Month: September 2013

Life is not a play with a prewritten script

 

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Sometimes I have found when talking to friends or neighbours some people feel life is predetermined.. not in a religious way;they feel nothing will change.That they run along a track and cannot turn off.

  Major change can be hard…. so I am doing simple things like not always sitting in the same armchair.Changing my routines and if the weather is good I am going out and making the most of winter sunshine.

 I take a camera and get some intriguing pics as I wander about.the seasons may return each year but they are never quite the same.This year we had snow.Now it’s autumn but we had a good summer…after a prolonged winterImageImage

Banned from HubPages

I used to use the above site but never permitted ads….maybe that was my problem.

On 2nd September they emailed me to say I was in their top 6% of writers.

I wrote a new poem about finding one’s sacred vocation in life a couple of days later.

Then I got an email saying it was plagiarized.When I went  on the site,I found shortly a message saying

I was now a banned user!I emailed the editors but they just said they would never reinstate me.

As it turns out,it was good because you can’t post anything there that is on your blog or anywhere at all on the net

Why should I allow them to use my writing to draw people onto their site?

However,if you keep your work unpublished there it makes a nice storage place

Her wits have been tried and found haunting.

I like reading on a cylinder…she prefers a kindle.It takes all ports!

I like to do the worst things first.

He let a wish out for a saunter round his mind then he submitted to temptation

I’m as with it as as a diamond ringing

Are you fit enough to be hung out to dry and maligned?

Her wits have been tried and found haunting.

She fits me like a love.

He fits like a brand from heaven above.

Is he as flash as a cat with a golden fleece?

I have only flashed a pan… it was a humane error.

My belly is as flat as a rugby players knee.

I wish I were reciting  a Xmas cracker.

She’s very sweet footed..always an asset in this day of rage Continue reading “Her wits have been tried and found haunting.” →

One last time

You know you have to leave me,

Though you desire a longer stay

 

Let me hold you in my arms now

 

For just tonight and perhaps one day.

 

Then I’ll watch you travel on,sweet.

 

We take this last step all alone.

 

I’ll be here beside you watching.

 

I shall feel when you are gone.

 

May you accept, may you surrender.

 

I hope you reach the promised land.

 

                             Into this earth my tears will fall, love

                          When I feel your cold,cold hands

 

s

The Spirit Bare

Not love nor money should we seek to steal;

Nor for self praise and value  be in need

For these things can not ever truly heal.

And onto a wrong path must surely lead.

Not to vice nor virtue  must our wills be tied;

Yet by God’s grace we gently may be led

Our will directs attention which denied

May let our pride control our fuming head.

Not good nor bad can track the vane of God

Far from our sightless eyes are his affairs.

Yet Faith and Hope can be a dowsing rod

With Love the force to trace the Spirit bare.

Oh,come down,Spirit take me as your wife

Fill me with grace and  fill me with new life

Humorass

Where’s the doctor?
He’s gone to court for sexual harrassment
Can’t he get that somewhere easier?
Don’t ask me,I’m asexual.
A sexual what?
No just asexual.
That’s  bad sign in a man.
Well,I am 97 he said.
Fancy you mending a computer
.He said,I’m stealing it!
,

An altered version of the joke below

 Nikhil Saluja quotes  | added by: GreenMonk

Why I reject legalised euthanasia

Read this

cabrogal's avatarNeurodrooling

If ‘likes’ are anything to go by my blogposts against legalising euthanasia are about the least popular ones I make. In the past two decades support for legalising euthanasia in Australia has climbed from about 65% to over 80% so I am definitely part of an increasingly unpopular minority, especially among colleagues on the progressive side of politics.

But I’ve never been in the business of winning popularity contests, so this is another post about why I think euthanasia should stay illegal.

I’ll start by spelling out some of the inconsistencies in my own position.

I categorically support the right to abortion on demand, even to late term. The distinction between a just-about-to-be-born foetus and a newborn baby is arbitrary but I am still against killing a newborn no matter how serious his/her birth defects may be. The reason is because the distinction between a newborn and a one day…

View original post 1,161 more words

Poetry horrors

There are many people who think poetry must rhyme.But in fact the most important thing is meter or musicality

I have found some of my early work is poor but it’s better now.But there is so much awful poetry on the net,I only wish people would read one or two articles about poetry or read

_”Poetry for Dummies” or similar works.

One person has paid £300 to have his book published and though the work is heartfelt it is inn need of much editing.

I know the amazed feeling you can get after writing a poem,but it’s a bit like falling in love.

Think of “A midsummer night’s dream” and ponder…. feelings are not the final guide in love or in creation.I am far from despising the work of the amateur.I am not very critical by nature but sometimes I cannot help being astounded by the dreadfulness

People using  both Thee and You in the same poem

Using cliches

Using “poetic language”  like  ” where ere you go” ‘Twas on a monday morning.It’s out of date.

Poor meter.

Never having read much after Shelley/Wordworth/Keats

Never having read much at all except a newspaper…. a tabloid

Now,if you love to write but your work is not worth publishing. it’s still a really good pastime

and a learning experience.But ask someone wise to read it before you try to publish it.Or write a blog and ask for critiques

 

Friendship’s perils

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Most people like and need  to have a group of friends.And now on the net we can make friends at a distance by sharing writing and thoughts..However this is not without its risks.I how know that a person who tells you all their problems very early in a relationship is not a good person to befriend.I believe it is better to get to know someone slowly

.A person who tells you about their trauma and trouble is looking for a helper,not a friend.And it is a kind of manipulation.On the internet such people can study your writing for weeks or months and then make a move.

People complain of loneliness when they have a partner and a family and friends.Why do you think you can help them?Are you really any better than their present friends?Are you flattered they tell you this?Beware.Inevitably you will reveal you are a mere human like all others….. and then they will take umbrage and bitterly complain about your lack of sensitivity.Or if you ask for courtesy they will be offended because all they write or say is  of course perfect,iIf they hurt you,it is you that is too sensitive…nothing they do can have done could cause anyone pain. So take it slow especially on the net and with people from other cultures.They can drop you from a great height

Two kinds of “poetry”

Just a brief note before my whooping cough returns.Poetry can be just clever playing with words.. or not so clever!But true poetry stems from  living and feeling.I shall hope to illustrate this with some examples.Feeling itself is not enough for poetry.The poet needs to transmute the feeling using her craft into something that contains and retains the feelings and passes the result on to readers.Being able to play with words is useful, but not sufficient.Maybe that has to be impregnated with feeling?

Amateur writing.How I became an internet poet

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I must have had a wish to write.Because for many years ,I studied books on poetry and creative writing.I began to collect images and events which affected me in a notebook.Then one day I asked,When do I write?I had to start,  unconfident as I was. Time was passing Here is the first poem I wrote.[January 2010]

CHRISTMAS SNOW:

Too old for cold,I stand, now ,against the hedge,
Watching the snowflakes in the glare of neon street lights.
Darkness has come early,and I think of country uplands and huddled sheep.
On Salisbury Plain,shepherds watched their flocks
Just as in Bethlehem two thousand years before,
And then ,exactly when?
“Between the wars”,it stopped. Now we know there is no “Between the wars”.
And who decided
To cull the sheep and shepherds and the space for kindness ?
Now that same Plain still exists,but banned
And closed to human-kind,
For bombs ,not wombs
Nor for birth of lamb ,nor gypsy child ,nor Saviour
Where would He go today?
_
Image,s

From the first poem, I can see my mind was wondering if there is any space in the world now safe enough for a creative happening.After I wrote this,I was unsure if I’d get any more inspiration but I did

Here is a slightly later poem

SUN PAINTING
Bright sun
Paints a shadow picture
On the white wall
Dried stems
Of Michaelmas daisies
A leaf caught in a cobweb sways
To and fro.
I gaze.
Silence.

CHERRY TREE HOUSE

I love the flowers that fall like rain
From the cherry trees ,in the wind again,
And pile at the side of a garden wall.
I love the blossom still on the trees
Full of buzzing honey bees
Like an angel’s glowing shawl.
I hate the fierce wind that blows it away,
Yet I know now nothing is here to stay,
and I love it, and cherish it all.

The garden we shared

It reminds me of an East Anglian landscape
This garden’s flat planes of grass give the illusion
Of greater distance,the eye travels down them
To the trees rising at the end.
On this scene my mind superimposes
Other ideas of summer days in hot places
In flat fields stretching on either
Side down to the sea.
My eye enjoys the shape,the flatness
The form,a symbol for so many other gardens
And summer journeys on unknown lanes
Across new landscapes ,delighting in them,
In the space extending,and the trees
A gentle contradiction to the horizontal meadows.
In summer in recent years,what I remember
Is the sun across these long,flat shapes.
Looking at this small garden,I remember
So many things,my eye sees through
What is here,to far beyond
What has passed and what is to come
All  afd contained here.

How I became an amateur writer and artist on the internet:Part one

garden 2

When I was at University I spent 6 years studying mathematics.But I always liked poetry and novels.My school thought I should study English Literature,but to me that was not a creative activity.The way we were taught was to criticize books,plays,poems by many famous writers [mostly men!]

Three in one
Praying

I didn’t want to criticize only.I wanted to write but I never thought I could.I followed my career as a mathematician until my vision deteriorated.I could not read mathematical symbols anymore.Still it had earned me a living

YOU IS SO MUCH FUN,ME IS NOT SO DONE YOU IS SO MUCH FUN,ME IS NOT SO DONE

I began going to an Art Class as I wanted to  see as much as I could. in case my vision got worse,I was so  very  embarrassed because all the others were very good whereas I had no idea what all the terms meant [Even for pencil drawing ].I was afraid but I kept going and did learn to look at the world differently.At that time I .I had not got a computer.Later I could not get to the class but did more here at home

Two cats
Two cats

I bought my laptop and after some time I discovered digital art.I had no books about it so I just played.I found Microsoft Paint inviting and simple.Later I found Artweaver and Paint.net which I used to manipulate my photographs

Lily pond
Lily pond

I only took photos because by error I bought a phone with a camera on it.Next time I’ll tell you how I wrote my first poems

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I like blue

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Pleas release me,let me groan

Don’t keep petting me.I get too eggwhited

Why is rain wet?

And  top of the bill was the  Sinner,Em Blem.

Do you  like creative fighting?

Do you hate your food?

What is the joint of the affair?

I love.Amen to that twit.

Join Twatter and swear  an oath daily.Free for all.

Eat peas with the stork,please.

Why did the boy stand on the burning check?

I like a man in a mask.

What face shall I put on today?

I wonder who you are.

Don’t tell the truth about your tarts.

How many lovers are a bluff?

Do you like to eat crumbs in bed?Bird needed

I can use Word

Are limericks poems?

 

 

 

Are limericks poems or not?
What kinds of mind think they’re rot?
I am unsure
whether they will endure.
Meantime what have I forgot?

I forgot to get up from my bed
I dreamed last night I was dead
But when I drank some tea
I needed to wee…
So I got  up and tidied my head.

Are nightmares of use to the mind?
What makes our peace start to unwind?
If I feel insecure
Can I endure,
When my friends seem to become so unkind?

  

 
:

Not a pair of pliers

Unaccustomed as I am,to being……………

Seascape painted by a man's adjunct
  Baby work
 
 
 
 

Unaccustomed as I am

To being the adjunct of a man,

I find it mostly beneficial

To give neat brandy to officials.

 

Unaccustomed is the game

Custom fittings fall like rain.

I dwell among the nuts and bolts

Look down here,you witless dolts!

 

I’m just a pair of kitchen pliers

Made for untwisting your wires.

Keep me in your bottom drawer

In case you need to see a lawyer.

 

This poem is a nonsense rhyme.

Please sign on the dotted line..

If you think my verse too short,

I shall make a wise retort.

 

I like Lewis Carroll best.

Do I pass the nonsense test?

Learn some number theory now.

And write it on your vessel’s prow.

 

Did you say your bedtime prayers.

Do you dress in woolly layers?

Will you dream of me tonight?

I’ll send you schemes in colours bright.

 

Jabberwocky

Cage me a dream
For you alone…I’ll learn calculus
I had no idea;I had reached the nadir
Chagall bit the dogs
  I fell  over some  frogs  on the warpath/They were armed.Do frogs have  hands?
He got the hots for the waiter’s cat.:Love at first scratch
Give peace a glance
Not many things can be understood
I can fall off anything including an adverb
She bought a can of sperm from the man at the doorDon’t vie for me, semolina.

A bottle  of brandy is very handy

I saw a lake in my dream and guess what happened? I was in a boat on the Cam.

and noone was there.

Judges are needed here
Where have all the sundreams gone?
Parse me the sentence again,please.Will you love me by tomorrow?If not you can come in.

A piece of nonsense

Our rather witch whose art is heaven
Hello,here’s your fame.
Your wings are full
you will is rum
On earth especially in Devon.
Relieve us this day
of holy dread.
And forgive us our text purchases
As we forgive those who texted against us,
For wine tells a story
Of power and glory
I say,once,but never again.

An infinite sequence of jumbles?

He gave me a fast party tickle..
I kissed his algebraic form.
He’s only a number to me.I am numb all over.
He says he’ll give me peace of mind.But did he mean a piece of his mind?
What tense are your muscles?
Is the past infinite?
Can we split the indifferent?
Was the past subjective?
Subjunctive is Latin for may be.
How about past, perfect?
What is the future when not dense?
Grimmer than grammar: the autolieography of a woman of many alarms.
Can a noun be irrational?
What about an infinite sequence of jumbles?
What is a transcendental word?
I hate logs but like rhymes.Log-o-rhymes is my next book.
Why do letters need indices?So we can locate

THE SONG OF EACH GARDEN

Image

 

Every garden has a song,

a song beyond all words.

sit in silence there to hear

cheeps from distant birds.

 

Every garden has its silence,

special to that place

stand beneath the maple tree,

gaze up the crown’s wide space.

 

Every garden’s a part of all,

linked through heart of earth

stand in one, you ‘re inside all,

your spirit takes new birth,

 

Every garden can’t help but sing,

green calls out so sweet,

shows us Eden, long ago,

as Adam kissed Eve’s dear feet.

 

I gaze up through bare winter trees,

the song is softer now.

No golden finch,no sparrow cheeps.

It’s buried in the snow.

Deep in dark ,life sparks again

and the green shoots come.

so we wait in harmony

till our garden sings out then

I sat in the art gallery writing poems

 

Child illuminated
Child illuminated

 
The museum

Watching Plato shining torches into blackness,
Wandering through the galleries,
Sepia paintings of pines,
Pain came to the emptiness once my heart,
I sat picturing screaming Popes and babies.
Eastward, looking for fresh instruction,
My mind unpleated,like a pair of curtains
~Hung out to dry in equinoxal gales.
The bells of Satan’s cell phone
Rang again,startling in this silence.
“You had your smear done yet?”
“It’s me,hinny”
“I’m having coffee here in “Costa’s.”
Then I awoke,a man appeared.
How apposite,I need you,Ludwig!
I can’t fly my kite.

In the Science Museum,the mirror cracked
And from it stars flew out,
Adorning cars and bicycles and buses.
The building gently fell into its own reflection.
People flew out like gasping rockets,
Illuminating the blankness,
Calling “Is today the day?.”

 

Eeh,I ,Ohh. I love you so

 

I’ll draw a graph of Mother Earth
 I’ll need a lot of paper.
It won’t be easy,I know that,
But Geo’s my alma mater.

Geo came into our maths class.
We had to find her metre.
If we did then we could write
 A poem with which to greet her.

With ologies and eulogies,
The earth is deep in waste.
Give me some green graph charts
 I’ll do some cut and paste.

I’ll rearrange the entire globe,
Without a deal of fuss.
If anybody notices
 They won’t know it was us!

I’ll put all the mountains in the world
 Into one continent.
And if I am that way inclined
 The globe will look quite bent.

Ill put the lions and tigers too
Into Parliament.
Let them eat not cake but men
 And don’t charge them a rent.

I’ll paste all the seas that I find
Onto my washing line.
With less water around the world
 The weather should be fine.

Oh Geo was a darling child,
So promising and bright.
Mixed up with the graphs and charts
 I hope she’ll see the light.

I’ll put all the stars into a box
 We have far too many.
Yet only one sun and one moon,
So,would you like to buy any?

Geo return,I love you so.
I’ll give up cut and paste to show.
That you are all I ever know,

and i do love you so

 

I’ve got tennis elbow in both of my feet.

  1.  
    I once used to love eating sweets
    I hated to chew up fat meat.
    My mother didn’t mind.
    As she was so kind.
    Now I’ve got tennis elbow in both of my feet.

    I kept my own bedroom too neat.
    And I pressed all my clothes into pleats.
    The cat was quite wild..
    And I was only a child.
    I got tennis elbow in both of my feet.

    We used to eat oats and brown wheat.
    Digestion was such a fun feat!
    My sister was small..
    And then she grew tall.
    Yet I got tennis elbow in both of my feet

    At last I was due for a treat.
    I heard our cat give a loud bleat.
    A ram walked past our house,
    Wearing my blouse.
    I got tennis elbow in both of my feet.

Fifty glades,all grey

I liked your joke;it was very e-musing
Sank you very such.
I measure my herds fearfully.
So rake a lead from a dog.
Don’t mate.Ever.
What ?Is that beast being fruity?
Oh,that is our invisible cat,
Will your partner be alarmed?
I feel not
May I seduce her?
You can but sigh.Try to re educe her for me.I miss her sore touch.
Do you behind what I do with or without hair?
Wit,at the dresser?
I like that ass I perceive.
You are already harried.you know
Are you never pre-empted?
That does not spatter.What you do is key.
How about a pudding?Batter my pancakes
Oh,take your privy parts elsewhere.I an well dead up with you.
No bleeding swearing and rehearsing near me.Spank you.
Four letter words allowed only in herds with a sheep frog to guide them.By order.
Pussy might glare at us.
I glare back
 Her claws are like magic bulletins.
Why is a cat made so?
They get clues to the weather from their dozes.
That rebounds painfully on me in winter.
Yes,but the weather is very sticky in the bummer.
Remember old friends from our blunder days?
I never knew Heather but I loved Primula.
Was she not too chastening for you?
She liked a ram in the dales very much.
Was it shorn?
They have blue horns or even teal.
How furious is that?
I am very sanguine these frays.
You must alight where you can like a house fly.
You set the world on fire,once upon a rhyme!
Don’t claim me as lost luggage.
You like being lost?
I want to be bound again.Like an old book.
So you have been here before ce soir?
Oui,mon petit.Je sais tout.
And how.You brake French like a creative.
Yes,I am well up in tension and wordsplitting
Do you mean declension?
To tell you the truth I am undear about language fratergories.
It’s all those passing participles.
And those non recurring verbs.
Surely you mean decimals?Like unnational numbers…
Don’t fling more maths into my ears!
Sorry,I’m just blundering out of the clouds today.
Keep still,Will you come again?
OK,my heartstring.My lute.My flute.
Why is your ass so round,by the say?
I guess I must have invented it from my mother.
Your jeans are too right!Do they fit tight!I shall go mad with trust.
You like ‘em?
Yeah,men are so sweet.I like to serve them with a home bathed cake.
Do you have to have a special bath?
I shall take illegal devices from a soliciter
Watch your doubt.
Oh,nuts!
Walnuts?
Any lemon rind ?
You can be too kind
I blow I am.I thought it was hood.for me
Send me a kiss or a kick,please!
If only it were true bliss.Just you,me and a tree.
Why the tree?
We need something to kiss your behind.
Swine! Beast!
Please,I adore you.Don’t unsweeten me this day.I am just a bit tough in the tongue
Whatever you will.I am yours evermore.I shall covet your treasure for never and a day
O.K.I’ll do it our way.
Press my mutton whenever you like,my beloved.
Flank you.You’re really hip.
I won’t flip.I mope.
I did it in E bay
So they pray.
Yesterday
What on birth did I say?
I feel really gay
Fifty glades,all gray.
Is it may?