I.
Beyond in the belly sleeping,
And it breathes and feels vibrations
In its sack of sugars seeping
Drinks up its simple elations
For it to grow from infant seed,
One day, a bud in this garden,
and from a bud one day a weed,
Dry without sun, wilting, far done,
But with the sugar sap it drinks,
From the caretaker’s water can,
It will sustain before it sinks,
and as it lives will be a man.
II.
From the soil breaks free a bud,
To peak its head up for the sun,
It crawls foreword and slides through mud,
Waters fall and waters will run,
For the bud to breathe and to cry,
Rains will spread to nourish with drops,
But draughts last long, it will get dry,
in times when seems his vigor stops,
in those times the bud will still grow,
nourished by the sugar in tears,
he will hurt and will feel sorrow,
and he will fight and face his fears.
III.
Time will pass, bud blossoms to weed,
Lips suckle- mother’s milk is sweet,
drinks up sugar, pleases his feed,
to stay long tugging at the teat,
before she must pull him away,
from caretaker’s water can spout.
Replenished from the sun’s ray,
still stands and grows even without,
caretaker’s hand and mother’s breast,
here he sprouts from bud to blossom
he’ll break through mud to face life’s test,
from that same garden we all come.
FOR ONCE ONLY
He recalled the portrait painting
from a museum visit, once ago.
Ballroom dancer, lady fainting,
the show of her leg and red dress let flow
-and this was what he dreamed this night,
held her close, so to feel her pumping heart.
In his arms, became his, held tight.
In their dance, expression of their love’s art.
With each step, a piano key,
And as the song notes rise, they also rise,
A rose falls and they let it be,
Roses rain, they let shower from the skies,
To be for once in paradise,
To be for once only, before he wakes,
Goodnight kisses received twice,
From pillow he stirs, eyes open, heart breaks.
* * * * * * * * * *
DEBRA PARMLEY
Turtle
Sometimes we need nothing more
than to center
or re-center our selves.
To sit like the turtle on a log,
quiet, pulled in,
listening –
not to the frogs
who croak so loud,
or the thousands of creatures
singing through the dark night.
Sometimes we need nothing more
than to close our eyes and our ears,
centering
way down
where all is still
and the smallest voice
might echo.
Sailing
Some memories
are pure and clear
sailing
stingrays gliding
silvery and sleek
beneath our catamaran
we raced them
into the wind
while they slid away
under a turquoise sea
some truths
are like this
close enough
for a brief glimpse
too fast to touch
and impossible to capture
*
it's easy to get snagged
on rough coral
something damaged
before you pull the boat off
but that's the risk you take
chasing stingrays
the boat you might repair
the coral never
the day that started full of hope
ending with the snag
and the frustration
*
far better to ride the wind
let it guide your boat
oh not without your hands
of course
they're needed
to set sails
and with the right touch
you can lean back
to watch the sky
as you stow away
this perfect moment.
In The Forest Glen
The trees nod, rustling this eve
in this forest glen.
Between the trees
I glimpse a falling star
and make this wish -
touch me tonight
under these stars
which blanket the earth
in the dark summer night.
The ferns for a bed,
soft ground beneath
and you to whisper those words
into my ear, to tingle there
as they nestle in my heart
like forest creatures settling in.
As night descends deeper
the moon will sing a lullaby.
I close my eyes –
how dreams enter in
this forest glen
enchanted
and entering there
I”ll reach out to touch you,
run my fingers
through your hair,
reach up to kiss your lips.
The rest, beyond my deepest wish
as we move in bliss.
Abandon
The cows run in a circle at night
abandoning their slow pretenses
and I wonder what else they do
when we’re not around.
How serious we humans can be,
children the only ones knowing
true abandonment.
How we forget to run in fields
though some of us like cows
run wildly in circles behind
the closed doors at night.
* * * * * * * * * *
IAN BRADLEY MARSHALL
PLEASE BEAR WITH ME
I cannot make myself clear
I'm not quite sure why
you have problems in understanding me
I'm your Mum and have been
and always will be
I sense you think I forget this
I do not
I know I ask questions a lot
and I remember when you asked me
questions a lot
when you were two and upwards
I sense there's something wrong
for I sense a 90 second time loop
And though I cannot say it out loud
for to do so would be defeat for me
I sense that I have fallen victim
to dementia and Alzheimer’s disease
I cannot emphasise the joy it means
to see you all arrive, my children,
my daughters, my son,
and I cannot account for the
pendulum swings that even take
me by surprise
But when I have ticked you off
and you walk out and return
a minute later with that cheery smile
and light in your eyes
'Hey Mum. Fancy a cup of tea?'
I cannot tell you what that means to me
I cannot understand why I lose things
for I am placing them in safe places
And I'm sorry when I get angry
that I tell you all off for searching the
house for the keys
that must have been spirited away
or my rings have gone missing again
&
nbsp; You have always talked about the
windows of my mind
I fear my windows are closing
Some have closed for good.
Where that happens whole sections
of my life have closed down
and I'm locked sown within myself
with no means to communicate
my frustration other than through
unintended anger
It is most surely not intended
for I love you all deeply
and even though vast tracts
of my mind no longer function
some memories linger
disjointed
floating on air
timeless
and causing me to retreat
to yesteryear
where safety is found
and a level of security
I cannot explain the comfort
I obtain from recalling events
from three, four and five decades back
and quietly implanting them into
the events of this week
this day
this hour
But it gives me a measure:
of hope
of life.
It helps me to grasp on to the belief
that I am not losing it at all
Your father did everything for me
And now I have the burden of doing it
all myself
That is what I tell you I know
But locked deep within my soul
is the inner reality but which I can't admit
for such is the vileness of this illness
that I'm well aware of what all of you
are doing for me
The fridge and freezer that's
mysteriously stocked
replenishing itself
the various reasons you give me
to do the hoovering and bed changing
the endless battles with carers
that you must understand
encroach upon my sense of freedom
and responsibility
But I do understand deep down
though I'm forbidden to reason it out
or to say so
All of you give me wonderful times
I'm very aware that you talk
very much in the present tense
regarding Dad
He is still part and parcel of my life
Oh how I miss the warmth of his
feet at night!
And sometimes yes I forget he's gone
I think he's on nightshift
or he's popped out to walk Sadie
round the park,
And locked within me is the knowledge
that Sadie died 30 years back
but this illness makes it yesterday
I know I'm closing down
I don't want to
But I have my faith
And I love to see Dad's Portrait
from your Study
now proudly in my home, my lounge
when he'd just turned thirty-eight
I can see the smile
And I know he's alive
on The Other Side
Please bear with me for I do not
know how the future will unfold.
All of you stand together
for this strengthens me
in a way that you can't
quite understand
It is as if I am living my life
with my hands tied behind my back
I have my dignity
I have my fears too
And I dread it
when things go slightly wrong
and I know you quietly clear up behind me
But let us hope that future generations
will not go through this
That medicines will be such
that this vile illness
will be consigned to history
Bear with me my children and sons in law
my grandson and great grandchildren
I thank you with all my heart
for what you are doing for me
standing with me
and enabling me to remain at home
Please be patient
as I retreat further into my memories
and hallucinations
And rejoice too that my long term
memory sharpens
so that I'm revealing more
of what life was like in my
teens and twenties
I've had a wonderful life
Dad and I have been to California
and the Grand Canyon
We have dined on the Queen Mary
moored in San Francisco
We have visited your Uncles' Graves
in Germany
We have entertained you all
in our Timeshare in Tenerife
We have been to Ireland
and we have had wonderful
family gatherings, three generations
on our moorings at Bredon
Stand together
And when you hear me
wandering around at night
or walking the corridor to the
drawing room
I'm actually thrilled to see
the glow of your bedroom light
beneath the door
and I love it when I pop in
with my hair north south east and west
as you dare to cheekily put it,
frightened because Dad isn't there
and you invite me to sit on the bed
and you stroke and hug me
and you show me your work on the laptop
and help me to seize back reason
just at the moment I thought I
had lost it
And we laugh and then
I go back to bed
and you tuck me in
putting out the light
but leaving the door open
just as in aeons past
I would do for you
I know I go down when
all of you return to your homes
and I know just what it does to you
to receive 17, 25 and 30 calls
in an evening on the same point
But it also makes me feel so safe
just to hear your voices
Your cheery hello and the smile
I can see down the line of the phone
"Hello Mum."
And we chat as in the old days
and by the time we've finished
I've forgotten why I called
but you make me feel a thousand
feet tall.
And none of you ever let on
I've called before.
Just occasionally, the locked window
will open and I will remember
I've called you already
and I'm so thankful that nevertheless
you didn't remind me.
Thanks Mum for being the most
wonderful Mum in the world
For the incredible laughs we have
For the jokes we have
For all the reminiscences
For all the times you have given me
and all of us
We love you Mum
from the bottom most part
of our hearts
ANYHOWS
Children were executed
And the world stood idly by
A shrug of the shoulders:
It’s how it goes and anyhows,
not my problem – now where’s
my coffee?’
It’s no good looking at me like that,
there’s nothing we can do anyhows,
as well you know.
And I must keep my eye
on the FTSE index coz
I've got pension shares.
And anyhows, Syria and Iran
They’re just too far away for me
to even worry about.
Nowt there is gonna affect me here.
I told you to stop looking at me like that!
I don’t like it.
You seem to sear me with a
red hot poker
and that’s a breach of
my human rights.
Which reminds me...
I must mark a cross on the calendar
for Monday – going on strike
We’re working too many hours
And anyhows that DOES affect me.
And anyhows – what you mean
I should be looking at Houla on the box?
I don’t do houla hoops these days.
Anyhows, who are you anyways?
Conscience, what you mean, conscience?
Go away!
Hey luvvee can I 'ave another
hot choccy and one of 'em pastries?
Yeah. Thanks. Wicked.
I 'spose you'd better get this here
a coffee too! I dunno. Trouble is
I'm just too generous to a "T"
What you mean there's no one here?
THAT STRANGE BEDFELLOW - CHARITY
I'm a cancer in your body
I eat away your insides
I show no mercy
in my determination
to eat you alive
I feed upon your misfortune
and create more cancers
where none before existed.
My appetite is voracious
and my permutations
endless
ever more progressive
innovative
malignant
promiscuous.
I attack the most vulnerable
I feed on irony
the less the purse holds
the more I can quite legitimately steal
...and do...to my heart's content
There's just no stopping
the thirst and my appetite.
My Name?
Why yes of course.
“Charity”.
THE FIVE POUND NOTE
‘Hell has no fury than a woman scorned’
It is written.
How dare the man
To have the affront to ask for payment from me
His invoice
He is a woman hater
A character assassinator
A man to be reviled
A man who hates
Oh dear!
Lucifer throwing teddy
out the pram again
Striding the heavens
with the clomp
Of a booted Irma Grese
Demanding that all men are evil
Because all men hate women
It’s Sunday afternoon of course
Always a bad time for unhappy souls
Jezebel and Potiphar’s wife
All rolled into one
And without the calm reasoning
Of Mrs. Pilate to her hapless husband
In times like these
Forget the payment
Cut the link
A World of Verse Page 2