All hail the Winter Solstice!

The everlasting Sun

Force of Light and Life

Returns to us once more.

 

O Sun, we trust Thee.

Thou wilt not abandon us

To desolation of shadow

And frozen sleep.

We honour

Your guardians of gloom

The gliding Moon, your Eyes of Night

And Sky Fire.

 

Behold!

We celebrate and make merry

With feasting, drink and song,

With...

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Sleep, Thou Child of Beauty. Soft Thine eyelids close. Peace within Thy heart abideth, Lovely in Thy sweet repose.   Wakeful Mary guards Thy rest. Joseph o'er Thee watch doth keep. Safe in Thy meadow-scented hay Mother and Father protect Thy sleep.     cbt

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Ah – cherry jam

rich thick deluxe black cherry jam

crammed with perfect globes of purple fruit.

Who needs toast!

Skewer them with toothpicks

and pop them into your mouth

like cocktail candy.

 

Or mound a sticky pyramid

on a crunchy corner

and cram the whole pile in

all at once

and chew and suck and dribble

sweet dark juice

down your chin.

 

OMG ...

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I think

Poetry has Power:

the definitive Art of Words.

Perhaps a siren song of tonal syllables

running music through the mind;

an elusive vision caught with inspired imagery;

or a bold reality wrenched into reason;

But especially the seductive expansion

of metaphysical meaning

whether deliberate or not.

 

I think

we taste and test the value of an apt word

pr...

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I think

Fear and Religion

are close bedfellows,

one to attack -

the other to protect

basic Sanity;

that the softer aspects 

of Love and Joy

are really side effects.

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(a haiku string)

Pity is the depth

we feel when bad things happen

to other good folk

 

Fear we deeply feel

knowing bad things can happen

to good folk like us

 

Sympathy  is the 

bonding of pity and fear 

There - but for Good Luck -

 

Catharsis is a 

beneficial expulsion

from mind ... or body

 

'Not easy going -

Wonder how well  I've pegged it.

...

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(For 'man' please understand 'person' which does not scan well.)

 

The most unclever thing

A clever man can do

Is to think himself 

More clever than another man.

But it defies even the concept of 'clever'

To broadcast it.

 

 

 rolling some thoughts around yesterday 

while hanging out clothes

thinking of many things

as my fingers clipped pegs

 

CBT/Octo...

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You could not.

Yes, I could.

 

You would not.

But, yes, I would.

 

You should not.

Why?

 

You will not!

………………………

 

 

 

Cynthia Buell Thomas

 

 

 

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In the stillness of

deep night you can hear corn grow

and speak with spirits

CBT
 

In the stillness of

our lonely room my heart thumps

to fill the silence.

CBT
 

In the stillness of

this foggy morning a

jet drones through unseen

CBT

 

 

If anyone cares to join in this haiku 'exercise' I'd love  to see what you come up with. 

Cynthia

 

 

 

...

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If the power of photography

is your job

then you record the message

before scrubbing out the script.

And you have served your purpose

for being there.

 

 

 

CBT, September, 2015

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My mother said with acid edge, after a quarrelsome day,

'You know what your problem is? You think too much!'

'Oh, Mother,' I replied.  'No matter what you say,

I cannot see in black and white.  The world exists in grey.'

 

My mother said with teared distress, across her father’s clay,

'You know what your problem is? You think too much.'

'Oh, Mother,' I replied, 'why dredge we ...

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In the age of T'Ang

From China's far past

Lived Li Po

A poet

Impetuous rebel of scholarly form

Pulsing with positive Nature

 

As legend has it

So many years related

Sodden with drink

Or sex

Or both

Li Po leaned from his lazy boat

To embrace the shining moon

Reflected in the Yangste River

And tumbled into the water

And drowned.

 

Perhaps he c...

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She wanted to come to him

Naked and eager

Hands hot her toes trembling

But he needed

The spur of access denied

A hint of ravishment however flimsy

 

She offered herself – a gift

He wanted her – a prize

 

The sex was good

Polished and productive

But never quite raising

Wild winds of the moors

Or whispering the dialogue of trees

For her

 

 

 

...

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                                        Upon the Winds of Change

 

Upon the winds of change our courses flew

And us across the heaving seas did send.

It mattered not what dreams each would pursue

For Fate decreed what we could not portend:

That once again our raging hearts should blend

In Youth’s enduring spirit which does flow

Between us still, steel bond of lustful f...

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Imagery is not always metaphorical

But often the result of our selective senses

Seeking fact

Further filtered through the poet’s head

And heart

To an essence

That speaks in multiplicity

Whether intended

Or not.

 

 

 

Cynthia Buell Thomas

July, 2015

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There is no north, south, east or west

Up,down, right or left

Far, near, in or out

Without a point.

No line without a start and stop

No circle without a centre

And no matter how long or squiggly

No shape until a line touches itself

At a point.

No structure in any dimension

Without the meeting of points.

 

Like discussions simple or complex

Of minor or major i...

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I took your purple book

and with a purple smile

I pitched it in the bin

wishing it were you.

I would laugh to see you 

ground to pulp

in the purple teeth

of the trash truck.

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Clipping along narrow concrete

Vaguely aware of trees tossing

Bright spring warmth

Dulled by the weight of groceries

And chores yet to do

 

A young woman pushing a stroller

Approaches rapidly wheels whizzing

With a toddler

Scrunched up and grumpy tiny lips tight

              Who watches me press against the hedge

 

Glancing down into the sour eyes

I smile

...

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Get out of bed, you lazy lout!

No need to lie in useless pout

About the things you must do without.

So you're tired – mired – but never doubt

Their nasty causes you can clout.

 

Do not shrink back. Be firmly stout.

The glooms of age you can always flout.

Arise and shine to dance and shout.

Remember what life’s all about.

Get up! Get out! You lazy lout!

 

 

 

...

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moonlight melody

chords across busy sky

convulsive clouds piling to the stars

distant crescendo of angry thunder

 

and suddenly

 

cold rain drops heavily

pushed into star space

soaking my silly thoughts

as I race for cover

 

 

Cynthia Buell Thomas

May, 2015

 

 

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We were sitting at the kitchen table my grandson and I

Discussing Measurement

And the vagaries of Metric versus Imperial

Basically Science versus the Royal Slipper

Chuckling about that ghastly paralysis when the mind blanks

And the decimal point quivers with indecision –

Right –left – left – right – multiply or divide!  OH HELP!

 

Suddenly he said: ‘I’m starving,’

‘You ...

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He was a dreamy dancer

Articulated moves in exact rhythm

Suavity of interpretation and sinuous muscle

A telling arrow from Cupid's bow

So many years ago.

 

At twenty the 'eligible for marriage' list is physical dominant

Not necessarily handsome features or a six-pack belly

But the promise of good sex -

And two bodies bonding the beat of music

Is very erotic.

 

H...

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                   This month my body is tuned to the moon -

The tide of blood flowing hot and heavy

On the fullest night of the lunar cycle.

Under the brimming moon my loins grip

Throwing out rich red tissue

Sour membrane dark and odiferous.

The relief of the blood flush!

The tension in my cunt!

Like an orgasm in limbo 

Never waxing – never waning.

 

Every love ac...

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