Your face is etched upon my heart

Your face is etched upon my heart.

I knew you in the morning light

Love is wise but never smart.

We have no need of others charts

In the mornings and the night

Your face is etched upon my heart.

As we waken sleep departs

To see your face is my delight

Love is wise and sometimes smart

Intuition, craft is art

Love is silent, hatred fights

Your face is etched upon my heart

Human Love can see in part

Face to face we’ll see aright

Love is wise love is not smart

Your face is etched upon my heart.

Love is wise but never smart

Is love blind? Who etched the lines?

Sacred, human, love is kind

Who is a friend?

“A close friend is honest and speaks from the heart with good intentions. They tell you what you need to hear in a way that you can hear rather than gossip behind your back. A quality friend is trustworthy, not only are your secrets safe with them, but so are your vulnerability, fear, and weirdness.16 May 2022″ Google search

I once had a very close friend from Ireland. Then I discovered she criticised my accent not directly but through other people who knew me. More Seriously she was incapable of not telling lies. For example she told us that her husband was suicidal to get us to help her in various ways

After my husband died she came to see me and said to me, men don’t go to your blog to tead your poetry. They go to pleasure themselves on your photograph.

I suppose it with a compliment since I was 70 years old with no hair ;beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I couldn’t stop laughing but I thought it was sexist And if we write books and have our photograph on cover are ee worried that that was drive people mad with lust? There are plenty of images in the media or even on marks and Spencer’s website that are a lot more attractive than my photograph.

So you can have a mixed relationship with somebody who is like that but really you can’t trust them.

Die Schwartz Katz lauft


Der Himmel ist kahl, die Luft ist kühl und still
Die schwarze Katze läuft, die Vögel entfalten sich den ganzen Tag
Ich setze mich hier hin und bete mit meinem Kleinkind
Du hast törichte Gedanken geworfen, du hast meinen Willen vergewaltigt
. Wir alle haben die bürokratische Mühle wütend gemacht.
Oh eiskalter Geldbeutel, ich wollte nie bezahlen!
Der Himmel funkelt, die Luft ist warm und schrill
Die saturnine Degradierten drängten sich ihnen in den Weg
Mit diesem gefiederten Sprung, meiner Musterfeder,
Ich zitiere den Scheck und datiere ihn auf nächsten Mai.
Oh, Meise für Katze, das Bett des Tigers ist verirrt.
Dein Leben wird bestimmt durch den Willen einer Hure
Der Himmel ist ein Hai, die Luft ist noch schärfer.

Herausgegeben von Kathrin

The black cat’s run

The sky is stark, the air is cool and still
The black cat’s run, the birds unfold all day
I sit down here and with my totty pray
Ye cast o’ foolish thoughts, you raped my will
. We’ve each enraged the bureaucratic mill.
Oh frigid purse, I never meant to pay!
The sky ‘s a-spark, the air is warm and shrill
The saturnine demoted knelled their way
With this feathered pounce, my sample quill,
I cite the cheque and date it for next May.
Oh, tit for cat, the tiger’s bed ‘s astray.
Yer life is settled by a harlot’s will
The sky ‘s a shark, the air is sharper still.

Stan enjoys Purgatory


Mary woke up on Tuesday feeling dazed.She had been dreaming of Arnold,her student sweet and shy.
I wonder where he is now, she thought.Then she recalled he was in fact a world famous cancer researcher.She hoped he had found a shy sweet partner would it be better if he had found an extraverted jelly kind of wife.
Emile was yowling on the landing despite the large bowl of Superior Cat Food he was standing next to by the bookshelf
I believe that people and animals like not just to eat, but to be fed,Mary thought.Stan used to make the dinner but he always wanted her to serve.

Emile would eat his food after she stroked him.But who would stroke, Mary?This was a hard and topical question because Mary had stopped eating.However, as she was quite large, she could live for a few weeks on water only.So she mused
Mary put on a pair of purple trousers and a lomg lavender coloured top.She gazed into the mirror wondering why three hairdressers had failed to help her style her fair hair.

Now,she recalled Arnold was a Russian Jew by inheritance though he had lived in the USA all his life until taking up research into cancer at the ancient university Mary attended.

If she had married Arnold she could have pretended to be religious,converted and then worn a wig.
Annie came running upstairs.
Whatever are you doing,she yelled.It’s 11 oclock! Her make up was melting despite being Max Doctor’s All Day Creme Mousse
I was wondering if I could find a Jewish man who would marry me, purely legally, just so I could wear a wig.
What a load of tripe,Annie retorted.No wonder you’ve had no breakfast.If the man was religious he could not marry a lapsed Christian. Or an agnostic.
If you want a wig just go online.
You have no imagination,Mary answered,I spend half my time wondering what would happen if I did A,B or C.And what I might wear
And then you do D,Annie joked merrily.Or X.
Where are you going in purple trousers,she continued.You should not wear them at your age.
Do purple trousers have a meaning,asked Mary.I got them in Windsmoor’s sale for £12.
I refrained from buying a jersey jumpsuit as it looked like a burkini and I am a bit nervous now of racists coming into the open.
Very sensible ,Annie told her.I bet the French are jealous because Muslim women and certain Jewish women don’t get skin cancer nearly as often as Christian or agnostic English women.Should we convert?
I don’t think they would like it if it were only to save ourselves from cancer,Mary mused.
True,said Annie,dully


Mary felt hot so they went into the kitchen and made some tea.Annie was wearing snakeskin pyjamas and black patent shoes.
Do you sleep in those pyjamas,Mary asked?
Oh,no.These are day pyjamas or leisure suits ,Annie smiled.They are comfy.You can get them in the market for £2.
Mary heard a strange noise

.Stan ,her late spouse ,appeared in the kitchen carrying a big leather bag,
Hello,he grinned.I’ve just come to say I have bought a detached house in Ealing.
But you are dead,Mary whispered thoughtlessly
Yes,I am a ghost but I have bought the house via Dave.I paid cash.
Why Ealing,Mary asked suspiciously
I like that song,Neasden and it’s quite near on the North Circular.And Ealing is healing!
So that’s where you’ve been while I have been grieving,Mary said.On the North Circular Road enjoying Willie Rushton’s songs as you drive
And besides, I want to re-marry and get a wig.
Well,you can get the wig,Stan told her handing her £4,000 in cash from his pocket.But don’t get married until I am in heaven
When will that be,the ladies asked.
Dunno,he cried.It’s such fun in Purgatory where the ladies are naughty but not actually evil.
And so say all the men.Ah,men

The secret path

Come with me,I know a secret path
From Windermere Train Station to the lake
We’ll run down through the trees and the green grass

Coloured boats are sailing,see them pass
And there is a ferry we might take
Come with me,I know the secret path

The wildflowers look eternal in their grace
Here we heal our hearts. compassion waits.
We’ll go down through the trees and the lush grass

On the waves I see the Sacred Face
We are not condemned by God or fate
Come with me,I know a secret place

In our time, we find the narrow gate
Open, if we marry love and hate
The sunshine makes my body feel embraced
Oh, Windermere, where birds sing sweet in praise

No mirror, no reflection

No mirror for reflection in his mind
He says whatever suits that moment’s wish
Thus he is to truth disabled, blind

Pride and power make all of us unkind.
But reflecting deeply shows us what’s amiss.
There’s no mirror for reflection in his mind

In phantasy, we get what we design.
But fancied love won’t give a fleshly kiss.
We are to truth and justice surreal,blind

To find the truth we cannot be malign
Must view with horror what we once dismissed
Who can use those mirrors in their minds?

Judging of our leaders is no crime;
For we judge our selves and that is less than bliss
When leaders lie, the world is undermined

He has no self at all, if all’s his wish.
Inevitable,catasrophic, the abyss
He has no space for mirrors in his mind
Now he is to wisdom doubly blind.

Winter with Stan and Mary

Winter had come very early to Knittingham yet owing to the late summer and wet autumn,many trees still had their leaves,,,,,,,,,,,some were even green.Stan and Mary were sitting in their mock Tudor cottage style kitchen eating muffins and honey with Earl grey tea in mugs.
Wow,it’s so cold,Mary remarked.
Now,Mary I have told you before that Wow is not a word I expect to hear from such a highly educated person as yourself….why waste your learning?All those years climbing over wallsOxford and dating clever doctors from Harvard…

Bollocks,Mary answered in a tone not unlike the late Rose Nordloch,philosopher extraordinaire who was famed for her obscene talk.
I am thinking of buying some woollen vests,she continued loudly.
Good grief!
What is it, my darling Stan said nosily.
Mary was looking at a catalogue of ladies clothing. and lingerie which had come in the postThey are £39 each,she said wonderingly.If I get three it will be nearly £120 plus postage.Just imagine,I may be unable to afford wool vests

Can’t you just buy one and wear it all winter like the Tudors did?her loving yet irascible husband replied

I think it would get smelly,my dear,even if I wore my anti -perspirant,Mary answered benignly.We should get wool vests from the Government to save us from going to A and E with double pneumonia,she continued softly…Shall we mention it at the Labour Party meeting? I can get it on the agenda

No,no,Stan cried,I want your lingerie to be a secret…

A woollen vest is hardly lingerie,she retorted.. sounding like a character from Barbara Pym‘s novels

Everything a lady wears under her dress in lingerie he murmured gently….bras,knickers,pantaloons,petticoats,vests,corsets,suspender belts.stockings,tights,trouser liners,lace,fine silk,short underskirts,long underskirts……..nighties

But some lingerie is more sensual…Stan said wistfully,recalling the brown silk underwear Mary used to wear before feminism made most lingerie a No,No! Anyway,Mary said,we are too old for sex….we are too stiff and we are too shy now as well

But not too old to have a few fantasies,Stan thought… and woollen vests did not feature in his… he preferred lace and silk with a hint of perfume…. maybe a little embroidery….a dying art

Emile came in and asked for a vest too and some underpants… suppose I wet them? he miaowed in a panic

Well,you can’t have a nappy,Emile.Stan informed him.

I have no desire for such things,Emile mioawed angrily…where is my food?

Oh, yes… it’s in the fridge,said Stan.He took a large goldfish out of the fridge
Where did you get that from? Mary asked fearfully
Oh,that tom cat down the road knocked a fish tank over and he gave Emile one
.But they are pets!She shrieked…. ring 999 now and ask for an ambulance

Dave the bisexual paramedic strode in looking merry.

It’s Frank,the gold fish,said Mary fearfully……………i he dead
He is not quite dead,Dave answered….get a bowl of rain water.He put Frank into the bowl and Frank began to swim…

Well, that’s a bloody miracle,Mary screamed. almost frightening Stan to death!

Just call him Lazy Lazarus.Dave quipped…he was in suspended animation.. fish are very clever.Would you like me to clean out the kitchen or fetch in some coal for the scuttle? he asked the old dears,

Thanks but not today,Dave.We were just discussing vests.Do you wear one?

Oh,yes.he said, and I wear a short petticoat too….I’dd love a silk one as I am a transexual too,so I believe

Very wise,Mary informed him.Underwear keeps us warm.

And it makes me hot,thought Dave…. but he said nothing.He kept his sex life almost a secret even from himself

Vests,thought Mary.

To buy or not to buy

That is my question