Month: September 2013

Hands

Rosemary in flower

Sometimes my hands curl up,
and other times,they open.
Then I feel the air;
My fingers relax.
I touch your hand;
uncurl it and press it to mine.
Palm on palm,it’s no secret
that palms connect to hearts.
In your face I see a hint of melancholy,
I feel it in my soul..
as if there was a secret connection..
thought how,I don’t know.
Somehow,touching, we create another soul,
Neither you nor I, but we……
Touching,need to be physical..
We know how a story can affect us that way.
What a gift to know we have touched someone…
In the heart.’s. most tender space.The place of love.
Both true and false,my palm is lonely.
Then I feel the caress of summer air..
To touch is to be touched
as one soul opens to another..
Vulnerable,human,loving,
Painful and illusory,like those dreams of childhood.
Now I go,first gripping, then loosening our hands.
Goodbye,we say,Goodbye

My restless mind

When wanderings take my restless mind

To places peace can never find,

When imaginations linked to fear

Push tranquillity away.

To my green garden I must go

And let my mind and thoughts go slow.

I look up at maples in the breeze,

See sunlight dappled through their leaves.

I see the apples hanging down

And blackbirds peck them on the ground.

I see the hawthorn berries ripe

Upon the hedge in gold sunlight.

And then my soulf is brought to earth

Peacefulness is given birth

I feel at one with nature green,

And all that is just now unseen

So back to everyday routines

Without “what for?” and “might have beens”

All is well and shall be so

Wherever we may chance to go.

Mr Fox

 

 

Standing on the frosty terrace

He suddenly put his face to the window

His gaze hit midway between heart and gut.

Stared into eye,

Saying it’s too cold out of doors?

Or hungry.

Look, sharp as a question.

Do you not recognise me?

Let me warm myself by your fire.

Why not?That did happen ,

Before stone houses and double glazing.

Fox knew something

.Asked for recognition.

I broke the gaze.

Thinking,it’s wild.

I can’t let a fox in here.

What damage,

Will he be dirty,infested.

I didn’t open the door.

But I feel sad ,

He’s gone away.

What was the question?

He spoke from one being to another

He never came again.

I misunderstood.

He wished not to come inside

But for me to go to the wilderness with him?

 

A very slow death

Do read this

Truth42's avatarianprobertbooks

In my early forties I was struck down by a disease I knew nothing about. For ten years I suffered from untreated Hypothyroidism. It ruined my career as a writer and came close to killing me. This is my story…

With the power of hindsight it’s hard to believe that nobody noticed. I certainly didn’t: although the evidence was staring at me in the face every time I looked in a mirror. My wife didn’t seem to notice: although really she did but it’s just that I wasn’t prepared or able to listen to any of the hints that she tried to drop in an admittedly uncharacteristically subtle manner. My friends didn’t notice: but they were probably amused that a weight fascist such as I had piled on so many pounds. The truth of the matter was that I was falling to pieces. My body had gone into shutdown. My…

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Unknowable hearts

Source: Kathryn

When the windows shattered
And the splinters flew in
You just made for the back door
And left me
not knowing where to begin.

When the shards of glass hit me
And pierced my vulnerable skin
You were already going
Leaving me
feeling you were an inhuman being.

When I fell down covered in glass and bleeding,
And the storm raged on,
I didn’t look round because
I knew,I knew,I knew,
I knew you would be gone.
Gone.

Suddenly peace came,storm had quite
disappeared..
It was all over so quickly
Not as terrible as I feared.

My wounds were bad,I have to confess.
I had no bandage
Nothing with which to dress.
With an old towel I cleaned my blood
Then I lay me down
Just to have a rest.

Since that day,no storms come this way.
My wounds are healing
I have just one thing to say.
When the storm was so bad
You left me all alone…
but strangely since then
all is peace and calm.
Your absence has become
almost a balm.

But I hear stories of fierce storms rising up
In towns and villages
Not too far from here,where a strange man appears.

Seems like he’s running to get away
From some storm
But the storm’s inside him…
He gives it form.

So when the windows crashed in
And glass flew at my face
He left me all alone
In what, he thought,
was a very dangerous place.

Did he not pick me up
and carry me outside?
No,my daughter, he left me alone;
I might have died.

But since then
I lost a great burden…
And I lost a great feeling of shame.

Rise up,you women,bleeding and torn.
For on days like that,a new resolve is born.
While you live don’t accept all the blame.
Don’t live so long as I did,in fear and in shame.
Rise up and find that calm
In the eye of the storm…
On days like this
a new woman is born.

More wine in the water…. please

 

Happy
I used to have a great fear of tttttttttrembling

And prepacked fffffurniture aaaaassembling

But I read all your bbbooks

Which advised nnnnnnnnnnervous ffreaks

To leave no fffearsome tasks outstanding.

tree of life

I had a dread fear of sssssshivering

And my nerves enjoyed too much qqqqquivering

But I bought your new pills

And paid all my bills

And now I enjoy my own dddddithering.

Little cubes of colour

I used to fffear ssoap and water

Or giving birth to a qqqquivering daughter.

But your brilliant insights

Killed off all my frights.

But,for God’s sake,put more wine in the water.

I want a winter lover

New River

Wintry love

In summer time when sun do shine

I’m happy on my own

I gaze up through red maple leaves

All transparent in the sun.

But when winter comes I’m lonely

Sitting here beside my fire.

So I want a winter lover

To keep my spirits higher.

Oh,my winter love come to me

And I’ll gaze deep into your eyes

The light that shines in there

Is so much warmer than my fire.

We’ll go through wintry woodlands,

Where elegance lies bare.

The branches struck by sun

Now feel the frosty grasp of air.

I’ll love you all the winter time.

I’ll love you in the dark.

I’d like to take you in my arms

Make love in St.James Park

When summer comes I’ll disappear

To roam across the dales

I’ll sleep on heather moorlands

And send you loving mail.

I can’t be tied in summertime

I must be roaming free.

But ,if you accept this need of mine,

To you I’ll faithful be.

 

GIFT OF WORDS

 

My sister is learning by copying a Lowry.Can one learn to write a poem by copying? Yes,copy the rhythm of a song or a ballad.That can be a help to start you off
My sister did this

 

The theme of this poem is one that is very important to me.Actions change when vision changes.Actions are changed most by Imagination,not by force or will power,Actions change by seeing from a new perspective.

I

 

These poems are my gift to you

They flow from my perceptions

I write them to discover truth,

And my preconceptions.

 

I write because I see and think

More deeply than I knew

And seeing is the first step

To imagining the new.

 

Changing perceptions changes deeds

Without the need for force.

Find out your hidden dreams ,and look.

You speak with your own voice

 

Sometimes Love

Autumn

London in autumn
London in autumn
Abstract blue
Joy in life

Sometimes sun  shines in September

Sometimes sky is brilliant blue

Sometimes sun shines in September,

Sometimes I remember you.

Sometimes love comes in September,

Sometimes there’s this final chance.

Sometimes love comes, so remember

Such affairs are happenstance.

Sometimes love comes down in sunshine.

Sometimes love comes down in rain

Sometimes love comes in September.

Sometimes love pains us again.


At the Fair with mi Dad

To  my readers:

I use language here in the form common in the past in a working class mill town in the North of England . We always referred to people as our Mam,our John  or mi Mam,mi Dad.

Sky diving

I rode on a horse on the Merry- Go- Round at the New Year Fair,

And every time I came around,our Dad were stood right there.

The horses they went up and down,as we whirled around.

To me,so small, they seemed so high, way up above the ground.

You knew I loved those colourful horses standing up right tall;

So you let me ride on one,though Mam thunk me far too small.

I shall never lose the happiness,riding with a view..

But far more than I loved those horses, Dad, you know that I loved you.

I wish I were a child again and you were with us today.

I think we’d recognize your voice,and be eager for what you’d say.

Why did God take you off,it seemed to be so wrong.?

But thanks,our Dad,for the Merry- Go- Round,and thanks for all your songs.

I think that life’s like a Merry -Go- Round that we are turning on.

And every time it whirls right round.someone else has gone.

We don’t know how long we’ll ride here so merry,and so gay.

So enjoy the Revolution now,and say what you really should say.

The world may be a Merry Go Round and we are nothing but fools

We had so much bounty and yet we break life’s rules.

We strong ones steal and injure as we pass this way,

Will we ever realise…. it’s a serious game that we play?

Thanks our Dad, for the memory and thanks for all your songs.

Now my heart grows weary so I shan’t linger long

I tried to use my talents, like the Bible said.

I trust sweet God to judge me well,when in human terms I’m dead.

Blue hills
Blue hills

Note:I must have been three when this happened.Dad was keen on Fairs and Pantomimes

Dust a cat today:Get a free degree by answering this question.

If a cat were 12inches long,4 inches wides and 4 inches deep,assuming its body were a rectangular block,and furthermore assuming its head and legs were hairfree
a] calculate the surface area of its body excluding the hairless parts
b] if the cat’s fur has hairs in a density of 1,000 per square inch
how long would it take me to dust it [ignore the head and neck for simplicity]
c]and given my current age assess the probability of me completely dusting the cat if I work 8 hours daily 5 days a week
Calculators may be used if appropriate
d[And if the minimum wage were £6 per hour how much would it cost me to employ a man to dust the cat weekly.
e]Do you believe the State Pension ought increased so as to enable a person to have their cat dusted on a regular basis.

You may use diagrams in your answer or to get to the answer
f]Could there be more than one answer and if so why?
g]Finally, give a brief account of the Ethics of dusting domestic cats which cannot sign consent forms.How would Aristotle deal with such issues, with a duster or another sort of cloth?
h]Finally can you clean a vacuum? And is the above cat a Platonic Form? Am I?

WHY AM I WRITING A BLOG?

This is very much worth reading

Deena Metzger's avatarRUIN AND BEAUTY

I HAVE BEEN WRITING A LETTER TO YOU IN MY MIND, EVERY DAY. I began it on the computer, last month. But it wasn’t really a letter, and it wasn’t really a letter to you. It was an informal essay passing as a letter. But that is not my intent. I am hoping to write a real letter to you. Even though I don’t know you. Or I don’t know that I know you as I won’t know when you come to the site which will be for us the same as if you, at another time, picked up a sealed envelope and opened it, though it was not addressed, and reading it, realized it was intended for you.

Spirit works that way. It speaks to us through coincidences and strange, encounters, occurrences we could not have designed, possibilities far beyond us. A book falls off the shelf into our…

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New limericks

I was never much given to boasts,
Or cooking large beef or lamb roasts
But I liked to eat men
Just now and then.
I like them with butter on toast!

I liked to eat bread and red jam
When mother ran out of her spam
So I grew very large
As big as a barge
Still I’m happy just being who I am

Are vocations still options today?
Do you get one if you never pray?
I wanted my own
But I should not moan
I find it takes me all day being gay

Silver words

BLUE TREES

After silence

Words fell from my lips.

I was a god

I created everything.

I spoke and each word

Was a new world.

Words fell from my lips like a silver stream of beauty.

I was a god.

We were all gods.

We created worlds.

Words touch the secret core

At the heart of the other,

Or they violate it.

“Too many words” hits me like a bullet.

I need silence

And one word,

To call me into being.

God breathed

And the world breathed.

Speaking is like breathing,

But is more than breathing.

Words sail out

Like boats crossing the sea

On a breeze of breath.

A word from a man came at me.

Like an arrow,and pierced me

With sharp sorrow.

Only a few have the true voice,

The voice that does not harm

WORDS RISE UP

Poetry

The highest calling of the mind

Is to choose the words that free or bind.

Without choice words  in true design

Human beings will be quite blind

 
York Minster,home of sacred song and word
 

 

After writing about maps I began to write about words.Words are very powerful in any kind of society but more so in a highly literate one.Words can be sacred or mundane.They can be loving or heartbreaking.And in English we have so many of them because English was developed from several other languages….Anglo-Saxon,French,Latin,Greek,Celtic…..so more than one word for some things.Here in this poem I compare words to birds [ geese ] flocking into the sky like words flock into our minds

 

Words rise up like geese at dawn

When with pale sun new day is born

The words approach and dance in line

The choice of words is mine

 

 

Words spelled here by sense and sound

In clause and sentence weave around.

Which tempting words shall I now use

And which shall I refuse?

 

 

The fire lights up inside my heart

So now my writing hand can start/

I sit down at my desk and say

“This is the way I spend my day.

With words I sing and play!

WORDS STROKE MY MIND

 

A peaceful place to meditate
A peaceful place to meditate

WORDS STROKE MY MIND

Here I talk about words as if they had a physical existence and can stroke my mind and  give me pleasure like a cat can get from gentle stroking.I treat words as if they are real things which they are when spoken out loud.And someone’s voice can soothe you if they speak mellifluously.

 

Words mark the page and stroke my mind,

And sentences are words combined,

So,many brushstrokes make a shape,

And round my mind the sentence drapes.

 

Words from farthest realms of mind

Are drawn to me by this design.

And,look, they brighten in the sun

The picture forms,my work is done

A Texas thistle flower head

Stunning photograph

Steve Schwartzman's avatarPortraits of Wildflowers

And here’s the flower head of a Texas thistle, Cirsium texanum, that’s come a longer way toward being fully open than the bud you saw last time. I took this picture, like the previous one, close to an office building, but the building was on N. Capital of Texas Highway, the date was May 11, and I got away with sitting rather than lying on the ground. The ground that the Texas thistle covers is primarily in Texas and northern Mexico.

If you’re interested in photography as a craft, you’ll find that points 1, 3, and especially 8 in About My Techniques are relevant to this photograph.

© 2013 Steven Schwartzman

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Riemann’s cat

Two whole worlds.
One small cut.
One little chink.
Hard to find.
Very,very hard.
One small place
Where a very little cat
Could slip right through
The geometrician ‘s cut.
Cat could slip right through.
Just,slip straight through.
Joining it’s own reflection
On the opposite side.
The mirror’s other side.

And if I caught that tail,
If I caught her little tail,
She could pull me through,
She could pull me through,
So she and I too
We’d be on the other side,
The wrong way round,
On the opposite side.

So when you looked in,
If you looked in,
You would see me there,
Looking out at you,
From the opposite side.
From the opposite side.
And the cat beside
Looking very small,
Very,very small;
But very,very real.
How do you think you’d feel,
If I was looking out,
Staring at you
From the opposite side?

I can’t get back.
I can’t find Riemann’s cat
and without that pussy cat
I can’t find Riemann’s cut.
I think I’m in a trap.
I cannot find that cat.
So she can’t find the cut
To get me back,
She can’t bring me back
To where I was before.

Oh,how queer,
To have two of me in here.
I hope I’ll get on well
With my other self,
Behind the looking glass.
No one looking in,
But two are staring out.
From that other world.

I am looking out,
I’m looking out
To see if you are there.
One of you’s with me
That makes the total three.
Oh,dear me,
I should not have grabbed
Little pussy’s tail.
I didn’t really know
Where she meant to go.

“Wherever have you been?
Where do you think you’ve been
To get so filthy black,
And where’s your pussy cat?”
She never came back.
Never came back
From the opposite side.
Mummy thought I’d lied.
I don’t tell lies,
But I can see my cat
Staring out at me.
Staring out at me
From the other side.
From the opposite side
Of my looking glass.
My lovely looking glass
Has trapped my tiny cat
On the opposite side.
On the opposite side
On the other side

Enchantment

BLUE TREES

My old blue fountain pen allows

The ink across the page to flow

Like wet paint from an artist’s brush,

And words come in a rush.

Enchanting through the hand which writes,

Bewitched with art, beauty alights.

The script is like a music score

Through which you pass as through a door.

Imagination’s home.

As,mysteriously.to you, to me,

The spirits of our hearts are tamed,

By rhythms of pen,of brush,of mind.

They enter vision quite unplanned,

Like moths to flutter softly round

Fire joined heart and hand.

The pen slows down,the hand goes still

And just as dreams at daybreak will,

They shrink,they disappear,they’re gone.

I almost caught that one

A tax on sin or on grammar

I like to write imaginary conversations with myself. free entertainment

Image

She said she never knew what syntax was until she met me.
Well,you do look worn out by your sins.
How do you know they were sins?
Well,you went to Confession twice a week all your life
That was my scruples.Sometimes I went twice a day…
It sounds like having an upset stomach.
In my case it was an upset soul.The soul emptied out and hung out on the Maginot line
Eventually I realized virtue is not attainable by Will Power alone
How is it attained… won’t power?
I knew you’d say that!
That!
Anyway to get back to syntax,it’s about structure.
Like council tax?
Words fail me
That’s good.I meant tax on a building
You seem very rude today
It’s not just today,I’m like this all the time.
I never noticed before
You only met me tonight
That’s almost true..now syntax is a very important topic.
Are we on a date or are you giving grammar lessons free?
No,I have Wasperger’s Syndrome.It’s as if I have Asperger’s but I sting too.
When do you sting
When people say sharp things to me.
Go on,you’re just needling me..
Truly I think you’ll love syntax and spelling rude words.
Well,we’ve had santax for years.Women pay VAT of 20 per cent on Tampax
It’s enough to make me throw up
No,throw out!Throw out the Coalition Government
Do you think Labour will remove Santax?
I don’t know but at least you’ll learn how to do percentages with them
I will?
Thank you so much.I am delighted to hear that.We are engaged.Here is a ring.
That’s beautiful.Was it your mother’s?
It still is my mother’s.
How can I wear it when she might see it?
I’ll tell her I liked hers so much I got one the same.She’s got poor vision so don’t worry.After the Wedding I’ll give it back
How mean.
I never knew you liked statistics.What about deviance?
Well,some I like,some I don’t… you catch my drift?
Well,babe,I’ll explain everything when we lie together.
That makes us sound like the government.
How come?
They all lie together.
Do they really.That explains a lot.Do they come together often?
I guess they have a rota.
You can’t come by will power.
That’s good.I want to come in a a horse and carriage.
It might frighten the horses.
I mean to our Wedding ceremony
Do you want four horses?
I am not that heavy!
No,I want you to have it all.
Suppose it’s not enough.
We’ll have to play it by ear..
Is that the organ?
Well,it’s a kind of organ.
A harmonium?
Maybe..I’ll ask the priest.
Does he play?
No,he just hears confessions and says Mass.
It’s a pity confession secret.He could write a long novel.
I daresay some have…. with pseudonyms.
I use a wordprocessor… should I get a pseudonym too?
You are crazy but I love you with all my heart.
And is it big?
Big enough for two.
Thank you,God.
I

In The Eye

Beautiful

Ron Scubadiver's avatarRon From Texas

8 Photos in This Gallery

During August the art gallery scene in Houston is very quiet owing to our extremely hot and humid weather.  Fall is still a month away, but the galleries were open in mass last night and there will be more this evening.  Last night I visited Diverse Works, Isabella Court and 4411 Montrose. In the Eye is a close up of a small sculpture by Katja Loher showing at Anya Tish Gallery. The Butterflies are by Michael Crowder showing at Wade Wilson Art.

Jay Rusovich is a houston photographer.  He is next to the model who appears in “Mother and Child”.  It’s easy to find on Jay’s site.

The last three photos are from the August 29th opening for Lisa Harris at Fresh Arts located in the Winter Street Studios.

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Geese

It’s Autumn weather, 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 of gentle beeches sing

Swaying with the sideward wind.

See their roots, all intertwined.

Feel their geometry in the 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 would stay with this still vision

Of geese set out on autumn mission.

Snails in rain pools slither near

My feet upon the terrace here

And look,upon their whorled backs

All the sense of life is packed.

And yet so easily Life’s destroyed,

When blind foot foot steps into the void