Love leaves

Maybe you didn’t know

When you teased me so.

Maybe you never knew

What your words would do.

I float across that space

Where lovers once embraced.

And thus ypu bring torment

To me to whom love you sent.

When I close my eyes

My daytime face then dies.

I look across dark seas

To sacramental trees.

My dreams are full of loss.

Is night or day the worse?

When you return next here

Will love outstrip your fear?

I gaze upon your face,

Forbidden to embrace.

My arms ache deep inside,

As if in agony tied.

Torn apart by grief.

Love is now a thief.

Where has God‘s face gone

As brightly shines the sun?

The pains of life are sharp,

Cutting through the heart.

But still we turn towards love,

With all the strength we have.

Trusting in the dark,

Trusting my own heart.

I step into the void.

Love can’t be denied

Stan and the stranger

Source: Kathryn

Images made using Microsoft Paint Program

Source: Kathryn

Source: Kathryn

Source: Kathryn

Stan was reading the paper at 9 pm when. surprisingly, the front door bell rang.Emile,his delightful tomcat who was asleep,nearly jumped out of his furry skin.Stan opened the front door cautiously.
“Goodnight,sir.” remarked the handsome man standing there.
“Goodnight?”Said Stan confusedly,”Bur I’ve never seen you before.Are you the sandman who comes to put children to sleep?”
“Good evening,sir.” the man continued,”I’m so sorry my English is so poor.I am , still studying David McChrystal‘s Cambridge Encyclopedia of the English Language and I’m still a trifle mystified.”
“What do you want?”Stan asked him.”What do I want?I want to study philosophy,write a novel and meet a stunningly attractive young lady with brown eyes and dark hair.”
“No,no.” said Stan“I mean,why are you here?”
“A good question,why are we here?Do we have a mission in life or are we here as a result of mere chance and happenstance or even serendipity?”
“I mean,why are you here ringing my doorbell at this time of the night?”
“Shouldn’t that be evening,sir?” The stranger enquired sardonically yet politely.
“Look.are you after something?”
“Well,I’m after a young lady at college though so far I’ve not managed to meet her one to one.”
“Well,faint heart never won fair lady!”Stan advised him.
“What’s happening,”called Mary from her study where she was reading a critique of Principia Mathematica for the seventh time.
“God only knows!” said Stan.
Mary came to the front door.She wore a green silk blouse with a jade necklace, a pair of smart jeans from Per Una and some pink trainers with yellow laces.On her face she wore Lancome of Paris light beige foundation,strawberry pink lipstick and purple mascara from Clinique.Her perfume was by Beyonce.Buy all this with one click on the link below.
“Goodnight,madam” said the stranger.
“I think that’s so rude,” said Mary.”If you’ve never met someone before it’s inappropriate to say goodnight.”
“Well,you aren’t in bed,” he replied laboriously.
“What the hell has that got to do with it?”
“Inappropriate is often used to refer to sexual behaviour.”
“Well,for crying out loud,who are you?” she whispered politely.
“I’m the new curate!”
“I’m Polish.”
“Well,I’m sorry I don’t know a single word of it.would you like to speak in Latin?”
“Ite,missa est!”The curate exclaimed.”Uno reductio ad absurdum”Stan muttered.
“That’s Italian,UNO” cried Mary.
“Well,it’s pretty similar.”
“Well,I must go,”said the curate amxiously.
“You’ve not been yet so how can you go?”
“I don’t know,sir.Good evening,good afternoon,good morning.”the red face man screamed as he ran hurriedly down the garden path.
“Are we Catholics now?”Mary asked Stan.
“Oh,I can’t remember,” he said.”Do we go to church?”
“Well,we may be non-practising,I suppose.”
“Perhaps we’d better start practising,” he murmured affectionately.
“Oh,if you insist,” she replied in an unwifely roguish tone.
“That’s right,blame it all on the man.In my experience it’s you who is keener than me.”
“What are you talking about?”she enquired seductively.
Suddenly the door bell rang.It was the curate.”Goodnight” he called.”goodnight”
“Goodnight,” they responded in their reserved English fashion.
“Mioaw” cried Emile,”Mioaw,miaow,miaow.

Love you at teatime

Song of the happy husband

I find it hard to be loving at breakfast time

Listening to the horrible News

And it’s hard to be loving at Churchtime

Kneeling in those hard wooden pews.

The Bible ‘s supposed to be holy.

And it’s certainly holier than me;

For I love you so in the afternoon

When we have our Sunday tea.

I don’t like to listen to preaching

Avout how wicked I am

I just can’t wait till the afternoon

To sample your blackcurrant jam!

I know I have been a difficult person

With all my variable moods

Why not pack up a tea hamper

So we can caress in the woods?

I love you all the time ,darling,

But work takes a toll on my mind

But when you show me your cream filled sponge

My troubles are soon left behind.

I love you on a weekday

I love you dreaming at night.

But I love you the most on a Sunday—–

Your teas are a wonderful sight!

When I was stuck in the hospital

Waiting for doctor or nurse.

I dwelt in my mind on your Sunday teas

I could have been a lot worse.

Now my illness is over

Normal life reappears

Let’s have a special treat today……..

Let’s pretend Sunday is here.

Murmurs of delight

Source: Kathryn

my name is delight i live inside the flower blossom
and run in sun across green leaves of summer trees
and love the honey bees and wings of butterflies
and dandelion heads floating on the breeze
and all sweet things enjoyed by playful children
i breath out my joy into the world i take it in
what is myself and what is other
no longer matters in this ecstasy
of silence and unopened eyes

Goodbye,I say.Goodbye

Source: Kathryn

Source: Kathryn

Source: Kathryn

Source: Kathryn

By K

Standing together,
We lean forward touching foreheads lightly
Eyes closed for a moment
Tenderly we respect
The other’s boundaries.
Yet I feel your heart beating too,
As it it were me.
We lean for a few more moments like this.
Wordless.
Holding the broken places,with love.
Then we turn and walk away
Such moments last forever
In the eternity that Love creates
Foreheads touching,
Skin to skin..
Boundaries of the inner and the outer
You are another;
A real human person
Wanting nothing;wanting everything
I shall remember your smile.
You were with me once
And now we go our ways
Our own difficult journeys.

One meeting of souls
Creates its own symbol

May you be blessed
May the fire not burn you
Nor the water drown you
May the Lord keep you always near him.
May He protect your spirit.
May he give you strength always.

Stan gets a letter

Stan gets a naughty letter

Dear Stan
I hope I you don’t mind me telling you I had some problems with your last few letters.
Your spelling is now so absolutely ferocious I almost passed out in Church [The sermon was too boring so I opened your latest missile]
You seem to have forgotten all the wiles of grammar we once learned at school..Maybe you should write more letters to keep you au fate with English as she is poked about today.
And don’t you have anything interesting to tell me about.Surely something indecent must happen over and over again in your town.Why not pass it on to me.I would be delighted to be read all about that sort of thing… old age is so dull.
You never say how Mary is.Is she still riding that old bicycle from University days.I can’t imagine why you don’t get her a new one instead.Can she not drive?I think it’s unseemly to let your wife ride a second hand bicycle.The neighbors may despise you,imagining you are from the underclass and therefore ripe for abuse by all and thundery.Nowadays being poor is dangerous.
Why even your car is 19 years old.Have you never been tempted to keep up with the Jones’s, whoever they may be nowadays.A new car and a loft conversion would only be about 60 thousand pounds and your self esteem would rise like a butterfly in a thunderstorm.I say this only to help you
I have noticed you are getting thinner and Mary is getting much fatter.I do hope God has not worked a miracle and made her big with child at her age,though we could certainly do with a New Messiah.
On second thoughts,it would save a great deal of suffering if she were to get an abortion immediately… it’s less painful than Crucifixion…. you catch my drift, and giving birth at her age would be dangerous.Not to mention you gave up carpentry long ago.And pensions are low.
I hope I haven’t offended you but at 109 I doubt if you are still potent… it’s only natural we lose a little with each passing year especially when you have both a wife and a mistress as you did for many a merry year.You must have worn yourself out with pleasure.
Well,I just wanted to tell you about your dreadful spelling.Think about getting an online Dictionary.We all regret things as we age.Don’t be shy.You can tell me anything and regret it with whoever later on
Well,that’s all my news this week.I hope you get some good weather soon.

With love and warmest wishes from us both,

Joshua and Maggie.

PS.It’s terribly hot down here in Hell!

Stan in trouble

Source: Kate

Although Stan was 82 he still rode his bike in the summer time.He was out in the garden pumping up the tires prior to going off to the Library.suddenly his neighbour Annie appeared at the gate.Bedecked as usual in finest Scottish tweed with a long pendant on a solid 22 carat gold chain swinging nonchalantly from her neck,with a matching ring attached mysteriously to her upper lip.”Who’re you,the Lady Mayoress” he joked.Where’s Mary?” she pointedly whispered.”She’s up with her widowed sister Joan in Scotland ” Stan admitted nervously.”Joan,that’s not a very Scottish name!” Annie joked.”anyway how about we sit down here on this bench for a moment”.She pulled him vigorously towards her.Stan responded regretfully “I’m afraid I can’t stop.I have all these books overdue and the library shuts in 15 minutes.”Don’t worry,sweet heart”, she cried contemptuously.”I’ll pay all your fines.I’ve just come into loads of money.”
“Oh,how’s that.my angel” Stan murmured. “I just shot Bert.If you help me to get rid of the evidence,I’ll share the loot with you.”
At the funeral,Annie was dressed in a beautiful dark brown suit from Jaeger.She went around the room making sure everyone had enough food and drink..As she leaned over towards Stan her heavy gold locket,inside which was hidden the bullet that killed Bert,swung over and hit Stan a glancing blow on the temple.
Stan fell to the ground.”Do you think we should ring 999?” someone asked sarcastically.Within minutes paramedics arrived.
“So,is it that chair again?” they clamoured.”Yes,this foolish old man fell over and the leg came off my new antique chair.I’ve only had it a few days and it’s not insured.””Did anyone ever tell you,your eyes are like deep pools in the Saragossa Sea?” The paramedic whispered into her right ear.
“Have you still not finished that Creative Writing Course?” Annie shouted.””I’m getting tired of you admiring my eyes.What about my nose?””Has anyone ever told you,your nose is the shortest they’ve ever seen?””That’s a bit boring” Annie retorted.”Yeah,maybe i should change to Art,” he ruefully moaned.”I love the way your deep blue and turquoise eye shadow is melting round your eyes and running down the sides of your nose.”
“Hurry up and fix my chair,and while you’re about it,you may as well take Stan down to A and E for a head X-ray.”
Glancing furtively at Annie in her Jaeger suit with carefully contrasting deep coral blouse and opaque teal blue 80 denier tights with 6 inch stiletto heels to complete the outfit, not to mention her raspberry coloured bra which clashed violently with the coral blouse which alas was more transparent than she realised, he picked up a hammer and began,excitedly,to mend the broken chair.”This is what life is all about,my boy” he though

Sympathy

Sympathy is sometimes

By K

Sympathy is sometimes good,

Especially if you are not made of wood.

Empathy can be superior

If to metal,your brain’s nearer.

Do you want to be fulfilled?

Don’t get ground by coffee mills.

Would you like to be superior?

Do not venture to your interior.

Journeys often end in struggle.

As they make the mind more muddled.

Archaic words can be a joy,

But sometimes archaisms annoy.

Do you like tea from Ceylon?

Alas my own supply’s all gone.

Do you want to study grief?

Take your lessons from a leaf.

After short weeks on a tree

To be cast off is destiny.

Into earth the leaves return

To become food for journeying worms.

So it will be for us all,

Regarding not your status tall

Lyra’s song

A LOVELY LUTE

The lute

Lyres and Lutes

When Lyra was a tiny child

She longed to play the lute .

Her Mother was not happy

The lute is not so cute.

Lyra began to dream of lutes

The way small children do.

She dreamed Mozart wrote a piece

He called “The Magic Lute.”

She was very disappointed

When she woke up in her bed.

So Lyra began imagining

What she’d like to do instead.

She hummed and sang from morn till night

And one day realised

That singing was her genius.

Her voice was Lyra’s guide.

Now Lyra ‘s in “The Magic Flute“

Opera is her thing.

She is a high soprano now.

Lyra loves to sing.

Baking and the Unconscious:from the cornfields to Freud.

Emile

Stan had decided to do a some of baking.

The larder was empty
the cupboard was bare
he looked in the cake tin
but nothing was there

Sorry about that!
Stan had flour,eggs and sugar and of course milk and butter.Emile was under the table waiting for something to drip out of the bowl!He loved baking days.
Stan had bought a load of blackberries in the market so he was thinkin ofblackberry tarts,blackberry crumble..
He picked up the bag which seemed very heavy.Putting his hand in …..he pulled out a Blackberry!

He went to the market
to buy me some fruit
and now he’s got Blackberries
he’s going to shoot!

Annie his next door neighbour was coming to the back door.”What’s up ,Petal?”

“Oh,dear.I seem to have made a category error.”Stan answered philosophically.”Well what category would you put me into?” she asked petulantly.
“Why are you so egocentric ?Not everything is about you!”He said fluently.
“Well if I’m narcissistic it’s because my infant grandiosity was ruptured too suddenly and I was not held and contained in a suitable manner.”
“You’ve been reading that Wilfred Bion again.” Stan said admiringly.”No,not just him.It’s some American chap as well .Would you like to read it?”
“No,thanks,I’m finding Julia Segal is more than enough for me.I find Bion is a bit too mystical.I don’t think I can approach you without memory or desire.To be honest,without memory or desire I wouldn’t want to approach you.”
“Wow ” she said stupidly,her large green eyes staring avidly upon him inviting him to fall into their salty sea like depths.
“Shall I ring 999?I can’t think of anything to say.I’m lost for words.”

“Perhaps you have reached that mystical spot beneath language mostly only known to babies,the mad, or meditators?”
“well,I do feel a bit of madness today.”
“Is that why you have purple and orange eyeshadow on clahing with your alarazin crimson lipstick and your light beige, but not too light, foundation by Lancome of Brixton and Blackheath,Paris,Rome,and London?”
“I suppose so.” she replied indifferently.I feel as if I’m behind a glass wall.”
“Oh,don’t worry.That’s the new window!” Stan explained courteously.”You really are behind a glass wall.”
“You’ve been reading schizoid processes again on Yahoo,”
“Yes,” she admitted her face blushing violently.”It’s those new people who’ve moved in across the road.They are both psychoanalysts so I wanted to feel up to their level of knowledge.”
“I didn’t know they were psychoanalysts.How did you find out?”

“Well,first of all,there were two large sofas, and then hundreds of knitting needles and a lorryful of wool.And I thought,”Hello,hello,It must be one of Anna Freud‘s followers.”
“So have you met them?” he asked laconically?
“Yes”,she confessed animatedly .I went over and said,
“Sprechen Sie Deutsch?”
“And what did he say?”
“Are you all mad round here?”
“So I thought,”You’re not getting hold of me that easily.””
“So I said “I’m sorry to disappoint you but I’m am an admirer of Melanie Klein,”
“Oh,how did they react to that?”Stan quizzzed her jovially.
“He was so rude.He said,”Are you telling me you’re a lesbian as well as a lunatic?”

“Oh,dear.No wonder your make up is all running off your face and disappearing down your cleavage.Why don’t you pop upstairs and have a bath?”
“Well it’s either that or ringing 999“
“My self is totally divided.”

“Into equal parts?” “I can’t say” she murmured.”Oh,well” said Stan “you sit there with Emile and I shall make a Victoria sponge and a lemon drizzle cake without the lemon…I’ve only got bananas and they don’t drizzle.

“Why not adapt to reality and make a banana loaf?”
“Is that wise?” Stan enquired.”Wise or not,it seems to make sense.” she whispered coyly.”Get a move on or Mary will be back on her Raleigh shopper bicycle and there’ll be no cake for tea.”Thank you,honey.”Stan replied.
“I am filled with memory and desire.””And quite right too,”mioawed Emile from his basket.”I’m like that every night!””And so are all of us,”Annie twittered on one of Stan’s blackberries

Become a better leaver:the end of our love.

Sou

Kathryn

since i lost you i have lost
the keys to my heart
the front door key
my mobile
and my money

now all i have is a large tube of ibuprofen gel max strength
and some feathers from the tail of a baby wood pigeon
that flew into our house when i left the back door open

maybe i need better boundaries
closed doors
and windows

the wood pigeon was so strong its agitation rocked the front door like a thundergod
like you,it did not realise
there are easier ways to leave
than smashing through glass
leaving shards to pierce my heart
not to mention my feet

become a better leaver
have mercy on those other lovers
for charm wears thin but courtesy is everlasting
like love itself

By Kathryn

Like the softness of just opening leaf buds in spring.

I see a light fuzz of hair on your head
like the softness of just opening leaf buds in spring.
The chemo is over,and you wait relieved and letting that
take you for a while before you start to face the next stage.
Will your Spring turn to a warm enchanting Summer
or has the cancer,as they say “spread.”
Just for now,you’re in that lull
so in three weeks time you will not be
arriving for another session of drugs
and days of sickness.

I see the light fuzz which reminds me
of how the cat’s fur grew back after her surgery
and she,being unable to reflect or question,
leaped from the fence top onto next door’s kitchen roof;
no thought in her mind of stitches breaking.
How beautifully the patterned fur returned
and the vulnerable skin was covered again.
Oh,to look into those eyes and see you dream
about mice that live behind the shed
and how you sat watching for hours
and how you were alive till the very last moment.
Then , all of a sudden,you were gone.

Pray it will not be so for ,the fragile,loving human
now waiting and living,hoping for what you took for granted…
a “normal” life span Or maybe just three quarters of one
would be satisfactory;would be a beneficence
such as trees feel when the sap turns and begins to flow back.
bringing life out of the darkness of earth and soil.
And another Summer comes at the right time
and we find it,shall we say,satisfactory?

Touch me again

Source: Kathryn

Behind glass

When he went away,

He went away

Away.

I didn’t know where

he had gone

where had he gone?

The call came.:

call came….

Man,white,good health

Has died.

Has died alone

Died alone in an hotel room.

So a stranger would find him.

Man alone;

man alone in hotel room.

there was a man

alone

in his hotel room.

Not wanting to be any trouble.

trouble,no trouble alone

in his hotel room

not his room,you see.

not a shared room…

An hotel room.

Tall man with light brown hair

alone in a small hotel room

with no TV.

We had no smartphones

Smart

Phones

No,don’t tell , not me ,not yet.

He was all alone.

He was behind glass

glass walls

windows

a window of glass.

I could never touch him.

I could not touch him.

not touch,no,never,

Man alone.

Solitary man.

Tall man with brown hair.

Beds for love

Beds for leaving.

Don’t you die alone

in that hotel room.

Don’t go

You wanted to be alone,

afraid to feel.

Thin skinned and pale like a torn petal from a wild plant.

You were alone again

And you left me all alone;

alone without you.

Now I’m alone

in my hotel room.

my room.

Someone knocks.

I’m dreaming of you

wishing you were near me.

dreaming,wishing,

lonely for you.

He was all alone,they said.

In an hotel room.

His doom

In a lonely bedroom.

Don’t leave me yet.

Yet you were never here

behind your window

I see you

but can’t touch you.

Can’t touch you.

Can’t touch.

Touch me.

Touch me again.

Love me…

You were all alone

alone.

Why did I not break the glass?

Break the glass?

Why,why?

All alone

An hotel room

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Song of the happy husband

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Stan gets a naughty letter

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Sympathy is sometimes

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A LOVELY LUTE

Lyres and Lutes

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Behind glass

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