Towards a state of perfection

BATH, n. A kind of mystic ceremony substituted for religious worship, with what spiritual efficacy has not been determined
Ambrose Bierce (1842 - 1914), The Devil's Dictionary

poured to perfect depth,
temperature sublime
candles lit and lights doused
rising steam redolent of lavender
and ylang-ylang to soothe away the day
wine glass to hand, contents chilled
immersed in womb-like world
lying in sound-deadened semi-darkness
awaiting rebirth …
meditating…
drifting mindlessly…
Nirvana close…
a gentle lapping of the water –

‘SOMEONE GET THIS DOG OUT!’

Give us this day our daily bread.

(Take 2)

Measured, mechanically mixed and baked
Until yeasted fragrance pervades each aerial molecule.
Risen near-perfection provokes the taste buds
As its crusted coat cracks beneath the blade
Revealing warm and yielding crumb.

Savour the moment.
Hold it in mind against the day
We are not led into temptation.

For resistance is futile
When sweetened with gooseberry-jamminess
And conveyed in butter-dripping fingers to waiting mouth
Sensual simplicity made in heaven.

Our Father, who art already there,
Forgive us the sin of gluttony.

Here is the news

Koi are swimming up the High Street.
Overwhelmed by inundation,
The river has broken through the concrete.
Koi are swimming up the High Street.
Everyone is sick of wet feet,
Or, trapped in houses, incarceration.
Koi are swimming up the High Street,
Overwhelmed by inundation.


.

Your Universal Mother Reads You Your Rights

…mankind owes to the child the best it has to give.
from Declaration of the Rights of the Child*

You have the right to live.
Nurtured deep within; my miracle.
Your name forever entwined with my name.
Belonging.
Your body, butter-fat and berry-shiny
Nursing at a full breast
Cooing in contentment at life unfolding.
But I see questions hidden behind your eyes
As insects plague your face.
You are too weak now to cry. Too small.
A numberless child in a teeming world
Today I can only dream a future for you.

You have the right to play.
Safe in your castle, my princess, all dragons slain.
Explorer, boldly seeking out new worlds.
Pretending.
Your imagination stirred for no purpose.
Soldier, swaggering, wooden gun held high,
Laughing as your friends fake death.
But your games have become grim reality
As together we trudge along the dusty road
Our few possessions wrapped in a bundle too heavy to hold
Fleeing the knives, the flames, the rapes.
Today I seek sanctuary for us.

You have the right to a father.
Proudly proclaiming his children to the world.
Bouncing his infant son upon his knee
Protecting.
Jealously guarding his precious daughter from all harm.
Unable to withstand the wasting from within,
The pressures from without.
But as I sleep alone, unloved.
I recall those undarkened days,
Entering into my emptiness where he once lived.
Deserted through disease, poverty, war
Today I have only my memories of him
Tomorrow …

*Proclaimed by General Assembly resolution 1386(XIV) of 20 November 1959Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights Geneva, Switzerland

One of my pupils has been complaining that I haven't updated my blog for some time. So, Michael, this posting is dedicated to you, and as I can't think of anything else to post right now, here is a poem 'wot I rote'.


Green is for trees.
I don’t like greens with my dinner.
They make me feel rather sick.
Mum hides them beneath my potatoes,
But I always find them real quick.

Last week, outside in the garden
I had a taste of some snails.
The texture was just a bit crunchy
But I lived on to tell you this tale.

Now earthworms are something quite different.
They’re smooth and they slip down quite fast.
I found a whole bunch in the compost;
I rather enjoyed that repast.

The chalk from my blackboard is dusty.
It turns my mouth green, pink or blue.
It’s not my favourite munchy
‘Cos it’s very hard work to chew.

Some stuff on the beach is so gritty,
It gets in my mouth and my nose
It’s difficult eating a picnic.
It’s the sand which is there, I suppose.

But I’m still not eating that green stuff.
My mum says it’s good for me.
I say, give me fish fingers or pizza
And hold back on broccoli.