Butterflies

What use is a butterfly?

Why does it struggle in vain against the blustery breeze?

Is there a purpose unseen and unheard

Beneath the green canopy where it eventually finds rest?

Is it there for our recreation, our pleasure or our sport?

Why is the black spot on its white wings so precisely placed?

Will we miss them when they are gone?

In the winter or forever.

If one species dies out will another replace and does it really matter?

We are not aloft and apart from these seemingly insignificant creatures,

Our destiny lies in their hands as much as the other way round.

The butterfly effect is real,

One flap of gossamer and the world changes

No more fluttering, no more world. 

Change

Light cascades into the room as the curtain opens,

Daylight that lasts till sundown, constant, but not unchanging.

Each wave of light originates from the sun’s activities and is imperceptibly

Different as the strength of the atomic reaction ebbs and flows.

The earth’s treasures, the highest mountain, the deepest sea,

Are evolving, however slowly, over a time unfathomable to mortal mind.

More easy to understand is tribes becoming nations, then becoming empires

That grow then slowly wither just as the mighty oak, once majestic

Eventually,  inevitably falls to the ground.

Even God develops, from a demander of sacrifices to forgiving benevolence.

We form relationships which over a lifetime blossom and fade

Like flowers with the seasons or fruit on the vine.

Yet we are resistant to the inevitably of change

We hide the signs of aging, we shy from our mortality.

We decry the youth their wish to move on and away.

We should accept the rules of the game

The past informs the present which changes the future,

And things will never be the same.

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(Translated to French)

Lumière cascades dans la salle que le rideau s'ouvre,

Lumière du jour qui dure jusqu'au coucher du soleil, constante, mais pas immuable.

Chaque vague de lumière provient des activités du soleil et est imperceptiblement

Différentes que la force de la réaction atomique reflue et coule.

Les trésors de la terre, la plus haute montagne, la mer la plus profonde,

Évoluent, cependant lentement, pendant un temps insondable à l'esprit mortel.

Plus facile à comprendre, les tribus deviennent des nations, puis deviennent des empires

Qui se développent puis se dessèchent lentement tout comme le chêne puissant, une fois majestueux

Finalement, tombe inévitablement à terre.

Même Dieu se développe, d'un demandeur de sacrifices à la grâce de pardon.

Nous formons des relations qui, au fil des années, fleurissent et se fanent

Comme des fleurs aux saisons ou des fruits sur la vigne.

Pourtant, nous sommes résistants à l'inévitable changement

Nous cachons les signes du vieillissement, nous timidons de notre mortalité.

Nous décrions les jeunes leur désir de se déplacer sur et loin.

Nous devrions accepter les règles du jeu
Le passé informe le présent qui change l'avenir,

Et les choses ne seront jamais les mêmes.

Messed it up

Recently I’ve been overtaken by a sense of failure

The realisation that my generation have made a mess

We have stood by while the cheats prosper

It must seem to my kids that we didn’t care less

In so many ways things have got worse not better

Once I was full of youth and idealism

Then came Thatcher, not a whimper I just let her

Replace the carers with narcissism 

I was part of it I felt superior

A wad of cash in my fist

And judged by any criteria

I was one of the monetarists

But I was lost in a hedonist haze

Principles obscured by short term gain

Not worrying of nature’s decay

Or those less fortunate left in pain

It’s no use for us to excuse

That I am but one of the many

You must find others of similar views

Then I becomes we and we are plenty

So now is not the time to sit back and wonder

Why things have come to such a pass

We must shout and thunder

Every age and class

We must be heard and outcomes demanded

A better life for all not the few

A world of resources, protected not branded 

For Christian Muslim, Hindu and Jew

Its not too late for us to mobilise

The young, the old, the compassionate

We must make power realise

They can no longer machinate

To pit us against those who are different

To hind behind false patriotism

When we stand together we are significant

We will never accept their fascism

ABC of Venice

Admire the view, as the aircraft banks over the Laguna Veneta, of the spires and clock towers of countless aged churches.

Beauty hidden for the moment under those spikes of white and domes of grey

Cascades of sparkling foam race down the side of the water taxi speeding across the bay dodging the dawdling  buses

Daunting the walk to the Hotel as you get the first glimpse of the narrow dark sometimes dank streets and alleyways that crisscross the city

Enthusiastic the Venetians explaining the sights and delights that lay in store

Famous sights like San Marco , Campanile, and Rialto and not so well known delights such as the Chicchetti

Gelato, just one of course, is de rigueur as soon as you step out on that first exploratory mission of personal discovery

Heady from the surprises round each corner and over each bridge, byzantine meets modern, with the locals washing hanging between them.

Idiomatic imagery is all around the Gondolas, Gondoliers and Gothic piazzas

Jazz is playing at the Cafe Quadri for passing tourists, but especially for those rich enough to sit awhile and drink a coffee

Klein, Prada, Tiffany all the brands are here on the shopping routes around the Rialto Bridge, slightly incongruous amongst the enthralling antiquity

Listening from the canal side you can truly hear the serenade “o sole mio” ringing round the tapering waterways

Masks for the carnevale de venitia are sold everywhere but no one can find the carnival

Nightime brings new pleasures lit up by the lamplight dangling from the Gondolas and the moon caressing the canals

Osteria open for dinner with every kind of fish and seafood fresh from the Mercato that morning

Prosecco the local aperativo starts each meal, sweet, bubbly, joyful jovial.

Quintessentially enjoyed on the bank of the Grand Canal with the warm summer breeze stirring the waves to lap just below your feet

Renaissance art Titian and Tintoretto are found here of course in the beautiful, basilicas

Standing testament to the golden age of the Venetian republic

Tradition of course but Venice also showcases modernity, the Guggenheim collection a definitive demonstration of 20th century art and artists

Unrivalled and unique, as a site of secular pilgrimage but,

Venetians are few, their number dominated by 20 million visitors each year

Weighed down by the exited expectations of the incomers the nature of the city changes

Xenolithic gems spring from the rocky sinking foundations

Yet there is a new truth amongst all the wonders

Zero use. This is a city without a purpose beyond the visitor, an holistic, historic holiday park.

Love is unconditional

Love is unconditional

Given freely not expectantly

Love is rare

Hard to find like rainbow’s gold

Love once found is never lost,

But its place can be forgotten like the keys to the car.

Love can be tested and temporarily fail

But, given time, will always prevail.

Love has no logic, no basis, and sometimes no sense,

But it cannot be reasoned away.

Love cannot be taught it has to be learnt

The lessons a painfully personal process.

Love brings enlightenment, tranquillity, and peace

Giving love banishes hate from the heart. 

Moonlight Revelation

Moonlight revelation

Walking at night, every sound seems different,

Nocturnal noises, not daytime din,

Are seemingly amplified by the darkness

Normal seems abnormal when senses are dimmed.

But when the full moon is risen, regal, resplendent

The night’s true dimension is revealed

Shadows, briefly banished, now reappear

A watery silvery glow, paints the realm.

The path becomes clearer, fears subside

At the rivers edge pause and survey

Slithers of moonlight glittering on the surface

Of the water, waving, a silent shimmer.

Crossing the bridge the gleam brightens

No shade from the lunar bloom

A circle of luminosity reflects the celestial bulb

Until a cloud interrupts and the view darkens.

But it is only a brief respite

Soon normal service is resumed

The gleam is once again re-lighting

The confusion of nature’s remorse,

For the sudden intrusion of the night. 

Two poems on Freedom

What is freedom?

At the moment of our birth we are free from the womb, but not from dependency

Reliance on our mother is not serfdom, but without it our independence is worthless.

At adulthood we are free of maternal care, but not of responsibility

To make our way we must be conformist unless part of the noblesse.

Then to provide our elemental needs, we must toil at the behest of lords,

And not content with one master, another also takes their tribute.

In employment our freedom is restricted as are the rewards.

Success depends not on the effort but on the profit for the institute.

And even if making good in that race, autonomy is still elusive,

We are all part of an interdependency sometimes called society,

With its own precepts, perils and pitfalls so, even for the exclusive,

Market forces beyond our control will add to our anxiety.

But we are free to think that there might be another way,

Or are we? When to depart from the main stream leads to ridicule,

Ragging and removal from the game you can no longer play.

Leaving, the freedom to die, as the ultimate miracle.

Freedom revisited.

The butterfly struggles out of its chrysalis

It emerges into the world, and its beauty

Dazzles as it drifts in the tepid, timid wind

But its struggles are not over,

There are only a few hours of precious freedom,

They must be enough to fulfil its destiny.

An army moves against its foe,

Youthful, expectant, fearful.

But they find their courage as

The generals on both sides say

Come on lads we fight for freedom.

The bloodied prisoner is chained to the wall,

The cell is silent, except is isn’t

The sounds are the kind that must not be heard.

The prisoner dreams of freedom,

Not fields of green or oceans blue,

But of death the ultimate freedom.