This is one of our cats on the eighties! I just found the photo taken with an Instant Camera!

I wonder who this stranger is,
Who read my poem and walked away
But never said his soul was burning
On a nuclear power station in Japan

His eyes were on Libya
But he stopped here,and read and then passed
On across what was once a green English metaphor,
Garlanded with daisies.My hero,my Odysseus.
The metaphors were made for you.
The web was woven and unwove,so
Wherefore art thou,Antonio?

Do not go gentle into that dark night
Send me an email
I’ll wash you with the grit of shells from Dover Beach,
Where the world collapsed into an arch
Across nothingness into zero itself,the sun,the moon.
All shrank into this diamond.
I give it to you,stranger.

 W.H.Auden wrote a wonderful poem called “Look stranger on this island now” 

Look ,stranger on this island now.
The leaping light is leaps yet.
Standing silent is hard what with all the mobiles
And the traffic.
Something is making me sway
But it’s not the sound of the sea,
It may be the distant sound of bombs.
I may vomit.
Here at the edge of a field
Lie people killed so some other people
Can have a better future.
The chalk wall is collapsing into the foam
Not to mention the odd earthquake which

Wrecks the East.
Nuclear.

My heart quakes because I love you,
And I’m afraid you prefer the computer.
And all this comes into my mind when I stare
Across the horizon.There’s something wrong.
We are standing on the edge of an English meadow
In spring.But in some sense such a meadow
No longer exists.

Look stranger on this island now.
Delight is stll possible,
Is it probable?
The foam at the edge of the waves
Leaves a white curve on the sand,
I walk through and remember you,
Even though I lost you.
You were tall with green eyes,
And you died of computer news overdose.
I miss you so much ,and the world in your eyes
I want you to tell me, where are you?
Here and there,we remember similar stories
Of heroes returning from far away battles
But the battles are here
And the heroes have departed.
I remember Odysseus and his journey.
But like the green meadow
We have no soul for that,
We’re on the edge
And waiting.

Crack,crack.

Grief was a storm of turbulent particles
Hitting me hard as hailstones in my face.
Uncertainty about position or momentum
Led me down strange wild paths of loss.
I kept my head down to protect my eyes,
Allowing just enough vision to see five feet ahead..

Darkness and storm kept me from understanding where I was
Or if anyone other shared the same wavelength.
I curved elliptically around obstacles,
Dividing into separate bundles,
Of flesh,  of blood,
Reunited, I felt the grief the more,
I was hit again and again,but my dizzy momentum,
The obstinacy of the human heart,
Carried me forward,though my position became
Ever more uncertain in the icy wastes of life.
Somewhere,sometime,reunite me into human,
Give me rebirth,my atoms spinning backwards
As I propel me down the birth canal,
The bright light and the screeaming
Which comes from me,
Mother, Father ,from me.
Elemntary as I am.

There  was a late woman from Devon

Who was blogging when she got to heaven
When God asked her why
She said “though I died,
I still want to keep being lovin’.

The angels like laptop computers
And asked BT for wireless routers,
They need tech support,
So goes the report,
A new career dawns for tech tutors.

Gabriel could sent Mary an email
To fill her in on the detail.
“God has  impregnated you,
I’ll email Joe too,
As we don’t want this venture to fail”