The body serves as a caterpillar
to house the soul in its larval state
then the soul blossoms
like a butterfly
with power and beauty
far greater than the body could ever have.
A fluttering glory
transcending time and space,
a brilliant light blinking into existence
and exuding brilliance.
A LITTLE bird, with plumage brown,
Beside my window flutters down,
A moment chirps its little strain,
Then taps upon my window-pane,
And chirps again, and hops along,
To call my notice to its song;
But I work on, nor heed its lay,
Till, in neglect, it flies away.
So birds of peace and hope and love
Come fluttering earthward from above,
To settle on life’s window-sills,
And ease our load of earthly ills;
But we, in traffic’s rush and din
Too deep engaged to let them in,
With deadened heart and sense plod on,
Nor know our loss till they are gone.
The girl’s far treble, muted to the heat,
calls like a fainting bird across the fields
to where her flock lies panting for her voice,
their black horns buried deep in marigolds.
They climb awake, like drowsy butterflies,
and press their red flanks through the tall branched grass,
and as they go their wandering tongues embrace
the vacant summer mirrored in their eyes.
Led to the limestone shadows of a barn
they snuff their past embalmed in the hay,
while her cool hand, cupped to the udder’s fount,
distils the brimming harvest of their day.
Look what a cloudy cream the earth gives out,
fat juice of buttercups and meadow-rye;
the girl dreams milk within her body’s field
and hears, far off, her muted children cry
I need to ask a question
While I’m sitting here alone
Why on earth did someone name
The elbow, Funny Bone?
Ev’ry time I bang it
The last thing on my mind
Is laughing out in ecstasy,
And shouting something kind
Instead I want to lash out
And jump and scream and curse
The pain runs through my body
Only toothache could be worse.
So if you are a specialist
Please do your best to serve
A clumsy man who’s sat in pain
I’ve banged my Ulnar nerve.
Their skin soaks up the heat
Leaving it as black as the midnight sky,
Their eyes wide, white, pleading
Begging to the passersby.
They litter the street
Half naked bodies,
Red and colouring their feet
Searching for a entrance
A door out of the circle of poverty.
Poverty means destruction
Destruction means fear
Behind locked doors we sit in early evening
Too scared to see a black face
Terrified of black feet crossing the threshold.
But why be fearful of your slaves,
Those you whip and beat
Treating like the dirt from the doormat
Where you wipe your feet.
Role diversity causes poverty
Poverty destroys peace
But peace minus poverty
Means Equality should increase.
Clouded with snow
The cold winds blow,
And shrill on leafless bough
The robin with its burning breast
Alone sings now.
The rayless sun,
Day’s journey done,
Sheds its last ebbing light
On fields in leagues of beauty spread
Thick draws the dark,
And spark by spark,
The frost-fires kindle, and soon
Over that sea of frozen foam
Floats the white moon.