Thought for the day. No.25f.

‘What are you doing?’ You asked.

‘The best I can’ I replied.

Nothing now matters.

The question of faith, blows over your grave

But how can it be thus so

And seek though you will, the roads are all closed

And there’s nowhere else now to go

Belief it has no dimension

And belief it has no weight

While the winds of change, blow heavy and cold

Mean the answers, all come too late

The signs are there to be read now

A cross in paint on the door

My mind and my thoughts, torn asunder

There’s a Blood Red Rose on the floor

Don’t speak to me in tongues now

And don’t quote From the Book of the Dead

There is little more, to be written here

And sadly even less to be said.

Thought for the day. No.25v.

‘How long should I stay’ I asked.

‘Until you are ready to leave’ the voice said.

People.

Sometimes you wander into peoples lives

Sometimes people wander into yours

*

Some people are born into your life

*

Sometimes you find love

Sometimes you are given love

If you are lucky

Sometimes you fall in love

Sometimes you fall out of love

*

Some people leave their fingerprints on your soul

And some leave their fingerprints in your heart

Some quickly leave

Some never part

*

Some pass by and leave no ripple

*

Some bring salvation 

Some bring what you need

Some leave too soon

But sow their seed

*

Some bring forever

And some bring never

*

Some say yes

But left you to guess

Some say yes

And mean it

*

Some bring rhythm

And some bring rhyme

*

Some are singers

And some are the song

Some did it right

Some got it wrong

*

Some leave regrets

Some leave a smile

Some bring forgiveness 

And it helps for a while

*

Some hold your hand

But some hold your heart

Some are there at the end

Some were there from the start 

*

From some you learn 

To some you teach

For some you yearn

But out of reach

*

Some bring the truth

Some wrapped in lies

For some you’d live

For some you’d die

*

Some come as strangers

But stay by your side

Some simply were passing 

On life’s carousel ride

*

Some leave their hand prints

Some leave only footprints

Some bring tidal waves of disruption

But some bring tranquility

*

Some change you forever

Sometimes you change them

*

Some bring a key

Some bring chains

Some bring poetry

And some bring pain

*

Some open your eyes 

Some help you to see

Some meant for nothing

But some meant to be

*

One brought to you

One half of his soul 

Which formed around yours

To make you both whole

*

Some pass through your life 

with barely a glance

Some swayed in your arms

And taught you to dance

*

Some linger a while and then quietly go

Some stay

Some die

Some remain with us forever

Some leave us

*

Some open your mind

Some open your heart

*

Some bring words

Some take them away 

Some give you tomorrow 

Some take your today

*

Some bring flowers

Some bring hope

Some carry dreams

And some are dreams

Some are dreamers

*

Some are romantics

Some seek the faith

*

Some bring tears

Some bring rainbows

Some make a difference

Some are meant to be

Some just want to be

Some bring a burden

Some carry your load

*

Some we never see

Some we never know

Some we never hear

*

Some make us laugh

Some make us cry

Some hold tight to our hands

Some leave us to die

*

Some are meant to be

Some can never be

Some will never be

Some will always be

*

Some are drifting on the breeze

Some are the breeze

*

Some bring answers

Some leave questions 

*

Some are robins

Some are crows

*

Some are users

Some are sadly abusers

*

But which ones had value

You miss but so few

It’s the one who dies trying 

That should matter to you

*

Who are they all?

*

They are the chapters in our life

The people who make us who we are.

Those we met along the way

They are me

They are you

They are them

And him and her

They are Us

*

They are the words to our song

*

They are the music that carries our words

*

Place names on our journey through time.

*

That is me

*

And who are you?

Pere Lachaise.

In the world of the paper dragons

Where the bird of paradise dwells

A robin comes a-calling

To the chiming of the bells

I was riding back from Paris

With the gypsy in my thoughts

Wondering if in Sacre Couer

I’d found answers that I sought

I’d seen a grave in Pere Lachaise

Writ in English, on the stone

‘In the arms of the Angels’

‘Gone, but not alone’

I sat there with the robin

‘Neath a winter sky of blue

And thought about the gravestone

And thought a lot of you

Little Joyce Archambeau ,barely six years old

Died in eighteen eighty seven

And now lies here in the cold

I went to buy some flowers

Then laid them with Little Joyce

I hoped that she could see them still

And maybe hear my voice

I sat the while and spoke to her

Of the Paris that she knew

I told her of the dragonflies

And talked to her of you

But now I’m back in Angleterre

In my garden, on a bench

And in the tree, beside me

A robin sings to me, in French.

Life.

It’s the journey, not the ending

It’s the life led, not the day

It’s the people that you meet

Who will guide you on your way

It’s the answers, not the questions

It’s to listen and to hear

It’s knowing what your strengths are

And understanding fear

It’s both the pain, that you inflict

And the pain that you did bear

It’s what you gave, not to receive

That taught you how to share

It’s what you want and what you need

It’s the path and not the road

It’s those people that you carry

And it’s those who share your load

It’s the parts that are your jigsaw

That together make you whole

But it’s the message in your heart

That is written on your soul

The Biding.

And here within the bidings, in the passing of the days

Where autumn now lies heavy, where love it holds no sway

Where letters that are written, but not meaning for to send

Whilst memories still unfolding, do weave and they do wend

Here lost inside the bidings, life in slow drifts on

But is missing all the poetry, the dance and too the song

I am left with just the question, concerning of my fate

The answer booms so loudly, ‘too little and too late’

Here down in the bidings, in a night that has no end

Another writ sad letter, not meaning for to send

Another darkened hour, a sad nocturnal test

Please bring me absolution, pray give to me some rest.

God’s seat.

 Just a beach

On an autumnal evening

The sun was low on the horizon

Its reflection lit in the still water

It was warm, I remember that

Yet the beach was empty

Maybe people had better things to do

There was a tree trunk

It had been there for years

Polished by the elements

Every beach has a tree trunk

But there is only ever one!

They always lie parallel to the shoreline

I think God puts them there

Maybe for passing strangers

Maybe for people to reflect

A sort of church on the beach

Maybe they give answers

I have noticed that you never see two people sitting on them

Only lonesome souls sit on God’s seats

And they gaze at the sea

Or maybe they gaze but look beyond the sea

Or below

Lost in thought

Reflecting

Looking for answers

I never sat on them

I had always sat in the sand and leant against them

Maybe I never got the right answer

Because of that

But that evening I was a lonesome soul

So I sat on God’s seat

 I took off my socks and shoes

Wriggled my toes into the sand

Watched the tide

Time and tide

I had them both

The tide would run for ever

But my time was swiftly passing by

It’s right what they say

(Who are ‘they’ anyway?)

(And why do ‘we’ listen to them?)

The older you get

The quicker time passes

I dug my toes in deeper, trying to slow things down

It might have worked

But I had forgotten to check my watch

9/11All those years ago?

Surely not

Lady Diane1997?

Can’t be

I remember I was……..? 

MaybeIf time is passing so quickly

I should dig my toes in even deeper

Time

Such a limited commodity

I sat on God’s seat and thought

Do I still have dreams?

Or are they all dreamt?

Do I still have hopes?

Or am I hopeless? 

And what of you?

Do you still hold onto dreams?

Does your heart still have desires?

Do you hope against hope?

Have you the time you need?

Do you need to make things happen while they still can?

Do you need to dig your toes in the sand? 

Tell me your hopes and dreams

I will help you carry them

Mine seem so simple

And yet

I don’t seem able to make them happen

Maybe it’s because I lean on God’s seat

Instead of sitting on it

 The sun is going down now

It’s refection, a pale image

Watery

Do you see what I mean?

Another day has gone

What happened to today’s dream?

And what happened to this morning’s hopes? 

Maybe tomorrow.

Cemeteries.

How many lives are we given to live in this one life of ours?
And how many loves are we given to love along the way?

Today I sat in a cemetery
The wind was so cold it was cutting
Leaves in glorious colours flew past on this cutting wind
Almost too colourful for a cemetery
Coppers, gold’s, bronzes.
Whoever painted those leaves knew their stuff
The long grass bent under the wind
Too flimsy, too weak to stand up to the tempest
The trees waved in protest
There were flowers everywhere
Single stems lay in precise places
Bunches in vases
Bunches carefully tied to trees
So colourful
So beautiful
So poignant
Some had little messages
Some long letters
There were teddy bears
There were greeting cards
It was quite sad
But it was comforting
Talking to the ones who left early can be comforting

The sky was gun metal grey
Clouds raced each other across the horizon
Hammering into one another
Sparking long lines of lightning
Rolling thunder booming over the land
And I sat with the ones who had gone early

Sometimes I think about things
Like
Isn’t it strange?
You are never frightened when you are holding hands
Like
Cuddles can heal so much
Sometimes I ask questions
Will I love again?
Or
Dare I love again?I recall
How good it is to hold a hand
with no thought other than to be just holding that hand
I remember how soft a kiss can be
How much pleasure one can get from watching someone you love
doing nothing
I remember the saying
You don’t regret the things you do
You only regret the things you don’t do
I wonder who writes these things

You can’t lie in cemeteries
You have to tell the truth
I think it’s a rule
So when a question pops into your mind
You have to answer itLife is so short

How many lives are we given to live in this one life of ours?
It was strange for me to realise there are lives within our lives.
And how many loves are we given to love along the way?

Is this our last life?
Is the person in your mind your next love?
Is the next love the last love?

I can see the rain in the distance
The sky hurling the downpour onto the earth
Thunder laughing at the misery it causes
Lightning, piercing, stabbing at unseen targets
I sat on the bench huddled up against the cold
I watch leaves dancing
Waiting for the rain
Autumn
For the trees
Autumn
For me
How many more chances?
How many more dances?

I stand and say my goodbyes
Blow a kiss or two
I’ll see them all again
One day
I turn
And set off to seek what is out there for me
Funny places cemeteries
Sometimes you get answers to questions you never knew you had.