Tag: poem

Known not understood

 

If we see some 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 each day.

The first time our eyes opened
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

Little 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 still needed a mother too.
A mother too.
If only I were stronger…
Stronger,stronger..
Would you have stayed here 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 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.

Shapely tulips catch my eye

Shapely tulips catch my eye

Red as cherries

Winter berries

Spring will never lie.

Willow buds as green as glass

Happiness

Happiness

Memories are made of this,

Sunlight slants across the wall

such loved color

my eyes follow

Delight  to me is all

Mauve and grey the evening sky.

Sun descends

Day must end

One last goose flies by

http://youtu.be/Cc659yLMgEo

To know which

 

Each face has its unmeasurable beauty.
Inside I am astutely breaking down numbers
into their prime factors;
as I look out I see the polgons on your wrinkled skin
retain their topological invariance as you speak and gesture.
What’s that for?
Yes,my eyes say,I hear you,I am listening;
I’m a lake of warm water,Fall into me and float.
At one end I keep a Thesaurus of real and imaginary words.
They are waiting to inform me of my next disappointment
With the so called Real.

My false self is so true to herself
She has become real….
Declared as such by Royal punctuation.
My real self is waiting to get married…they are both female you see,
~So it’s going to be a really gay occasion.
We hope you can join the three of us.
I am a trinity;I am a reflection of God
in a puddle of rainwater.
There is the real self,the false self
And I who observe… A spirit one might say,for now.

The lacquer which made my pen look expensive is peeling off.
Underneath it is a crude orange..
So it has lost sophistication but gained
An edible appearance to a hungry writer.
And now I am a cheese tart in a dish on your table.
You may gobble me up and I shall see the glint in your eyes.
After a while we’ll have transubstantiation
When I become you though I shall be invisible to human eyes.
Have Faith!

The polygons look weary,Topology may describe but won’t help.
Let me touch you.Let me feel you
And see if my fingers can account for all parts of you…
See it’s all intellectual work and so for my homework
I must take you to bed and count your bits all night…
and of course you can count mine.Then we can dream
Of ripeness and late roses which bloom in winter.
Do we agree or disagree or is such language completelt inappropriate?
This is one kind of examination but not another.
the trick is to know which.

Oxford Holy Riddle

OXFORD HOLY RIDDLE
Gold stone from Cotswold quarries men brought
And built into a way of life for those who bought
Their lives so cheaply.And did not see
The children’s eyes,the ball,the game, the tree
Of life that grew in small backyards and gave
All to those who lithely climbed into its arms,
Why should this not be you?
O Eden, I see that you are nearer now,
In lowly homes where love is free
Than in the temple ,grove and softset brow
Of those who worship God,in churches built of gold
Now  this is simple to behold
When sun is setting, and escapes the ashes
Thrown up and floating in the watches
Of the days of voters’ eyes cast up to skies
And wondering, fearful, what will come
When all the secret deals are done.
So take the gold of Life and let it fall
Into your children’s growing souls,
And let this Cotswold town and spires
Melt into sunset’s glowing orange fires.

Felicity

Now together and apart
We feel unity
Happy silence dusts our ears

Memories of long ago

Deepen our time now
Gazes,smiles and touch enough
Make the daytime slow.

This and this and this
Thus and thus and thus
All is one and shall be so
True love,she does know.

The sea within you

The sea within you

Love shines from your eyes
and makes your face
so beautiful.
Your smile has a rare beauty
Like a foreign flower
transported into a bare garden.
Though it's winter now,
it's summer in my heart
as I lose myself
in the colour
of the sea within you

No space for kindness?

I am continuing my thinking about poetic forms,The limerick is popular with most people even those who are afraid of poetry in general apart from it n,The Ancient Mariner etc
Now I do not pre-think a poem.I don’t know much about what will emerge.Sometimes a phrase like,The Museum of my heart,comes into my mind and I am stimulated to write around that.My first poem on my first blog was free verse.I had been outside in snow and the streetlights gave a strange orange glow on the whiteness..also the air smelled different as I looked at the dark sky and the snowflakes

CHRISTMAS SNOW

Too old for cold,I stand, now ,against the hedge,
Watching the snowflakes in the glare of neon street lights.
Darkness has come early,and I think of country uplands and huddled sheep.
On Salisbury Plain,shepherds watched their flocks
Just as in Bethlehem two thousand years before,
And then,exactly when?
“Between the wars”,it stopped. Now we know there is no “Between the wars”.
And who decided
To cull the sheep and shepherds and the space for kindness ?
Now that same Plain still exists,but banned
And closed to human-kind,
For bombs ,not wombs
Nor for birth of lamb ,nor gypsy child ,nor Saviour
Where would He go today

I had no form in my mind when I was writing nor did I know it was going to be about whether in the world we have created there is any space for true creativity….
So I did not try to make into a sonnet or any other type of poem

Maybe it found its own form? It evokes for me the whole scene I saw
____________________________________________

The top deck of the bus

 

The bus is late and I’m
Thinking of what you said,
trying to understand, but
I’ve never met you,so
I have nothing but written words
Which,however beautiful,may not give
enough for me to truly imagine
the depths of your heart.

My legs hurt and I have a cane
But I don’t like it.I can’t accept
my own infirmity,my troubles,
my pains,my disagreements,my mistakes.
Rain falls over me and drips down the lens
in my spectacles,as if the world is weeping
the tears I can’t shed.

If I cried now,standing at the bus stop,
for all the years of pain
noone would know,they’d
think it was just
raindrops running down my cheeks.

The bus comes,but it’s half term…
The shops are too crowded,I can’t
Stand in queues…imagine how most of you
say it’s boring.Well,I’d love to do it
but I’ve decided the pain is greater
then the rewards.

The bus driver stops at a place where
the pavement has been lowered to allow
the owner of this house to drive
their car into the front garden
so they won’t need to buy
a resident’s parking permit.
It makes it a harder task to descend
from the bus and I hope he won’t
start while I’m still getting down.

In the coffee bar are exhibits from
a local museum,and I think,one day
my cane and my watch from Argos,
my shopping bag with a picture of Monet-
such vulgarity…..
they may be in a museum too…
along with my door keys
my bike lock and my spectacles
and will somebody try to conjure me up
in their imagination.
Someone who used to like Topology
Knitting,writing and holding hands with lovers
on the top deck of the bus
crossing central London without noticing
anything except their reflections in the eyes
of the other.
Light bounces to and fro.

My mind shuts down, the words
packed away in boxes,till there’s only
you and me and a few elementary particles
trying to recreate the world
with the big bang
that will end it all.

I’ll love you when I be

‘Twas but a reptile passing by.
It flew across the deep blue sky
Why do reptiles fly so high?
I’ll love you till I die.

“Twas but a cat under the moon.
Did you have a silver spoon?
Why can’t cats all waul in tune?
I’ll love you very soon

‘Twas but a wooden legged man,

Carrying a large brass saucepan.
Why can’t men do what women can?
I’ll love you better than.

Why are adverbs?
What are nouns?
why do circuses have clowns?
I’ll love you lying down.

Where do dreams go in the day?
What game can we adults play?
Can you or can you not say?
I’ll love you,in my way.

‘Twas but a verse that seemed so free.
It floated over my oak tree.
I have eyes but cannot see.
I’ll love you when I be

She loved an adverb more than me

 
 
Image

 

My wife has left me for an adverb.
I don't know which one it is!
Is it slowly,quickly, nearly?
Life should not be like a quiz.

She told me that she "nearly" loved me,
When "dearly" was what I had hoped.
Life is full of lost illusions...
How do we 'reaved lovers cope

I think I should have kept it secret,
For now I sit and sadly grieve.
Do you think my wife is cruel?
What a strange excuse to leave!

Would she leave me for a pronoun?
Would she leave for a full stop?
Would I leave you for a quote mark?
Would I fall down in a black dot?

Come back,darling for I love you.
I have learned I must take care.
I will go for grammar lessons.
I am sure I can learn flair!

We can write a poem together,
You can choose the topic,dear.
I will hold my pen and write for
They say true love drives out fear.

Did I fear her? Did I love her?
Was she worthy of my heart?
Did she dislike my hairy nostrils?
Was that why we had to part?

Come back Mary,come back Mavis.
Come back Sunny, come back Sue
Without my wife I feel so lonely.
What is a left man to do?

Shall I vote for love or money?
Shall I throw my self away?
Shall I get a new agenda?
Will a new life start today?

Come back Miriam,come back Sarah!
Where have all the women gone?
Come back Rivka with your grammar.
I can feed you a cheese scone.

I work hard and I can cook.
I put fresh linen on the bed.
I can pay my bills in full.
But without my Love,my heart is dead

Love knows what to do

Love knows what to do

Mind the gap...
Mind the gap… (Photo credit: asparagus_hunter)

Some folk are made of rubber

Some folk are made of glass

And when the stormy winds blow

Rubber lets it pass.

i

Some folk have eyes like water

Some folk have eyes like ice.

And when we’re introduced

We do not look there twice.

 

 

Some folk have learned to use us

Some folk give us respect.

With those who cannot see us

We cannot  connect.

 

 

Some folk where born  to sunshine

Some folk were born to storm

And fears imagined in the mind

Can cause such dreadful harm

 

 

Oh,hold me to your bosom

Oh.hold me close to you

Some folk were made to hate and fear

But love knows what to do

 

Oh,let me feel your body

let me cherish you

Some folk  have been neglected,

But love knows what to do

The skylark

Freed from her trap
Bird soared into air,and hovered
And floated, resting;
And flew higher, singing as she flew,
And higher again,
Till there was only her song,
Left in the silence,
Trembling.

Up on the wide,stump topped hill,
I felt the lark inside my heart
And heard her singing.
And flying up with her,
I saw gold sun and silver moon,
Moors of heather ,and sheep grazing
Green hills,
And shimmering lakes,
Clouds ,sun and sky in watery mirrors.
And sang ,and dipped,and dropped,
And curled
Up the blue
Bright heaven, and rested
On the wind.
All that day
I was a lark singing.

I shall always have a vision of
A bird
That flew upwards,
Rejoicing and free
Into a deep blue sky, and high
And higher
Beyond high
Into a place, beyond eye even,
But music still sending.

I wish I were back on that heathery moor,
With the nibbling sheep and the bees sweetly humming,
Hearing again
The poignant song
Of the skylark,
A prisoner,freed by a magician,
From her trap,
So happy to be free,
So wonderful to see.
Do it again,
For me,

 

For life’s but a true story we invent

No words of mine can potently display
the anguish and the joy that touch our lives;
yet all our ghostly forebears went this way
where words may pierce our hearts like sharpened knives.

No sentient being willingly at first
Accepts the pain that true perception brings.
Yet we must not take hearts to be a curse;
we need not flee from knowledge,though it stings.

Each day demands our thoughtfulness and love
from which all better actions rightly come.
Each day the grace we have is just enough,
Continue reading “For life’s but a true story we invent” →

I have a calling to follow

I think my vocation is sacred.
I keep seeing visions of God.
He’s like a bright light
Exceedingly right
Does anything seem to be odd?

I have a calling to follow
I just do not know the details
I pray and I wait.
By yonder lychgate
Do vocations ever get into the Sales?

I would like it if I could buy one
I’ll give you all the money I’ve saved
Sell my idea?
My dear,no fear!
Just consider how well I’ve behaved.

Everyone has a vocation
To be who they know that they are.
Yet I am not me
Without you to be
Here in my arms by the fire.

I’ll get an answer tomorrow
As I dream of God during the night
She will give me an image
And the much needed courage
To go on till I see the Light.

The problem is one of translation,
For God speaks in symbols not words
Symbols are wells
in which truth dwells.
And the Spirit swoops down like a bird.

Why not find your vocation?
It’s possible whatever your age.
Attend to your dreams
and how your life seems
Vocations are now all the rage

 

Love was,oh,so long ago

Waxy flowers in the snow

Source: Kathryn

Waxy flowers poking through
Snow so white
Flowers bright.
Made me think of you.

I see once more your dark gold hair,
Soft as snow,
On my pillow.
Now my bed is bleak and bare

,
Your face turned to me,flower to sun,
I loved you.
You were true.
Fear by love was overcome.

I saw the cyclamen in snow,
Pink and red,
Now frozen,dead.
Love was,oh,so long ago.

But never gone from in my mind.
Thoughts so deep,
Upwards seep.
Love was gentle,love was kind,
You’re always in my mind

 

When God spoke

 

I’m a thin skinned person

On a thin skinned, spinning earth.

We’re living on the surface,

Creating more financial worth.

My skin is getting thinner

I am feeling far too much.

My skin is very fragile,

I may need to have it patched.

The earth is full of danger

But we build on it like fools.

As if my skin would thicken

If I covered it in jewels.

Inside the earth are fires

Which rage like infernos.

But we build nuclear reactors

In places we don’t know.

We build our human cities

As if we are in charge.

Banks,buildings,bridges growing,

The built world has grown so large.

The earth has a thinner skin on,

But we don’t want to know.

We just want our human cities

To grow and grow and grow.

My skin is getting thinner

I feel life far too well.

I don’t want to write poetry

But I feel that I must tell.

My skin is getting thinner

I’m at one with Mother Earth

She groans and labours loudly

Like she is giving birth.

Her skin is getting thinner

Is it something she will shed?

As adders are reborn

When we think they are dead.

But if we have too many cities

The earth has no space to move.

We’re like acne pustules dancing

Without energy or love.

The skin is getting thinner

The world is going to split.

And the energy released

Is a fierce charge to transmit.

We split the atom once

And opened the abyss.

But when we split the atom

Who knew about all this?

My skin is far too permeable

I’m feeling too much pain.

I want a thicker skin

To survive on this terrain.

The world groans and she labours

And she destroys cities and trains.

She’s giving birth to her own self

As she struggles,works and strains.

Her self is something fearsome,

She is not civilised.

When God spoke from the Burning Bush,

We covered up our eyes.

My skin is getting thinner

I feel the heat again

My skin is getting thinner

I’m feeling too much pain.

We won’t allow for any detours

The morning sun attracts me

From the avenues of sleep

From my tiny clock I see

It’s almost half past eight.

But you keep rolling my way

And I’ll keep rolling yours,

And we won’t allow for any detours.

 

 

I drink my tea and coffee

From a very special cup

you gave it to me long ago

And from it I shall sip.

You keep rolling my way

And I’ll keep rolling yours,

And we won’t allow for any detours.

 

 

We were once so innocent

And now we are so wise.

I see the sun reflecting

in the mirror of your eyes

You keep rolling my way

And I’ll keep rolling yours,

And we won’t allow for any detours

 

 

Our lives are growing longer

And our eyes are growing weak.

And please forgive me now

I have to take a leak.

You keep rolling my way

And I’ll keep rolling yours,

And we won’t allow for any detour

 

How to live my life?

 

Source: My own

Humor charms

think my vocation is sacred
I keep seeing visions of God
He’s like a bright light
Exceedingly right
Does anything seem to be odd?

I have a calling to follow
I just do not know the details
I pray and I wait
By yonder lychgate
Do vocations ever get into the Sales?

I would like it if I could buy one
I’ll give you all the money I’ve saved
Sell my idea?
My dear,no fear!
Just consider how well I’ve behaved.

Everyone has a vocation
To be who they know that they are.
Yet I am not me
Without you to be
Here in my arms by the fire.

I’ll get an answer tomorrow
As I dream of God during the night
She will give me an image
And the much needed courage
To go on till I see the Light.

The problem is one of translation,
For God speaks in symbols not words
Symbols are wells
in which truth dwells.
And the Spirit swoops down like a bird.

Why not find your vocation?
It’s possible whatever your age.
Attend to your dreams
and how your life seems
Vocations are now all the rage

© 2013 Kate

Elegy for Mihalyi Csikzentmihalyi

Mihalyi was a saint of sorts;

he improved, with his search for understanding,

the lives of so many yearning writers;

the lame in spirit heard his Zen like words.

He could not have imagined the journey

From Hungary to Zurich to Chicago

A glimpsed mandala led to the heart of the impossible image

How did he learn to trust the flow?

The Rhine flowing down to the North Sea

May start as some minute spring

At the confluence of the gravity of water and earth.

And those then who have cast their nets into that sea

May bring in treasures not found in the business of cities.

At the first sighting,the image seemed hazy

Then the words began to flow like current through a wire.

Like a river cutting slowly through rocks of marble,

like an unknown sage from the Himalyan Alps

who had kissed the lips of his muse more than once

As she floated like a ghost, no,more like music

Tracing concentric spheres into the air

Till the universe was singing.

What was most human was his appetite,his love.

Touch the hem of his garment,follow your flow

Cut your path through the hard darkness until you find

The sunlit sea you were made to swim in

As honeysuckle on the walls, In joy’s sweet arbours does grow tall.

 

 

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.

Parting,a sonnet

  •  

    P1000280
    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.

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I got infinity ‘side of my head.

Image

I was once a poor student
In desperate straits
Trying to keep myself warm
I was once a young lady
with eyes like blue pearls
Sighing for the love that was lorn.
But then my self changed s I was silence reborn.
I’ve got infinity inside my head
And the writing is on my own brain.

I’ll sing of tit willows
And flowers in spring
That dance among the tall corn.
How you were a stranger
but I knew your name.
And we danced to an ancient rhythm,.
Now I’m an old lady
With patience and heart.
I’m happy to see a new dawn.
I’ve got infinity inside my head.
And the writing gives infinity form.

Sing and be merry for soon sunshine returns
And birds begin building their nests.
Sing and be merry for as the world turns
Minds and hearts fill up with zest.

For I’ve got infinity inside my head
And I create songs with a rhythm.

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New poem from poetry review

Poverty by Age
Poverty by Age (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Poverty
Poverty (Photo credit: Teo’s photo)

New poem from poetry review

An interesting poem

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If I go…

Image

If I go I won’t tell you.
I’ll just disappear one day.
Like when a cigarette ,which seemed so long,
suddenly has become smaller
and you never noticed it
because you were talking
about the meaning of life
while life was somewhere else
blown away with your smoke
into the sky
and then dispersed
never quite visible again
but still floating on the breeze
hoping to be caught
in a butterfly net
but unable to communicate
except by flying.
If I go it will not be today
but it will be an ordinary day
no one will realise
that it’s that day
that the bird flies
from her nest
to go to a new place
only seeing the deserted nest
he realises,
my bird has flown

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What love has loss revealed?

 An old poem

Image
  

When I saw you waiting in that cafe
I knew you would be mine.
You were handsome, smiling,funny..you were specially designed.
You looked like men I’d only dreamed about in all those years before.
I’m so broke up,so broke up;you don’t love me anymore.

I saw you on the station as I came from out the train.
You wore an old green parka to protect you from the rain.
I wanted to be one with you,to make a Love entire;
But all you did was give me       pain too bad be endured

You walked away so quickly,I could not see you long.
I wish I had a big guitar to draw you back with song.
I looked at where you disappeared;what love has loss revealed?
I wish I could just lay down on this floor and keep my face concealed.

Railway stations sadden me, for I know we’ll never meet .
I won’t cry more ,for tears are running almost to my feet.
I walk fast looking straight ahead past that entrance gate,
I pretend that you have missed your train,that work was running late

I count from one and one up to a thousand and many more–
But I know for sure it's far too late; you have closed that heavy door.
You are hiding in a dungeon
You are covered with white steel
But I know you had a heart and you must surely feel.I lost all my illusions, and then I lost some more.
I wish I could lay down and die,right here on this floor
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The elegance of shapes laid bare

English: Winter time bare trees
English: Winter time bare trees (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
  • [
    The waxing gibbous Moon as observed from Earth
    The waxing gibbous Moon as observed from Earth (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

    photo copyright Mike Flemming]

  • The trees stretch silver branches
    n the late December sun ,The robin perched there watche
  • As we offer him our crumbs.
    The elegance of shapes laid bare
    Forgives the winter cold.
    And side cast sun rays clearly
    Touch the embers of my soul.
    Too soon the quarter moon will rise
    To send the sun away.
    So let us all wipe clean our eyes
    To see what Winter shows.
    Old people hurry homewards,
    In darkness navigate.
    And all the while the world rotates
    Regardless of our fate.
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Trust in darkness

“Trust the unknown”. Autumn 2013 008All shall be well,and all manner of things shall be well” St Julian of Norwich Trust the unknown force that grew you, From the joining of two cells. Act of love, of self giving, Thus to grow a newer self. Trust the dark,the unseen aspects Of the life we all do live. Trust that there is wisdom elsewhere, To your emptiness to give. Wait in patience for the time When inspiration comes at last Trust in darkness,silence,lowness. Opposition forms the cross. Pain is bearable in lowness, Like the worm in earth I dwell. When I look I see the sunrise And I trust all shall be well.