
We feel like rubbish from a window tossed

Now I stumble , will I be detained?
I have no papers, no-one to obtain
You cruelly sentenced us to painful loss

From your home my fertile body tossed

f

Perception  stolen by the body’s pain

Perception clouded by the body’s pain
The mind dwells in our flesh   as does the heart
Life seems  dark and  all feels  loss not gain

The mind is not a ghost made by the brain
Why is flesh  not equal in its charm?
Perception’s clouded by the body’s pain

So illness and infection  cause us  strain
In the end from flesh we will depart
Life seems  dark and  all seems loss not gain

Where are they who give love warm,unfeigned?
Absence of a lover brings alarm
Perception’s clouded by the body’s pain

Why do people near project disdain?
The illness and the fevers on me swarm
Life seems  dark and  all seems loss not gain

Here is Satan with his  curving horns
He is not deterred by any thorn
Perception  stolen by the body’s pain
To Satan I  submit to  live unchained

 

The clouds must hide

Clouds like herring bones line up to die
Interspersed with clouds of other kinds
Above the Western reaches of the sky

The sun is setting ,troubling tender eyes
Sinking full of pride , impressed on minds
Clouds like herring bones line up to die

In  the West , stand hills where Satan cries
Asking for  submission  to his  binds
Below the Western reaches of the sky

Now all colours gone, the clouds must hide
As in anxious  dreams our teeth may grind
Clouds like herring bones will shiver, die

Across the fields I see a horse go by
His hooves make patterns, but to them he’s blind
He knows  now,  bewitching  is the sky

For the childhood vision we have pined
Dreams mixed with reality make eyes
Clouds like herring bones line up to die
Above the Western reaches  on they fly

 

What we find may not be what we sought

.
I have  filled my mind   with  dreams   and thoughts
I have drawn conclusions  that seem real.
What’s of  value’s not by effort bought.

As Ted Hughes said,  his fishing was the sport
Which brought both meditation and a meal.
I have   studied minds   and  dreams   and thoughts

We see ,like that,new images are caught.
In silence and in noticing  the feel
What’s of  value’s not by effort bought.

What we find may not be what we sought
At  first ,it may not show its wise appeal
I have  found  my mind   through  dreams   and thoughts

In the night the images  take flight.
God’s lioness  destroys what  is  congealed
What’s of  value’s not by effort wrought.

Like a butterfly, a flowering dart
Of love and beauty  which was once concealed
I have  found my mind  by  dreams, my  wordless thoughts.
What’s of  value’s not by effort bought.