The cyclamen

The cyclamen, the lily and the earth

The potted plants ,green leaves , distil the air

The lily is for peace. the rose for worth

Let no human live in pain or cursed Let the golden light en-wrap them here

The cyclamen, the lily and the earth

The waxy flowers of cyclamen bring mirth

Bring gratitude in winter when all’s bare

The lily is for peace. the rose for worth

I feel my hands are reaching for a brush

The watercolour paints bring their allure

The cyclamen, the lily and the earth Then I see a flower trod on and crushed

It seems to bleed like Jesus,tears my eye.

The lily is for peace. the rose for worth

Nature has its truth and so do I Many times I weep, bewail and cry

The cyclamen, the lily and the earth

The lily is for peace. the rose for birth

Losing one’s self again

There are trends in society to encourage us to build our self esteem and to value ourselves… to develop and achieve a place suited to our talents.. but what is best for me is when I lose myself in something.I was reading an old blog of a friend and was quite absorbed and went into a different state of mind..then I regretted I don’t manage to lose myself enough being a housewife and having much on my mind and being busy.

Sometimes it can happen when we love a person.Sometimes a wonderful landscape feels like home.. other times a sunset across the Irish sea from the cliffs of the Isle of Man where myriad butterflies swirl and float over flowers and rocks.

Modern life, the News,talk,excitement of the wrong sort seem to lock us into our self and frighten us so we forget the value of fining something in which to lose ourselves and grow as a result. Sitting by a river fishing,knitting,sewing,a book, many things can elicit this response And remember how horror filled was the self consciousness of adolescence and how good to forget one’s self being more comfortable and accepting of appearance and image..How to live like a wild flower for a time… and be happy not to be a rose but just a tiny wild geranium or a moderate sized gentle pink flower in a arden

Blue rose

As night falls

Parting,a sonnet

I wear my heart displayed upon my face.
Attentive readers find their meaning there,
Where feelings thought too deep to be embraced
Can shine demurely where they do not scare.

As Freud observed we’re never quite disguised
Betrayal is our body’s real motif
The message comes conspicuous from the eyes..
Bright sparkles or our tears of blackest grief.

The answer to a question seemly leaps
So Yes or No is visibly revealed.
The blush that spreads so fast across the cheeks,
Both bold and shy, unable to conceal.

Your face tells me you lied when “Love” you wrote.
Yet let us part with song as we are poets.

Solstice Acrostic Sonnet (stevestoeckel.typepad.com)
Rain of Fire (sonnet) (mikialmillard.wordpress.com)
Sonnet by Billy Collins (brookeinator.wordpress.com)
Sonnet VII: Respite (davidemeron.com)
Sonnet I: Death (davidemeron.com)
Sonnet to a Cabbage (friendlyfairytales.com)
Sonnet 33 – Yes, Call Me By My Pet-Name! Let Me Hear By Elizabeth Barrett Browning (renardmoreau.wordpress.com)

I’m au fait,you are auto da fe.

I CAN EXPLAIN EVERYTHING ... — I CAN EXPLAIN EVERYTHING … (Photo credit: mrbill78636)

What a toad of evil.Re laugh
Damned if you bare and damned if you swear.It’s obscene or a scheme for a wife.
He flinched at my heat and then did a runner.
Strangle a carrot and hunt for a whim.You will be deprived of words
He’s a cart horse trying to make out with a gazelle on steroids
The day came late when a follower took fright and I killed my blog by a blow
What is as dead as door mail?
Think not that the postman is no longer doing a service.
I am late as your dead cats pounced on me by the gate… for ghosts they sure can bite
Dead presidents don’t ring twice
You head wringer!You neck clinger!Leave me alone…don’t torture my verbs
I said it to give my defence not to give offence.Anyway he took offence and ran off
He gave a deadly flow to my brain..he savaged my self esteem.Now mt emotional intelligence has gone too far
I’m au fait,you’re auto da fe
Health by a thousand cuts this winter in the NHS
I saw fear in his headlights…akka his eyes..
Dig for the cold bloggers in Iceland
Why dip your brow in the water when the horse won’t drink it?
Does dirt weep inside the vacuum cleaner and why do vacuums need cleaning?
You can have milk from my breast… how it got there is a mystery
Do words fly?
Does God ever cry?
And why?