
Takin time
Take time to weigh this all up
who speaks for me and mine
anybody watched a donkey
or a man on the tread wheel
take time and take it all in
people want what you can give
if you give it too freely
they’ll take it for what their lives
are worth or so they think
but today who speaks for me
and mine and us and you
is the real question
so brothers and sisters
sit back take a deep breath
don’t jump through hoops
Take time and take a deep breath.
I and Thou
“Feelings dwell in man; but man dwells in his love. That is no metaphor, but the actual truth. Love does not cling to the I in such a way as to have the Thou only for its ” content,” its object; but love is between I and Thou. The man who does not know this, with his very being know this, does not know love; even though he ascribes to it the feelings he lives through, experiences, enjoys, and expresses.”
Martin Buber, I and Thou
My kith and kin

They worked hard
they fought for us and you
collier men and collier boys
steel working men too
paid their way
paid their dues
but who speaks today
for me and you?
Blossom

Blossom
Looking out from the 700 foot contour
rain kissed the barest touch of grey mists
on hills in distant woodland patchwork
each tree reveals hued leaves and buds
different colours mottled vibrancy offered
lime shades of oaks glittering early leaves
glistening Ash buds unseen barely lingering shy
in spring still holds back from false summer days
the Raven in its bowered oak cleft kingdom
unstirred by gusting wind or raindrops frapp
rifled oak bark running hard lined rivulets
in the orchard salmon pink quince glows
Ghost road
Lightest yellow whitening moorland grass stretching
waved wind shifting flows into the uplands plateau
distant ravens specked black in white grey clouded skies
wheel unhinged glide soar above the flat worn track
(excerpt The Ghost Road)
Stress related break from writing broken! And the relief when the words come through and the story begins to tell itself again a delight.
@robcullen
Archive
I was handed a box
containing poems drafts
from 73 and 74
the word holds
connotations of bees
storing honey for harder days
days of wiser eyes
archive of forty years
recognising a voice
echoing still.
:: the red coat ::
Source: :: the red coat ::
Save Marjan Davari

This is a shout out to poets artists writers creatives do something!
Bees are life!
