EJW75

 

Grey is the colour of my true love's hair

her face is now lined yet still so fair

soft her eyes and lovely to see

she's growing old with me

I cannot fathom her hold, her grasp

or why my sweet Lord bestowed

my life with a blessing earned

not, but by prayer, yearned

Grey is the colour of my true love's hair

© 2023-03-01

[ A closure of ]

[ A closure of ]                                                    'The 100 Project of T minus 1'

 

Read this last, a finalisation of the eighty and one

    * by the way absolute principles are given

For there are a hundred paths to reach him

    * where's said it's ninety-nine names

and only one of them is yours to wander

    * just a single'll bring you to him

simply bring up the courage to do so

    * when uttered legitimately

and realise this will be a closure 

    * with a sincere heart

of not so random thoughts

© 2024-06-01

Where angst's an illusion

 

I don't remember most of the first four

Like I don't have much recollection of

The years thereafter * not until seven

Magical number  onset of nightmares

They came in colours or black and white

Not that it mattered * but the nightmares

Dreaming all too livid and vivid to forget

Up to the point in time of Gran's depart

Well it was more of a come back or delay

Safeguard from a hereafter to steer clear

Intervening or keeping the ghosts at bay

I do remember * a transferal of her hold

Older I grew better adjusted well equipped

To tackle and haggle in dreams and mare

And then * ne day not in dream but vision

Felt and seen this golden God-given pull

Opening up even more and better the portal

Where death isn't the end as living is dying

Of flesh and matter while flourishing souls

Transcend * mortal fear chimera and foe

Yet each coin has two sides and even though

Him being all-merciful he trades and expects

Full payment if one dares * to reach Elysion

Reward for all who bend their knee to God

And the number of * given are exactly the words

In which the messenger was versed to pass on

The angel's tale to the universe of companions

For few angst is an illusion as hope is for kafir. 

© 2024-03-22

Note.

I have used the word 'kafir' in this poem very reluctantly, for misinterpretation is easy. 

Please note that in this poem it's only used in a general, absolute non-discriminatory, manner as for one who is ungrateful (towards God). 

I realise(d), after publishing, that the word is (can be) interpreted differently by others, but be assured that here it has no other meaning or intent than as explained in previous sentence.

Those that have read more of my poetry will understand that I prefer any kindhearted atheïst, agnostic and/or humanist to those intolerant orthodox or extremists of whatever creed. Peace.

This Yellow Star (of David)

 

In my home on a bookshelf

there's a mini Yad Vashem

It's one of the books I read

even as a child -too young-

well one of the first like the

secret annex by Anne, that

absorbed me, but this one 

was a photo book, a horror

imprinted, never ever to be

forgotten. To be passed on

to those that survive Gaza.

© 2024-03-02

Note.

The title of the book in Dutch is: De Gele Ster*; it is beyond me how a people, that suffered a Holocaust, can take revenge on so many innocents in the way that is now unfolding in Gaza.

It's almost like one who was badly abused during childhood then, later in life, repeating it all..

..except, this time it's not the victim but the descendant of the victim who is the perpetrator..

* The Yellow Star (of David).

A Photographic Recollection

 

I look almost a head taller

than him in that photograph 

taken in a forrest from behind

With us on a leash is Pater

the mixed breed that came to

us from a shelter scruffy scared

It is black and white that polaroid

well it was once but now it is faded

yet not the memory of the three of us

It is coloured -this remembrance- richly

of the love between a father and son -sure

and Pater- the three of us strolling in silence

© 2024-03-12 in loving memory.