Charles Cowling

The Soul
by John Whitworth

The soul is like a little mouse.
He hides inside the body’s house
With anxious eyes and twitchy nose
As in and out he comes and goes,
A friendly, inoffensive ghost
Who lives on tea and buttered toast.
He is so delicate and small
Perhaps he is not there at all;
Long-headed chaps who ought to know
Assure us it cannot be so.
But sometimes, as I lie in bed,
I think I hear inside my head
His soft ethereal song whose words
Are in some language of the birds,
An air-borne poetry and prose
Whose liquid grammar no one knows.
So we go on, my soul and I,
Until, the day I have to die,
He packs his bags, puts on his hat
And leaves for ever. Just like that.

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Vale
Vale
5 years ago

My soul is like a little bat. I keep it underneath my hat, And now and then I feel it flutter, ‘Til I slap on more salted butter. As time goes by, my friendly bat, Is really growing rather fat – I’d never think he wasn’t there, While he folollops in my hair. Bone headed chaps who think they know, Assure me that it can’t be so, But sometimes as I lie in bed, Hat pulled down tight upon my head, I hear his laugh, robust and hearty, And say, ‘What’s this – a bloody party?’ I think, should I… Read more »

Charles
Charles
5 years ago
Reply to  Vale

Oh, that’s lovely!

Quokkagirl
Quokkagirl
5 years ago

The seat of self – why didn’t I think of that instead of going all round the houses? Thank you Charles.

Quokkagirl
Quokkagirl
5 years ago

I love that. I rather like to believe we have a soul but maybe not in the traditional sense. Not something which lives on in some mysterious other place after our death but more a companion for life – the individual personality stamp we are given when born which gives us that other dimension. Something which guides us, follows us and leads us – the indescribable something which, if fed with the right basic foods, mysteriously sustains us when our physical selves are beaten. I hope the long headed chaps don’t know everything.

Charles
Charles
5 years ago
Reply to  Quokkagirl

I like this definition of the soul. The seat of self – the self we spend so much of our lives learning to live with.