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Tuesday, 15 January 2013

Confused by one

It wasn't easy
I think you used the word wobbly
So how to think you didn't give a shit
Think on it enough to write it down

There's duplicity for you
Step forward, step back, open neither wallet
Pretend to steer well clear of evangelising
State what was once passion is as good as gone

It wasn't, it isn't about being easy
I think we used the word civilised
So why now don't you give a shit
At least you give out that appearance

There's the Cupid stupidity
Eyes right, eyes left, open either heart
With presence to mean it deep, empathetically
Shown love, her fairest gift, one that endless shone


Monday, 14 January 2013

Days Passed

Between my birthday
& my sons birthday
My sister passed away



I am again at the sculpture park
This time to remember my sister Patricia who passed away today.

One by one the four of us will fall; three brothers (Jack, Christopher, Leslie) but first our sister Patricia

The grey, blue, pink and silver skies move along, just as we will move along; that highlight of skies brilliance serves as the tears for each of us; today the clouds open for Patricia

It is my younger brother Leslie who was by her side at the end, he and his wife Linda are our families pillars of strength. In his youth Leslie was Pat's favourite, today he more than ably repays some of that favouritism, my thanks go to Leslie and Linda

There was war in Yugoslavia when I took time to remember my mother, today as I remember Pat Europe is in a financial crisis, world stuff and family stuff, each with their own ongoing collisions.

Mum passionately wanted Pat cared for, her wish came true, throughout her life Pat has had wonderful care, and given innocent, loving, yet forthright responses in return. Those who cared for Pat loved her enough to take this in good heart. There love is something our family can never be grateful enough for.

Life needs the colour of people like my sister Patricia. The world would benefit from more of her kind of honesty. More of her kind if love.

Pat didn't need a sculpture park, she could walk for miles in and among the natural countryside of the Holme Valley, as she often did with her friend Colin in tow.

Pat was great at showing gratitude, the little bird box I gave her for her 60th birthday was received with such open joy, yes more of Pats qualities are needed.

I am rambling now. I think it's time just to be thankful and celebratory. Today let's cry, and laugh for my sister Patricia, just as my mum laughed, and cried at Cinderhills as they got ready together for a family wedding.

Thank you all for coming.

Sunday, 13 January 2013

Walk to a Red Telephone Box

Each step
Down the hill 
A step of deceitful betrayal

Each step
Down the hill
Under a moon of fascination

Moons and hills
On occasion out of balance
A soul lost to the valley 

In deep desperation
Fascinations and betrayals
His souls shallow weights

Streams that form
In shades and clearings
Of human scale

Find their way
To fast flowing rivers
Recent times flood plains

Hills and valleys
Land bound
Far from sand or sea

Open for enchantments
By a soul once thought of
As both distant, and free


Saturday, 12 January 2013

Vales

In that quiet hour
Sat in a place founded
On innocent foundations

An easy mind to scour
Thoughts gallop unbounded
Through vales of gentle undulations

At one with the eternal flower
All flights of fancy eventually grounded
Rounded to more sensitive premonitions


Friday, 11 January 2013