A turgid stem

 A turgid stem

A turgid stem

*

A turgid stem?

Or turbid stream? who shall choose

a wild rose in the hedge

love as my fragrance,

hips showing knowledge?

or are feelings thick and clouded

like a river in torrent

too rapid, too swift

to ever become sentient?

May morning England

I walked barefoot on apple blossom

the petals I bruised caressed me

my joy overflowed but I lost some

and received for a promise a kiss.

Are my words worth sharing

to keep or to lose?

there we have it,

the matter is out, you may choose.

What is it about,

where will it take you, how far?

This is only my dress,

the fruit is in the jar.

A song is in the singing

silver bells are being rung,

bottles in a crate

all music in ears that are young.

Let my words take wings

where flower blooms

and robin sings

let them settle in odd nooks

or gather around the edges,

heed not to go by looks

as I have told you

the thing is hidden,

draw no swift conclusions

unless you are bidden.

 Dark clouds will deliver rain

sparrows will fall to the ground

 shadows are not substance,

an echo is a dying sound

the promise of one true is real

 The sword will wound, a stone grazes

children gather apples

bringing flowers to buy praises.

In the town of villages,

over at Island place

behind the man with a message

upon the wall, a face.

As though had opened up a portal

and shining through a veil

of everyone who saw it

each one had his tale.

Coming out of a cloud

moved and moving, softened with tears

the cloud became shekinah

enshrouding one of middle years.

In the town of villages,

over at Island place

while the messenger yet was speaking

upon the wall, a face.

Hey, this is my poem, read it aloud 

The best way to spread truth

is to tell it out

if it displeases or troubled heart soothe.

You are asking what is my point?

if my words have not entertained,

or pleased or added

their best purpose was not gained.

 Events have issues

parents have children

so it is logical to conclude

that arguments ought to have reason.

Ask me why I am smiling,

my true love has come home to me

bringing lilies with him, pentstamon

he has set free my melody.

Ask me how will I celebrate, 

Morning oranges, burdock wine,

my mouth filled with laughter,

for the one who is mine.

This I will tell you plainly

my words would love to travel

to foreign parts, that dwellers there

might seek to unravel,

nor will I hide my intention

words that first the mind take hold,

may also touch the heart who knows?

perhaps they will leave them cold. 

I will feather my arrow

to even it’s flight

send love into the field

to turn the fight.

Come to now you say, who will listen?

Who are easiest to address?

those who laugh or they who cry?

people at ease or folk in distress?

If I have to choose my audience

then sayings that are in metaphor

are best at leisure read

for people to reach the core.

“Oh!” say you,

“but you are young

surely it’s upon trees more mature

that the sweetest fruit is hung,”

What shall we say then?

if you are wise at twenty,

will not the head of hoar

have gathered wisdom a’plenty?

so let us not jump to conclusions

Folly does not belong to youth

nor sagacity to older years

there is the truth.

There is one sure thing I’ve discovered

life is not all romance

competing in games,

pulsating music, a merry dance,

life is a question that requires a key

as well as treasure

only the prudent will see.

The night was dark and cloudy,

I entered a child’s room

nothing was stirring but the wings of angels

surely this is a throne room

 the brush of the artist at work

a masterpiece was in the making

lovingly He plied His brushes 

dipped in colours and shades breathtaking.

gentle too the patience of embroidery.

The Potter’s wheel is turning

loving hands creating

a wonderful dream of his discerning.

Has He shared His talent with you?

draw back the curtain, look within

there is a proverb that will guide

should you choose to begin.

And here is another observation,

a spider’s web weaved and spun

a dark design and cunning

spread before from whence light has begun,

false knowledge when spread

will catch men of learning

who yet lack wisdom in their tread.

It was not quite clear to me 

when I began to write,

that is I was not then decided

 what should appear in people’s sight,

for I am a mere apprentice as you can see

I did not know what I was about

whether to share only matters trivial

or things with a bit more clout.

Certain only of this, to share was my desire  

refreshing waters, rivers that flow

gathered into pools

where lotus may grow.

Things that are spirit

or soul or body,

matters of the heart or the wit

the answer is that life is all of these,

to make of one more than the other

in the end will not please.

So there is my hoping, my longest view

a heart of wisdom is a jewelled fountain

water that splashes

down jagged mountain.

Where is bread the sparrows will flock

a heart of love is a perfumed garden

the breath of summer

take care not to harden.

*

“Oh” say you “are you finished?

so soon?”

my dear, we are only part way there

we have not reached the moon.

There is that fellow in feathers,

have you in fact heard?

did you really listen

to the song of the blackbird,

as he lilts the morning air?

What a pretty little etude

he begins, soft velvet, then,

it must be a bawd, he becomes quite rude

and pips a little pip to crown

his musical rendition.

Dib me a ripple, tickle me a trout

the weatherman is coming to tea

if he comes in corduroys

I will seek for amnesty.

Wet me a yet net, catch a stickleback

if he comes in dungarees

I will lend him my old mac

The man in the market shouts his wares

“wisdom for sale”

“how strange” you reply…

“in what amount? show me your scale”

you can’t buy wisdom at any price,

bring your cash, write out a cheque

folly can be had for the throw of a dice. 

Suddenly the man was there,

whose picture he had seen

standing on the shore

where nobody had been.

He said “walk with me in sunshine,

though ’tis hard to understand,

your legs will soon be weary

walking endlessly in sand.

Come, join me on the shoreline

looking out to sea,

one day you will walk over

despite impossibility.”

I know life has a reason

a plan that was not mine

there yet will come a season

for interpreting the sign.

*

My pen will not be put down

off we go again,

is the sound I hear a crackling fire

or gently falling rain?

If you hear me call come quickly

for my need will be urgent

if my voice comes to you upon the wind

you will know what is meant,

haste my darling, come quickly.

Snow drifts, tides ebb and flow

laughter today may bring tears

to someone else’s tomorrow.

In the crowd a smile

in the traffic a song

amid the concrete a flower blossoms

that which is gentle is strong.

Let us search for clouds and find them

I have stood out in the rain

one time when I was foolish

I endured hours of inflicted pain,

naughty boys trample flowers

they find growing in the way,

men promote themselves to seats of learning

they know what is right but they will not say.

I bought myself some rollerblades

they taught me how to glide,

before I knew it someone else

was rolling by my side.

Hey! open your heart

what are you defending?

my weapons are words of love,

joy without pretending.

Fading beauty butterfly

prettily she dances in the air,

alighting here a delicate ribbon, 

a fitting broach, append it there.

Loveliness to behold, but not to be held,

her beauty will rub off in your hand

it was in her freedom she excelled.

I piped upon a piccolo

but found I could not sing,

I swapped it for a guitar

now I make the rafters ring. 

Come into my tunnel

hold my dove in your hand,

my morning kiss will wake you

and make you understand.

Only let your love be tender

let your words be kind

you will have my sweet surrender

[and I will have yours.]

He said “they were there” 

he said “I saw them”

though not equal in glister, they shone

their greeting came with transport

a friendship was begun.

He sat beneath the angel wing

and studied luminescence

while merry songs did sing.

 He said “they were there” 

he said “I saw them”

though he could neither read nor write

he called them cherubim.

Last night I dreamed a merry-go-round

my dove was in the park,

we picked upon a pomegranate

and fluted out a lark.

Don’t make yourself extraordinary

standing aloof from people

why find your taste in shades

others find too subtle,

eat damsons and honey

throw out a smile

why spend your whole life searching

the precious is in the while.

I am lost between two chords

the mandolin is playing,

you’ve found me wand’ring some place

between the cello strains.

Standing between the willow tree

and the tanner’s brook

I just don’t have a reason

to take a backward look.

A winter frown is coming

with a smile austere

and biting, freezing hard

is drawing near, it’s here.

money can buy flour

and overflowing wine

but it never can buy laughter

nor such happiness as mine

I will be your crocus

you are my meadow king

I will be your blackbird

and teach you how to sing.

I am standing in the swell

the symphony left behind,

lost between scent and fragrance

roses mingled and refined.

I’m paused between the chimes

of bells floated in the air

I just don’t have a reason

to be moved from there.

I sat between four men

they were talking, both pairs together

two on my right, two on my left,

their conversation the weather

Rather refined they were on the right, [gentlemen]

a bit “cor blimey” the other

as I listened I discovered

while they discussed with one another,

their language could not have been

more different in delivery,

such contrasting styles between,

yet their perception was the very same.

Poor men and those well to do

whether rough or smooth

held forth the self-same point of view.

I heard a young boy singing

his music filled the air

and though he sang a sad song

when he saw me standing there

he smiled at me and I smiled back

and took him home with me.

Splash my garden with marigolds

garnish my dish with it’s herbs

I’ll take my walk down country lanes

which never yet had kerbs. 

Come, sit down beside me

beneath the cherry tree

I will lay my head on your shoulder

together we shall see.

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