Category: 1972

The Vortex (May 1972)

The centre of life’s vortex is a place
Of stillness. All around it ceaselessly
The turbulence of swirling water flows.

   Those who are fearful of life’s dangers seek
The shallower waters at the periphery
Buying their safety at their souls’ expense;
Some shelter in secluded pools, removed
From the fast-racing currents; here they live
And of stagnation gradually they die.
Some drown before they even learn to swim
Some are destroyed by forces greater than
Man can oppose. Lucky is he who comes,
After long striving, to the central calm
And there, like a dolphin risen from the depths,
Inhales the life-giving air.

   His goal attained,
Here he can rest, here is his soul content,
And here, having found the way, he may return
Leaving life’s turmoil for a little while,
To renew his strength in quiet and solitude.

Meg Rugg-Easey May 1972

Invisible Houses (May 1972)

We carry, each, our house upon our back –
As does the snail – but it’s invisible,
More like an extra skin, an atmosphere,
Perhaps a fragrance. We are recognised
As much by it as by our face and form,
And every day we live we are building it.

Some build a house as fresh and welcoming
As is a summer garden; some a cell
Bare and ascetic as a hermit’s cave;
Others are locked in dungeons dark and foul
Fettered by care, their heavy chains self-made.

We carry, each, our house upon our back
And day by day we build it, brick by brick.

Meg Rugg-Easey May 1972

My Mum Goes Out to Work (April 1972)

I hate my nice new clothes; I’d rather wear
My old more comfy ones. I hate being told
Not to get dirty. I don’t want to watch
The telly every night. I had more fun
Before my Mum went out to work. I wish
She’d stay at home again, just to be there
To talk to and to touch. I’d like that more
Than all the clothes and tellies in the world.

Meg Rugg-Easey April 1972

A Secret (1972)

It really is a blessing –
Though of course it is a sin –
To be able to say one thing
But to think a different thing.

To say “I’m pleased to meet you”
(I dislike you all the same,)
Or “Must you really leave so soon?”
(And please don’t come again.)

When bored at social functions
It’s most comforting I find
Whilst being outwardly polite
To be rude in my mind.

So everyone, thank goodness, can
If they don’t let it show –
Think all the horrid thoughts they want
And no one else will know.

Meg Rugg-Easey Feb. 1972