Pine needles dance with the wind
To taunt me,      
Bushes crowned with lilacs breathe sweetness
To ****** me,
Rubber wheels rolling over rails screech to a halt
To rebuke me,
Plastic soles burrow into wet cement
To leave a trail,
Pray I may retrace it –
At sunset,      
To bury my face
In the bosoms of flowers,
And dance with the wind

Go and catch a falling star,
  Get with child a mandrake root,
Tell me where all past years are,
  Or who cleft the Devil’s foot;
Teach me to hear mermaids singing,
Or to keep off envy’s stinging,
        And find
        What wind
Serves to advance an honest mind.

If thou be’st born to strange sights,
  Things invisible to see,
Ride ten thousand days and nights
  Till Age snow white hairs on thee;
Thou, when thou return’st, wilt tell me
All strange wonders that befell thee,
        And swear
        No where
Lives a woman true and fair.

If thou find’st one, let me know;
  Such a pilgrimage were sweet.
Yet do not; I would not go,
  Though at next door we might meet.
Though she were true when you met her,
And last till you write your letter,
        Yet she
        Will be
False, ere I come, to two or three.

And here I am
trying not to get bad again
I don't want to go back into that downward spiral
that you made me dive into just three months ago
I allowed it to happen
I probably even made it worse
by my own thoughts

I don't want to be sad all the time again
I don't want to give you the power
to destroy me again

when you're knocked down
you're supposed to pick yourself up
and I did that last time
I picked up the broken pieces
and gave them to you to reassemble
even though you were the one that broke me

and it's one little thing that sets me off
one little thing
that might not even be a thing
and it's stupid
it's so stupid
that I'm even worrying about this
because I was supposed to learn
I am supposed to be better this time

I will not allow you to destroy me again
I will not allow my feelings to destroy me again
I will not allow my mind to destroy me again
I will not allow myself to destroy me again

I am stronger than I think
I do not let my over-thinking destroy my happiness
because even if life doesn't go how I want it to
there is still sunshine

and one person
is not going to depict how happy I am
or how happy my life should be
because there is so much to be happy about
even if I don't see it at first

By this part of the century few are left who believe
    in the animals for they are not there in the carved parts
of them served on plates and the pleas from the slatted trucks
    are sounds of shadows that possess no future
there is still game for the pleasure of killing
    and there are pets for the children but the lives that followed
courses of their own other than ours and older
    have been migrating before us some are already
far on the way and yet Peter with his gaunt cheeks
    and point of white beard the face of an aged Lawrence
Peter who had lived on from another time and country
    and who had seen so many things set out and vanish
still believed in heaven and said he had never once
    doubted it since his childhood on the farm in the days
of the horses he had not doubted it in the worst
    times of the Great War and afterward and he had come
to what he took to be a kind of earthly
    model of it as he wandered south in his sixties
by that time speaking the language well enough
    for them to make him out he took the smallest roads
into a world he thought was a thing of the past
    with wildflowers he scarcely remembered and neighbors
working together scything the morning meadows
    turning the hay before the noon meal bringing it in
by milking time husbandry and abundance
    all the virtues he admired and their reward bounteous
in the eyes of a foreigner and there he remained
    for the rest of his days seeing what he wanted to see
until the winter when he could no longer fork
    the earth in his garden and then he gave away
his house land everything and committed himself
    to a home to die in an old chateau where he lingered
for some time surrounded by those who had lost
    the use of body or mind and as he lay there he told me
that the wall by his bed opened almost every day
    and he saw what was really there and it was eternal life
as he recognized at once when he saw the gardens
    he had made and the green fields where he had been
a child and his mother was standing there then the wall would close
    and around him again were the last days of the world

Tired head on mum's lap,
Her voice dissolves all worries.
Lovely paradise.

Are the bluebells really a delightful hue
when they habitat railway banks
They are wild and not so rare
like the country we reside in.
We are a barren land
once proud but
with all wealth stripped away
Our Jurassic coastline erodes
likewise a once bedrock of national pride.
Our spirits wane,
we are too self conscious to crowd
amongst our own.
We have been too disorientated
to uphold our truisms