More poems by Dorothy Hart

THURSDAY MORNING

Now now my a little ego - sweet,
Please don't waste energy
By fishing about within
Endeavouring to resuscitate
Sensations of a seared and sorrowing heart
Certainly last night's grief griped you stabbingly
But now it is not necessary
This morning to repeat
Your misery.
Purposely to revive the poignant pain
As if in passion you sustain
Some justification for your sin
Of hate
Against the inescapable part
Of learning true maturity.
It is hard, I know
But try to forgo
The tragedian's art.
Be matter-of-fact, be still
Continue constant loving till
A smile breaks on your face, quite of its own free will.
Turn to your battleground of love and love's negation,
To him, your joy and torture, eyes, aswim
With warmth, and, with no trace of affectation,
Give that smile to him.

Dorothy's Poems

FRIDAY MORNING

Today I feel impatient of pettiness
My own and niggling preconceived requisites
And the gloomy gangrened faces of most people in the streets
God's people
What the hell are we going about ourselves
In our function of God - containers
Non - reflective, unpolished, non - perspicacious
Today I feel strong but with a strength
That is icy cold, somewhat contemptuous
I am aware that I do not love life
Nor my beloved
Nor myself
Myself is a stone Mountain
Building itself day by day
Into a massive structure of hard though dissoluble strata.
Let it go on bulking itself and feeling its large contours
With an unemotional inevitability
Love will split the atom
All matter will explode
And a warm heart will be left
Unimpeded, with no question of direction
Emitting ineffable rays.