TehMill

TehMill

TehMill girl from the mountain

gives her message in languages

you should wait for interpretation

or read in mystic passages.

Telling all about music

a simple girl with a song

it’s plain to see that she loves the lyrics

she knows where all the notes belong

Just hearken to her story

from her box in the square

all about a banquet that she’s going to

tables laid with portions rare.

She’s longing for her rapture

 see her in ecstacy

although she’s sorry about the ire

of folk who don’t want to see.

TehMill in the firelight

strumming on her guitar

no-one hears the voice that she listens to

nor she the noisy jar.

Young girls dance in their glee

old folk join in the fun

all their sorrows are left behind them

and peace on everyone. 

*

Canto [TehMill's song]

 

TehMill’s song

 

I have gotten too much tan

a long time working in the sun

but in my lover’s eyes I’m beautiful

he calls me his lovely one.

*

If only he were my brother

I could kiss him freely in the street

and show the world how much I love him

uninhibited by any we meet

*

I remember the first time

he came knocking on my door

dampen locks from the night air

which made me hesitate more.

*

When he spoke with honey tongue

I made haste to turn the latch

oh! how hard my heart was beating

my breath was all at a catch.

*

By the time I shot back the bolt

he had turned away into the night

I begged the city girls to help me

find him who had captured my delight

 *

I see him gazing at my window

looking lonely, leant against the wall

he knows that I won’t leave him standing there

I will run with him when I hear him call.

*

Based somewhat on Song of songs 

The Camaraderie

The Camaraderie
The Camaraderie

Canary fly over the chimney pot

dowdy sparrows give chase

so pretty a hen with jersey bright

will never suit their case.

Blaze fire blaze, a fire made not with logs,

but ointment thoughts and wisdom

gathered into books

compelling words will burn, though winsome.

Had they not first their utterance,

catched in willing ears to listen?

with hearts that hope to love?

why else would they have been written?

Bow down young man in your courtyard

lower your face in the moonlight,

far in the distance, ever nearing

a weight of iron is coming with might.

*

“Oh! show me your face,

show me your face

then strengthen my legs

that I might stand in this awesome place

Oh! show me your face,

show me your face

let your love shine upon me

before I must leave this place.”

*

Black charcoal black

you will ever be black

though water run upon you

still any brightness lack

black charcoal black

I do not desire you so

luminous red my companion be,

my candle will make you glow. 

Tell me where the wind goes

you hear him singing in the trees

show me where his journey ends

refreshing he comes as he please.

You cannot say what you feel

nor colour the fragrances

the breeze has gathered in his arms

to throw against you, sweet rememberances.

*

“Oh! show me your face

show me your face,

then strengthen my legs 

that I might stand in this awsome place

Ah! show me your face

show me your face

let your love shine upon me

before I must leave this place.”  

The beautiful Sadhu Sundar Singh the famous Indian mystic who is the inspiration for this work.

http://www.eaglevision.com.my/ssvisions.htm 

Sadhu Sundar Singh
Sadhu Sundar Singh

Dance the daddy longlegs

Dance the daddy longlegs
Dance the daddy longlegs

Dance the daddy longlegs

pussyfoot around

let’s beat all around the bushes

in case the truth is found,

ah! house, built upon fables

having legend for a foundation

your walls constructed of folk-lore

nowt more concrete than imagination,

a more durable truth might have lasted.

My ears work best in the valley

in copses where trees gentle the wind

the earth I tread is soft but firm

there my life is determined.

Morning prayer and the song of a robin

chuckling praise like river mirth

answers come down like autumn leaves

yeah, and teach me what I am worth

I am your meadow maid,

meadow maid, meadow maid

you have forgotten all about me,

the songs we sang, the games we played

in the morning sunshine.

How our laughter rang out

we used to skip together and dance

never afraid to shout.

You have seen the field crocuses

gathered round the sycamore tree

I am one of them,

that pretty red one among them, that is me.

Logic pools your eyes

 
Peony House

Peony House

 Logic pools your eyes

I catched you with my video

 I can make you be my film star

and you won’t even know 

 *

Come along sweet apple breath

smack me with your wine kisses

I never will be satisfied

until my heart beat misses

*

Walking in the meadow

with your hand holding mine

I’ve got a room at the village inn

thatched roof and blue skyline

*

Clover ring for your hair

a chain of daisies for mine

we’ll picnic on a pilchard sarnie

washed down with a bottle of wine

*

 Logic pools your eyes

by the doubtful bryony

the news you told me yesterday

got tinged with irony

*

Come visit me at Peony

walk the path to my door

peony will punish if you move her

by flowering never more.

*

logic pools your eyes

logic pools your eyes 

 

Lily child

Lily child
Lily child

If I could show you a squirrel

in the eyes of a child

or damp your hand with a frog

brush your cheek with a dog rose, wild.

I would so like to walk with you

on a petalled carpet, barefoot

the sun and wind in our faces

where the grass is freshly cut.

Iron in the soul will not soon be got out

a hardened heart not easily soften

healing for hurt comes slowly

to one who has been bruiséd often.

Let me hold your hand

sit and talk a while

I will put my arms around you.

Lay your head on my shoulder, smile

and if tears should come my darling,

then cry your heart out love,  just cry

My heart stays the same

Arthur Rubinstein plays Rachmaninov Rhapsody on a theme of paganini. variation 18 to which I have written song lyrics “My heart stays the same.”

*

Just watching the waves

crashing ashore

as they tumble o’er

each ebbing flow.

*

The receding waves gathering into

a swell to hurl themselves forward once more

casting up a spray

fulness dissipating

lest they push too far.

*

And so life with me

is just the same,

now, I’m forging ahead,

now, falling back.

*

With each ebbing flow, comes time to collect,

to be ready for whatever comes next,

will it change my life?

or is it only feelings?

my heart stays the same.

*

Just watching the waves

crashing ashore

as they tumble o’er

each ebbing flow

*

My life is

more than

feelings. 

*

lyrics by The Totton Linnet

 

The charcoal garden

 

Charcoal garden
Charcoal garden

 
I stood in the middle
 
of my charcoal garden
 
then I spoke aloud,
 
“you have not been mine
 
someone else planted you here,

to catch the morning sun

upon your western incline.

But now that I have decked you

made you what I want you to be,

I am pleased to call you my own,

come, let’s throw open the gates

for all passing by to see.

You are the sister I never cared for,

plain, you were

no-one would court you.

I set out to make you pretty

alluring and attractive

to the more uncasual view

I clothed you with wild flowers,

poppies, jillies and foxglove

adorned you with trestles,

sweet pea, clematis, thrown upon

honeysuckle all hung from above.”

Oh! charcoal garden, my belovéd sister

though the late afternoon sun

has cast upon her a shadow,

in a little while the enfragranced dew

will have come and will have kissed her.

Calico Contralto

Calico Contralto

Calico Contralto

 

Calico Contralto

we sat on her veranda

she sang the language of angels

more blissful than Nirvana

The song flowed from her belly

tripped her tongue with ecstacy

an inner shekinah enwrapt her

and time turned to eternity

*

Her voice lay o’er the valley

Calico Contralto.

Camped by a spring of water

the song she sang I did not know,

 though I played on her piano,

 protected by her archers

stood around our dargle

looking out for searchers

*

Oh! that vale is green in shades

 oh! the view is fair

oh! the trees delightful

delicious the fruit they bear.

*

Her song was mellowed velvet

Calico Contralto

we sat on her veranda.

 The song she sang, I did not know

 though I played on her piano

[the tongue being one I had not learned]

she sang with such beauty of love

our melted hearts just turned.

 

Bocelli and Westenra sing

Vivo per Lei

The Whacked Weasel

The Whacked Weasel Putney

The Whacked Weasel Putney

Remember July, our bicycle ride

through Chiswick down to Putney

the Whacked Weasel for lunch, supping their punch

we had bangers with mango chutney (coo hoo)

*

On the occe, you got cocky

I beat you by doubling out

*

And on the way back we made our tongues black

chewing chicory liquorice sticks

weaving red buses in spite of their cusses

we showed them our country tricks.

*

http://gentledove2.wordpress.com/the-merry-endeavour

An extract from The Merry Endeavour.

Face on the wall

In the town of villages,

over at Island Place

behind the man with a message

upon the wall, a face,

as though had opened up a portal,

shining through a veil

of everyone who saw it

each one had his tale.

Coming out of a cloud,

moved and moving, softened with tears,

the cloud became shekinah

enshrouding one of middle years.

In the town of villages,

over at Island Place

while the messenger yet was speaking

upon the wall, a face.

*

http://gentledove2.wordpress.com/the-turgid-stem

Face on the wall is an extract from A turgid stem.

Winter pith and spectres

Is there a thing

that will cause the bells to ring?

and in the bush on branches

the feathery birds to sing?

*

What will make the river merry again?

or the trees to swoon

in their glorious greens?

Wild iris unfurl, put out her tongue,

catkin peep out of his pod.

*

What shall be this thing

transforming all to joying

and decking out of meadows?

Yes of course, the early Spring.

*

Ah! but now the mists and frosts

of winter cover our Island home,

white, as pith of orange

shrubbery stands rigid, spectres

nor any thawing see.

 

Yack alleys

Ideas shouts of laughter

word pictures playing rounders

mind the windows