Words of a Woman Net Society: Jane Johnson. The Words of a Woman Net Society is a group of quality female writers that is comprised of published and non-published poets. Many pen haiku, sonnets, structured poetry, on subjects of sensuality, romance, life, with observing eyesight and detail.

Jane Johnson has raised five children without ex-husband's help, back at college doing Music & Technology. Writes poems, travelogues, stories and articles. Interested in health, healing, science, religion, art, philosophy, nature, creativity, the coinci-dance of this world, this life, this beauty within.

We are like caddis fly...

We start out as larvae -
we trawl the river's flow
For bytes of daily data
each one to help us grow,
surrounded with camouflage
So no-one may know...
Then one day, we say
'Enough! No more!
Now - it's time to show...

And as we emerge,
from our cocoon,
for one brief day's
night under moon
we try our wings,
and laugh like kings
dancing fairy rings
flying high and low...

Yet it's the journey,
Not the arrival,
Where our life has its part,
And the final delivery
a moment's beating heart...
Then love, live, and lay,
Life circulates again,
As we fade in the last day,
and grounded once again,
like fallen leaves,
lay down our lives
a soft blot in the rain...

Why seek?

Why seek to break the bond of love
We work to make when we're at home?
Why look for shores as yet unfound
When feet can scarcely touch the ground
Whereon we stand?
For it is here we show our form,
Not in the dream as yet unborn..
It's here we learn to give, and share..
Winged thoughts of love meet in the air,
And giving takes no pain from you,
But blesses when the love is true..

It's only when we give to gain
That ties the soul and thus brings pain..
Forgetting self when giving love
Leaves self unfettered to rise above
The attachment to our own desires..
Living for all is living for One,
Not attachment to many
When the Work's begun,
For He is in the lowest form,
Even Thee,
So seek to rise above the worm,
That tries to envelop the soul in coils
Of selfish Greed
That only spoils
Each precious moment
Of love of life,
That separates and
Leads to strife,
That says 'Thou art above
And I below...'
Tear open the heart
To let love flow..

It's all a part
Of the Heavenly Plan
To feel God's love
in the heart of Man
That he may truly
rule the Earth
In ruling himself,
Bringing to birth
The purity of thought,
Of word and deed,
Fulfilling in us
The crying need
To go beyond the worldly state
Leaving freedom to truly live, and mate
Not with a mirror to you and me
But with Love himself in all we see...

That Union blessed and prolonged,
The Balm to all that we have wronged,
The Gift of Life freely to live
That God Himself was moved to give
The soul of Man that he might learn
To live for Him, and thus return
Into His Grace,
To behold His Face
Within the face that life presents,
To see that He
Is All we see,
And all in greater harmony
Than we can be..
Unless we hold within our hearts
The Love that brings the many parts
Of all our being to One Whole,
Where all souls born are of His Soul
And we no longer seek to know..
For Love is here, to live and grow...

Squirrel Calls

Mutterings and chatterings
Pitterings and patterings
Flicks and flecks of
Fluffy feathery tails

Hurryings and scurryings
Ferryings and worryings
Squawks and squeaks,
Echoes of querulous squeals

They're burying their nuts again
Just like they did in way back when
Remembering Novembering is
Where their feather-brain fails

So they squawk and squat and excavate
A square of ground they demarcate
Under leaves shed deep from
Frequent autumn gales

Squirreling and quarreling
Nibbling and swallowing
They feast before the frost
And sudden squalls

For soon enough to hibernate
Ravening hunger as they wake
It's a miracle a
Squirrel calls at all!

Stir Crazy...

I'm as crazy as Kansas in August..
I can relate tho' I've never been there
If you'll excuse, I think I too would choose
to remember a childhood somewhere...

The fifties were cool, it was way back at school
When we thought we could be all our dreams..
But then came our lives as we soon became wives
We were coming apart at the seams..

Oh I'm as Kookie as Canton Good fortune
I kept my dreams, though I cannot say why
If you'll excuse if your picture I use
I'm so glad I'm so glad I'm so glad
that my dreams let me fly!

If Only...

If only you could know youth for it's power
The gift to sit and waste away an hour
If only you could see how strong you are
You can outstrip your elders, travel far..

If only you could see that vast potential -
Far huger than the goals that we've achieved
for ours is dressed in parcels compartmental,
Yet yours a vista, endless, to be believed

If only you could see how truly graceful
Are appreciation, awe, and pleasure too
To recognise those supreme gifts in others..
Which yet await discovery in you

Sweet child, your life's ahead, yet ours is passing
And ever swifter march encroaching years
What if some here have already lit a beacon,
It's only so you'll step free of your fears
Discovering the Joy, within those tears..

Shhh!... It comes!...

By way of an invitation
To an English Spring
This Valentine's inspiration...
And this heart takes wing..
To see the buds on boughs
whereon birds sing..

The promise of Summer
Of sunshine days ahead
Shows each shy emerging snowdrop
Raising its head
As peals of bluebells stir
where frost has fled

Soft, the season's senses stir...
The woods abound with sound
Faint musty odour where leaves were
As feet disturb the loamy ground,
winter coats soon moult their fur
And the sap sings all around

The badger kits yawn sleepily
At their mother's silent call..
The Dawn Piper's orchestra strikes up,
Cascading sound like a waterfall
Jack in the Green lifts the acorn cup
Showering blessing over all..

Soft... 'Tis Nature's greatest charm,
Wood Magic, in the spring
As, awakening sweet after long winter's sleep
Her heart leaps, rejoices, takes wing...
To feel the pulse of life stir the calm,
palpitate, quicken, - everything!

Someone asked me...
'Does Life Love?'

Life 'doesn't' love -
the nature of all life
is that which we
think of as love -
a total delight
and absorption,
and an engagement
to stay alive
and not just
to perpetuate itself,
but to breed -
Love is the glue
that holds the Universe together,
the charm or charisma
that attracts particles,
paradox, and passion.

Like energy,
love can neither be created
nor destroyed.
The more love is given,
the more it remains;
loving both is,
and is done,
it is transitive,
intransitive,
transient in form
but not in nature.

The wonderful mystery of love
is the essence of life,
the bouquet, the attraction
that has star systems singing
and blood corpuscles zinging
around bodies that revel
in the resonance,
saturated with the joy
and the glory of being alive.

Life had to be invented
so that Love could happen,
so that it could move
from latency to actuality,
and the experience of bonding,
caring, growing,
sharing, knowing,
teaching, learning,
giving, yearning,
are all lessons that Life,
or existence,
is enabled to experience,
as it is not loveless.

So what gets in the way
of this wonderful feeling?

We think too much!

Mother Love... Visiting Day

By Janet Boyd

Deep in your heart a well of sadness lies
(Around your dreams uncloaked a living hell)
You gave your precious treasure up for skies
That seemed to promise Heaven - yet, they fell
Tenderly, tenderly, the softest touch brings pain
A flash of bright-eyed laughter, a moment gone
And now you live for days when measured gain
Shall give your tears release, where rainbows shone
On cheeks now wet, now wreathed in smiles once more
He plunges into your arms, heart beating, boy -
Your precious burden, running to your door -
Then turns as swiftly, Oh! To favourite toy
Bereft, you're left, paste on your brittle smile
Fixed frozen face, taste gone, for a little while

My Garden...

(1994 - 2000)

Out of my back garden window
When first I moved in here
When washing up, the view was drab
A wasteland would appear

There were brambles and stones,
Clumpy earth, buried bones,
Bits of pots and copious weeds...
No bright coloured flowers
To admire for hours,
Just dandelion clocks and seeds...

The surrounding walls were four square,
One a council fence of wires bare
Bricks lined the earth in the corner
Where the shed had been for gardenware.

The clearing of bindweed and thorn
With bits of junk and broken glass,
left hands and arms all calloused and torn
Digging flower beds out of the grass,

Nothing grew above a foot...
Plants were cut back to the root
I found the remains of a buddleia
It was little more than a shoot...

With a will to work, to change the view
My son donned gloves, cleared brambles,
bags of bones and stones and poo
So it looked less of a shambles

I planted marigolds and bulbs
Nasturtiums, flower seeds as before
Two window boxes, baskets, and tubs
We worked till we could work no more

But this was still too flat and bland
I wanted more height on the land
(Ideally a jungle - small - would do)
Or at the very least a mountain view!

The Nursery had just the thing!
A Himalayan mountain birch
With silver trunk and golden leaves
I was rewarded for my search

Why not complete the mountain theme?
I found acacia, mimosa gold
A sensitive with curling leaves
Another Himalayan tree was sold...

Some climbing clematis and rose
A honeysuckle on the wall
The ivy trained to follow those...
And now my garden growing tall...

Lad's Love, Nigella (Love in a mist)
Aquilegia, bluebells, forsythia fair
Daffodils, peonies, lemon thyme
A fragrant garden soon was there

>From three feet, now some twenty tower
Branches reach up, embrace the sky
The sun peeks through at the gentle hour
Of sunset, winking a golden eye...

My wild and wonderful garden soars...
Fruit trees and shrubs with ash and rose
Wild herbs and Iris fill the beds
Woodruff, dwarf comfrey live with those

There seems to be a theme of blue,
With Buddleia tall, grape hyacinth bold
The Iris changes from year to year
Twin tubers alternate blue and gold

At last my washing up's a dream
No more the sight of bare back yard
For though it's all done by machine
My window view's a picture card!

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