Month: December 2014

Pass the butter,dear.

I’ve not seen God yet,but I’ve had burning thrush for a few weeks.
I’ve not seen the light so far but I am getting new glasses for Xmas.
I’ve not spoken in tongues as far as I know but we are eating flesh on Fridays.
I’ve not met any angels recently but a handsome man said if I went round to his flat I’d give birth in about 9 months though to what he never told me.A pariah?
I have just bought an android voice tablet and if I get the app it will recite the ten commandments.It just mewed!
I’m not being very good as I am afraid of being in heaven with all the dull people.
I went in a church once.I had insomnia so the sermon helped me to get off then they woke me up with bread and wine.No butter,though…. funny lot these Christians, but nice with it.
I have volunteered to help the Romeless over Xmas
They say God was an invention but of whom?You couldn’t make it up,could you?

 

I wore a mitten

I was looking at a clothes catalogue just now and thought,
That’s a nice pair of gloves.
When I looked again I saw it was a party dress.
Oh,my.I must need my eyes testing.
I shall be alright as long as I don’t go out in a glove by mistake for a dress.

 

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I went out in a mitten last night
I gave all the neighbours a fright.
They are collecting for me
To buy me some tea….
Now a tea bag would be a fine sight.

Or how about being dressed in some peel
Which off any banana I’d steal.
Then I’d give men the slip
As they slid off my hip
Some days I almost feel real.

All the winter coats are being sold off
As the autumn was not freezing or rough.
But I wear woolen vests,
Which keep off the pests.
Though men are endearingly tough.

My hand is lonely

13:28:14

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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

The requests in the ward

Please do not cry in your bed all day.

Please rise slowly and so not ascend without further advice.

Please sleep on the underside of the bed to keep the linen clean.

Please do not recite Newton’s laws by commotion

Please do not open the windows without remission.

Please do not talk on your phablet all day.We will confiscate it and give you redemption.

Please forgive is  our sins and do not rubbish us again.

No meringues available but free tarts all afternoon with hot fleas.

Outside the hospital,I saw Anne Frank

Abstract summer
Tree of life

Walking through unceasing traffic outside the main hospital,
I saw Anne Frank at the bus stop,I thought
There was a young woman with seven children,
Jewish,I saw.Little ones shyly offering us their seats.
I asked if she lived nearby.
No, we live in Stamford Hill,North London
What a shame you have to come so far,
for this terminus is inside the hospital grounds,you see.
Oh,no!We did not come for the hospital.
We came to pick fruit on that lovely farm down the hill!
Yes,we have been there too, it is very beautiful,I say.
It’s easy enough on public transport,she murmured softly like a little girl.
The children gazed, demure and polite,
I could see their smiles were not so far away.
I asked her,Would it be offensive
if I gave my husband a kippah
as he is tired of his hat?
Not at all,she murmured,smiling.
Why,you can get them anywhere now…Stamford Hill,Golder’s Green
She took off the hat from her son’s head
to show me how white his skin was there.
She told me how they just came back from a seaside holiday.
Too soon ,their bus came.She’d be ready for a cup of tea or two.
I saw eight faces smile,just a little smile,you know;
enough it was and all for me.
The oldest girl waved her hand gently as the bus left.
I see this is not just a place with a hospital.
It’s got a pick your own fruit farm;it’s got woods,hills,
fields with horses,tomato filled greenhouses,large white houses.
When they close their eyes they’ll see the green and the sunshine;they’ll see the woods on the hill.
And I shall see them and Anne Frank too ;it was the hidden smile.
Why,I see it is almost the Mona Lisa too.

A smile can be such a mystery.

Emerging from a hospital,tests,blood,anxiety.,machines,..
it’s like dreaming,
it’s like being given a hint;
there’s another time intersecting with this
and history herself brushes against my cheek
with a rare intimacy
that makes me both smile and weep.
It’s always here,but we don’t see…
It’s not a hospital only;
it’s a doorway to other worlds

and what worlds,indeed.,

 

My furious diction

While I change the sheets words come through my mind.I forget most of them.

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Why,round here,even the sheep are reformed.
Where sheep may safely wave… the meadow by the station.
why even the jeeps drive in circles!
Sheep may safely laze by the old smoke tree.
He shall seed his woks.
In the church hall, even the sheep performed.
Are sheep preformed at birth?
The sheep may lose their maze under the new legislation.
He’s very deservative in many respects.
He’s feeling very grave.
She shall feed her locks.
And she even weeds his socks weekly.
Do you put conditioner on her,ever?It makes things smoother.
My husband is so relaxed.He goes with the low.
He was kept awake all night by the whores.
He said his wife bored all night but not when awake
But should sheep behave?
Up there,even the sheep have horns.
I was afraid of those prams in the Dales.
Why, even the sheep are reborn.
They are baptised by the freaks.
Does my mind leak?
That’s outside my curious diction and the purest fiction.
My suspiction.

Entranced by the dance

Where the sea meets the land
Where the sea meets the land
Flood me with love

I wonder why the geese fly high;

Creating patterns in the sky?

A group enraptured in a dance.

The stunning art of Providence.

I wonder why the trees are tall?

Standing close,we all feel small.

The branches shiver in the breeze.

Ballet of winter,dancing trees

I wonder why the  sun curves round

An arc I see here from  the ground

The sun gives light which softly shines

An Arche de Triomphe for the pines.

I watched the robins as they fed

On our crumbs of seeded bread?

Such sweet songs of love abound!

Life goes round and round and round.

 

Stan meets the new curate

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Stan was reading the paper at 9 pm when,to his surprise,the front door bell rang.Emile,his delightful tomcat who was asleep,nearly jumped out of his warm furry skin.Stan opened the front door cautiously.
“Goodnight,sir.” remarked the handsome man standing there.
“Goodnight?”Said Stan confusedly,”Bur I’ve never seen you before.Are you the sandman who comes to put children to sleep?”
“Good evening,sir.” the man continued,”I’m so sorry my English is so poor.I am , still studying David McChrystal’s Cambridge Encyclopedia of the English Language and I’m still a trifle mystified.”
“What do you want?”Stan asked him.”What do I want?I want to study philosophy,write a novel and meet a stunningly attractive young lady with brown eyes and dark hair.”
“No,no.” said Stan”I mean,why are you here?”
“A good question,why are we here?Do we have a mission in life or are we here as a result of mere chance and happenstance or even serendipity?”
“I mean,why are you here ringing my doorbell at this time of the night?”
“Shouldn’t that be evening,sir?” The stranger enquired sardonically yet politely.
“Look.are you after something?”
“Well,I’m after a young lady at college though so far I’ve not managed to meet her one to one.”
“Well,faint heart never won fair lady!”Stan advised him.
“What’s happening,”called Mary from her study where she was reading a critique of Principia Mathematica for the seventh time.
“God only knows!” said Stan.
Mary came to the front door.She wore a green silk blouse with a jade necklace, a pair of smart jeans from Per Una and some pink trainers with yellow laces.On her face she wore Lancome of Paris light beige foundation,strawberry pink lipstick and purple mascara from Clinique.Her perfume was by Beyonce.Buy all this with one click on the link below.
“Goodnight,madam” said the stranger.
“I think that’s so rude,” said Mary.”If you’ve never met someone before it’s inappropriate to say goodnight.”
“Well,you aren’t in bed,” he replied laboriously.
“What the hell has that got to do with it?”
“Inappropriate is often used to refer to sexual behaviour.”
“Well,for crying out loud,who are you?” she whispered politely.
“I’m the new curate!”
“I’m Polish.”
“Well,I’m sorry I don’t know a single word of it.would you like to speak in Latin?”
“Ite,missa est!”The curate exclaimed.”Uno reductio ad absurdum”Stan muttered.
“That’s Italian,UNO” cried Mary.
“Well,it’s pretty similar.”
“Well,I must go,”said the curate amxiously.
“You’ve not been yet so how can you go?”
“I don’t know,sir.Good evening,good afternoon,good morning.”the red face man screamed as he ran hurriedly down the garden path.
“Are we Catholics now?”Mary asked Stan.
“Oh,I can’t remember,” he said.”Do we go to church?”
“Well,we may be non-practising,I suppose.”
“Perhaps we’d better start practising,” he murmured affectionately.
“Oh,if you insist,” she replied in an unwifely roguish tone.
“That’s right,blame it all on the man.In my experience it’s you who is keener than me.”
“What are you talking about?”she enquired seductively.
Suddenly the door bell rang.It was the curate.”Goodnight” he called.”goodnight”
“Goodnight,” they responded in their reserved English fashion.
“Mioaw” cried Emile,”Mioaw,miaow,miaow.

The only woman in the ward

  • I was in the hospital one weekend.I had gone to A and E on Saturday night with  chest  pain and as there were no consultants they put me in a kind of ward for people with nowhere else to go.
  • After 12 hours they decided I was not in danger so they moved me to a side ward.The thing was there were 3 men in there and no women [this is the norm in emergency cases]
  • I got on my phone and was moaning to my husband.Then the man next to me said he had terminal cancer and was hoping to go to see his son in Australia but caught a bug.So he could hardly walk.The other two on closer examination seemed to be conked out.Still I was glad when another woman was put in.
  • My husband came at 4 pm.They gave him a cup of tea and he said it’s the worst tea he’s had in his whole life.Anfd though I was there as a possible heart case they gave me what tasted like those Fray Bentos tinned steak pies we used to have as poor students… the pastry was like cardboard.The meat was inedible,but I was not hungry.
  • Just seemed odd to have such terrible food.
  • The doctor borrowed my Hello magazine and when I decided to have walk he was reading it in the nurse’s office along with a nurse.Nobody was bothering about the patients.
  • I went in and said,Can I have my magazine.You have had it for 2 hours.
  • Can you believe it would take a junior doctor 2 hours to read that?
  • I rarely see it but my friend had brought it up for me as she thought it would be easier than a book.
  • I still feel sorry I hurt that man’s feelings implying he might attack me but it was 8 years ago so he has  probably passed over.He was  very nice too.

He ate nothing but milk and All Bran

In Mexico lived a wise man
Who ate his food straight from the can.
When he was asked why
He made no reply
for he was eating some milk and All Bran.

Constipation’s a problem to men
Who only eat veg now and then.
If they have no wives
They are risking their lives
As they live on cold pies and fried hen.

Guinness has iron in the beer
Which helps the anaemic to steer.
So drive your car home
While you’re in the zone.
You really have nothing to fear.

Some men live just with a cat.
That is nothing ,as some love a bat.
But cats like to purr
As a man strokes their fur.
A poor bat can’t compete with that.

Men often live with a wife
Whom they married before they had a life.
So they cheat and conspire,
play with ice and with fire.
Till one day she gets out her knife.

Being locked in a prison’s no fun.
If only I had a re-run.
I’d pretend to know naught,
about whom he’d caught.
And find myself another hot one

Thought of the day

Thought of the day

Take a look at this article on sex and the horrible things women , girls and boys suffer

And the image is from the Guardian UK.The child  iin the little photo has been traffickedArjun-Tati-55-and-Mukti-T-011

Making a poem

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.

Destruction

Wakening up,remembering.
The rain falls onto the windows like an angel’s tears
Thinking all the time,it was a bargain they wanted
.. not this…….not this… no,no
Is there a name for this destruction
which destroys also those who commit such acts?

A haunted Europe;Britain
the interfering empire,grasping at the world’s wealth
have made a patchwork out of Eden
Here where man began to be civilised
where we learned to make an aleph bet
and to write on scrolls
where God spoke from the fire
Why is it here that the hate is so strong?
What did we steal from these Arabs
when we bought their oil and made them wealthy
Materially,only; they had the wealth of knowledge and learning; they who invented the abstractions of mathematics?How have they become who they are?

And from those learned Jews when we plundered their religion
their Book and their G-d.
And their mystical traditions and learning..
and scattered them like dust across the diaspora
Our rulers and others thieved like starving beggars
and sat watching as they struggled?
How can religion be used with such cruelty?
The hate they should feel to the West
is transferred to their neighbours.

The wet eyed and heart weary,the strained and tearless too,
those whose hearts are heavy with
the pain of unsheddable tears
They turn again to the mountain
the steep climb continues
Tears water the path and the cold earth
As we look into the heart of darkness
Hoping for a sign
Or at least to be ready for a sign…
Those who have eyes to see,let them see

But he said, “I will not ask; I will not put the LORD to the test

Where patterned snails slip slow

Cracks in the pavement 4

The apple tree,now bare of leaves.
Still bends in worship to the sun.
The sap flows down into the earth
Its fruiting year is done.

Where once a cat sat on the branch,
And children played below,
Now only sparrows hunt for crumbs,
and patterned snails slip slow.

The sun is setting on my left;
where is the slivered moon?
The day is deeper than a dream,
and over all too soon.

Oh,come,my lover,to my bed
And hold me in your arms.
I’ll rest against your fragile chest,
Whilst you enjoy old charms.