Stan was polishing the windows again with his blue cloth.The computer was on and as soon as he finished the sitting room windows he planned to look at a google document he was co-writing with his girl friend Annie.She only lived next door but they both liked sharing new techniques of various kinds .He sat down in front of his computer and looked at his mail.
There was an email from Annie.
“Hi Stan
I didn’t really want to keep some of those remarks you made at the bottom of our documents when we were both online having a chat,so I have deleted them. They were not related to the topic we were discussing so I know you won’t be interested.
with my love,Annie
Stan felt angry and cross. He went very red.What was so dreadfully wicked about his remarks?He had only asked Annie if her dead husband George might have been bisexual.Stan had once seen him kissing a man round in the park.Annie didn’t seem bothered last night.She never gave the impression me she didn’t like it.
Anyway she should not have deleted it completely without asking me first.
He sent her an email saying he was very angry with her for attacking his freedom of speech.It was unethical.It was too powerful .He must assert himself
So he was not going to work simultaneously with her on any more documents ever again nor chat on IM or Google chat
.
When Annie got the email she was stunned.She apologized to Stan immediately but her refused to accept it.Nothing she said could change his mind.So they were both feeling utterly dreadful.
Why did he want to know if George was bisexual?She wondered.Was he saying it to try to turn himself on or me?Or is he just interested in sex of all kinds like most people secretly are?
But it was not concerned with the document which was about ill treatment of prisoners in India under the British Empire
We have so little time together, with him being so busy.I wanted to talk about us,not poor dead George.Whatever George’s sex life,he’s dead now.So leave him in peace.
Meantime.Stan was thinking about how women were always interfering in his life,correcting him and improving his grammar.Making him cups of tea when he wanted brandy.He liked talking about bisexuality.
It made him feel a sense of wonder at the differing habits and desires of humans.Why couldn’t she just go along with it or at least say something then rather than deleting his words secretly when he was off-line?
He was a man .He was not going to let a woman ride over him like a steam roller. Annie must learn her place in the scheme of things.
Where is that,asked his tom cat Emile.
I’m not sure but it’s not above me.It’s either the same or lower.
Can’t you forgive her.she may be in another dimension,another space,another universe of discourse?
Certainly not no way.Stan answered,
But you love her,you said many times in here.I heard you
All the more reason to maintain some boundaries!Love is not the be all and end all of life
Next she’ll be cutting bits off me with her pinking shears,he cried in horror!
She’ll castrate me.She’ll turn me into a woman.
She won’t,she’s a woman,said Emile.She wouldn’t ever harm you.she’s very gentle.
She has invaded me,she has crossed my boundary.
Some people would be glad,mewed the cat.He was always hoping a lady cat would come by.
Meanwhile Annie was sitting sobbing wetly in her bedroom.She really enjoyed co-writing documents and letters with Stan.Now he won’t do it anymore,she whispered softly to herself
She had not cut anything from the document,just the little chatty remarks they had been indulging at the end, but still he was really mad at her.He must be feeling truly upset and aggravated beyond human endurance.She had assumed too much and now she was paying the price.She cried and sobbed loudly for a while.Her eyes were bright red and bloodshot. not attractive at all.She was so sad she had unwittingly distressed dear old Stan.Life is so tough she thought reluctantly.I wish I were somewhere else.
Still,there were those new neighbors who had just moved in across the road.Two brothers,both very handsome.I wonder if they like writing on the computer,she thought.That cheered her up a bit,though she was very fond of Stan.In fact she loved him greatly and had kissed him gently yet thoroughly many times though she had never actually gone to bed with him ;never known him in the biblical sense.Was that the problem?Too late now either way,she muttered balefully
So in her mind she was moving from loving and adoring Stan to being puzzled by him.Was he afraid of being dominated by a woman?What would he be like as a lover?
But why try to talk about bisexuality?Could he not have thought of something else?
There was a new book by Betty Dodson teaching women how to have orgasms.Would he have enjoyed discussing female anatomy and pleasuring her naked female body and its organs of love and all the rest,[she always liked a kiss on her throat]?
Well,she would never know now.That was certain.Definitely.
Thank God I’ve found out what he’s like before things went any further.He might be a little too dominating or perhaps not enough?
In fact she was so upset her thoughts began to turn towards women.
Would it be better all round to love a woman.Especially as I could show her how to have an orgasm having being studying this book for some weeks?Though she may already know,I guess.Still,a change is as good as a rest!
How do I find a woman who’s into other women, she thought.Can I find one on the internet?Will there be a club we can go to?How exciting!
So Annie grew more optimistic.A woman wouldn’t mind a few words deleted from a chat either.So a feeling of mild joy came over her and her sobbing died down.
Stan was sitting in his kitchen feeling superior and dominant.Except Annie had not come for coffee so it was hard being dominant all by himself.He began to feel depressed and morose.Should he change his mind?Would he lose his window of opportunity
Why is life so trying.Why are women so manipulative, why do they all turn out fakes,he asked Emile.
It’s partly one’s own character,Emile replied.
Hearing this Stan lost his temper and threw a cup at Emile.Luckily it missed but Emile stalked out and went off to the shed leaving Stan more alone than ever.
How hard life is Stan shouted. I feel like topping myself. i”ll jump off the roof.I’m going to ring the fucking Samaritans.
Just then his wife Mary walked in.What’s up Stan?
Nothing dear.I just dropped a brick on my toe
Why have you got a brick in here,in the lounge?
I was playing with it.
With a brick?
Well,it has a certain cold masculinity,he replied.
Shall I make some drinks?
Yes,please.
Oh,look there’s Annie walking past arm in arm with a woman.
I knew George was bisexual but now I see she is also or maybe she’s gay!Were they both gay?Is that why she only kissed him and never went further?
Well,it’s not our affair,said Mary quietly.
Aha,thought Stan.That’s what you think.If only you could see inside my mind.
Inside his mind though ,he was wondering if Annie would ever see him again.But I will not forgive her,I won’t.I won’t!
What he might have said more truthfully was “Can’t”
For indeed,it is hard to forgive people for trampling into one’s sacred space even if it is an accident or misjudgment not a deliberate attempt to dominate.but if not ………
Such is life,alas.
We are such fools as dreams are made of.

I like syntax,I like  structure

Elegance with signs of fracture.

I like writing with a pen

I like ink,just now and then,

 

I like shape and I like form.

Architectural sentence born

I like writing  to the dead.

Only in my dreams in bed.

 

I like frames and I like order

I like pictures with a border.

I like writing on my sheets.

Memories that will not keep.

 

I like finding what I think.

Eloquence makes grown men blink.

I prefer to talk and sing.

Did you hear my wedding ring?

My wife has left me for an adverb.
I don’t know which one it is!
Is it slowly,quickly, nearly?
Life should not be like a quiz.

She told me that she “nearly” loved me,
When “dearly” was what I had hoped.
Life is full of lost illusions…
How do deserted people cope?

I think I should have kept it secret,
For now I sit and sadly grieve.
Do you think my wife is cruel?
What a strange excuse to leave!

Would she leave me for a pronoun?
Would she leave for a full stop?
Would I leave you for a quote mark?
Would I fall into a dot?

Come back,darling for I love you.
I have learned I must take care.
I will go for grammar lessons.
I am sure I can learn flair!

We can write a poem together,
You can choose the topic,dear.
I will hold my pen and write for
They say true love drives out fear.

Did I fear her? Did I love her?
Was she worthy of my heart?
Did she dislike my hairy nostrils?
Was that why we had to part?

Come back Mary,come back Mavis.
Come back Sunny, come back Sue
Without my wife I feel quite lonely.
What is a poor man to do?

I admit I was unfaithful.
God made men to procreate.
Yet I loved my wife the best…
And how I loved her homemade cake

I put this sonnet on an American poetry website and a woman criticised me for advocating promiscuity and having children out of wedlock.So I thought I’d better keep it in the UK where people understand metaphor. ….

When true love’s gone and doom hangs overhead When life runs like a river to the sea Then shall I take new lovers to my bed,

And with their carnal touch consoled be?

When my love lies, and breaks my tender heart. When life seems gray and rocks erode my path. Then, shall I my life of evil start, And on the world shall I bestow my wrath?

When true love fails and wrecks all loyalty..

When puzzlement makes all my world seem mad. Then I shall upend causalit

I will do such deeds as make all glad.

For love, though brief, has given me a prize

A child most welcome, on whose face I gaze

Posted on November 11, 2017
The summer heat made cobblestones like stoves
The Coronation happened, I know now
We played with melted tar, industrial bairns.

My mother’s hands were black and much beloved
The coal and coke had tattooed her, we saw.
The summer heat made cobbles hot as stoves.

In the road, we played our ancient games
The older children passed the knowledge down
We played with melted tar, industrial wains.

The bully boys were cruel , did not heed love
A little boy had tried to be a clown
In summer heat, they beat him on the stones.

We were silent as they flaunted power again;
But in our hearts, we knew we’d let him down
We threw warn melted tar, industrial wains

And in our phantasy, he was alone.
No-one knew who threw the vicious stone
The summer heat made cobbles feel like flames
We played with melted tar, Christ died again

Although my ears were ringing with its rhymes

I edited my sonnet sixty times
It didn’t seem so many to my mind
Although my ears were ringing with its rhymes

To criticise myself seems quite unkind

What seemed to be a meter was none such
I could not sing it like Gray’s Elegy been
My language late at night seems Double Dutch
But writing will, like loving, pleasure me.

If only we could edit when we speak
Instead of blurting out “the honest truth”
To stop our malice making others bleak
Or injuring their hearts with words uncouth.

When we reflect, we learn to see our speech
As something not entirely out of reach.

He said I was  a not a real  poet

My knowledge was , let’s say, inchoate

But when I wrote a sonnet

He said,Now you’ve done it.

You are a born   one and don’t you just know it!

 

I said, after  six years of practise.

I might have even become a stage actress.

But my vocation is  to pen,

And to amuse  gentlemen.

As the world turns round  again on its axis.

 

 

Six years is  more than 2,000 days

On which I have studied and prayed

For seven hours or more

Which brings up  my score

To fourteen thousand hours ,by the way.

 

So really I’ve not done that well.

But luckily most folk can’t tell.

I’ll   accept my position

With no self derision.

I might almost be in a nun’s cell

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’ll write a sonnet it’s not hard, is it

The hardest thing is how to begin it.

Once you start, it’s hard to stop.

One sonnet might be, in fact, a crop.

I used to write five poems a day.

I seemed to know just what to say

Yet too much talking can disturb.

The gentle angels are perturbed

In Suffolk is an ancient church

Above the altar small birds perch

The angels hang down from the roof

The faces grave convey the truth.

I tried to write but did it work?

Wisdom dwells where angels lurk

The face that was familiar is no more Lost like butterflies that wind destroys And I sit alone by this closed door From this anguish take me,I implore Hoping that my prayer will not annoy.

The face that was familiar is no more All the years have vanished from my store

With the empty future ,love destroyed .

As I sit alone by this closed door As days pass by, truth and pain conjoin .

Love is never evil but conveys

The face that was familiar is no more With nature’s rhythm, we touch on the benign Loss and even sin are cast away

As I decide to open this closed door

So I travel down the path of each new day

Good will and toleration come, I pray.

The face that was familiar is no more.

Kindness, care and time might me restore.

Dear Annie

I am so sorry that I have to email you rather than writing a letter by hand and since I have to dictate it it is probably going to be full of arrows.

I will try to edit it before I send but one is often blind to one zone mistakes.

It is like when I dictator poem I don’t notice the areas in it until I have published it on my blog which is most unfortunate for my reputation of meticulous care and precision although to be honest that’s not really suitable for poetry is it?

It shows that we don’t see what’s there but we only see what we’re expecting to see and in some cases this can produce a terrible result

Ironically now I’m hoping for some humorous mistakes to come into this litter it’s being done much more accurately than normal I wonder why that is question mark is it because I’m speaking more rapidly or is it just shake her incidents?

Sheer coincidence

When there is an area like the end of the last sentence it’s interesting that the line that’s typed rhymes with the one that I own dictators but it does not come out the same as what I have dictated usually

So this translation this is not done word by word but by the overall meaning of this paragraph even sometimes you forget to the end of a paragraph and then you look up and you see the first sentence you wrote is being changed even though that’s the correct one

So then you have to go back an older at the beginning and then you don’t know where you will end up do you when you change the beginning will you have to rewrite the entire thing?

I am disappointed because there are not enough mistakes no and I was rely on the mistakes to make this letter numerous but still what is humour to the numerate?

Well if only all the population were literate things will be much worse because the people who can’t read at the moment are prevented from reading the sun the daily mail the telegraph and any other newspaper you like to mention and if they can’t read then they can’t read online so they can’t look at Facebook not that I hate Facebook but it depends on what you’re doing with it xxx

It’s very sad that people use Facebook to get the news not realizing that the news is not the news it’s a selection of news or all of lies who knows but when something is in print people believe it

There’s something about the written word that seems to have more authority than the spoken word is that why people think the Bible is the literal word of god?

Practices the little word of god

Perhaps it is the little word of god or the literal word of god or the little word of somebody else who is not named m

I can’t remember now why I began to write you so I think I better stop for the moment and I’ll do this tomorrow morning when I’m fresh. At least I’m with freshfield and I am at the moment

I sent him a sleeping a lot now I seem to be sleeping a lot but I don’t know why unless it’s the winter or perhaps I’m beginning to recover from my serious infection at last but whatever sleep we get wood we ever be satisfied

Because we can’t control it or at least if we try to conserve it it makes it worse

When I was young I never thought about it I would get into bed and go to sleep then I would woken up and it was time to get up

But nowadays some people start thinking in the afternoon I wonder if I’m going to sleep tonight and what will I do tomorrow if I’m tired and even if they’re waking up one hour earlier than usual but then start worrying about the fact that I’ve had one hour less sleep and they would like

We can’t control most we can’t control most things in life especially with regard to our bodies so we have to trust them

If you have good parents and you feel secure then you will see sleep will be welcome to you and it will be easy to get but when you are older and you feel more insecure then you want to be sure or something but you can’t be.

Search for the better not even to think about it

Sincerely

A well wisher

I wish I were in Lancashire again

Pendle Hill, the pike of Rivington

The mountains of North Wales , the Cheshire plain

I will never climb, my legs are gone,

Dear home, the cobbled street my skipping rope.

The end wall of the house my mother’s face.

The tree she planted and her helpless hope

The love ,the feeling sad, the lost embrace..

I wish  I were in junior school once more

The powdered ink,, the brass the desks of oak

Children’s laughter to the sky can soar,

Skipping fast and how our arms would a àche

I wish I were a child and had no cares

I miss the. Freedom, bonfire night, the War

This is new to me but might be useful nowadays kakistocracy (n.) Look up kakistocracy at Dictionary.com1829, “government by the worst element of a society,” coined on analogy of its opposite, aristocracy, from Greek kakistos “worst,” superlative of kakos “bad” (which perhaps is related to the general IE word for “defecate;” see caco-) + -cracy.

From time and place and season, I am lost, Disorientated ,missing tracks well worn.

Do not suppose I’m unaware of cost,

Nor label me with epithets of scorn. For usual paths lead to the usual place.

The safest way to live and perhaps to die,

But wandering through the woods I find new space and in wild grasses with the fox I lie.

Through distant trees, I see a way to go

As narrow as a slit in pale limeston

. I pass in silence as if in deep,deep snow.

My courage rises even as I groan. Remember when we’re lost ,we may then find

Another way,a place,another mind.

I couldn’t find any  new ice pack
Just a frozen slice of brown bread
So I put the Pole’s bread on my hand
And on my knee,  the infra red head

Ice  reduces our swellings
Unless   a man got us with child
Infra red  soothes  our tight muscles
Till they feel as if they’ve been boiled

But if we are swollen with pride
It never gets anyone far
I told you the truth,I’m a liar.
I spent all I owed in  a Bar.

Can’t Jesus be born as a baby
Could  we start over again?
Look at the food banks and wonder
At the words of the  Christian men

Abraham didn’t kill Isaac
But we  killed, withdrawing State aid
Look at the man in the paper
Who weighed less than 6 stone when he died

We killed most of Christ’s people in Europe
We killed the gays and the lost
We could not have sacrificed  children
Unless they were Jewish  like Christ.

Tell God we don’t want any ethics
We want to be free  like the brutes
He will be sad as he wonders
Why he has ashes not fruit

 

After looking in the mirror one morning Mary decided that maybe she should start to wear makeup again in particular foundation cream. When Annie came for coffee she recruited her in her plan

I’d like to wear a foundation but I’m not sure how to get the right shade. How do you do it?

I have been wearing the same shade for 50 years

Good gracious that must be in a very large tube that you bought in 1976, Mary exclaimed

It’s not the same tube you stupid idiot. I made a note of the colour and then I always chose that color.

And what is the colour that you wear?

It’s it’s rose beige said her friend thoughtfully.

Privately Mary had been worried that Annie’s face always looked very pink but she thoughts it might be connected to hot flushes and the menopause and then she forgot about it and just accepted it as normal.

So what are the shades of beige are there?

There’s light beige cool beige deep and  golden beige

Emile the cat woke up and listenef to the conversation

Can I wear some makeup he cried plaintively?

Emile I’m short of money now that they’re going to take the triple lock away from my pension I can’t afford to buy a makeup for you as well.

It’s just not fair if I was your child a human being you would buy makeup for me wouldn’t you?

No I would tell you to get a job and go to work and then  earn some money and then buy your own makeup

Annie intervened

Emile you can’t wear mascara because you don’t have eyelashes and you can’t wear lipstick because you don’t have lips

And you have no complexion so there’s no point in you wearing foundation cream to make your complexion look better

It’s not fair cried the little cat

Suddenly the doorbell rung   and in ran Dave the transvestite paramedic.

He was wearing a new red coat from Dorothy Perkins and the green hat his mother had knitted for him.

I don’t like to see you crying Emile he shouted and I believe it’s all to do with makeup so I have got the solution I have bought you some Helena Rubenstein colour enhancing cat shampoo

Wow cried the little cat joyfully I’m looking forward to having my bath tonight and using that shampoo if Mary will help me.

There’s no limit to what Mary will do for those that she loves or at least that is what they like to think but deep down inside Mary is beginning to feel that you ought to have some boundaries even a wall around her but she is deterred because it reminds her too much of Donald Trump and his walls

Maybe I don’t need a wall she thought to herself maybe I just need the ability to say no sometimes

After all I said no to quite a few men who wanted to go to bed with me when I was young so why have I stopped doing it now? She was out of practice because since she turned 93 she found that fewer men were chatting her up . It’s so annoying when people don’t stick to the same behavior permanently when you are just the same person inside in spite of the scars on your face where you have had cancer removed, the pallor of your complexion, the thinness of your hair and the glare in your eyes although one of them is actually artificial and so you can’t control the glare in that one at all…

surely they should start to make better artificial eyes. I would write to my MP about this but I can’t see well enough to write on paper nor can I use the computer any more. I wonder how to speak to my MP?

Mary what are you thinking about  said Dave you are very quiet today. Do you like my new red coat it’s only a size 14 but it’s quite big enough for me.

Dave don’t tell me you’ve been on a diet or are you on one of those weight  reducing drugs?

Dave blushed. No I’m just eating less he said after all that’s what the drugs make you do so you can do it just by conscious planning if desired

Well I really admire you but don’t lose any more weight because you are a man and you need to have some muscles and fat on your body otherwise you look like  skeleton

And whatever you do do not imitate that Oxford tutor who is wearing a large pair of plastic breasts

Until this past 100 years it was believed that women were more stupid because they had breasts and ovearies and wombs so in a way he is paying a compliment to women but that’s not what he’s there for is there to teach anglo Saxon  or biological computing.

And no Emile you cannot go to Oxford to study biological computing you will just have to experience b your own biology and use my computer if you like since I can’t use this one anymore

Foundation cream and Mary,… you have to wait for the next installment to see what colours you like to use and what the effect will be on the men nearby

Cracks in pavements,cobbles,gutters,weeds
In the little street we children played
While nature fought back, spreading out wild seeds

Old women reached for grace with rosary beads
When I call, I don’t know what to say
Cracks in pavements,cobbles,gutters,weeds

Neighbours borrowed eggs and helped in need
What was my entire world has shrunk, decayed
Still nature fights back, flinging out wild seeds

The cobbles have been tarmacked till aggrieved
Here we once enjoyed school holidays
Cracks for insects,cobbles,gutters,weeds

Girls played with doll’s prams,boys disagreed
All the world was here, where’s left today?
While nature blackened, blasting out her seeds

Where are mother,father,oh dismay
I am old and they lie in the clay
Cracks in pavements,cobbles,gutters,weeds

Nature acts still, spreads out flying seeds

The coal fire was very important in the lives of the relatively poor during my childhood

There was always a kettle on the fire in case anyone popped in for a cup of tea and in any case

my mother drank tea every hour with lots of sugar,

I didn’t know then that this was because of lack of food

I remember my brothers going to the grocers on Saturday morning

They would come back with 8 lb of sugar. So six of us got through this sugar in one week in tea and on cereal and in milk puddings etc..

As well as boiling the kettle on the fire my mother used to cook a variety of things of which my favorite was Apple dumpling.

This was cooked in a brown pot made of earthenware and it was lined it was suet pastry then filled with sliced apples and chopped with more pastry and my mother steamed this or boiled it on the fire and it was the most delicious thing I’ve ever tested I only wish I could eat some now.

The suet pastry was filled with a hot apple juice when we took it out of the pan

In the evening my mother would boil  our handkerchiefs in an old saucepan on the fire and then they had to be scrubbed with a scrubbing brush before being rinsed and dried. After that we had to iron them as well so it was an extra burden for women.

No wonder we werw thinner then despite eating a lot of pastry

Don’t cast nasturtiums on me

Don’t lie by me again

Don’t cross my hands with Gilbert’s

Don’t worry, it’s only sea.

Don’t throw me doubt again .

Don’t sell anyone,please. Don’t say I am going to swell Don’t extension it again

Don’t say it’s a tin on Fridays

Don’t believe all your ears .

Don’t say you awe me

Don’t remove my slight to privacy

Don’t see like that

Don’t say you ever loved me at all

Don’t admire my pain..

Don’t mention I tease

Don’t join the gravy

Don’t join the Air Coarse

Don’t do coppergate sand writing

Don’t join a Liary after the War on Sorrow

Don’t go to Church on Fundays .

Don’t bite the host ..

Don’t mention my ten thumbs as a child

I like to go on eBay and buy myself some shoes

I never thought that I would want 2 shoes that someone’s used.

I don’t think they’ve been worn a lot they almost look  brand new.

But when you’re on a pension what else can old folk do?

I like them brown I like them black I like them any hue

And then I wear my fancy socks

Accessories to you

I think that it will save me cash if I buy second hand

And yet it is so tempting to see so many brands

A duffel coat from jäeger, a cashmere scarf like new

20 bras from m&s will stop me feeling blue

I could see my own psychiatrist to get some inner peace

IOr go outside and see the sky and watch the flying geese

but I prefer to run up debts, it gives me inner peace .

I gave my cash to charity, when first I paid the bills

But now I want to spend it all so I won’t need a will

I like to spend I’ll never save I like to feel so free

So when I die and meet the Lord how happy we will be.

I throw cash here I throw cash there , the economy will grow

So when I die cremate it all and say I told you so

There was an old person from Ware

Who wore just a comb in her hair

When she went out 

Children would shout …

When we are born we’re all bare..

Her sister  had lived up in Stoke

She was reckless and often quite broke

So she came down to Ware

After borrowing the fare

Then stole  her own sister’s old fur

When you can’t find what you’ve lost

You think that your eyesight’s gone bust

For you don’t want to think

Your sister robs Banks

And steals your best clothes: which is worst?

Yet old folk on earth will all die.

So enjoy yourself while you’re alive

Forgive those who steal

And let your heart heal.

Go out with a smile not a sigh

http://www.independent.co.uk/voices/brexit-donald-trump-political-depression-mental-health-2016-psychiatric-cbt-methods-heal-britain-a7528581.htmlPolitics

Quote:

So what is helpful? What’s the cure for political depression? For one thing, liberal conservatives are going to have to borrow from some of the left’s irrepressible optimism. But if my last few months of lethargy and dark doctors’ waiting rooms have taught me anything, it’s that all those in search of a cure for our current political malaise could do well to look at recent advances in the mental health ward. Cognitive Behaviour Therapy, or CBT, is today’s wonder cure – but what does it actually entail, and can it save a country as well as it can a person?

CBT is all about breaking unhelpful mental patterns. It’s also about the art of the possible. Under pressure at work? Find one request you can reasonably make of your boss. Determined to run a marathon to feel better about being obese? Start by using the stairs instead of a lift.

In politics, focusing on the big picture can often seem overwhelming. The future is bleak; there are a lot of battles that the forces of liberalism seem unlikely to win. When I think of Trump in the White House, Erdogan imprisoning critics in Turkey, martial law in the Philippines – I could continue – I curl up and go back to bed. When I think about the two refugee friends who I’ve got coming to stay next week, I scurry up and start readying

Elijah had hidden in a cave

Fearful of Queen Jezebel’s rage

God was polite

He would whisper in the night

Religion is a support not a cage.

I wish I could hear that small voice

That whispered in my ear was a choice.

After the wind and the rain

The fire was no pain

Did God whisper because he was hoarse?

This world has got depths we can’t see

As the butterfly said to the tree

He dove into a flower

sipped nectar for an hour

As the fish swam down deep in the sea

https://www.theguardian.com/books/booksblog/2013/oct/09/mark-forsyth-the-horologicon-top-10-lost-words?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other

Uhtceare is an Old English word that refers to anxiety experienced just before dawn. It describes that moment when you wake up too early and can’t get back to sleep, no matter how tired you are, because you’re worried about the day to come.

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2026/nov/05/art-health-eyeroll-dose-wellbeing-lists?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other

Do it yourself

Autumn’s coming,geese fly by,
Autumn,rust,red,gold,so gay
Drystone walls edging fields.
Apples gathered,holly berries
Flash so brightly,look like flowers
Sun shines sideways,shadows long
Of trees appear.I dwell among
Woods where gentle beeches sing
Swaying with the sideward wind

See their roots, all intertwined.
Feel their geometry in your mind.
Look up now into the sky,
See the V formation high.

Geese fly home at end of day.

My heart is moved by patterned dance
In this peace and great silence
My mind widens like the sky
And in this moment I would die,
So I could stay with this still vision
Of geese set out on autumn mission.

Snails in rain pools slither near
My feet upon the terrace here
Yet how swiftly life’s destroyed
When blind foot steps into the void.