Lord, I haven’t been to mass,
But I drove in the countryside,
Listening to four cantatas,
From the absolute master, J.S Bach,
Do you forgive me, Lord?
Suddenly, the sky lit up,
As if you were thinking of me,
Dear Lucille, consoled me,
Lord, I haven’t been to mass,
but I am as good as a wafer,
I’m not hurting anyone,
But I drove in the countryside,
By listening to four cantatas.
NB These are the magnificent cantatas BMV 4, 158, 131 and 70.
IN A DIFFERENT WORLD COMING: ready
(Apropos Of Breaking News Breaking)
You say,
We are too old
And have no idea
Of what’s going on:-
Well, we
Said that too;
Please give us a call
And let us talk awhile:-
Where
Are you now…?
Remember
your beginnings…?
Where are you going now…?
We’re still
Following NI’s bloody footprints;
Watered in divine wisdom and guidance:
Aware of AI’s infectious, chaining vibes:-
Be in today’s awareness.
Future wars will not
Be dropping bombs:
Just biological infections:-
The worldwide Power Oppressors,
Will control both the infection,
As well as the vaccine:
Cumulating
Ongoing
Victories
Introduced
Decades ago.
N.B. Read it again
And think about it:
Profound breaking
Bombing news coming.
Today would have been the day
Singing here comes the sun
Your Charis bursting onto the scene
Like a flame doused in gasoline
Burning away all our longing
Today would have been the day
Your head emerging from wonder
A place only glorious He & you know of
Like the first glimpses of a rainbow
Quenching away all our anticipation
Today would have been the day
Your soft cries filled the room
Grace abounding in beautiful flesh
Like a chaste kiss from lips of a lover
Drowning away hearts with your love
Today would have been the day
Embraced perfect little hands and feet
Singing praise to our mighty Yahweh
Though we meet not face to face
Your soul & ours are one infinitely
NB: Dedicated to my precious angel baby in heaven
concentrated in cobbles
unpatterned fairyland
box homes coloured
community symphonic
church mosque kiss mystical
flesh moves brick RECREATE
realms unified and truthful
fabric encodes memories
generational genetics quietly smile
enlightened shadows
in craft supreme
ancestral PROMPTS
in district cultural
moods
stabilised
his-herstory
recorded
____________
Fabric Art Wall Tapestry : Appliqué & Image Embroidery, Quilting : ‘BIRTH STREET ALIVE’ : 71 Horstley Street, District Six’ : Prior to Forced Removals : Ghairo Daniels : 2021
Leatherette & Suede with cotton, silk, satin, coloured net, chiffon, beads, sequins, buttons : 100 x 58 cm : Purple Satin Lining
Style: Historical Story Quilting
[ NB. Link to pics at comments section of Poem ]
We are happier, under the Tropics,
In a smaller cargo ship,
Who goes towards Mozambique,
Happier than rue de la république ;
We are happier under the Tropics,
How old is the captain then?
He could be your stepfather,
He saw the Philippines
Did he read, Jean Giono?
In his cozy small cabin?
In a smaller cargo ship,
Who goes towards Mozambique,
We are happier, under the Tropics
NB inspired by the commercial port
I love you, French language,
I love Descartes and Montaigne,
The mash of chestnuts,
You despise their nonsense,
I love you, French language,
I don’t give a damn about it, the coquillard,
writing this, is great art,
But what about strawberry reds?
You are the language of the fox,
Of the great dukes and of Ronsard,
From Descartes and Montaigne,
The song of the musaraigne
I love you, French language.
NB for rhymes, give you the french
Je t’aime, langue française,
J’aime Descartes et Montaigne,
La purée de châtaignes,
Tu méprises leurs fadaises ,
Je t’aime, langue française,
Je m’en tamponne, le coquillard,
écrire cela, est du grand art,
Mais que dire des rouges fraises ?
Tu es la langue du renard,
Des grands ducs et de Ronsard,
De Descartes et de Montaigne,
La chanson de la musaraigne
Je t’aime, langue française.
NB Thanks for your prayers. My eye operation was successful. I still need four weeks for the total result.
The rowan trees grew haphazardly.
Down the North side, where snow
And rain affected them least.
Sturdy and strong, they allow the winds.
To filter amongst the green leaves,
Creating a soft hum amongst the mountains.
Listen, it echoes your name throughout the trees,
Sweet Crystal, my lovely beloved Crystal.
Large flocks of fieldfares, thrushes, and blackbirds
Visit or migrate to rowan trees, eating the berries around.
Among the crevices of mountains, streams run down.
A rhythm humming an echoing romantic song.
My heart pounds with electric love as I feel.
Your soft face cuddles against my shaven face.
Yet twilight is nigh, and so we departed down.
The rough paths and return lovingly home.
Oh, Crystal, my Crystal, I love you so.
Every morning, you have to walk,
Longer than one says,
Until understanding the tiger,
The powerful tiger of Burma,
Every morning, you have to walk,
His soul guides us everywhere,
let us escape the claws of men,
Are we afraid of God?
let us escape the claws of men,
One must understand the tiger,
to cry out in the jungle, Bigre!
Escape the baker, the poet,
Every morning, you have to walk.
NB Bigre is a french word who rhymes with tigre ( tiger) for marking surprise
don't exist in english
NB Had some eye trouble. Next week I'll have an eye operation. Hopefully in a week I I will recover.
They laid her in a damp black hole long ago.
Surrounded by tall dark cypress trees,
The winds sighed softly in sorrow,
While I stood head bowed down in grief.
Lifeless leaves fell in brown bunches,
And covered up her ghostly grave,
I swept them off to clean the flagstones,
Strewed instead flowers fragrant and sweet.
We could have had a lovely marriage,
We could have had unlimited love.
Wisely, she wanted only the present,
Wisely, she rejected all but love.
Now she's gone, and all these years,
I dream of changing the ghastly past,
I visit her resting place and ask
Is she still praying for me from up on high?
My country, it is not the sweet Portugal
AND yet I love Fado, the wine of the Douro,
My country is not beautiful Italy, nor Rome,
And yet I love Naples, Palermo, and Florence,
It’s not Haiti or Salvador de Bahia,
It’s the Dolce Vita and Eight and a half, in black and white,
I like all the films by Fellini or Antonioni,
My country, it is not the illustrious talkative France
AND yet I like Jurançon and Monbazillac,
I like beef bourguignon and duck with orange,
My country, it’s not California, or Utah,
AND yet I like Monument Valley, Hollywood Boulevard,
I love the Grand Canyon and Los Angeles at night,
My country, it is not so political Turkey,
But I love Istanbul and sleepy Cappadocia,
It’s the Dolce Vita and Eight and a half, in black and white,
My country is the cinema, it’s the privileged place
Where will the train stop from your indolent and black eyes,
It is beyond, the bridge of lascivious embraces, the bridge of the Iroise
It’s the country I like when you play for me alone, O my action.
NB La Dolce Vita and eight and a half, are two masterpieces by Fellini.
Let yourself be tempted,
You who have sorrow,
You who sings out of tune,
Let yourself be tempted
You who sleep so badly,
Among the ghosts,
Let yourself be tempted
By my Monbazillac,
Let yourself be tempted
By the sweet taste,
By the soft color,
Let yourself be tempted
By the subtle intoxication,
By the proud grape variety,
Let yourself be tempted
By the Monbazillac,
Let yourself be tempted,
If love disappointed you,
Let yourself be tempted
If a few kisses
Don’t console yourself,
If your friends lie to you
Let yourself be tempted
By this Monbazillac.
NB This is a wine with fruited taste
In The Weathering Of War
In today’s
storming war
weathering
world peace
is rotting out
and we need
to sow new seeds
of her
germinating
new fruits:
the weary world
Is starving
for new peace
and we need
to get to
plowing new fields
of nourishing peace
and healing grace
in this world
that’s in dire need
of rehabilitation
of war’s
debilitating demise:-
(p.s./n.b.)
In proverbial ways
scripture reminds us
in divine wisdom
and guidance
to never doubt
the power
of sowing
seeds:
thus
in labors
of love
let us
strive to be
sowers
and reapers
of divine
world peace:-
Was my son vindictive? My wife just stared at the sight!
There on the floor was the old ugly vase
My aunt Melinda gave us on our wedding day.
And my wife know how much love my son had for it.
Even though he may have broken it, I cannot help but forgive
For he has a special place in my heart,
Still, I feel the pain he caused to my wife,
And all because we had such a small tiff.
Wish I could see him now; I'll give him a piece of my mind,
But then I'll say I love you, and hold him in my arms.
Grudgingly would he mend the ugly vase?
There, he's back; it did not take him long. Guess what he said?
"Darling, that pesky cat has broken our vase."
A smile shone on his impish face.
Promptly, he handed me a new vase
A copy of one of my aunt Melinda's saved the day.
NB Fiction
Ah, the rhododendrons, dear and bright,
Look at them for a moment, three seconds,
Seek them in the streets, in silence,
Explore the small multicolored gardens,
They are pink, purple, white, shiny, red.
Ah dear rhododendrons, they are crazy,
They drove the Macedonian soldiers mad,
Admire them, they are righteous warriors,
Thracians, Saxons, blue Spartans
They make you forget the enemies, emus,
Ah, the rhododendrons, dear and bright,
Love is no longer enough to believe in God,
Look at the rhododendrons, admire them,
Pink, White, Red, Mauve , Purple, Shiny,
They heal the ills, give back to courage.
NB it should be known that in antiquity, rhododendron alcohol was given to soldiers to make them crazy while fighting ( from memory)
COME CLOSER TO ME
Trelos ya sena
COME CLOSER, LOVE YOU TRUE,
Ella Konda mou na sou po,
MAY I HUG YOU,
Na s’angalyaso an boro,
I DANCED WITH YOU LAST NIGHT,
Ma ze sou horepsa egthes,
FOR ME YOU SEEMED SO RIGHT,
Agapi mou apo pou erthes?
COME CLOSER FOR IT IS MY AIM,
Ella Konda, na sou po,
TO TELL MY SECRET, THIS NO GAME,
To mistiko mou ella tho,
TO STAY WITH ME I ASK,
Thellou na zesume mazi.
ENJOY OUR YOUTH AND IN IT BASK.
Me tin igia mas ke krasi
WE WILL LOVE, KISS AND SIP FROM WINE,
Sta hili sou ena fili, se agapo toso poli,
AND WHILST WE DINE,
Ke an to potiri me krasi
IF A GLASS MAY FALL, BREAK AND SPILL,
Pote hethee,
LET IT BE ON ME, IF IT WILL.
Na eme ego,ke ohi esee.
TOLD YOU THE SECRET TO MY HEART,
Goritsi mou, kseris ese to mystiko,
YOU WERE MY LOVE FROM THE START,
Apteen arhee esoona esee,
YOU KNOW I CANNOT LIVE WITHOUT YOU, SO
Yati horis esena then boro,
FOREVER YOU’RE MY GAL AND ME YOUR BEAU.
Eeme trelos ya sena mono esena agapo.
NB - An English/Greek Love Song
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