MR. MEATH’S EYEBROWS
Mr. Meath knows all about Jesus.
Each Monday he visits our class
to tell us stories of loaves and fishes
and things that have come to pass.
Mr. Meath’s eyebrows are thick and athletic.
Each has a life of its own.
While one is leaping in wild adoration
the other drops down like a stone.
We sit on hard benches pretending to listen
recalling our Saturday ploys
but Mr. Meath’s eyebrows snare our attention
by acting out sorrows and joys.
Mr. Meath’s showing a picture of Jesus
at supper upstairs with some friends.
It’s a farewell party but nobody’s happy.
I wish he would tell how it ends.
Mr. Meath’s eyebrows are two shaggy dogs
grovelling as if sent to bed.
Some terrible sadness has stopped them performing.
I thought they’d be dancing instead.
Mr. Meath’s saying, “Have you any questions ?”
So I ask him, “Who washed the dishes ?”
All of a sudden, he’s laughing like mad
and his eyebrows are leaping like fishes.
Vera Urban
CROOKED COPY
I want to praise You with
clear mind
animated face
body still
limbs moving only to soul’s direction
BUT
I’m a Parkinson’s Person!
dribbling
twitching
LET ME PRAISE
be aware of God’s Son
spiked, pinned to the world’s woes
body writhing (cramped muscles twitching)
bloody wounds, encrusted with flies
tongue lolling
beard sticky with spittle
legs begrimed with bodily wastes.
DEAD?
DEAD!
DEAD.
LET PARKINSON’S PEOPLE PRAISE
with dribbling
twitching
helplessness
My shaky hand in His
I PRAISE HIM.
Marj Kosky
FLOWERS THAT FLOAT
Water lilies filled my view
when I was small.
Lake-water rippled around green-pink blooms.
Sometimes I held one of these shining flowers
lying on the water like an offering.
Fingers gently touched the green-brown sepals.
Four of them opened wide to show the next circle
of white-pink petals, the colour deepening.
The sun bade them unfold to bathe their throats
with warmth, white light blew golden pollen
into their orange-yellow depth.
Shallow waves played with dark-green buds
still hiding all the colour they contain.
This scent of freshness.
Broad leaves swam effortlessly reaching deep.
Clear clean reflections.
Water lilies filled my view
when I was small.
Marie-Louise Stephens