Category: villanelle

Words benign

The gap between experience and words-
Should any person be reduced to signs?
A hint, a sigh, a flight, a  little bird

Who ought express  in lines what has  occurred ?
            Does the  bloodied heart  weep words benign-
The gap between experience and words

A line distinct, a line that is too blurred
What impact can this have on a design?
Which  hint,  which sight,  which  flight, will kill the bird?

The sentence  well constructed has its flair
Yet  to the  void   much feeling   is consigned
That gulf between experience and words

Who tore  apart the meaning  we  hoped shared?
So now to nothingness we are resigned
No hint, no sigh,  no flight, no  little bird

With   whose filters  may  we be refined?
Who shelters souls that others have declined?
The gap between experience and words-
A hint, a sigh, a flight, the   shining bird

 

 

The affections of the heart

Listen with your ears and with your skin
Feel the other gently in your mind
Felt sensations show where to begin

The senses are  connected, interlinked
In subtle ways we do not understand
Listen with your ears and with your skin

In conversation  neither one can win
We keep a balance as on deck inclined
Felt sensations show where to begin

The evidence  is subtle  even  thin
On the sea of life we leave dry land
The boat is  tossed about like mortal sin

Neglect not now the affections of the heart
Love can be ignored or never taught
Listen with your ears and with your skin
Sensations, feelings ,hearing, vision

 

 

And bless

From Ausschwitz rose not only leaking gas
But also  ash from Jews and recent dead
But  rose the holy souls  of those who  had just passed

In the  great Cathedrals  priests said Mass
Turned the host  to Jesus , ate  the Bread
From Auschwitz rose not only leaking gas 

What use is worship, prayer,  can the good last?
What can Christian minds do when we’re mad ?
Oh,see  the holy souls   weep as they pass

Bodies piled in heaps  no human trust
Jesus needs  salvation ,God is dead
In Auschwitz   human beings  gassed ,now dust

Eat your dinner,Daddy,   keep abreast
You worked hard , a Nazi,  gas,  fire, blood
The holy souls fly on, they find no rest

We think that we are better  than a God
For he permitted sin, Job understood
From Auschwitz rose not only  smoke and gas
But holy  souls oh,  find their bones and bless

 

 

I forgave him everything last year

My brother kindly set my hair on fire
He stole my food  from off the plate   or floor
So for a man I  had repessed desire

He took me fishing in a pond close by
I loved him very much,indeed adored
My brother madly set my hair on fire

We went in  disused brick kilns, we were spies.
Of his company  I never  tired
Yet for  new men I feel not much desire

Now his time has come and soon he’ll die
I forgave him everything last year
His voice is weak, he thanked me  and I cried

I did not plan forgiveness  nor to lie
“God ” filled  me with love ,  our lives restored
Yet for new brothers I   feel  some  desire

Who left Daddy’s matchsticks near my boy?
He could  not know he would destroy my hair
My brother hurt me, set my hair on fire
We choose to love until we  both expire

 

 

 

 

I’ve got migraine in my heart

I’ve got migraine in my heart
Spasms of grief  constrain the flow
The poor go down and the rich depart

I just looked at my shopping cart
The tower blocks lean, the street lights glow
I’ve got migraine in my heart

I’ve got eggs and milk and tarts
The poor can’t sleep  and their children snore
The poor go down and the rich depart

The teachers wish their work  could start
The benefits  system  overflows
I  felt pandemonium in my heart

In the sky  are  UFO’s
Where they go to I  may know
I’ve got migraine in my heart
The poor downtrodden, oh, damn  you Marx

 

Reason was  no aid in that dead wood

I walked,I stumbled where I’d never been
No friend nor ally  guided me  nor could
In the  mesmerising  agony of grief

Wandering like an outcast ,  never queen
Reason was  no aid in that dead wood
I wandered  through the shadows of my  dreams

I felt the ground beneath me swirl and seethe
As if to kill me too or spill my blood
In the desolate place  of  darkness deep 

Rosemary,remembrance, flowering wreaths
Inside the  human heart  will mercy   flood?
I wandered  where to love would be obscene

But in the arctic wastes , surprised by  good
In late winter trees will start bud
I wandered  on until my heart revived
From that place of peril came new life

Evoked  death sentences  while still unborn

Oh,mother was it my fault I was born?
You conceived me in a country waging war
So once for sure you did not sleep alone

I was too thin, the doctor was alarmed
My sin of prematurity was scored
Oh,mother was it my fault I was born?

Thank you for your milk, your breast, my home
In sadness wish you’d loved me or adored
Dad  once said  you did not sleep alone

I could not be an infant, was forlorn
While  you weaned me  in my rage I bawled
Oh,mother, why the judgement  of love scorned?

I frightened  you by   reading  minds  and bones
Evoked  death sentences  while still unborn
I’m glad you did not  always sleep alone

Why keep knocking  on the oven door?
Sylvia Plath  used gas ,that Nazi porn
Oh,mother  reason  can’t  prove I was born
But you helped  the human race   and kept some warm

 

 

 

Oh,summer comes to to please

The year will rise as sap does in the trees
Bringing life back,giving us new heart
As Bees wll hover, humming  on the breeze

In February frost, the sap may freeze
But soon the higher sun makes life restart
The year will rise as sap breaks gravity

But in hypnotic worlds who should believe
The utterance of the leaders, graphs and charts?
Still Bees will hover, humming under trees

By summer we hope viruses will leave
And leaders false should quickly  be pushed out
The year will rise as sap does in the trees

Let us hope no Fascists  more deceive
Do we believe the voters are not smart?
Though Bees shall hover, humming mysteries

In the sky we see the swallows dart
Possessions tie us down, our souls cry  out
Oh, year rise now as sap does in the trees
As Bees will hover, humming symphonies

Few resist 

Why would wealthy Europe world wars fight
While Popes in cloth  of gold  writhed  as they sinned?
Few resist  the diamonds for the Light

Ambivalent love   split,  what sight  could  be found
When we spend too much time with our own kin
Missed experience shapes our eyes and minds

Those who cannot see, the wholly blind
Feel their deep emotion and may win
Love was offered  then returned as  Strikes

Yet in cultured Europe God has  died
We waged war with ardour, this was sin
Desire  overwhelms our eyes , oh  god, oh plight

Fell three Empires,states unplanned designed
Christians fought each other with new guns
So love was   never offered, simply feigned

In the eyes of infants light is dim
Wars are  made by  pschopaths at whim
Why would    proud, glad  Europe world wars fight?
Few resist   tempation , black the Light

What we do depends on what we see.

What we do depends on what we see.
By writing, I can change my own fixed view
Gain perspective, focus less on me

And to others, make an simple  plea
We can look again and see anew
What we do depends on what we see.

How the world is, how it ought to be
In my writing, I make my own review
Gain perspective, focus less on me.

Replace the  “ought” by “possibility.”
A little change beats crying, feeling blue
What we do depends on what we see.

If God exists, will she with me agree?
No doubt she’d have a wider, higher view
And share perception with someone like you

Would our world be shared by love, virtue.
A willingness to wish ,desire the true
What we do depends on what we see.
Perspective, focus, possibility

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 what she may crave
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

Bitterly sweet lockdown

drawing-genrleman
I confess to doing this funny little drawing ,Katherine

We  loved each other lately  life was sweet
Till lockdown ,isolation , iron walls
So we’ll have to speak .oh we’ll have to speak
From the opposite side of the street

We  hoped we’d live a while   before the grief
As we said on our long  video calls
We  loved each other, we loved to love each other
So our lives were  bitterly sweet

We longed to touch, to hug , to kiss at least
But unlike cats  we would not caterwaul
Now we’ll have to  feel , oh, we’ll have to kneel
On the opposite side of the street

We may be wrinkled with  bright yellow teeth
It has been known for  both of us to fall
We  love each other, yeah we love each other
For old age is not a defeat

We  loved   our neighbours, even those deceased
We’ve had  hard times but none that bit so deep
How can we   feel ,oha how can we feel
On the opposite side of the street?

I wanted you beside me when we sleep
I’ve even bought us fifty five new sheets
We  love each other, yes, we love each other
So our life is succulent, sweet
But how can we   touch, how can we  keep in touch
From the opposite side of the street?

 

 

 

Even in  the rain, light gave him joy

The first warm days, the birds sing in their nests
So brilliant is the sun it seems new born
In the shady green I take my rest

The art of living cannot be a test
Nor can it leave a lover all forlorn
The first warm days, the birds sing in their nests

When surprised by joy, we regain zest
Despite the costs of living and its storms
In the shady green let’s take a rest

Before he died,  he sat,he gazed  out West
Even in  the rain, light gave him joy
The bright, warm days, the birds sing in their nests

I remember Arnside, green and blessed
The hills across  the bay where we  have climbed
In the shady green let’s  dream and rest

In our childhood there the patterns form
Hope  to harvest now the rich, ripe corn
The clear blue  days, the birds  keep warm their nest
In the shades of Arnside  let me rest

 

So poignant

When you gave me that last smile  I knew
You were on the way to Paradise
My  singing voice had brought great peace to you

Sitting in a place in A and E
Quietly waiting, watching your closed eyes
You gave me that last smile  and winked at me!

You never changed, your humour was not new
Winking at the ladies undisguised
My   little voice had brought great peace to you

I felt embarrassed by the crowd I drew
In Suffolk  I could  have sung till I near died
When you gave your  smile I  guess I knew

Inside I felt a pain that pierced me through
I  felt it poignant like a bird’s first flight
My  singing voice had elevated  you

In  old Hunstanton  we walked  sands   near white
In Wells  we saw   both  dawn and sunset’s light
For   confiding with  your smiles,  may I thank you?
I wish we were on long pale sands anew

 

 

 

Wondering, I wander underground

In my dreams I wander round  and round
Searching for that car park   by the lake
Wondering if  the lost are ever found

There is often silence or birdsong
I wonder which new footpath I shall take
In my dreams I wander round and round

Haphazard  as the  footsteps of a clown
Looking for  the works of William Blake
Wondering if  the past   will  ever hound

I see you  struggle ,walking on wet  ground
You’d like some coffee and a piece of cake
In my dreams we wander round and round

Darling, shall I  never hold your hand?
We got into rhythms pure and strange
Wandering  through the past  we  never found

What was  the space of love   that made us ache
Fragile like  the    crystalline   snowflakes
In my dreams I wander round  and round
Can I change my ways, can I be found?

 

 

Ironic lockdown

The irony of lockdown is  unique
More painful for the folk who live alone
Everyone’s at  home but none can meet

On the telephone , my friends can speak
I   want a conversation, not to moan
The irony of lockdown is  unique

I long for voices, even bleats from sheep
A conversation is  our human home
Everyone’s indoors but none can meet

The price we pay for safety seems quite steep
The poor may be more blighted, seeking loans
The irony of lockdown is  unique

Will Boris Johnson  get back on his feet
Do his best for his sins to atone?
Jesus  left his  home the outlook’s bleak

From the graveyards skeletons will roam
Their souls  as restless as the waves  that foam
The irony of lockdown is  unique
We’re not at home, we’re alien as this leaf

 

 

 

Their grace

After hail and storms I see the snails
On the rubber doormat and the stones 
Encrusted shells the blind might read as braille

The shell made to protect is very frail
I trod on several, cracks like breaking bones
After heavy rain I see the snails

The lion  whose   fire and strength will   never fail
The sea creatures so large , they look like drones
Compare them to the perfect broken snail

In  the Bible  read  the warning tales
Temptation,,murder, envy, honeycombs
God our Lord a lion or a snail?

Come to that, how can God be a male?
How can God approve the gold of Rome?
She  is a perfect   sacred sweet shelled snail

On the beach are empty shells, washed foam
Abandoned. they survive their use as homes
After  storm and tempest ,here are snails
Encrusted shells their decor and their grace

New cliches

What I need are cliches, new and vague
The ghost has got it wrong with howling bones
Sniffing the police leaves them enraged

If I hurt you, I am wise not sage
Moss is useful in a mixing bowl
 I need  lots of cliches, new and vague

Let’s get married if we’re not engaged
I don’t have the tools to fetch in coal
Sniffing the police leaves them enraged

Paradox is  vital in our age
Politicians   toss out joints all rolled
 Send me cliches, new and  somewhat vague

When this is over  who will be in role?
The sun has got no hat on ,I it stole
 I need  more cliches, new and  quietly vague
Sniffing the police leaves  men enraged

The earth beyond

If we  never moved we would sink down
Slowly, all unnoticed. without  noise
Into the earth  our ready  burial ground

The birds are nesting, hear  untutored songs
No pandemic there to halt their voice
Those who    dislike movement  have no tongue

Life is given to all ,though  we do wrong
Is it  our inheritance or  choice?
All  end in holy earth, sweet underground

No need  in the grave for wedding gowns
Linen cloths  suffice when we are raised
Those who   never move, at worms   will frown

See the   trawlers sink and many drown
God’s own finger has each life erased
Gone to watery  wastes,  their  fishing ground

Here are buried foetuses and clowns
Men  hanged  dead as  traitors,  Kings , the drowned
If we  never move that is a flaw
But we are moved by love  and its own law

 

 

Wandering

I walked,I stumbled where I’d never been
No friend nor ally  guided me  nor could
In the  mesmerising  sharp pain of my grief

Wandering like an outcast ,  never queen
Reason was  no aid in that dead wood
I wandered  through the shadows of my  dreams

I felt the ground beneath me swirl and seethe
As if to kill me too or spill my blood
In the desolate place  of  darkness deep 

Rosemary,remembrance, flowering wreaths
Inside the heart  will mercy  come to flood?
I wandered  where to love would be obscene

But in the arctic wastes , surprised by  god
In late winter trees will start bud
I wandered  on until my heart revived
From that place of peril came new life

 

The whisper

I walk in sadness as fish swim the sea
I can’t  rememeber  how life felt before
The foetus  and the feel of gravity

Death  will come with ,without decree
The other world   a room with a   closed door
I walk in sadness as fish swim  the sea

The pain, the blood, the whisper and the grief
Could any woman wish for any more?
The foetus lost, the ropes of gravity

What  is human dies without a plea
Ah, the garments in the baby store
I walk as sad as fish flow with sea

From such  anguish,  we may wish to flee
Unless beneath our  feet there’s solid floor
To hold the foetus wrapped in love. oh, thief!

Life may cackle like a randy whore
You can’t buy babies in the liquor store
I walk in sadness as fish fill the sea
The foetus  drowned, the  urgent grave, now you.

 

 

Uncertainty,unease, a maverick flu?

The government  may need one maverick
In addition, we may need a  leader  new
Too many , they  try  out ingenious tricks

In Great Britain there are many eccentrics
Inventing light bulbs, rifles and beef stew
The government  should have one maverick

Did we invent that much used  red clay brick?
Did we shoot  down  birds and peasants too?
Daft M Ps  who try  out  madmen’s tricks

If you’re wearing boots,let noone lick
Cov19 may  kill them, just like flu
The government  should have one  maverick

Everyone agreed that we are sick
Post-modern  theories  stick around like glue
To our M Ps  they are a  subtle threat

Some days I feel well,I think you do
Uncertainty,unease, a maverick flu?
The government  may need one maverick
Too many , they  wear out the new Chief’s Whip

 

Ignite

If Boris Johnson  frequently told lies
This is very common  nowadays
No-one sane would be at all surprised

If  Boris Johnson could not breath ,so died 
Everyone for his soul might now pray
Though Boris Johnson  told some  dreadful lies

Even Peter , Jesus thrice denied
This was human, of such fears we’re prey
No-one sane would be at all surprised

If Boris was with women, he  was wry
But not enough to  stage one in his  play
Oh,Boris Johnson you should not have lied

   Oh Boris  has more children than his bride 
   Now he wants another though he’s grey   
   No-one sane admits they are surprised

I dreamed  of him last night,  he was so gay
To my surprise he charmed me  with love play
If Boris Johnson   lost his head and died
The  people would be frightened and ignite

 

 

 

 

In deep water, luminous as fog

If I should live again, I’d be a frog
For tadpoles ,insubstantial, cause no fright
Yet they change but not into a log

They change their being, leap up from the bog,
As bread is changed by holy, priestly rites,
If I should live again, I’d be a frog

In deep water, luminous as fog,
The frogs live on the edge of human sight
Yes they croak but not till we’re in bed

As lovers lie down naked on their rug
They tempt the frog, the adder, the termite
Then they rage upon the death of God

As the wheel turns, see, it drips with blood
The human race is ground up, we’re a blight
Yes, someone, somewhere, once did something good

Oh dark, oh grey, oh where is the new light?
Seems like the frogs, the Lord leapt out of sight
If I should live again, I’d be your god
I’d save the world by turning us to frogs

Love keeps the rules

Reality itself is like a dream
Where people die at random. some unseen
People flout the rules while others scheme

In ancient times,what did an omen mean?
A God enraged,his people sinned,unclean
Reality itself seems like a dream

Social life and conversation ruined
My words fell backwards, into  trash were heaved
People flout the rules while others scheme

Still, we have the sun,oh glorious beams
And in  a coup d’etat remainers leave
Reality,a huge collective dream

United by the wish to help,  streets form new teams
Love is shown, regardless, I believe
Some people  like the rules while others scheme

As the world’s  own web  in silence weaves
Stay at  home , give aid to those who grieve
Reality ,a universal dream
Love keeps  the rules, but death’s  still on the scene

 

 

Ancient games

The summer heat  made cobblestones like stoves
The Coronation  happened, I know now
We played with melted tar, industrial wains.

My mother’s hands were black and much beloved
The coal and coke had tattooed her, we knew.
The summer heat made cobbles hot as stoves.

In the road, we played our ancient games
The older children passed the knowledge down
We played with melted tar, industrial wains.

The bully boys  were cruel, did not heed love
A little boy had tried to be a clown
In summer heat, they beat him on the stones.

We were silent as they flaunted power again
But in our hearts, we knew we’d let him down
We threw warm melted tar, industrial wains

And in our phantasy, he was alone.
No-one knew who threw the vicious stone
The summer heat  made cobbles hot as flames
We played with melted tar, Christ died again

As the river  must submit to sea

The broad sands  of old Redcar bright and bare
Dark ochre with  a touch of  lighter tones
Easter time we walked  to Saltburn pier

Cold  but happy  with my love right there
Hand in hand, I felt his very bones
The broad sands  of old Redcar  town were  bare

They say the perfect love casts out all fear
As if  a person’s found their rightful home
Easter time we wandered to  the pier

Loved and known, who has not shed a tear?
Teesmouth is as wide as  winter storm
The broad sands  of old Redcar  town still  bare

As the river  must submit  to sea
So  loving does much more than keep us warm
Joyous days we walked to Saltburn pier

 

The river rushing downhill like a hare
Made  next a valley  fertile   in its charm
The broadening  river mouth ate sand like air

How  we laughed, like children arm in arm
Smiling at the sky and tickling palms
From the  sands  of  Redcar,  rapt we stared
Saw North Sea   and gazed  at Saltburn pier

Senseless we will suffer, we are sick

We believe  just what we want and then we find
All unaware, unconsciously, within
The evidence we need to close our minds

We might as well be deaf and if not, blind
Perception lies, conception is then thin
We believe  just what we want which  we  then find

We justify our actions, are unkind
Cast    first stones as if we never sin
With evidence invented by closed minds

By the blood of others our own soul is stained
Starving children  grovel in waste tips
Affectless we look, we cast off blame

The widespread wars, the  rage, the napalm aimed
The slaves who make our clothes, who feel the whip
Are evidence  we  choose to close our minds

The punishment for blindness will  now stick
Our souls and minds degraded by one click
We believe  what suits us and then we  surely find
The evidence we need to shut our minds

 

 

 

Wild statistics

Shall we die of flu or suicide?
Or shall we live  as sanguine as  sweet joy
Who  by wild statistic is deprived?

Which man shall now look out in wild surmise
Perception  is  not truth,does  that annoy?
Shall we die of flu or suicide?

What will shops sell now when noone  buys
Do not   yet despair when  self employed
Such  daft statistics   make old people cry

Think about the sadness of a bride
A cancelled wedding, her good day destroyed
Would she die  if anger  brewed inside?

I ate ten bars of chocolate  in my rage
That was all the food I could afford
When  by strange statistics I was caged

Write sweet songs and do not folk ignore
Then   turn  again to love, that aged  whore
Shall we die of flu or suicide?
Who  by damned statistic is deprived?

 

 

 

 

Perfect love will cast out perfect fear

There is humour in the Bible we revere
Soles are heeled,partitions sent to God
Perfect love will complicate your fear

Five thousand people shared a single deer
The meat was cooked by one fierce lightning rod
There is humour in the Bible, we can hear

There is nothing much to salvage the impure
But plentiful the ways to cut off heads
Perfect love can escalate one’s fear

God made Jonah subtly disappear
And caught Elijah when in caves he hid
There is humour in the Bible if you peer

With a wail from Jonah,God appeared
His still small voice got louder by the Flood
Perfect love will castrate perfect fear

After many liars are burned as wood
I hope Gomorrha we will all be good
There is guidance in the Bible, but laugh here.
Perfect love will tame that perfect fear

I remember reading of Gommorah

I remember reading of Gommorah
Sodom too where no good men were found
I’ll get the Bible out  to read tomorrow

We don’t act but wait  and wait forever
While homeless people lie upon  cold ground
I remember reading of Gommorah

Jesus spoke, it’s we who must deliver
We act as if we’re mentally unsound
We’ll get the Bible out  to read tomorrow

The politicians may be very clever
Yet I  don’t like the way they act or sound
I remember reading of Gommorah

We have a dusty Bible made of leather
It may not be in Jesus ‘ native tongue
We’ll get that Bible out  to read tomorrow

Our home is on this earth where all belong
Yet after all these years we still do wrong
I remember reading of Gommorah
I’ll get the Bible out  to dust tomorrow