Poems by Deanne Lister
GUARDIAN ANGEL
(This can be sung to the tune of Enya’s ‘Once there was gold’)
Angel so bright
over me leaning,
held in the light
of heaven above.
Visions so holy
cover me slowly,
filling, distilling
the Essence of love.
Now under the moon
you still hear the tune
of choirs celestial
that wait for the noon
when bright as the sun
your glory will come
and heaven will open
and your work will be done.
Safely I hide
here in your presence
knowing my Guide
is holding my hand.
Love me for ever
through all endeavour
peacefully, tenderly,
you understand.
© Deanne Lister 1996
DISTANT THUNDER
Distant thunder
rippled on the air;
darkness grew oppressive
in warm waves
breaking on the mind.
The bed, a surface
for incomprehension
as the storm rolled in,
became a place of solace
as the lightning struck.
The waiting, long ago
a burden carrying
its silent doom,
now lifted as the flash
extinguished all colliding thought,
and peace prevailed.
The brightness grew
surrounding soul and body
in a great enlightening.
No worry now
pervading this new life.
The hour had come.
© Deanne Lister 20th April 2018
FOREST AWAITING
Is life so transient?
Blocks of concrete tower
solid, safe, standing
as if they were ruling
the earth. And plantings
of shrubs, pretending below
to be the oxygen providers,
leaves aflutter with every gasp
of air between the silent
city monoliths.
Give it a year or two,
maybe a million,
and we’ll see who rules
this place, this tender earth.
© Deanne Lister 25th February 2019
MARAZION
A waft of seaweed on the wind
takes me back in time to Marazion
when I was young, ingenuous and happy.
The English summer days were long.
We watched the seagulls strut
and quarrel on the jetty,
unconcerned with any future,
-as were we,
the present all-consuming.
Now you are gone. You left
uncaring of the plans we made
so many years ago.
And here I am remembering Marazion.
© Deanne Lister 20th January 2020
PREDESTINATION
In thoughtful mood I look down,
see a foot.
This is not any foot, I think,
its unique detail was undoubted
long before Adam found his Eve,
and yet, we little cells, belligerent with being,
must air our voices with the breath of life
convinced our hard-won thoughts
will make a difference.
And it is true,
if this fantastic cosmos has a meaning,
we are the fruit produced light years ago
by cataclysmic origin of time,
our atoms formed just so
to find a unity colliding
at a certain point by pre-decision.
Not our decision though!
How could unconsciousness decide a certain fate,
a certain time, a certain entity,
that’s living now, aware of its existence?
What is the purpose of this unique foot,
this unique mind controlling all its actions?
How can I know?
But I can, by deduction, recognise
a Power so great that free will leads me
to accept predestination.
© Deanne Lister 21st February 2018
THE FIG TREES ARE FELLED
The fig trees are felled
farewell to the shade
as the shoppers keep walking
the pavement parade.
The birds have no branches
to swing in the leaves
as Bulcock Street swelters
at forty degrees.
Thirty two years
have elapsed since I saw
my first view of Bulcock,
so pretty and raw,
and now those old fig trees
are nothing but dust
since cut down at midnight
by men you can’t trust.
© Deanne Lister 20th April 2018
VALDORA
What was it that the name evoked in me?
I went to see: a land of sugar-cane,
flat fields of pineapples and fruit trees
standing basking in the sun.
A coastal place, they said,
but the winding way had brought me
several miles inland.
It was as if the mountain called,
reaching his rocky green-ness to the sky,
commanding time and nature in his gaze,
Ninderry stood.
Above the sun-strained plain,
the farms and leafy ways,
he held his court,
happy to watch his minions in Valdora.
© Deanne Lister 26th September 2018
(This can be sung to the tune of Enya’s ‘Once there was gold’)
Angel so bright
over me leaning,
held in the light
of heaven above.
Visions so holy
cover me slowly,
filling, distilling
the Essence of love.
Now under the moon
you still hear the tune
of choirs celestial
that wait for the noon
when bright as the sun
your glory will come
and heaven will open
and your work will be done.
Safely I hide
here in your presence
knowing my Guide
is holding my hand.
Love me for ever
through all endeavour
peacefully, tenderly,
you understand.
© Deanne Lister 1996
DISTANT THUNDER
Distant thunder
rippled on the air;
darkness grew oppressive
in warm waves
breaking on the mind.
The bed, a surface
for incomprehension
as the storm rolled in,
became a place of solace
as the lightning struck.
The waiting, long ago
a burden carrying
its silent doom,
now lifted as the flash
extinguished all colliding thought,
and peace prevailed.
The brightness grew
surrounding soul and body
in a great enlightening.
No worry now
pervading this new life.
The hour had come.
© Deanne Lister 20th April 2018
FOREST AWAITING
Is life so transient?
Blocks of concrete tower
solid, safe, standing
as if they were ruling
the earth. And plantings
of shrubs, pretending below
to be the oxygen providers,
leaves aflutter with every gasp
of air between the silent
city monoliths.
Give it a year or two,
maybe a million,
and we’ll see who rules
this place, this tender earth.
© Deanne Lister 25th February 2019
MARAZION
A waft of seaweed on the wind
takes me back in time to Marazion
when I was young, ingenuous and happy.
The English summer days were long.
We watched the seagulls strut
and quarrel on the jetty,
unconcerned with any future,
-as were we,
the present all-consuming.
Now you are gone. You left
uncaring of the plans we made
so many years ago.
And here I am remembering Marazion.
© Deanne Lister 20th January 2020
PREDESTINATION
In thoughtful mood I look down,
see a foot.
This is not any foot, I think,
its unique detail was undoubted
long before Adam found his Eve,
and yet, we little cells, belligerent with being,
must air our voices with the breath of life
convinced our hard-won thoughts
will make a difference.
And it is true,
if this fantastic cosmos has a meaning,
we are the fruit produced light years ago
by cataclysmic origin of time,
our atoms formed just so
to find a unity colliding
at a certain point by pre-decision.
Not our decision though!
How could unconsciousness decide a certain fate,
a certain time, a certain entity,
that’s living now, aware of its existence?
What is the purpose of this unique foot,
this unique mind controlling all its actions?
How can I know?
But I can, by deduction, recognise
a Power so great that free will leads me
to accept predestination.
© Deanne Lister 21st February 2018
THE FIG TREES ARE FELLED
The fig trees are felled
farewell to the shade
as the shoppers keep walking
the pavement parade.
The birds have no branches
to swing in the leaves
as Bulcock Street swelters
at forty degrees.
Thirty two years
have elapsed since I saw
my first view of Bulcock,
so pretty and raw,
and now those old fig trees
are nothing but dust
since cut down at midnight
by men you can’t trust.
© Deanne Lister 20th April 2018
VALDORA
What was it that the name evoked in me?
I went to see: a land of sugar-cane,
flat fields of pineapples and fruit trees
standing basking in the sun.
A coastal place, they said,
but the winding way had brought me
several miles inland.
It was as if the mountain called,
reaching his rocky green-ness to the sky,
commanding time and nature in his gaze,
Ninderry stood.
Above the sun-strained plain,
the farms and leafy ways,
he held his court,
happy to watch his minions in Valdora.
© Deanne Lister 26th September 2018