Why do poppies cover the battlefields so politely

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We have to be breathing right to hear
the silence from which all song arises;
we have to be breathing slow
and gently
We have to be breathing right to feel it,
the tenderness in which we are held by nature.
We have to be breathing quiet
and soft
and to be looking receptively,

No desire for  objects

We have to be breathing right to recall it
the music we heard when there was silence.
We have to be being breathed
by the world
We have to be part of the whole..

and so,we forget  it as we are pounded

with  the noise of radios and traffic
and people talking loudly on cell phones
walking by the green fields and river
past the secret heron
and the coots nest
past the daisies

When I am dying I shall think,
Why was I not breathing right?
Why was I scarcely breathing?
Why did I forget those moments?
Why did I not live more deeply?
Why did i not sing more sweetly?
Why did I nor love more dearly?
Why did i not listen more carefully?

Why did I not sing more sweetly?
why did I not see more completely?

Why don’t we talk more gently?
Why don’t we look more intently?

Why were the poppies growing so wildly?
Why were the battlefields growing nightly?
Why did we murder  men so lightly?
Why did we not love more rightly?
Why are the poppies  covering the soil  so  politely?
When did the young  soldiers   leave so frightfully?

Why are we not here  more quietly?

When you said love

When you said love,it was not what women hope
For cutting out my heart was no mean feat.
Your wicked love and hatred telescoped
You looked on me as just a piece of meat.
When you were riled,you let your temper rip..
When you swore rage not love I had  dark doubt.s
From Cupid’s cup, you merely took a sip.
You left the cup upturned in  dismal drought.
When you repent,you never let it show.
When you do wrong,you keep your mind alone..
But truth and pain admitted are no blow.
But  hate locked in will cause both tears and groans.
Your charm had won me like a butterfly
Your humid hatred   makes me flutter by.

My cat

Male tabby cat
Male tabby cat (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Feeling the sadness in my heart
and in my arms a tender feeling
as if the flesh is calling out;
My breath’s coming in gasps and
my throat makes a murmur
as if trying to speak.

Sensitive skin on my inner arms yelps
and my heart aches like
I’ve run too many miles .
My legs feel strong
My mouth is dry and my back
needs an arm around it
for protection.
My eyes are wet with the moisture
that might have made saliva.

My cat died
And then my other cat died.
Whatever.

Joy will return one day

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Some days are sad and blue
And then we feel lonely too;
Or we cause rifts.Some days are doldrum days.
Some days are like bad plays.
Not such a gift.Most days have joyful parts.
Most days we lift our hearts.
They pass all too swift.

Some days love speaks to me.
Some days I feel so free.
I love my craft.

Life is a patterned weave.
Love helps us when we grieve.
Love is a raft.

See how the sun comes back.
See how light fills the gaps..
Some days we laugh.

Weep now and I’ll weep with you.
I have known sorrow too.
Yet sorrow will pass.

Joy is not far away.
Joy will return one day….
L With life’s arts and crafts

Sadness

The song of the worm - Glimpses between the cracks:Alice's Looking GlassSadness is a human trait..
For love and joy we seem to pay.
But thank you for the words and lines
The images and the humorous times.
If you wish to read my writes.
I hope you have a powerful light.
My user name is “catsideas”.
The rest was washed away by tears.
I promise nothing sweet and gay.
For poems come both night and day.
If your mind is full right up..
Toss away this poet’s cup.
I do not wish to correspond.
Emails, I am far beyond.
I gaze up at the stars and moon.
Listen now, you’ll hear my tunes.