English Breakfast Love Song
I am longing to pour out
my soul to you in words
which show my creativity
and let off my head of steam
but my soul is not so liquid
it comes out in funny lumps
uneven like old-fashioned sugar
ready to make sure your tea
is always too sweet and
never sweet enough.
Unengaged Concepts
Your thin God –
onmithis, omnithat—
is nothing beside
the wildness
of Goddess.
Love and suffering
may have reasons
but are not rational.
You say we can know
about ‘chastity’
without living it.
Really?
Outside a seminar
in a thick press of people
could you look the right way
maintain your dress just so
be chaste in soul
in ways you cannot describe?
You can use the word
‘God’ in a sentence.
So far, so good.
Do not presume to know
what my God is like:
how flowers dance for Her
how Thou is there in silence
how His sentences would make
no sense to you.
Goddess might not even be that
after all.
Explorations
yearning
to fly, to grow
boldly into darkness
to freedom
journeys begin
with a single seed
but flights
fight trees
kingfisher distains
the city and the plane.
in freedom
and darkness
can we fly?
This Year
we have rebuilt
in our gathering
an anywhere temple
we spill ourselves
practising our faith
with a smile
giving small acts
(and large) in service
a ready sacrifice
we have come up
to see our faces
through God’s eyes
Career Counselling
Cheer up, you said.
There’ll be something, you said.
Not much, I said.
I am looking, I said.
Have hope, you said.
There are good jobs, you said.
Oh yeah? I said
Not for me, I said.
Oh yes, you said.
One is for you, you said.
I’ve tried, I said.
There’s tills and shelves and desks and files and typing and smiling and boredom and dying.
It’s fine, I said.
I haven’t a choice, I said.
You sighed, I said.
Nothing, you said.
Illusion
I remember you
untouched.
In all the weeks
we were together
one kiss, a hug or two,
no more.
Then I broke
too loud too honest
too clear too pained
and you left
untouched.
English Breakfast Love Song and other poems are © Rhiannon Grant |
Chris Murray 