Day: April 6, 2014

Perverse and presigned

A few weeks ago I wrote about my way of writing.I can add to that a few lines.I wrote this in Word online which is part of outlook..Sky drive etc.Then I copied it and  put it into my other blog.When doing that I felt tempted to alter lines 4 and 5 which were

some even texted

so now i write verses which rhyme.

Then some imp got into me to change that into

some even pretexted

so now i’m perverse and pre-signed…

Every time I move some writing I want to change it and play with it. so sometimes it seems like nonsenses.Is that why some poets are thought to be crazy I wonder?

LC3_3831

 

LC3_3462

I used to like writing long poems
I loved to write free without rhymes.
But my readers objected
Some even pre-texted
So now I’m perverse and presigned.

I wonder what it’s like to be a writer
As I sit by the fire on this tomato..
I’d like to understand
where poets keep their hands
Do they grip their mind tighter and tighter

If I go

Image

If I go I won’t tell you.
I’ll just disappear one day.
Like when a cigarette ,which seemed so long,
suddenly has become smaller
and you never noticed it
because you were talking
about the meaning of life
while life was somewhere else
blown away with your smoke
into the sky
and then dispersed
never quite visible again
but still floating on the breeze
hoping to be caught
in a butterfly net
but unable to communicate
except by flying.
If I go it will not be today
but it will be an ordinary day
no one will realise
that it’s that day
that the bird flies
from her nest
to go to a new place
only seeing the deserted nest
he realises,
my bird has flown

Oh,John Joe Brown,you were my man

Oh,John Joe was a jolly man.
He was the one for me.
He had ten fingers on his hands,
And always on my knee,

Oh,John Joe was my husband dear,
He slept upon my bed.
He had ten toes upon his feet,
No man was better bred.

Oh,Dear John Joe did pass away,
Whilst he lay on the grass.
And now ~I have no one aside of me,
How slow the night hours pass.

I love John Joe with all my heart,
I’ll never love a man
The way I loved my dear John Joe.
I don’t believe I can,

I read a twenty dozen books,
And went for therapee.
But all I want is my John Joe
In bed aside of me.

Oh come back John,Oh come back Joe
Don’t you leave me here.
Oh,John Joe I can’t live without
MY husband lying near.
Oh,life’s so simple,life’s so clear,
We all need work and love,
I have my work cut out today
A grieving for my dove
.
Oh,John Joe Brown,you were my man.
I’ll not have any more.
I wish I lay within your arms
Were oft I’ve lain before.

I’ve never lain wi’ noone else
And never will again,
If I can’t have my sweetheart John,
I’ll not have any man.

Oh,come back John,Oh,come back Joe
Don’t lay down in the grass.
I’ll bake thee cake and mutton pies..
So sweet the hours shall pass.

Uncontrollable passion

We have no Observer todayLC3_3921
Oh,dear what a calamity!
But reading it’s like a prayer
So I always do that with alacrity.

I usually read all the letters,
And check on the leaders’ acuity.
I admire the bright crossword setters…
As my mind is a nest for vacuity.

As always I check out the fashion
And advice on my sex life and organs
I am too old for unconrollable passion
Or to have sex before work in the mornings.
..
I suppose we could get laid after dinner…
but the big death is more and more likely.
I remind God we humans are all sinners
In the hope he will let me off lightly.

Well,do you think loving’s a sin now?
Are wars and killings more virtuous?
Or how about beating one’s brow?
Being saintly is even more tortuous.

A wonderful review of J G.Ballard and his novels..

Do read this if you like literature and novels

IMG_0354

http://www.theguardian.com/books/2014/apr/04/jg-ballard-celebration-five-years-writers-books-reissued.

I have not yet read all of his novels but I really liked his works.He had a very hard life in amny ways including bringing up three tiny childre alone and he proves that smoking and drning do not always kill you in middle age!
Blue