Month: December 2013
I was reading on the blog of an artist how long they spend gazing before they take a photograph.And how long they spend editing or thinking about it before they post it.And therefore criticising people who take lots of photos and post them all quickly
And I truly wish everyone would spend such time before they post a letter or send an email to a friend..
Still,it’s just a case of the pot calling the kettle black!
Ahaaa
We English have a grating sense of numinousity or did I mean h umorosity?
Never mind the numen,think about us humans!
Sprechen Sie Freudsch?
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Poetry formatting
How to Prepare Poetry Manuscript Submissions
What are the manuscript guidelines for poetry submission, including chapbooks?
Here’s advice from the editors of Poet’s Market:
The guidelines are slightly different for poetry manuscripts than for fiction manuscripts. Following is a brief checklist for submitting either individual poems or a poetry manuscript.
For individual poems:
- Send only three to five poems at one time, positioning your best poems on top. Most editors don’t have time to read more than five poems and less than three doesn’t provide a sufficient sample of your work.
- Type one poem to a page, single-spaced with double-spacing between stanzas. (Haiku may be an exception here.) Leave at least a one-inch margin on all sides of the page.
- Include your name, address and telephone number in the upper left or right corner. The title of your poem should appear in all caps in initial caps about six lines underneath your address, centered or flush left. Begin the poem one line beneath the title.
For book manuscripts:
- First, when submitting a poetry collection to a book publisher, it is best to request guidelines since press requirements vary from a query letter with a few sample poems to the entire manuscript.
- When submitting an entire poetry manuscript, use a separate cover sheet for your name, address and telephone number. Center your book title and byline about halfway down the page. Then include your last name and page number in the top left margin of the first and each subsequent manuscript page.
- Again, type one poem to a page, single-spaced with double spacing between stanzas. Leave at least a 1-inch margin on all sides of the page.
- If a poem carries over to a second sheet, list your name in the top left margin. Underneath your name include a key word from the poem’s title, the page number and information on whether the lines at the top are a continuation of the same stanza or the start of a new one (e.g., continue stanza or begin new stanza).
For more submission tips, check out Poet’s Market.
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Kissing
Peace is all I need
The sea
Still life
On the beach
Peace from artificial social ways
I hate kissing because it’s meaningless
Like Mcdonald‘s burgers
And sentimental cards.
It’s a right men feel they have.
Like toddlers want French fries
And pink milk.
I think men don’t know how intrusive
Their smell is and their flesh
To someone who doesn’t love them.
And social kissing is so false.
When people gripe and snipe
When you’re not there.
So we’ll have to invent some new ways
Some new designs.
Or do I have to wear a plaque
“Trespassers will be persecuted“
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The wrong cliche
| I was wedded to slights so I asked for a divorce on the grounds of boredom. |
| Please reel with zip |
| I sent a fatal crow over to him with a message |
| I bent a mortal bow and fired at the unicorn as it flew awry |
| Deep nicks marred his chin.Why not grow a beard, I said.He cut my throat with hisses |
| You look so dear .yet still a fright.I am unsure how you ravage it |
| He’s like diamond in the pigs’ trough |
| We dug for the moles and they are terribly rude.No gratitude at all. |
| I dig myself into a hole in my mattress to sleep.It’s india rubber |
| Drip your flow into the water dolorosa to augment it |
| Is dirt cheap? |
| What is the wrong entry? |
| Do as i pray and not as i say |
| Do birds fry eggs? |
| He said do or die so I dyed my inside out |
| Flu is your crutch? |
| Give anew unto others |
| I shall dry William Blake |
|
Do you feel me when I feel you? Who is the real me |
| Life does my heart in good |
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Problem page
Dear Mabel,I have ten spirits following my blog but no people.Am I doing something wrong?
Dear Puzzled.
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Why not just say it’s all over me?
Literati
is a name
we gave to clever
people who
talk
too
much and think they know all
about literature
and twitterature
and are conceited
stuck up
and think they own
the world of words
but really it’s the
common people who invented language
and stories and poems
who talked the world into bing
I beg your pardon
I never say
shiterati
even as a joke
I am utterly
affronted by your conjunction
and offended by your defensiveness
and unwillingness
to admit
even the Pope
likes vulgar jokes
so who are you
anyway?
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On Not Being Able to Paint (without a frame)
“It is fascinating…to follow [her] attempts to rid herself of the obstacles which prevent her painting”
– Anna Freud, 1950
Sarah brought me a book the night we were previewing her install: On Not Being Able to Paint. It’s a reflection on creativity from the 50s, by psychoanalyst Marion Milner. I appreciated the timing: about to go public with her first big foray outside painting proper, she produced a treatise about what it means to not paint.
So far, I’ve read only the introduction the book, which Sigmund’s daughter Anna Freud – an important psychoanalyst in her own right – contributed. Analogizing the therapeutic situation and the painter’s context, Freud notes that both psychological and creative breakthroughs require dedicated spaces for uninhibited work.
The residency attempts to proffer such a space, and within that space, Sarah made another one. Within the venue, she delineated a corner for her installation…
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My boyfriend is black from the dead : and other unlikely notions
Homer was a barrier to progress.Sorry,he was a barrister for the homeless
I ban heart breakers from any rights
My boyfriend came back from the dead as God said he’s not cooked properly yet.I can’t believe it!He was simmering with rage for days.
He gave me a crap handed compliment.In briefs and his own best vest,he insulted me to my face and about my face!Why can’t he look down?
He will be black in a sec in the old coal miners ballroom
Should one put the horse onto the saddle?
Oh,back it up and leap on
My mum was a back seat driver;she had long arms and long sight,you see.I don’t see so I drive from the front…
I said, are you a backstabber.and he stabbed me in the chest but only with a drawing pin.
And what a draw it was…women love to tend to me.God may know why.I am not handsome but I have that special,Je ne baise moi!Well the French never wash and look at them…like rabbits.
Now children, we are back to squaring one again.It’s the only number equal to its own square and it has two square roots.It sounds like my husband,if you catch my implicit meaning,Now implicit functions,that is a deep topic in higher mathematics.. or should we say,lower mathematics as we are mixing the similes too much not to mention the cliches and the metaphors.It’s like Greek to me.Thank God I know no Hebrew…it would be such a strain on my brain.
Backs to the drawing boards.the artists fought off the invading poets to no avail.Now all the pictures have titles…… just like the Royal family.What a joy.
Back to the salty pines on Holkham Beach…. a good place to get lost and even meet the Queen
What is a backhanded compliment for? Answer briefly and fully without loosing in a thesaurus… not that you common people have them….THUD.Another right wing teacher is struck down by God…. or rather it was a catapult with a brick but I saw they used them in the Bible so it’s ethically acceptable I believe.Yes,I do
Ah come off? Now come on.Alot of the Bible is vicious….cutting off men’ s hair…Why di9d Samson have long hair… no=one I know around here does.Beards,yes.Hair…. not much.
And even beards have drawbacks.Washing them is a burden…could you have a false one like a wig?Here’s where I may have got a bright idea!
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| Cliché | Country | |
| Gadzooks! | United States | |
| Game is on the line, The | United States | |
| Gang bang | United States | |
| Gang bangers | United States | |
| Garlic milkshake | United States | |
| Get (Start) the ball rolling | United States | |
| Get a life | United States | |
| Get a room | |
|
| Get a word in edgewise | |
|
| Get all worked up | United States | |
| Get an earful, To | United States | |
| Get back up on the horse | ||
| Get cleaned out, To | United States | |
| Get crushed, To | United States | |
| Get down, To | United States | |
| Get it, To | United States | |
| Get lost | United States | |
| Get my message? | United States | |
| Get off, To | ||
| Get out of Dodge | United States | |
| Get out of here | United States | |
| Get out of my hair | ||
| Get over the hump | United States | |
| Get the hook, To | ||
| Get to the bottom of it | United States | |
| Get up off the mat, To | United States | |
| Get with the program | United States | |
| Get your arms around it | United States | |
| Get your ducks in a row | United States | |
| Get your feet wet |
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Crossing the bridge
Stepping onto that fragile bridge
Which swayed in the breeze,
Stepping onto that fragile bridge
Was a difficult moment
Though I could see you far away.
As we traveled,sometimes we walked,
Sometimes we walked too fast,
Or without paying due attention
To the winds that blew across the water.
Sometimes I felt afraid I would fall
As the bridge swayed too much over
The dark sea.Or you might fall or turn back.
Sometimes we stopped walking and stood waiting
As if some portent would appear
To tell us what to do.
Still, we continued, with trust growing
After each difficulty…
All at once, you were near me,
And I recognised your face..
That light in your eyes
And your hands holding the ropes..
So we stood there,over the churning waters,
And all I wanted to do was to smile.
I wanted to smile.And I’m still smiling
Despite all the strains and trials…
And I see you are smiling too.
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Never say logic again.
My foreign students said I was too warm to be British,so turn off your heating now or face execution as a traitor.
What people forget is we Brits are a mixed race… then we have the nerve to call people,wogs,dagos and foreigners.we are all foreigners here apart from the Welsh.
Some students told me their dreams;s,anything to avoid algebra!
I personally found quantum theory helps to avoid emotional overspill…
and topology is useful for dressmakers
Dreams and love are all very well… if you are a millionaire.Till then keep on with figures,asymmetry and words.
Friends are no use unless you are a real person.Whatever she is.
Schizophrenia is to some extent cowardliness………….keep your feet on the ground and say straight out what you mean without entering into wordplay,fey ways,being a seer and seeing how life veers.It’s all absolute bullshit.Only not all bulls are male.
Some bulls are e-male.
Depression is mainly the result of being driven.So give up the chauffeur and take your time.
Some loose women are fast and vice versa.Isn’t logic trying?
I was so thin when I began lecturing I got half fare on the bus and I was 25.So studying keeps you young.Never say,Dirac,again.
I was so thin then I bought children’s clothes but now I am twice the size.Then they said I might have TB,now they say I could get diabetes.Take your pick……there’s something in me that will never take the middle way.My middle gets in the way.
We all eat too much considering how little we do.Bring back the scrubbing board,brush and hard green soap.But if I eat less I faint…. what an ‘orrible feeling as your vision shrinks to a pinpoint and you sweat all over but more on the top of the head…. and you throw yourself onto the floor… or the ceiling.
Once we were having a meal with another couple…with one of those heated plate things on the table.I passed out and for years they talked about it.They divorced later and blamed me!Still,I gave them something to talk about so maybe I helped.
If you get disturbed stop introspecting and sweep the floor or the pavement.Do useful things with your hands and help others.Be polite even if you think they are the Devil
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- Courage (selfinthemaking.wordpress.com)
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Why there are ten commandments
When Moses climbed the mountain
And he got to the top,
God was waiting for him,
He didn’t say a lot.
He said, Take my commandments
They are written on this stone,
I have only fifty,
Or was it fifty one?
Moses was very worried
~about the human race.
Fifty one commandments
Would meet with strong distaste.
So he told God his troubles
And God thought long and hard.
He came back with the commandments
Written on a card.
How many have you got there?
Moses politely said?
I’ve got it down to ten, said God.
His eyes were very red.
So Moses took the postcard
And put it on his pad.
He said I’d better get back down.
Oh, and thank you Dad!
When Moses got to earth
He called his people near.
He produced his i Pad.
Look what I’ve got here!
I saw God on the mountain.
He gave me a few rules.
They’re easy to remember.
We are not moral fools.
How many of these rules
Has God given to you?
I got it down to ten.
Let’s see how we can do.
Ten is far too many,
Some of the people cried.
We don’t want these rules.
We hate to feel we’re tied.
But all games have their rules.
They’re what define the game.
If we had utter chaos
This loss would be a shame.
As pictures have their frames,
And lessons have strict times.
We need some good constructions,
Like poems need their rhymes.
So all his people heard him.
And they agreed to try.
They lived as best they could
Until they came to die.
But one part of this story
We will never know–
What were all those commandments
That Moses did not show?
And why did God give in
To Moses’ bargain plea?
Do not ask for Moses,
For Moses name is “ME
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I pass on a dot
<p class=”center”>Pass water on a dot?I can’t relieve you,my dear.You need a pot.
Do pass the fluck to me if you can beware to.You pig!I know your tart of man?be off.
He passed on the shit by letter.Uttering crap was his lust.He just couldn’t stand himself.Still you love them,you hate them;.it passes the flame.
He passed me with flying dolours;once a Catholic,always faintly guilty.In my case I truly passed out with flying colors.You see,the red knickers were half price?no-one else wore them.I don’t know why they were ever made, and no maid should have worn them.I was always out of the lurch of normality,if you grasp my scheming.I had a hare brain and no mind to speak to except my doll with no head? it fell off,unlike mine,that’s china for you.Potheads are a bad idea</p>
<p class=”center”>Please read under each line today
To take the path of least consistency is hard for mathematicians but post-Godel it’s just one more hurdle
Play as you go where?
His lips paid me such service,no-one since has matched his adroitness,yet he never knew my name?I was just one of a number of girl he loved in rotation; we were almost a constellation and definitely a consolation to each other united by hatred of the one we loved
Pray for the riper woman to be given a compliment
I just do not know how pray through the prose.
If he were not a man,I’d call him a bitch.</p>
<p class=”center”>He called me a deviant tart,if I recall nightly
Never wear pearls before wine is offered
Peel the onion with a running tap to stop your eyes running off
Can I put a pencil in your orifice?
They gave us a penny for each thought we had thunken.I remember it so mistily as I never knew thought before.I was an intellectual virgin at that time…9 am.Then they began coming</p>
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For shy people
You can now get spectacles with net curtains over the lenses.It keeps you from having people see your eyes…they are proving popu
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Thr
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As honeysuckle on the walls, In joy’s sweet arbours does grow tall.
They lay down in awe and fear, Of what their love was bringing near. They gazed into each other’s eyes And so did rhapsodise. They lay down to gaze into the eyes and soul and heart so true. They gazed until,when overcome, They were united into one. Their souls and bodies were conjoined, And thus their hearts were well entwined; As honeysuckle on the walls, In joy’s sweet arbours does grow tall. Their loving lips and eyes and hands Gave pause to time’s soft flowing sands; And while they touched and gazed so long, The birds sang out in glorious songs. The eyes are mirrors to the soul, and love will make us grow more whole. Gaze lovingly on humankind.. And hold care in your mind. |
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Resurgence • Article – Happy Beings
Resurgence • Article – Happy Beings.
This is a very interesting review of two books,one old one new.
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Expectations? Good or Bad?
Good
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No aphrodisiac ain’t of much use
She was built like a brick shithouse
Ya,born with a silver spoon in her mouth
Her momma was an old brown mouse
And her pa was just a slimy louse.
She was built like a slick coalhouse
Where black birds used to roost.
Her brother had gone for ten ego boosts
Her sister let all hell break loose.
She was in for life with those spooks
A horror in every nook
Her ma never learned her to cook
She ain’t never even read a book.
No aphrodisiac ain’t of much use
When the Furies are on the loose
Do what you can to cook thet goose
Ain’t so good to blow your own fuse.
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Sonnet on washing day
I love to read your poems in the night
And see each sentence frame a new born thought.
I often am in darkness not in light,
Like yours my memories are hardly caught.
The cat sits in patient joy upon her chair
The fire glows golden red ,I watch the smoke.
Some days I’m here and sometimes there.
My mind from trouble wishes to elope.
The washing gurgles in the old machine
When special christmas garments meet the soap.
Is this true life or am I but a dream?
In someone’s mind perhaps my image floats.
For nothing is so sure in life as death
Enjoy the alternations of your breath
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Christmas: beating children for not eating
One of my brothers told me that when I would not eat turkey at Xmas when I was 8,our mum made our oldest brother beat me for wasting her money though I am sure my brothers would have eaten it.
I am shocked .. it seems sadistic
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I took out a new lease on his wife.She’s an agony plant
=She has nerves on wheels,
He’s a male biter despite her
| She got a male writer for Xmas.He was faking it as they got laid.So there was a sense of anti-climax |
| As naked as a ladybird.she has no shame but she got spots all over her face.Did she deserve it? |
| As wicked as they say when you had horns. |
| Near and dear to my tart was a cream jug filled with hot gravy.It was only a treacle tart to me but to her it was a hot dinner |
| Necessary evil is good |
| Rapacity under the cover of contention |
| Nerves have weals |
| Who was as nervous as a cat on a hot thin woof? |
| I am as nervous as a naked Serbo-Croat in a room full of people who speak only Franglsh |
| Never pull off tomorrow what you can ease off today.Start slowly by taking off your shorts.Keep your hair on!
If you never get dressed,you need never undress.How about a bath a day? |
| I took out a new lease on his wifeShe is frilled.
Can any man police my wife? |
| You are my ruby,my little JoobieIt was only a google doc to me,but to him it was a hole in the heart |
| Nice guys finish off with the women and the women are full of grate |
| They are like a fright a day in that office.They can’t use Word,they hate Office suite and now they have burned the Zoho Docs.I never saw anything so like you in all my horny prayers .
He bought me an apron for Xmas so I fried it for his dinner.That will do the trick… next year he may give me a sausage. And no,I never made a Freudian slip in my wife. He wants to borrow my life!  He thinks dreams are the elixir of a wife….. not that he was ever conscious in the true sense of the Word. What was the Incarnation?Was it long life milk? Why does bread rise in one hour? Put that in your wife and joke about it! |
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George Steiner
Do the identifications with fictions, the inner, tidal motions of pathos and libido which the novel, the film, the painting, the symphony unleash within us somehow immunize us against the humbler, less formed, but actual claims of suffering and of need in our surroundings? Does the cry in the tragic play muffle, even blot out, the cry in the street?
http://yquotes.com/quotes/george-steiner/3/#ixzz2obYV5KXW
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A load of what?
,it in the rear… no,dear.
A pain in the place de la concorde.doctor.I am too shy to say vestibule,you see.
Do you think I need elastic plagiarism?
I have a pain in the wreck of a poem
Taint yourself into a scorner of women.I don’t scare..tease yourself!
I thin kPandora’s sox fell off… then her box opened…
Caper over the cracks in the floor.. they say it’s a new way to welcome the New Year i
Draped in tiger? Crepe divides her?Am I going blind… so they were right after all.Too much sex is not enough.Give me oil for my ramp keep me burning and boil a kettle too
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A cliche at play keeps the doctor away
| She’s as easy to hug as kissing a bee on the lips | |||||
| Life’s not as easy as being able to see ghosts smoking | |||||
| I feel uneasy as you make my mind sick | |||||
| Oh,Ted,Go eat Crow | |||||
| Beat lead.Buy a fountain pen today.Qouink! | |||||
| He sits like a corpse at a wedding for dummies | |||||
| Shall we beat my cat… or hunt hares?Is cruelty good? | |||||
| It’s a treat to see your gun;catch my swift? | |||||
| Why not eat your own dog’s food and leave mine for me.It’s all I have | |||||
| Eight hundred men caught one gorilla which took a bus into town..Now he’s been given a free Mass in the cathedral.Sorry a Free Bus Pass ex cathedra | |||||
| Why no elephant in your room? Are you in need of brass monkeys? | |||||
| Are you on an imaginative roller coaster?Join our club for the highly weird person
Do you ever eat a meringue? Je ne sais qua?I know you ate French. Fry me tonight. Do you often change your sheets in the middle of a sentence? Does the knight jar you/ Why is sympathy so rare? Let them eat croissants… I say.who is David Cameron,anyway? My Friend is half Jewish.She has those dark yet lustrous eyes…. |
|||||
| Now you must empathize with the wrong willed yet able to get the country off my knees. | |||||
| I say, an empty flattery battery.How discharming | |||||
| The cat ate my enchillado so I shall eat its mice on rice fried dinner…..take that!Sweet revenge | |||||
| I said re your novel, Send over the end,not,Go round the bend!How can you work that way.. it’s real neat,you say.On your way | |||||
| These friendless words are neglected so I shall eat them.Or shall I swallow the dictionary? | |||||
| The agenda fructifies my daydreams into real works of art.. or cunning at least. | |||||
| Even a wild squirrel finds a beefburger and fries good once in a while | |||||
| Are you feeling even hotter?Keel over and I’ll snatch you up.I can’t wait.I love your dough so.Give me oil for my lamp keep me churning…. no more spurning |
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A therapist eats curry with a cat…more adventures with Emile
Into the washing machine… therapy’s disasters
Peter Fried,the psychoanalyst newly arrived in Knittingham, had noticed that whilst he was practising “free floating attention”
with his patients an image of a cat peering in the window behind the couch was troubling him.He hoped it was not some hallucination transferred from the Unconscious of one of his patients into his consciousness.
Still,having a black cat looking in the window was by no means the most unpleasant optical illusion he had ever suffered.In a way,it was quite sweet.
He was back in his “home” flat boiling some eggs for his supper when the doorbell rang.He opened it cautiously with a sort of furtive excitement.There stood a strikingly attractive woman wearing a purple coat and a red hat with matching red ballet flats and a bright green designer handbag from TKMaxx.[£29.99 and well worth it]
Hello,I thought I’d introduce myself,I live across the street next door to Stan and Mary..my name is Anne..How are you settling in?
She walked confidently through his flat and into the new teak kitchen with its gleaming work surfaces and marble pastry rolling strip…. though Peter never made pastry himself.
Eggs!Are you a curry lover?By pure chance and serendipity I have a tin of vindaloo sauce here.I could pour it over these eggs.
Should we not remove the shells first?Peter asked with a just hint of humour.
Definitely,leave it to me.I’ve brought some naan bread and some brown rice too
How did you know I was boiling six eggs?
Why Emile told me,of course!
Emile….is he black?
Some people call him black,others say he’s mixed race.
Let’s not argue about semantics,he replied discourteously.
I don’t even know what semantics, are she screeched into his left ear.
Well,that is no barrier to arguing about them,he replied diplomatically.
Well,it’s senseless, she answered kindly.”I am not a person who enjoys an argument.Go and sit down,read the paper and I’ll finish preparing the curry dinner.
Is it common around here to have an unknown woman come in to cook your dinner?Peter asked Anne.
No,it’s the height of sophistication,she said judiciously.
It’s just with you being new I wanted to meet you to see if you need any assistance in your work.I don’t need money,I like to serve the community in some way.Of course I am Stan’s mistress but as he’s in a bad temper today I’ve not seen him.I suspect he is growing tired of me.
Are you married,Peter asked her.
No,but I was once.My husband ran off with his brother’s wife,so we decided to pretend they were both dead.
That’s intriguing,said Peter,I am married but my wife developed an allergy to my skin.She could not bear to touch it so it became awkward… very awkward.
Fancy, and you a therapist too,she murmured softly,So where is she now?
Oh, she lives on the Isle of Man,near Peel.I do go to see her now and then… and there are lovely sunsets over there… you can see the Mountains of Mourne.
Are you lonely, she asked him very emotionally.
No,I see seven patients a day..
But that’s not the same as having a wife or a friend.
Since my wife’s allergy,I am afraid to touch another woman.
How sad,cried Anne…I have very thick skin.Would you like to touch me? she said seductively
Perhaps another time,Peter said in a kindly way,But thanks for being so generous.I am touched by your amiability and femininity and your
kindness in introducing yourself.
.
Let’s eat the curry before we die of hunger.
They sat down at the kitchen table to eat the egg curry when they saw some amber eyes gleaming at the window.
Oh, dear,There’s Emile again.
Will he tell Stan?
Probably,but actually Stan no longer wants me.Yet Emile adores me.He will be jealous… he’s a cat,but he has the feeling of a man.
And indeed Emile’s eyes were gleaming like those of a tiger… he began to speak through the window glass.
Would you mind if I had some curry?Stan never makes it… I love spices
Why not? said Peter.
Emil’s plan was to get near Anne but first he had to eat the vindaloo egg curry.He took a mouthful..my,it was hot.His eyes began to water and his nose ran…. all round the room.He mioawed piteously
I need a hanky.
We shall have to ring 999,muttered Anne.
What! Do they tend to cats?
They usually have some hankies for cats….
So without any further ado,she took out her Samsung mobile phone and rang.
I don’t know how I shall get on living here,thought Peter.
He ran across the room and jumped into the washing machine with the tea towels and kitchen cloths.
Will he escape?
Buy the next chapter…only three shilling and sixpence or free with the Daily Wail tomorrow…order now for next life delivery!
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Crossing St Giles
As the I rode my bicycle down the road
I saw a car heading right for me.
I felt no fear;it was too late.
The driver was too drunk to see.
Just before the dread impact
My soul flew up from earth.
I saw this life on a giant screen,
And felt filled with mirth.
If you think you are about to die,
You feel no panic or fear.
But when your head hits the concrete road
Then all these emotions appear.
When that happened I did see stars,
I previously thought that a metaphor.
And soon I was in A and E
The car driver ran out the door.
Off to the USA he went
Cutting short his holiday
So when I got out and found my bike
It needed repair and I had to pay.
I still ride a bike these days
As it’s such a happy sport.
And luckily I have never had
Another dangerous accident
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The anguish and the joy that touch our lives.
No words of mine can potently display
the anguish and the joy that touch our lives;
yet all our ghostly forebears went this way
where words may pierce our hearts like sharpened knives.
No sentient being willingly at first
Accepts the pain that true perception brings.
Yet we must not take hearts to be a curse;
we need not flee from knowledge,though it stings.
Each day demands our thoughtfulness and love
from which all better action gently stems
each day the grace we have is just enough
as through the meta narratives we thumb.
For life’s but a true story we invent,
with passion and with purified intent
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How my heart sings 