midsummer days evoke the trance-like past

where children played in joyous, daisied fields

with buttercups so bright the memory lasts

a freedom that our conscious growth will steal.

those stones and leaves and many colored flowers

were gathered into images that glow

yet later we forget those treasured hours

when for a while we lived in life’s deep flow

we did not look and see,but felt at one

we lived as did the birds high in the trees

now we see and write yet experiencing has gone

we  forget to  live like flowers filled with bees

to lose ourselves in nature is a joy

which to our adult selves we must restore

I have grown so conceited I have begun following my own blog.

I am so  vain I never look in the mirror, to avoid temptation.

I like to stroke my own head but people may think I am narcissistic…If they can spell it.

I comb my hair only once every week to avoid disturbing the insects.They are my friends,in a very itchy sense.

If I am rude please tell me as I like to  learn  good manners now I’m too old to enjoy anything else except sniffing glue.

I am so kind I comb the cat’s hair as the hairdresser refused.Well,I get pleasure from it even if the cat doesn’t and  who  buys its food?

I  enjoyed the Latin Mass but they abolished it…what has the Pope got against me? I think he’s so selfish I’ll never confess my sins again,I’ll just enjoy them  or abandon them

[Art by my sister]

We were sitting as usual by the window
gazing at the wintry trees
You began to cry out;
The house is under attack,
A storm is coming .
The glass windows will shatter
We’ll be stabbed.
We’ll be injured
We’ll be killed I must get out

Looking out .I saw only the calm bare branches
Of the maple
And two wood pigeons in the fir tree
were chuckling to each other.
The wind had not changed.

I know it’s midwinter with the bitter
breeze with an edge to it like a knife.
The sun low like lemonade in an almost emptied glass.
Semding light through the forsythia onto the  bent old fence.

I turned to you puzzled
Reached out my hands to comfort;
But you shouted
Keep away
as you got your thick coat out
and ran from the back door right into the dark woods.

If there was real danger,why did you desert me?
Years later you told me of bad news you’d had.
Seemed like the inside and outside got confused.
I became a Fascist.I was a flaxen Anglo-Saxon.
I was Hitler’s grand-daughter.
I was a descendant of the Borgia Pope.
A witch , a demon, a torturer.
You believed that
I would break my glass; cut your face
with the jagged edges amd laugh
like  we once saw in a film.

Unlike in  science,
We can’t go back and repeat the experience
as if it were an experiment.
See if we were drawing the right conclusions

If you’d stayed a few minutes more
You might have realised
You were half asleep
And dreaming.
It was a daymare that escaped.

Once gone,you  never returned
To the house where it seemed the glass broke
into shards and cut you to shreds.
And a possessed woman loved you.
I don’t blame you
though I weep.
We are often deceived by our imaginations
We see not what’s here
But what we most fear.
And flee the human contact
Which alone might help.

I always leave the door ajar
And some food on the kitchen table;
In case you come back hungry and tired.
It was your mind that shattered,not the glass…
And that’s much harder to mend.
But it can be done
If you stop fighting.
And let the inner seas flow free.
You need a hand
But it also frightens you.
Besides, my hand is not strong enough to hold you.
Only to touch you gently
To say how sad I am

Continue reading “When can we talk about Israel? [from Big Think}” →

A man is intuitively as wrong his bleakest thinking
A change of mood might be a test or a wonder.
The devil is only  man’s best fiend
A blog is a human’s testing  field
A drowning man will clutch at a see saw 
A n evil wish in its ways corrupts not  just the head but the  art 
A fool and his heir are soon parted with my truth comb
A friend in deeds is a friend who plants seeds
A folding key can only  open a folding door
A house divided against  itself  must not stand  over the cracks in this pavement as it may cause an interpretation following a transference  pure gnosis
My Waitrose card stopped wanting long a groan
My credit card has expired and will be buried tonight.Please come with both money and love.
The dog died last week  and now the fleas have flu… or is it floan?
I am  the only woman with a discredit card.Wink at my repution today.
He said he would uncredit me with a £100.Has he not heard of negative numbers?
Percentages are very misconceiving

I misperceived him as well as he was allowing a schism in his mind

He deceived me more than most as I am too naive with men..I assume they  have hearts not just arteries.They are veined too!

This is just some ideas for making a poem later on

Why don’t we talk more gently?
Why don’t we look more intently/

Why don’t we live  presently ?

Why were the poppies growing so wildly?
Why were the battlefields growing nightly?
Why did we murder  men so lightly?
Why did we not love more rightly?
Why are the poppies  covering the soil  so  politely?
When did the young  soldiers   leave so frightfully?

I can’t see the image uploader.Have they changed the software