hearth is
heart
and hear
and ear
and thou art
with my art
you are here
you are near
my heart
at my hearth
the truth
is clear
without fear
I rest here
at my hearth
and heaven
and earth
are quiet
in my eye and ear
at my hearth
the sun from
its berth
comes to my heart
to make fire
in my hearth
Green day
‘The Battle of Cable Street’ – a mural in Shadwell showing the protest against Black Shirts of Oswald Mosley
Got my own
My life’s a long tale
a tall story
of love and betrayal
that I did not fail.
I’ve got my own
I’m winding home
along the trail
with my eyes as wide
as a child’s
I’ve got my own
still open to the wild world
still tame.
I have come full circle
sailing the dangerous main
I’ve got my own
my voyage like baudelaire’s
full of joy and fear
oceans of pain
but I still feel the sun.
I’ve got my own
The uplands are home
I’ve left the downlands
I’ll live with love or alone
I’ve got my own.
I’ve got my own
‘eleven eleven’ follows me in all my devices.
Is it vice or virtue I have forgotten?
Is it you?
eleven eleven
Will you follow me to the grave
saying ‘remember remember’
my brain is your ephemeral slave –
what is it I forget?
eleven eleven
This constant stirring of embers…
How can fragile time everlast?
A blood-red poppy binds
remembrance of things past.
I think one day I will burst
and the eleven ghosts that nest
in the frailty of my head’s haven
will be set free…
eleven eleven
persephone
made to bear winter
hard as granite
for tasting the sweetness of the pomegranate
persephone
brings spring buds
from the underworld
to break the hold
of winter
persephone
loved by Demeter
garlanded in green
turns hardness
into sweetness