Insidious

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Insidious

I was walking along a couple of roads,
one turned to the sea, the wave, the water, the tide …
one sloped to the mountain, the scree, the rock, the peak …
I followed a breath like a hunter.

There were distractions,
high like eagles,
busy like bees,
imaginations
like sugar,
addictions,
paradise,
a sweet-shop shining
scent of fish
nectar,
pollen,
ice.

I was walking along a couple of roads
when the earth gave birth to twins,
and twins to twins
I followed a breath like a hunted fox.

Who first ate an egg?

Her name isn’t known.

Wild jungle fowl were domesticated as early as 3200 BC. [East Indian history]

Fowl were eaten more often than eggs.
Eggs were saved to hatch to supply fowl.

Fowl were laying eggs for man in 1400 BC. [Egyptian & Chinese records]

(All this information was found on the internet.)

 

This is not a poem

It’s a heatwave. What was it like to get drenched, to be showered on, to come home damp & dank?

The longest day is past.  Gone for a year. It was a tipping-point, nevertheless snow is unimaginable.

Lazing round listening to languid language – utterances from friends, acquaintances, companions, strangers: research time.

There is a time for everything.  Now is the hour for breathing through your nose.

Who knows what’s coming?

Music maybe.

 

Children

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[Image- painting – by Robbin T Milne – with permission]

Children

No matter how tall the leaves of grass grow,
the snow will fall again on the field.
The rabbits are running now,
nettles feasting on sunshine,
and the bees are minding their own business,
somewhere else.

No matter my friend has lost his friend,
there will be friends again.
There is a cancer in the fields,
long shadows over hedgerows,
birds I cannot name sing without melody,
and life growing underfoot.

How are the children now? Who are the authorities?
Are there any youngsters without tears flowing,
without tears repressed, stifled?
There are shards on the road, and dust,
buttercups and dock leaves,
foxgloves, and infants on the roads.

An iron gate opens,
an iron gate shuts,
a horse looking for attention,
a gray standing still,
maybe there are fresh eggs.
Why were the children born?

There is horseshit everywhere I look
Clean it up, someone – I’ve said enough.
God bless America,
The horses have bolted,
who’s in charge here?
The leaves of grass are growing,

whether we like it or not.

UNDECIDING

DEAR UNDECIDING

I’ll dither my way to salvation

– the grey man said.

I’ll stand idly by,

blown by the wind.

I’ll keep my powder dry,

sit on the fence

until the cows come home.

I’m in love with everyone and none

– the dithering woman said.

I am a little lemming,

a lap dog in the crowd,

you’ve nothing to fear from me.

you’ll never know whom I am,

withholding my love.

a neutral heart,

throbbing without desire

This is your issue,

(I have my own).

I wish I’d never heard your stories.

I am a man.

This is for women .

Who am I to interfere?

I am a woman.

This is for more worthy minds

I wish I’d been deaf to your stories.

Wake me up

when you’ve decided

what world we should live in.

PS The polls are open now.