Where wild flowers  grow, where butterflies float on

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Art by Katherine 2014

The path on Arnside Knott came to the shore
Where river and sea  meet at my heart’s core
Where wild flowers  grow, where butterflies float on
The views of Lakeland Hills ,so ravishing

My heart was  only half alive till then
The land surpassed imagination
I was used to mills and dirty air
Despite the heather moors and hilltops bare

Later death came near on Langdale Pike
My fingertips were hurting,feet agape
Then my toe was back on a foothold
The shadow of the mountain huge and cold

Beauty,love and death, the opera calls
Singing as we walk the danger walls

An arch of golden sky

All day long the thunderclouds went by
Humid heat without  dark rain’s release
Leaving now  a soft blue tender sky

Branches threatening as a lion’s paw
 Rich and wide with multi-layers  of leaf
Over all the thunderclouds go by.

In the empty garden I shall cry
Naught remains,God cannot be perceived
Hiding in a soft blue tender sky

Only those who know the truth can lie.
Should I not be glad  that life is brief?
Over all, the thunderclouds go by.

Only those who live must  later die
This is plain for Nature can’t deceive
Happy  in a soft blue shining sky

Love when lost may never be retrieved
Many are the children not conceived
All day long the thunderclouds went by
Leaving now  an arch of golden sky

Revealing love



Rosa-Temptress-2020


A beam of light passed through my eyes 

And showed to me a world disguised

So near,yet far,we do not see, 

Unless by gift of grace redeemed. 

That world is full of peace and calm 

Its colours mingle,like a balm.

 In such a moment all thought dies, 

Revealing Love which underlies. 

Colours caress my naked eye.

Sunlight blesses new designs.

 I stand enthralled,and do not wish 

For one delight,other than this.

 My breath slows down, and filled with joy, 

I rove my eyes with bliss to toy.

 Everything is just itself. 

This is now my living wealth. 

Beneath the noise of city traffic, 

This mellow joy,love soporific,

 This depth and peace, is always near 

When we choose Love and turn from fear

	


	



			
				


			
				


			

			
All shall be well
		
	
	

		
At first I craved to stay on in our house

A place familiar, comforting as love

Our bed the centre, loss and grief held close

The feel of wool, the blankets and the rugs


My  clothes had travelled while  for him I cared

So many I felt anxious, dispossessed

They in chaos, heaped on my arm chairs

Were a testament of my  distress


Books were scattered like small petals lost

Flowers of blood and bone  did not resist

Everwhere my pens and paper tossed

His pyjamas, ties,his books  had wanderlust


Once familiar, now a haunted  house

Everywhere I see the gaps he left

As my senses  on these places pounce

I unravel slowly from the warp and weft


The  narrow bed, the silence and the stair

The waking,sleeping, dreaming, am I here?

Should I run  or confront sweet despair?

Grief and loss bring on the panic fear.


I wait, unknowing that is what I do

There is no end,but  torture, oh damned pain

Until the mind has finished its review

Sketched its maps, made ready what remains


So at this inflection point I dwell.

Listening to the  silence, all is well


 

	


	



			
				


			
				


			
				


			
				


			

			
The fire of orange leaves me with a glow
		
	
	

		
The sun sinks but it burns like a great fire;

All the sky’s aflame with fierce intent;

Who thinks of death as weakness, is a liar

Before the end our glory must be spent.


The graphics of the branches look Chinese

As blackened brush is drawn across red silk

Infinite yet countable my days

Running like a river without silt


Thus I am not transcendent in myself

But joined to all that lives I feel I am.

In conjunction we will find our health

Ambivalence contains both lion and lamb.


The fire of orange leaves me with a glow

As into night I with all creatures go

	


	



			
				


			

			
It’s this exposure we all truly crave
		
	
	

		
My underwear is from the Holy Land

I’ll have to take it off for it’s been banned

Let me walk as naked as a babe

It’s this exposure we all  truly crave


Bethlehem  has got it’s own Wall now

Sign it with a pen, your blood, oh, anyhow

It’s like a plastercast on your own leg

It should come off but we don’t like to beg


I never know  where things I buy are made

My eyesight is not sharp enough for trade

I’ve got reading glasses, magnified  till pure

This loss of sight is hard to feel, endure


I see we still  have Lockdown  for the old

Why not shoot us all  as was foretold?

War is human as are  death and rape

Is the Resurrection true  or a mere jape?


I’d like to write a poem  that would convey

How it feels when I am  really gay

The sun is sinking  in the West tonight

Tomorrow they will change its path of light


The Leader has got chickenpox and flu

Send him postcards via London Zoo

He looks pale and anxious as he speaks

Yet  he has joints which  rarely seem to creak


I did read “Ariel” by Sylvia Plath

After reading that I could not laugh

A brilliant  transposition on the  hoof

The horse flew forward till the  dawn was loose


Should we get to vote I’ll vote  for Woe

Joy is harder, that we  surely know

Both are needed as the warp and weft

Otherwise we humans fall adrift


Do we still have spies and where are they,

In Cambridge changing gender every May?

In Oxford Union  killing a black man

In the garden eating  Tiptree jam


Can I break the code and understand

I am not who God made on demand?

He  creates, it is his personal mode

As  he walks alone down country roads

	


	



			
				


			

			
The Garden of the Heart
		
	
	

		
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Art is by Katherine


Unnameable the moment when it starts 

The sun goes turns black and flowers die on the stalk 

The agony in the garden of the heart


 Unnatural rhythms subvert accountants’ charts 

Poor nestlings feel the onslaught of the hawk 


Untraceable the moment when it starts 


For always seemed our love, and quiet its art 

Banal the labels in a doctor’s talk 

Of agony in the gardens of the heart


 Speechless,cold and numb the separate parts

 Each one with its indirection walks 

Untraceable the moment when it starts 


That one who knew our measure must depart 

Wounds our sense of self now writ in chalk 

Such agony in the gardens of the heart 


Like a skylark trapped,untimely, caught 

I the one time lover fear the night 

So minute at the moment when it starts

Agony strips the garden of the heart



	


	



			
				


			

			
All change
		
	
	

		
What was once familiar  now feels strange

To visit friends and kiss another’s face

To share a cup of tea and discuss change


Politics  has fled  from Shakespeare’s stage


Wisdom and deep thinking seemed erased

What was once familiar echoes strange


The  errors  of the State cause some to rage

Culture has been lessened, is defaced

No shared drinks  , just anger, crowds and change 


Would we even want a wise old sage?

In the mire strange patterns have been traced

What we thought familiar  now looks strange


We’ve seen  hearfelt protests every day

The people once despised have come of age

They   require the world  must  quickly change


So  our hearts and minds are well engaged

Can we  change the patterns quite deranged?

What was once unknown exists, is strange

Raise your drinks to celebrate, all change


 


 




	


	



			
				


			
				


			

			
You’re on the edge of my view
		
	
	

		
When anyone comes here, when anyone phones 

I wonder if it is you

When shadows are moving, when nightfall appears

I  cry ‘cos I’m still feeling blue

And in the soft morning,I see your dear face

Dream thoughts mixed into my view

People say I must not  cry, tears should not enter my eye

I shall  pretend that it’s dew

I still cannot paint or draw, wondering what I saw

You’re on the edge of my view

But when I turn my head around, there’s nothing but birds passing by

How can I love someone new?

	


	



			
				


			
				


			
				


			

			
The Kingdom of God? Not here
		
	
	

		
 


 
 
 
  
 Photo by Jose Aragones on Pexels.com 
 
 
  
 
  
 Photo by Jose Aragones on Pexels.com 
 
 
  
  


The Kingdom of God is Within




EXTRACT


The kingdom of God is at the center of the Lord’s Prayer.  Most interesting to me are its petitions, as they are called.  When we pray the Lord’s prayer we don’t ask for “my bread,” but “our bread.”


Accordingly, I know that my heavenly Father has heard my prayer not when there’s bread on my table, or on my immediate family’s table, but when there is bread on my church family’s table. (Perrin, p 216)


Perrin should have said “on everybody’s table.”  Christ breaks open the idea of family, so that includes not just people like me, but socially undesirable others, alien others, strangers. 


The Greek word for “us” is hemon (ἡμῶν, Strong’s number 2257),  In every case the Lord’s Prayer refers to us, not me.  Give us our daily bread. Forgive us our sins.  Lead us not into temptation.  I’m reminded of  Reinhold Niebuhr‘s observation that the worst things we do we do as self-righteous collectives.  Our sins include imperialism, colonialism, slavery.  Our concern should be that everyone in the world has bread, for it is “our bread,” granted to us by “our father.”  The Lord’s Prayer is a prayer in the first-person plural.

	


	



			
				


			

			
Life,the art that needs our hearts
		
	
	

		
When must we be cautious, when let go?

Who knows how to choose the better  part

When to use our will and when to flow

When to plant  the seed and watch it grow

When  ought we be cautious, when let go?

When to bend  as wilder winds can blow

How to live,the art that needs our hearts

When  may we be cautious, when let go?

Who knows how to guess the better  part?

	


	



			
				


			

			
Who loved the  words, who loved the entire song
		
	
	

		
The eyes that gazed on me with love profound

The hand the touched me with caresses  true

The one who made me happy on earth’s ground

Who loved the  words, who loved the entire song

Who loved me with rare  subtlety of mind

Whose love was strong, whose being was most kind

And thus with all his qualities imbued

The eyes that gazed,  delighted  I was found

The hand, the touch,  the giving , taking   true

	


	



			
				


			

			
They may carry you to safety too
		
	
	

		
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You have to be careful  now  not to stand still in London in case a football supporter  urinates on you.

Especially if you are a memorial to a brave police man


Then, thinking about a  holiday.I was expecting to go to Teesdale as my husband loved High Force…… but that will remind me of……urination,Dominic Cummings,Covid 19.lies,BJ, Barnard Castle,and other unpleansant things.

I am thinking Southport will be safer or even Morecambe and the sinking sands ; my garden  will be even safer apart  birds getting angry.


I am wondering what to  read next.Rodham. Gone with the Wind or

War  and Peace?

Or the road atlas?

Can I bear Hillary and Bill in bed? Not with me!

It’s mere fantasy of the lowest type.Who does not know that men get erections and  have intercourse until they get too old?

We need a story.

	


	



			
				


			
				


			
				


			
				


			

			
Love must win
		
	
	

		
Of love and hatred which is  stronger now?

We destroy the enemy we choose

Love must win, but we ask when and how


Before the force of evil do not bow

But search your heart to find if you have clues

Oh love and hatred which is  stronger now?


In my own  heart, evil   leaves me bruised

What to do when we are so confused

Love must win, but we ask when and how


Others are not there to be misused

The harm we do adheres like strongest glues

Of love and hatred which is stronger now?


There is no heavenly court where we can sue

In the past we know how hatred grew

Love must win, but we ask when and who


Round  the world pandemics of hate flew

With the media  we see more and new

Of love and hatred which is is   growing now?

Love must win, but we ask when and how

	


	



			
				


			

			
Bleeps and pings are not a natural sound.
		
	
	

		
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.

	


	



			
				


			
				


			

			
Correcting others@P$ speech
		
	
	

		
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Art by Katherine and her  insect bite


Awry,Tory,Awry,Greenfly,hi

Correction of one’s speech  makes shame oblique

The reddened face the burning of the cheek

What’s your motivation to feel high?


You may know more words and how to say

To give long lectures,talks and answer back

But now you need to know you have a lack

You hurt other people every day


After all, we must communicate

See the posture, see the eyes, the face

Then touch the other with your voice, your speech

Or to be an object of their hate


If you think we’re here to put folk down

You are hurting others.some may drown

	


	



			
				


			
				


			

			
There is something sinister unread
		
	
	

		
I found a strange man sleeping in my bed

He had the static creepiness I dread

Still alive but seeming to be dead


is this a dream that dwells inside my head

I should have dreams  of Errol Flynn instead

Look where that damn garden path has led


Oh,God, the cat has come back to be fed

He eats frogs before they are quite dead

The Sermon on the Mount  is still unread


There was noone in my marriage bed

There is something sinister unread


 

	


	



			
				


			

			
Every time I see yor face I smile
		
	
	

		
Every time I see yor face I smile

It’s just a dream,I am not reconciled

When I waken up  the tears run by

Remembering or forgetting  where you are


Now you have come back to pick up me

We have  an  newer house down by the sea

Shall we take our books and music there?

I gave away your clothes but you’re not bare


I’ve found it freezing cold  outside your gaze

Without  those conversations every day

Can’t  you stay here for a few more years?

In the dream I  never seem to cry


We seem to be  the actors in this Play

You are calm and dignified, oh stay

	


	



			
				


			

			
Meeting someone’s eyes is like a touch
		
	
	

		
Meeting someone’s eyes is like a touch

As if our self extends  outside our skin

With no intention to take hold or clutch


Those who do this , how love must be rich

Rarely will they mortify or sin

Meeting someone’s eyes is a kind  touch


If we are afraid, may we find trust

Let us  try again,  why not begin

With no intention to take hold or clutch?


We are human, do we mind who’s first?

Let our minding weigh  less than  a pin

Meeting someone’s eyes is like a touch


In the end we mingle with the dust

Have we made good use of any gift

With no intention to take hold or clutch?


With love around, we  need not be too  swift

Take your own time  wandering through the mist

Meeting someone’s eyes is like a touch

Gentle, do caress, don’t  grasp nor clutch