Tag: love

Accepting that perfection is remote,

What love and friendship must at least entail

Are boundaries both elastic and firm.

Yet even that is but a mere detail

Less subtle is the need to do .no harm

For in the flush of youthful spirits strong

We do not like to know that all love fades

For when it does we lovers may do wrong

To wickedness we may find we’ve paid

And with the stone faced demons we belong.

Thus friendship love and joy involve the will

To take the other as she comes to be

For such allowing there’s a constant bill

Acknowledging such truth we’ll  surely see.

Accepting that perfection is remote,

We’ll play our tunes and suffer every note

If this be love then

If this be love,then let me have your hate.

If speak you  true then I prefer your lies.

For this, my heart, your message comes too late.

As  now my need is  for the  thoughtful  wise.

If this be marriage,let me have divorce.

If this be holy,  hasten I to  hell..

For love comes in its time without such force.

And of its message ẃho am I to tell?

If this be love,then let me dwell alone.

If this be love, I ‘ll be forever chaste.

Your  love flew like a brick.that broke my bones

The love that lays your world and mine to waste

.

Love can shake us to our inner core.

Hence of your love I wish to hear no more

In this the world of war

I’m afraid  to read what’s happening

My spirit cries and wails

We can’t go on to war,

Might they read the  News in braille?

I am tired of talk of foreigners

Aren’t we  passengers inone boat

So  why  not work with our  love and hope

To keep our sacred world afloat.?

We  shout out prayers and litanies;

We fast and we abstain;

But God is looking down his periscope

And he  says  the Way is plain.

I saw the soldiers  ready with their weapons cocked

For millennia and aeons

For men must prove their potency

Again,again,again.

Now the women have to fight as well

And we wear  big plugs inside  our ears

We restrict our gaze without  the need for scarves

And we deny our fears.

Let them read the News in Babylon

Let them collapse in Jericho

Let the walls be ever built anew

To make old animosities re-grow.

Shout the News in Cyber space

Type it on your blog

What worth is this old human race

In this unholy bog?

I  once held my hands out to you

Across  seas and oceans wide

I sang and told my stories

But your  fighting won’t subside.

My hand is getting weary now

I cannot hold it out much more.

I never felt the warmth of you

Saw an image of closed doors…

So,go  shout it in Jerusalem

We  have so many  Wailing Walls

Go shout it out in Syria

Where was man before the Fall?

The lions lived on weetabix

And the tigers  leaves of grass.

The zebras got  their stripes re-done

But all that men surpass.

When I was a  puking baby

They atom  bombed Japan

Already, Europe’s Jews were gone.

Who was it walked  the Walk of Man?

Love must be so pliant

Love must be so pliant ,
like a blade of grass,

Bowing to the wind,
till the storm has passed.

Love is enigmatic
Like the sphinx’s smile.

Waiting for an answer,
Nothing is on file.

Love is often near us
Yet we do not see.

Sometimes where we are
Is just the place to be

Be an Other lover,today

  • It seems we all have a touch of narcissism
  • As well as paranoia
  • And grief.
Sometimes it’s hard to realise
that other people are our equals
in this existence game;
that they each have a mind and world of their own.
But now I think of this,
Isn’t it wonderful that there are all these worlds
And that I’m not the centre of the universe.
And if God cares for a sparrow
I like Him.
Though what He is
Is not expressible in our language.
How dull life would be
If I were the only real person in it
And if I wanted every one to admire me
And think well of me.
And how sweet it is to love an other,
Eye to eye,
Skin to warm skin.
and how the sun was so red at daybreak
and the bare twigs gleamed in its light.
and how precisely you are different from me
Yet I can understand you, at least in part.
We are all absolutely important
And yet paradoxically unimportant.
And how sweet it can be to lose oneself
to become entranced by creation,
Or by a loved one;
By being with children.
Worlds and worlds unfold.
All we need is respect.
Be an other lover,today
.

A fallen tree

The rain fell and the clouds hung overhead

As I walked on the moors to meet my man.

If only we had found a heather bed.

We’d would have done what men and women can.

The sun was absent anf the trees all bowed down

The wettest winter for a hundred years…

Yet full of love ,my face displayed no frown…

My heart was full,and absent any fears.

The moon too was watching as I ran

Her silver crescent pierced the clouds with joy.

I could not wait to meet my loving man.

And with his hands and face I longed to toy.

But when I reached the spot where he would be,

Nothing waited but a fallen tree.

Seen with love

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They lay down in awe and fear,

Of what their love was bringing near.
They gazed into each other’s eyes
And so did rhapsodise.

They lay down to gaze into
the eyes and soul and heart so true.
They gazed until,when overcome,
They were united into one.

Their souls and bodies were conjoined,
And thus their hearts were well entwined;
As honeysuckle on the walls,
In joy’s sweet arbours does grow tall.

Their loving lips and eyes and hands
Gave pause to time’s soft flowing sands;
And while they touched and gazed so long,
The birds sang out in glorious songs.

The eyes are mirrors to the soul,
and love will make us grow more whole.
Gaze lovingly on humankind..
And hold care in your mind

Power or love

One’s motivation may be  either love or power.

In truth, it’s there and  plain for all to see.

They  first  admire and plead a lengthy hour

About how sweet one’s offerings would be.

When   persuaded that they are open and  sincere

One sends them poems like the  poems they praised.

Yet their minds  are altered ,and in fear

They shows repulsion where they fondly gazed.

 

To double bind another human soul

To knot    barbed  wire around their  only mind

This action seems not from a human whole

But from a being split and  thence unkind

 

Believe not those who are too quick to praise

Conceal yourself from  charmers and their gaze

Cherries

  • If we see ripe cherries
    Hanging from a branch
    We’ll pick the fruit and eat them
    It is our last chance

    When our end is nearing
    We must live far more
    Like the dust motes dancing
    In the sun,in joy.

    See the clouds all blowing…
    Where is it they go?
    Like the leaves and flowers
    Like the rivers flow.

    See the face beloved
    Known,not understood.
    See the human mystery
    Feel how love can flood.

    See the smoke blow upwards
    See the children gaze
    Innocence and beauty
    New born every day.

    The first time our eyes were open
    We saw a human face.
    The last time we close them
    Let us then embrace.

    Though the day is ending
    Do not cut it short.
    Live each moment till the last
    In love as we were taught

No sound,no touch,no smell,no sight,no seeing.

In fields of lushest  buttercups we ‘d lie
We’d watch the clouds as gently they blew by.
Love was born we thought would never die.
But now you’re gone and here I sadly sigh

That love itself remains without your form
Yet tears of loss enfold me like a storm.
I knew you’d never hurt or  do me harm.
I  felt your smile’s embrace, so wide, so warm.

How is the world,now emptied of your being?
No sound,no touch,no smell,no sight,no seeing.
How is the world when you have gone ahead
Yet I must linger in my lonely bed?

Some days I weep with gladness for my friends
Some days I weep in sadness without end.

I live so well because you so love me.

In the striking hotness of midday
The bench beside the roses seemed just right.
We sat and talked about the flowers with colour fair,
and whether Love is visible to sight,

The flowers swayed gently, beautiful and rare,
At last the times of joyous summer come.
I welcomed them with soft and gentle stare.
Ah,all too soon dear summer will be gone.

The sun was at the apex of the sky.
We caught the moment like a netted fish.
And as we looked the broad white clouds blew by.
While we enjoyed fulfilment of our wish,

I live so well because you so love me.
And even after death this truth shall be.


	


	



			
				


			

			
My sister
		
	
	

		
Trying to keep a hold of you;

trying to keep a hold of you.

Don’t go,

Don’t go.

I’ll not let you fall down that gap.

I’ll always try to pull you back-

Little sister.


You slipped so far away from us.

You slipped because you knew you could.

You saw a gap and fell right down.

You were serious,my little clown.

Come back now.

Come back now.

My baby.


I sang all those songs for you,

But I needed our mother too.

A mother too.

If only I’d been stronger…

Stronger,stronger..

Would you have stayed here longer?

Longer,longer.

Little sister.


As you rocked in your little chair,

the demons of the past were there.

Your blue eyes shone,

Then you were gone.

My sister.


I saw you in a long blue gown,

With a golden halo all wrapped round.

You smiled and said you didn’t know

That I had really loved you so.

You were sorry you had to leave like that,

And would I kindly feed your cat.

My sister.


When I woke up,the dream was gone;

But life and work must still go on.

If only I’d been grown and strong,

On this earth you’d still belong.

Little sister.


I sang the song that you once sang,

But felt my tears made it go wrong.

Once you smiled and laughed with me.

Life was not all black,I see.


Sisters,sisters three.

Now it’s two,just you and me.

But when we meet,a shadow’s there-

I see a flash of her dark hair,

Our sister,sister,sister.

A gap remains for grief to fill

and on we mourn till hearts are still.

One day we’ll die too

And perhaps then we’ll be with you.

Little sister.

My sister.

	


	



			
				


			

			
For serious words are death to married joy
		
	
	

		
My eye has fallen on your funny face

You look so dear I cannot shift my gaze

Both love and humour cherish and embrace

Your skin and smile and on them gladly graze.


My tears have fallen on your fine made hands

As you held me to comfort and caress

And on our fingers are our wedding bands

Which symbolise that union God blessed


My nose has sniffed the honey of your smell

My ears have heard the your much desired gruff voice.

My fingers know your crevices so well

my toes all tingle as in need of vice.


For serious words are death to married joy

And so my humour I shall now employ.

	


	



			
				


			

			
Precious treasure
		
	
	

		
The brightness of this sweet spring light,

The songs of birds whose brood take flight.

I love to take these earthly pleasures,

To fill my mind with precious treasure.


The conversations with my friends,

The closeness only death will end,

To share my life with those who care,

How could we have better fare?


Those who suffer pain and grief,

From whom love’s stolen by a thief,

Let us take them to our hearts,

So their healing path can start.


Those who fear friendship and love,

Who set themselves at too low worth,

Do they know how courage grows

Through acceptance of our woes?


Life is tragi-comedy.

Love may be the remedy.

Yet if we give our hearts away

We shall have grief and pain to pay.


But if we lock our hearts up tight,

And keep all feeling out of sight,

We will wither like dead leaves,

Of our whole life we’ll be bereaved.


So choose your path with care and thought;

Never be by lies distraught.

Each human is as gold to me,

So with great love, I end my plea.

	


	



			
				


			

			
When my love lies
		
	
	

		
When my love lies and doom hangs over head,

When life runs like a river to the sea

Then shall I take new lovers to my bed,

And with their carnal touch consoled be?


When my love lies,and breaks my tender heart.

When life seems grey and rocks bestrew my path.

Then, shall I my life of evil start?

And on this world shall I bestow my wrath?


When true loves lie and wrecks all loyalty.

When puzzlement makes all my world seem mad.

Then I shall upend causality;

Console this world with deeds which make me glad.


For I have love’s own child inside my soul

And I shall tend her till at last she’s whole

	


	



			
				


			

			
In my end is my beginning
		
	
	

		
We were  both staring at what was hurting  our shared boundary.


What we had in common was a pasting of grammar and  some full stops from the  old church organ..


not much help to a pair of  old fools.


especially when it was just a mouth organ from a bizarre barre ballet shop in Covent Garden


We were speechless  like  a pair of  cowardly  sheep up a mountain  in  Wales


.Not a baaa baaa between us.


Up till then nothing  had come between us except rhymes or reams of  blotting paper


Well,there is a saying:neither rhyme nor reason  and we certainly had no reason….


I’m only teasing.


We were as irrational as the square root of two.i.e.rational in the wrong  sort of way.


Unexpected, like almost everything in this life, but full of seasoning.


Rationality was  initially based on proportion then subsequently on distortion


and later contortion into  the field of the imaginary


.Everything is imaginary … that’s oblivious to me, anyway.


And everything  is abstract too.


Except lions in the zoo and me and you.


Shall we call it a day now?


I  am happy with my sentence of a week in the wilderness.


Call that a sentence?


No arguing, as you may be persecuted and scolded at an auction sale.


And that is  only the end of it all.. we lost the beginning in the womb of time.


Well,may be you can remember In my end is my beginning

	


	



			
				


			
				


			

			
The little bird
		
	
	

		
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A bird taps on this window every day,

Fast as flying leaves flail  in a gale.

But now he perches on the potted bay.

He feels the weather as the blind do braille.


This bird is faithful and I love him dear.

He’s fearless as he pecks upon the glass.

I hope he has a modicum of fear,

For who knows when a sparrow hawk will pass?


I see him like a human soul forlorn

Struggling to discern his own true way.

For soon he may be taken by a storm

But blithely he will eat, and after play.


The smallest bird has trust in the Unknown

By his example, our right way is shown





	


	



			
				


			

			
Fifty shades of childhood
		
	
	

		
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I see in the paper today that an 11 year old boy went to a World Books Day at his school dressed as the main male character in Fifty Shades of Grey.Out of all the novels written in English in the last ten years even I wonder how he chose that?He was banned I heard… though his mother who is a teacher said he has not read the book….

What is sad is that there is now no childhood, in a sense.

we can’t hide these things from younger children.He may not have read the book but he may have seen ads for the film or watched porn too.I know some children will already be having a sexual life at 11 though it seems a bit risky…emotionally

I don’t mind the book for anyone daft enough to read it but it’s taking up time which could be used for writing,fishing, ,drawing,playing.reading some classics.

So I got my first feeling of,this country is going to the dogs.##


THOUGHTS ON CHILDHOOD


Oh,yes,I feel pain in my interior

Though I do not claim I’m superior

The excess of flat screens

Defines the play scene

In time it makes spirit inferior.


For children must play on sea shores

Hear the ocean where sea birds may soar

Hold shells to their ears

Play act their fears

Add image and joy to mind’s stores.”


We risk losing life’s joyous demands

as like water they flow through our hands.

We need slowness and space

Apart from the race

Not minds filled with pale sex, so bland


Where has sweet love gone,I ask.

Is grey sex an easier task.

Though still tender our hearts,

Will feeling depart?

Is life nothing else but a masque





	


	



			
				


			

			
The puddle
		
	
	

		
Wall and shrub


Into the puddle she gazed and gazed

My sister was amazed

She’d never seem rainwater deeper than eyes

Mystery undisguised.

Round the rain puddle she ran and ran

Too much for her dolly’s pan.

By reflections of trees she was hypnotised.

Curiousity’s often wise

Oh,my dear sister what do you see there

I hope it’s a vision fair.

What are these ships and the tugs and the tide

Where are the sailors who died?

This is an ocean and I’m in my boat

Come sisters dear,let us float.

We’ll never see father again, for he’s here

and down her face travelled one tear.

I see him afar off, he’s meeting the Lord

There’s the archangel with his sharp sword.

We cannot follow,no, we must go back

We each must stay on our own track.

Three little children with long golden hair

On this road going to where?

Once three small sisters ,but now only two;

Eyes of one green, the other’s blue.

By the park gate by a pool of sea rain

We shall be three again.

One in a pushchair and one gripping tight.

I push my  sweet sisters into the daylight.

Keep hold of the handle and never let go

I loved my two sisters so.

Keep hold of my hands as Dad crosses the sea.

Don’t hope for what cannot be.

I told her it’s only a rainwater pool,

Held in God’s hand like a charming  jewel.

But she saw the patterns and she saw the tides

Which all human beings must ride.


For nothing is “only” and nothing is “just”.

Nothing and everything’s passed.

	


	



			
				


			

			
Thank you too much for the fight
		
	
	

		
I say,dear,this bed is quite right.


Do you mean that itn dreams we fly kites?


You’re so clever you will soon be too bright.


Why,thank you so much,when’s your  flight?


Can’t  I stay here for our fight?


I have no clean pants to incite


I lust for your tender Goodnight.


Some folk can hide in plain sight.i


Don’t roll your eyes when they are bright.


Arthritis gives chastity frights


His heart failed but he functioned,well ,,quite.


Her  heart pains gave thrills  to their rites


They died but said heaven’s alright


/

	


	



			
				


			

			
Where our consolation is
		
	
	

		
When  others acts push splinters through our souls


And into strangers ears we pour our woes..


When grief and sorrow shudder thriough our walls.


And whether all is lost we cannot know


When what is in or out we cannot tell


When fantasy and dream become confused.


When darts of agony are felt to maim each cell.


When sensibility is utterly bemused. .


He ,in whom I to trusted, wills to fail


For what he  claimed  was friendship  was desire.


Now pain and disappointment make  me frail;


With torment know this person was a liar.


Then, having lost all other means to live,


We turn to darkness where our consolation is.

	


	



			
				


			

			
Healing
		
	
	

		
For healing we need peace not strife.

The roses in their tall blue vase

give out love which never jars.

Silently they live their joy

giving peace and never war.

Fire speaks of kindness in dark days.

By its red glow,I sit and pra

	


	



			
				


			

			
I loved her for her mind alone
		
	
	

		










Flower are love tokens and symbolise  female fertility and beauty
























I loved her for her dark blue eyes,

And her Le Creuset pot.

I loved her though she was naive,

As she was very hot.


I loved her curly golden hair.

I loved her home made jam.

But most of all,I loved her brain

And how she dealt with spam.

I loved to lick her bright pink lips

I loved to bite her ear.

But most of all,her innocence,

Which made me pull her near.


I liked to lick her cheeks as well

I liked to touch her hair.

But it proved slightly difficult

For she was rarely here.


I looked at all her photographs,

I looked at all her posts.

She has twenty boyfriends now,

Whom does she love the most?

I loved her breakfast coffee pot,

I loved her tea as well.

She fed me on her buttered toast,


The rest I shall not tell


I was happy,I was sad.


Whatever should I do?

She has run off with a tramp

She met in London Zoo!


She sent me a love letter once,

And now she sends a card

I wish that she’d leave me alone

Jealousy’s so hard.


My heart has got the cramps in it,,

I’m sitting in the bath.

The water is as black as coal,

And I’m still filled with wrath,









	


	



			
				


			

			
I wear my heart
		
	
	

		
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.
Love is more than kisses and false notes.

	


	



			
				


			

			
You are my light
		
	
	

		










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You’re my lodestar,you’re my light.

You get me through the darkest night.

You keep me on the path I follow

I know you’ll still be here tomorrow.


You’re my companion, another self.

You have knowledge,spiritual wealth.

You have felt and you have thought,

In meditation, souls are wrought.


You are there when I’m in need.

You don’t allow my fears to breed.

Sometimes I catch a glimpse of you,

And you’ll be here when life is through.


We’ve been together since the start


And I know we’ll never part.


You are my soul,you are my love.


You are my own,my dearesr dove.


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I





	


	



			
				


			

			
Bionic therapy with Annie and Emile
		
	
	

		






 


 


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Peter Fried,the Bionic psychoanalyst  ,who had recently arrived in the fine  midland town of Knittingham, had noticed that whilst he was practising “free floating attention” with his patients an image of a cat peering in the window behind the couch was troubling him.He hoped it was not some hallucination transferred from the Unconscious of one of his patients into his consciousness.


Still,having a black cat looking in the window was by no means the most unpleasant optical illusion he had ever suffered.In a way,it was quite sweet.

He was back in his “home” flat boiling some eggs for his supper when the doorbell rang.He opened it cautiously with a sort of excitement. mixed in.There stood a strikingly attractive woman wearing a purple coat and a red hat with matching red ballet flats and a bright green designer handbag from TKMaxx.[£29.99 and well worth it]

Hello,I thought I’d introduce myself,I live across the street next door to Stan and Mary..my name is Anne..How are you settling in?

She walked confidently through his flat and into the new  dark teak kitchen with its gleaming work surfaces and marble pastry rolling strip…. though Peter never made pastry himself.

Eggs!Are you a curry lover?By pure chance and serendipity I have a tin of vindaloo sauce here.I could pour it over these eggs.


Should we not remove the shells first?Peter asked with a just hint of humour.

Definitely,leave it to me.I’ve brought some naan bread and some brown rice too

How did you know I was boiling six eggs?Why Emile told me,of course!


Emile….is he black?

Some people call him black,others say he’s mixed race.

Let’s not argue about semantics or political correctness,he replied discourteously.

I don’t even know what semantics, are she screeched softly into his left ear.

Well,that is no barrier to arguing about them,he replied diplomatically.

Well,it’s senseless, she answered kindly.”I am not a person who enjoys an argument.Go and sit down,read the paper and I’ll finish preparing the curry dinner.


Is it common around here to have an unknown woman come in to cook your dinner?Peter asked Anne.

No,it’s the height of sophistication,she said judiciously.It’s just with you being new I wanted to meet you to see if you need any assistance in your work.I don’t need money,I like to serve the community in some way.Of course I am Stan’s mistress but as he’s in a bad temper today I’ve not seen him.I suspect he is growing tired of me.


Are you married,Peter asked her.

No,but I was once.My husband ran off with his brother’s wife,so we decided to pretend they were both dead.

That’s intriguing,said Peter,I am married but my wife developed an allergy to my skin.She could not bear to touch it so it became awkward… very awkward.

Fancy, and you a therapist too,she murmured softly,So where is she now?

Oh, she lives on the Isle of Man,near Peel.I do go to see her now and then… and there are lovely sunsets over there… you can see the Mountains of Mourne.

Are you lonely, she asked him very emotionally.


No,I see seven patients a day..

But that’s not the same as having a wife or a friend.

Since my wife’s allergy,I am afraid to touch another woman.

How sad,cried Anne…I have very thick skin.Would you like to touch me? she said seductively


Perhaps another time,Peter said in a kindly way,But thanks for being so generous.I am touched by your amiability and femininity and your kindness in introducing yourself.

Let’s eat the curry before we die of hunger.

They sat down at the kitchen table to eat the egg curry when they saw some amber eyes gleaming at the window.


Oh, dear,There’s Emile again.

Will he tell Stan?

Probably,but actually Stan no longer wants me.Yet Emile adores me.He will be jealous… he’s a cat,but he has the feeling of a man.

And indeed Emile’s eyes were gleaming like those of a tiger… he began to speak through the window glass.

Would you mind if I had some curry? Stan never makes it… I love spices

Why not? said Peter.

Emil’s plan was to get near Anne but first he had to eat the vindaloo egg curry.He took a mouthful..my,it was hot.His eyes began to water and his nose ran…. all round the room.He mioawed piteously

I need a hanky.

We shall have to ring 999,muttered Anne.

What! Do they tend to cats?

They usually have some hankies for cats….

So without any further ado,she took out her Samsung mobile phone and rang.

I don’t know how I shall get on living here,thought Peter.

He ran across the room and jumped into the washing machine with the tea towels and kitchen cloths.

Will he escape?

Buy the next chapter…only three shilling and sixpence or free with the Daily Wail tomorrow…order now for next life delivery!








 



















	


	



			
				


			

			
It’s not that I don’t love you
		
	
	

		












































It’s not that I don’t love you,

only that I don’t want you to become part

of my mind’s furniture

which I sometimes stumble across unknowingly in the dark.


It’s not that I don’t hate you

only that I don’t want you to become fixed

as my resident devil

who’s reponsible for all the badness in me .


It’s not that I want to become indifferent to you,

only that I want always to see you afresh

when my eyes greet yours

and not ignore you as you are always here.


It’s not even that I don’t care about you

only that I want to be unburdened

from the guilt of love

and to love freely when it’s the right time

or not at all.


It’s not that I cannot sing for you

But that I want to sing for others too

when I find my voice

and to sing my own song as the spirit moves in me,

or not at all.


It’s not that you are lacking in any way

only that I need to be alone some days

to digest all I’ve gathered

You know, I am never myself without you,

that’s all.


And it’s not as if we can’t be together

But we’ll be more fully together

when we live our own life

You know I’d never have sung my songs without you

No, never at all.





















	


	



			
				


			

			
When my voice trembles
		
	
	

		


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When words no longer work








wonder


wish


want


When words won’t come


compensate


contrive


When my voice breaks


snaps


sunders


strains


When I want to talk


touch


tenderly


towards


But you are not able


about


abandoned


absent


You are no longer


listening


live


longing


When I need to find a meaning


In the shape


form


structure


But I ‘m stranded


Stuck


Sucked under


Swallowed up


Then I reach out to you


I want your touch


tenderness


tranquillity


temerity


Sometimes words don’t seem enough


endless


empty


emotive


ejaculatory


Yet words can console


conjure


quilt


charm


captivate


cover.


Stretch out your hand


across the emptiness


and touch me with your fingers


friendship


faithfulness


forgiveness


frailty


fever


touch my heart with words


and I will hope


expect


await


be grateful


grave


garbed in joy


When words don’t feel enough


When all we want is touch


Or to see


sigh


sob


sing


Words can be shaped


changed


contorted


controlled


challenged


Words are all we have


To make us love


To make us live


To make us alive


To make us sing


To make us stand up


To console


words are


just enough










    

  • 






	


	



			
				


			

			
Mercy
		
	
	

		

































































Even near a busy road,


Flowers bloom as well as they do in lonely gardens.




They show us the meaning of generosity




And determination, despite their vulnerability.


Live like a flower


Die like a rose.


Rise up in springtime




As the sap flows.