Poetry and other Words

Poetry

Words creating worlds of hope,

Unseen until the gentle touch,

of thoughts wind from I to eye,

Then set ablaze in reality and hope

A vision, a song, a heart.

I write to bring a smile,

Words to divide a heart and mind,

Words that become minds music,

Words speaking of victory,

Words of quest and con quested thoughts,

I write to bring a tear,

Words that reach into the past,

Shining forgiveness and healing rays,

Reflecting on past days and deeds,

Releasing their pain saving souls freed.

I write to bring ,

Not take, or steal or sell,

a life stream always there, 

always new replenishing fresh,

The words taken in, become your flesh

T Poe

October 3, 2002

Words

Words smile and cry

Words they laugh and smirk

Words may dance and sing 

But words love work 

Their work to bring

Carrying loft, base and mundane

Driving taxi cab insane

Babble and cry, accented why

to rescue and save

Ee’n darkest of knave

then condemn justly and die

Disappearing into dust

forever lost.

Grace

Grace

how does it feel?

a bruised reed he will not break,

but still the reed is bent.

eden has not returned,

the snow still softly falls,

the rains they pour or not at all.

he bends and draws in the sand,

accusers right and wrong depart,

he does not condemn,

yet still the act was done,

he moves the judgement from east to west,

surely we too must move on,

but in no direction can we escape ourselves,

who is it that speaks?

of which voice,

will of you take heed?

Thomas and Etches

28th January 2010

From Shakespeare

“Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; 

To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub: 

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, 

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, 

Must give us pause: there's the respect 

That makes calamity of so long life..”

From the dictionary

“..(in Christian belief) the free and unmerited favour of God, also

• a divinely given talent or blessing : the graces of the Holy Spirit.

• the condition or fact of being favoured by someone””

The Hours are Slow.

This Phrase,

This Concept,

Time as our enemy,

Time like that Dutch Lesbian

Angrily pointing out, 

Each and every Tick,

Each and every Tock,

each pulsing beat a mini-dart

to the heart,

Pierce, 

Pierce, 

Piercing my soul,

As if, as though, by some contrast, I should have achieved in,

that Blink,

saving of our whales or,

saved the world in Marvel style or,

saved a thought

that would warm the hearts of millions!

Who laid this burden on my shoulders?

to bear

to carry

to cradle

Who hitched my trailer of purpose to this?

to this tick

to this tock

Who wrote these rules ?

the book

the map

this encyclopaedic burden to my heart, my soul,

This Phrase

this Concept

The hours are slow 

but the pay is poor.

—

Etches 

The White House

Sunday 13th October 2019

(thanks to Robyn Williams G M Vietnam for the DL Image  - womin in comfortable shoes)

A History of lighthouses

you may know from where this comes

from nearby we see,

lives lost at sea,

broken apart on craggy rock,

so grief like the storms themselves,

descends,

whipping the souls of the loved,

so beat upon the leaders door,

cry to community,

to  build -  to support - to imagine,

a warning beacon! 

a light of safety and secured hope!

ruin shall descend no more!

...

now they stand still,

on windless days,

a seagulls home,

watching the five year old, 

with giggling smile,

no longer courageous, 

no longer galant protectors of love,

mere friends,

with a blade of grass,

that stands for this season in the field nearby,

where does the passion go

where is the fight

why does the beige descend

now neither hot nor cold

now uncontroversial 

what invisible force?

what magnetism?

silently and softly tucks the meaning away,

in hidden places,

lost,

lost as deep as the oceans floors,

somewhere but, nowhere at all.

Etches 

6th Nov 2019

TWH

\ pointlessness and powerlessness are often not so peaceful, beneath each summer sun and  sandy beach lies a treasure of anger and loss.

once with grand purpose

now artefact

some distant anthropologist

will look pretentiously and remark

we of the future will ponder what dreams

once were

and Arrogance

And Arrogance


Arrogance,
the overestimation of,
ones own abilities,
Blindness to Blackness,
the lack of inner sight,
assumption that you know,
you feel, you care, alas
Rusted on,
this gate will not open, ever
for strangers,
for opinion,
no hinge squeaks of change,
shout loud,
shout louder,
make sure no one else can,
speak, or be heard,
make sure no one else can,
breathe.


Thomas
The White House
Oxford

Geroge Floyd killed this last week. by systematic hatred and
arrogance.