Cheating Fool

a man is a fool when he thinks he can master
with lies, false semblance and trickery
the hearts of many women
he fails to hear all their sisterly whispers
behind closed doors and windows

a man is a fool when he thinks he can master
the hearts of a harem of women
self-deluded by his own shallow charms
he will find he is on a lonely old path
and his harm will be to himself

a man is a fool if he thinks he can master
the minds of many women
the sadness in this is the innocent hurt
those poor girls in love with a fool
may he drown in a pool of their tears

a man is a fool when he thinks he can master
many women on one hidden leash
the days will come, again and again,
when he ties himself up, in a tangled rope,
to finally hang his own soul on a tree
and swing in a sorry wind

Sorrow

the dark is full of shining stars
the moon will fade tomorrow

the morning sun is coming up
these things are sure as turning fate
but i can only sit and wait
the night will surely follow

the house is there but we are not
no fire burns within the grate
now the hour is growing late
home and my heart are hollow

no matter how the birds may sing
I sit here full of sorrow

Swans

 

ph-10795

 

the clouded sunlight through the trees

casts shadows, stilled, across  the  lake

the silvered white of floating swans

shines out against the gathered gloom

eyes that shed slow tears  recover

with beauty there,  to rest upon

 

swan

 

Bank Holiday Blues

Bank Holiday gloom seeps into the room
from a flat sky, full of grey light,
pressed to the glass of the window
three days of no brightness
changes the view
this hollow whiteness
deadens the day
the sounds become softer
the memories harder
of all that is vanished away

When I am Old (revised)

Dedicated to my Mother ~

 

when i am old i wont do anything
but think
and run my life back and forward
in my mind
in translucent back-lit visions

the trek to the kitchen and back
a long journey
re-gaining at last the armchair
i sleep
to dream dreams of the long gone

i will develop a liking for jelly and custard
milk pudding
soup from a can and cheese with jam
cream cakes
and forget what i meant to have for breakfast

the taps will drip, the fire will burn cold
windows rattle
and the mice will move in unafraid
as company
and eat the fabrics to tatters

I will confuse the books i have read
with memories
i will see the ghosts of my family
standing by
and wonder if they wait for me in the night

I wont care about any of this
watching light
watching shadows move across the walls
distant birds
i will ignore all bad news and live in imagination

drifting back to childhood again
so clear
with all my family gathered around
the dead ones
now is just a space between sleeping and waking

 

The Grove has a new tree

I have updated my post about the Garden Grove because I was given a Wild Service Tree today. This tree was grown from seed from a tree in an ancient woodland in Gloucestershire.

There are more details about the history of the tree on the Garden Grove posting.

Circle Declaration

The wrong words have been spoken.

They summon up famine,

injustice and  grief.

The line is narrow and doesn’t turn back.

Progress and riches,

shot like an arrow,

Power and greed pull back the bow.

I hear it groan, as it strains and creaks.

The higher it flies the further it falls.

 

The circle is endless,

The earth is all-knowing,

Liquid with sunlight

Holy and starbright

A mystery sings, at the heart of it all.

The movement is one of coming and going,

Eternally growing,

naturally flowing.

For wisdom and balance we send out the call.

Birds

so much is shared through migrations
like birds dropping seeds as they fly
some cultures will grow and flourish,
some seeds will wither and die

looking back on history
and the incessant weave of the world
i see patterns intertwined, growing
interchange of art and design
leaves that bud from one tree
the branching of language and speech
a map of where we’ve all been

it says nothing of where we are going
in this we know less than the birds