Month: April 2015

Himmler film on BBC

There was a film on TV this week made in Germany about Himmler.It was only 1 hour but it affected me profoundly..probably not a great idea this week but His Majesty wanted it [ the day before I had to carry him to the doctor’s]
The worst moments for me were
fire
1 Seeing a Synagogue on fire with flames bursting through the roof.
I am no longer a Christian in the traditional sense but I do know that Jesus would have prayed in a Synagogue and to me destroying them and killing millions of Jews trying to wipe them out is also an attack in Christianity and on God [ whatever that may mean to each of us.]
2 Seeing the first people/soldiers enter Auschwitz and finding the dead and the living sitting thin as skeletons, and not moving,
Industrialised genocide on the ancient people who gave us the Ten Commandments…..
Is that why they were killed? Because they heard God speak and they could write their stories when we were very far from that level of civilisation.Even now the image that burning Synagogue haunts me.I saw in this film how the Nazis defined Jews as sub human which is the opposite
of what they are as ironically they seem to be of above average intelligence if we look at Nobel prizes and other measures of genius.
We will not be watching Adolf Hitler tonight… because of our health.I would like to see it but have to keep going….can’t collapse right now.
I know it’s the 70th anniversary of the end of that war and Europe is not in good shape now,not to mention the Middle East.
If only they had had no oil how much better their lives would have been as we went there and are still there for that.

My sister

Trying to keep a hold of you;
trying to keep a hold of you.
Don’t go,
Don’t go.
I’ll not let you fall down that gap.
I’ll always try to pull you back-
Little sister.

You slipped so far away from us.
You slipped because you knew you could.
You saw a gap and fell right down.
You were serious,my little clown.
Come back now.
Come back now.
My baby.

I sang all those songs for you,
But I needed our mother too.
A mother too.
If only I’d been stronger…
Stronger,stronger..
Would you have stayed here longer?
Longer,longer.
Little sister.

As you rocked in your little chair,
the demons of the past were there.
Your blue eyes shone,
Then you were gone.
My sister.

I saw you in a long blue gown,
With a golden halo all wrapped round.
You smiled and said you didn’t know
That I had really loved you so.
You were sorry you had to leave like that,
And would I kindly feed your cat.
My sister.

When I woke up,the dream was gone;
But life and work must still go on.
If only I’d been grown and strong,
On this earth you’d still belong.
Little sister.

I sang the song that you once sang,
But felt my tears made it go wrong.
Once you smiled and laughed with me.
Life was not all black,I see.

Sisters,sisters three.
Now it’s two,just you and me.
But when we meet,a shadow’s there-
I see a flash of her dark hair,
Our sister,sister,sister.
A gap remains for grief to fill
and on we mourn till hearts are still.
One day we’ll die too
And perhaps then we’ll be with you.
Little sister.
My sister.

Our Father

Our Father,Stars in Heaven,
Spell out thy Great Name.
Thy wisdom comes
And Angels’ sums
Add up our human pain.
Thy love is felt,
Though we live in doubt
About the human game.
Give us delay
On bankers pay,
And forgive us our lackluster efforts
As we forgive those who lack humanity with us,
And guide us into a Demonstration
To make plain to the Nation
The evil done to the Poor,
The Disabled,the Mentally Ill,
And their Carers.
For Thine is the Trial
At the Hour of the Bible Story
We hope but are nervous.Amen

Never no more

Got heart trouble?
Feeling down?
Ring the BHF
And you’ll feel positively suicidal!

Still here?
Forgotten how to use your angna spray?
Need a little help?
Ring the BHF
They’ll give you a kick up the bum

Like nurses?
Want to talk to one?
Ring the BHF Helpline
And you’ll never want to talk to a cardiac nurse gain!

Does God live there any more?

Come here,Mary,come here quick,
‘Cos your Daddy’s really sick.
Run as fast as fast, you can,
Get the priest, get Father Dan.
Run,run went my eight year old feet,
Down the lane and up the street
I ran right up to Father’s door,
[Does God live there any more?]
“Come please,Mam said Daddy’s ill”
“Oh”,said Father,”that I will.”
Revving up his motor bike
With The Sacrament beside.
He lifted me up onto the back
And roared off up the church side track
It was the best thrill of my life…………
If only Daddy had not died.

Life struck twice

Millicent thought life should be fair.
So to suffering she laid herself bare.
When evil struck twice
She developed such vice.
She swore and she cursed without fear.

.

Life is not a boardgame for kids.
We have boxes without any lids.
Pandora’s was one
From which evil has come.
Life’s a gamble whatever the odds.

God’s not controlled by our prayers.
Earthly love cannot be without fear.
Prayer gives us courage
And limits the damage
Acceptance saves us from hot tears.

Your blue eyes

Those dragonflies
Your blue eyes
Lawns with daisies
Poetic phrases
Sparrows cheeps
No mobile bleeps .
Foxes eyes
Scrutinize.
Let me be.
Don’t squash me
BBC
Poetry
Earl grey tea.
Rabbits run.
Let’s have fun,
Knitted hats.
Tabby cats
Hot coal fires.
Deep quagmires
Lambs and sheep,
Lover’s leap.
Windermere
Glass of beer.
Sun on hills
Watermills

The Sunday Salon: Some Tame Gazelle

This seems a very nice website

Becca's avatarBecca's Byline

Some tame gazelle, or some gentle dove:

Something to love, oh, something to love.

~Thomas Haynes Bayly

Ah, something to love. That is indeed a major focus in Barbara Pym’s delightful novel, Some Tame Gazelle, in which we find a small clutch of English matrons looking for someone on whom to bestow their ardor. For Harriet Bede, it’s the village curate of the day, the hapless young man who has been assigned to their parish and by default becomes the objet du jour of Harriet’s affection. In today’s parlance, she would be called a cougar for the merciless way she flirts with the young men. But in the confines of the 1950’s when this novel is set, there’s something rather sweet about it- even though Harriet keeps refusing the marriage proposals of the ever so proper Count Bianco, who would be a perfect match.

And then there is Harriet’s…

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The pirhana monologues

Hello,can you put me through to the vulva clinic?
We have no vulgar clinics here.
I said vulva
Oh, the valve clinic?
Not heart valves…
What tyre valves?
Surely you don’t treat bikes?
I run a little business on the side.
I have a little vulva right in the middle and I want to speak to the clinic.
Vulva is a very rude word.
Worse than shit?
Well. it depends on what scale of measurement you use
Like nominal,ordinal,interval or ratio?
I suppose it must be nominal.Like some privileges
We need to weigh our words then we can use a ratio scale like the scale of measurement for height…
But nobody is of zero height!
You don’t know.They could be here but we can’t see them except as marks on the floor…
So vacuuming is cruel as these folk of zero height would get sucked up.
There’s no way of falsifying it.
There’s no way of verifying it…
So it’s not rocket science.
It’s not rude.
Anyway there’s a play called the Vagina Monologues.
If they called it the Vulva Monologues it could sound like vulgar.
How about the Diviner Monologues?
Sounds good to me…
Regina,diviner,vagina,pirhana.,… where are ye?
Some men there are teeth in there that will bite off their penis…
You have to laugh or else you’d cry.
BTW what is that vulva number?
It’s in the maternity unit,as was.
Well put me through
OK no need to get aeriated.Live and let live…
It’s all nominal on the end

In risky times

When desperation makes us seek for aid
When help is needed yet it is not given/
When torment holds us till  our souls arw flayed..
When we are weary;when in pain we’ve striven

In risky times, who stamps upon this hand
That keeps me anchored to a cliff’s hard edge?
Who seems to cast me off from this dear land
And even from this final tiny ledge?

We discover Charities exist
To further staff careers and gain more “dough.”
Yet should they not be able to assist,
When humans ask for help when feeling low?

My heart is heavy,pulling me to earth.
And yet upon no person   shall  I curse

Where countless humans prayed

Maybe you didn’t know

When you touched me so.

Maybe you scarcely knew

What your words would do.

I float across that space

Where lovers once embraced

And thus you brought torment

To me to whom love you sent.

When I close my eyes

My daytime face then dies.

I look across dark seas

To sacramental trees.

My dreams are full of loss.

Is night or day the worse?

If you return here

Will love outstrip your fear?

I gaze upon your face,

not wishing to embrace

My arms ache deep inside,

As if in agony tied.

Torn apart by grief.

Love is now a thief.

Where has God’s face gone

As brightly shines the sun?

The pains of life are sharp,

Cutting tender heart

But still we turn towards love,

With all the strength we have.

Trusting in the dark,

Trusting my own heart

I step into the void.

where countless humans prayed

The butterfly

The butterfly is like a flower
which moves its station every hour.

Oh,happy is he on the wing.

The vision makes me quick to sing.
The flower is open in the sun,
And to its heart, true love shall come.
The bees shall feast and fly replete
With nectar they are now full sweet.
I sing of color and of love,
Blessings that rain down from above.
I wish to be a sweet  flower too.
Ah,that the bee could but be you.

Puck of Robin Goodfellow

If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber’d here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend:
if you pardon, we will mend:
And, as I am an honest Puck,
If we have unearned luck
Now to ‘scape the serpent’s tongue,
We will make amends ere long;
Else the Puck a liar call;
So, good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.

Oscar,my cat

 When Oscar sits on the window sill
And sees someone within,
His mouth opens wide in soundless cry
He gives us his cat grin.

Oscar rubs around my legs.
He’s such a friendly soul.
He next rolls round upon his back,
He waves his long striped tail.

But after Oscar’s greetings done
He goes to do his rounds
He sets off  from the white back door
To the long thin garden’s end.

Every inch of soil and plant
Is subject to his nose.
The garden looks the same to us,
But he can sense much more.

I wish that Oscar cat could speak
And tell us what he’s found.
Ten thousand spiders weaving webs,
A slow worm on the ground.

A million ants climb up the rowan,
I sometimes watch them too,
I see the wasps and honey bees
In this small rural zoo.

The hedge hogs have long been gone
But we have diverse birds
Oscar sits on our tall stool and watches them for hours,

Incarnation:The way you inhabit it

you are not your body,
but the way you inhabit it;
the way you encourage or discourage
the circulation of feelings through flesh.
you are not your body
but how you become incarnate through it.
how you let go the angels of the high blue sky
the way you become willingly enfleshed
you are not your heart
but the way you open it;
resembling perhaps a grateful flower in sun;
or the way you clench it and turn away
so it turns to stone instead.
you are not your mind
but the way you trust it;
the way you receive new ideas,
and open up to hear and attend;
the way how,like water, you are willing to take more in
or to give it out;
the way you accept the images thrown up
and recognise them
they are who you are
who we all are
connected by the great Mind of the universe
which is more like a watercolour than a surveyors’ diagram
you are not the stones and pebbles of the river bed
but the flowing water,the fish darting and the movement
and the way you let go
as you enter the great sea.
the way you are one and many;
the way you trust and love;
the way you flow on;
the way you disappear and yet are always part of all

Evening humor

Cyborgs R Us.

P1000194 4

Clothes for the Cy.

Top Hats for Cyjews
Cy’s metal horseshoes.
Clotted memes.
Epsilon Beaux’s Arts.
Pre-trained shoes.
Knickers and Knockers
Devices 4 All.
Dutch letters.
Love for the Shy Cy.
Waiting room only.No exit.
Hell’s Incisors: please walk in.
Adult potties.
Excitement for Dummies etc

How you wrote

Image

You are a notorious and naughty person
You love both cursin’ a swearin’
You look like a crane.
Bei mir bist du shayn:
Because you’ve still got your hair on.

You have eyes like pools of  spring rain,

with a certain proud disdain.

Despite woe and pain,
Bei mir mist du shayn,
Because you’ve still got your brain

You have ears like small sideplates.
And you guzzle like a goat.
Your hair is a mane
Bei mir du shayn
Because I liked how you wrote

I’ll never heed your blues again

No,I’ll never feel a man again.
No,I never rob a duck again.
No,I’ll never wet a pen again.
No,I’ll never drink your wealth again.
No,I’ll never flay a prayer again.
No,I’ll never post your litter again.
No,I’ll never fly at night again.
No.I’ll never write a ruin again.
No,I’ll never whistle to your rues again.
No,I’ll never bike your path again,

The dog’s grave needs weeding

I have to iron my husband tonight.

To be frank,I don’t like you much but I’d never say so

I have to feed my bugs now
Sorry,i am washing the cat’s hair right now.
Sorry,I have to faint later  in the kitchen
I have to press my husband weekly
The television needs watering.
The dog’s grave needs weeding
I have gone blind so cannot read your email.
I am dead so don’t write again.
You don’t believe I’m dead… it was you who cut me!
I told you,I’m dead

Why will they never believe what they read?
I rue the day I set eyes on your face.I should have used aspic jelly

The spirit swoops down like a bird

I think my vocation is sacred.
I keep seeing visions of God.
He’s like a bright light
Exceedingly right
I’d photograph Him if I could.

I have a calling to follow
I just do not know the details
I pray and I wait.
By yonder lychgate
Do vocations ever get into the Sales?

I would like it if I could buy one
I’ll give you the money I’ve saved.
Sell my idea?
My dear,no fear!
Just consider how well I’ve behaved.

Everyone has a vocation
To be who they know that they are.
Yet I am not me
Without you to be
Here in my arms by the fire.

I’ll get an answer tomorrow
As I dream of God during the night.
She will give me an image
And the much needed courage,
To go on till I see the Light.

The problem is one of translation,
For God speaks in symbols not words
Symbols are wells
in which truth dwells.
And the Spirit swoops down like a bird.

Why not find your vocation?
It’s possible whatever our age.
Attend to your dreams
and how yor life seems
Vocations will make us engage.

Odd tampered

I have no signs of humour or strife
I can’t do septic crosswords.
I can’t understand cars’ tunes.
I never meet anybodies lies when walking.
I can’t empathise with brothers.
I once laughed at a croak.
They say I’m odd tempered mostly.
My best end is a psycopath.
Psychopaths should have their own state,Psychoriel.
I am afraid of regression to the mean and stingy.
I hate frigidity in the kitchen
I like to weep all hours of the day
I have boundary value challenges.
I found an hymn tost her last night
Do you have a sealed self?
Where is the depredation?
What does it all scheme?

Unrow the boat

It’s as flawed as it’s wrong.
That lady’s not stopped burning.
Bloody queen in the dairy!
I may be a woman but I am the tart of a man.
King Alfred burned his mistakes.
William The Bonker,erh!
Ethel fed the unsteady readily.
Daniel ate the spiles in the paws of a lion.
Ariel is the lion of whodunnits.
Judas was the nigger in the wood pile.in a very real  non -pc sense
St Joan was killed by the jingles.
Queen Victoria gave worth to many hairs.
King George enjoyed spouts of madness
King Edward like a whore to study Greek and Hebrew and recite the ten Amens before rowing the bed out of the Windows 8.1 configurated laptop

Jesus likes my behaviour.

St Paul wrote with a pistol

St John was a man of one Word.

James and John love the Magic round about

Then choose one

My mother was a lady of skilful wealth
She used to shop in Harrod’s,right from the shelf
She stole China tea as it’s good for the health
Mother had a most peculiar  sense of self.

She liked to study the stars and moon
So many dark nights were spent in gloom
Yet for her husband it was a boon
As her presence spread a feeling of deepest doom.

She ran away one day  with cunning stealth
Society blamed her unsense of self
She’d met a young man whom she called Ralph.
Who gave her many children of whom I’m the twelfth.

So, remember, the moral of my tale is none.
Love the neighbours,then choose one.
He’ll give you  some daughters and a son
Now my verse is almost     …….. gone.

What is desirelessness?

Abstract+blue 3

I used to wonder why desire was regarded as a bad thing in Buddhism.After all to be without any desire might be a symptom of deep depression..
But later I came to realise that if we are too focussed on our desire for one person or one object or one feeling that this sharp focus would prevent one from perceiving many other things.So perhaps it’s a change of focus that is intended.I can imagine that if you desire one person who may not be interested then you miss seeing all the other people near you.
Sometimes we have to use a narrow focus to do a task.In mathematics you’d expect a narrow focus but the reason why stopping and going for a walk works is that it widens your focus; that’s my point of view.

The missing manual:A short story

lily pond 2IMG_0289

Mary sat by the window ,which she had meant to clean, reading Windows 8.1.The Missing Manual.The one great advantage of this new Windows system was that it seemed one no longer needed to instal anti-virus programmes.So much time is taken up by looking after older versions that Mary was not surprised that Chromebooks were now very popular.Yet even so,she enjoyed learning new skills and it’s not as if they are like the theory of quantum physics or even nonlinear algebra or baking cakes.

Stan had taken Emile ,their naughty cat for a spin on his old sports bike which he still used when wild ,crazy feelings came over him and as they were only a mile from the edge of the mysterious town of Knittingham they were soon cycling through a deep green, quiet forest where Kings once hunted deer and no doubt chased women… or was it chaste women?
Mary had decided to stay at home as she was expecting a new vacuum cleaner to arrive.She kept one eye on her book and the other on her neighbour Rick who was very handsome despite being 113 years old.He was hanging his washing on his large front hedge which was unusual in winter.Most of the people in the road had tumble dryers or heated rails.Some even hung their washing outside on lines to let the blustery winter air dry it and kill the germs which might survive in a low temperature machine wash

Maybe I should do some washing ,Mary thought.How about I do my annual sheet changing.I made a big mistake deciding it was to be in the winter,but,alas it is hard to change a routine.Am I a cyborg,she thought nervously,licking her lips till they were damp and red.
Maybe I should clean the kitchen floor too,she thought as she drew an elongated ellipse with some mud that had fallen of Stan’s shoes as he passed by.She looked down pensively at the pattern the mud had made on the lino.I wonder if I can predict our fortune by studying this pattern deeply,she wondered.Some people do it from the tea leaves at the bottom of the cup,so why not from mud.There seemed no logical reason why mud splatters should be worse than tea leaves.It is simply a pattern through which the Unconscious can send a message to us.
Why it could not speak in ordinary language nobody knew and nobody ever will.Not all questions have answers.How strangely dull life would be if that were so.Don’t you agree?I don’t.

Sundial

.Mary had just seen a short story relating a dream a woman had that she had fallen in love with a strong healthy hippopotamus and taken it home.Unfortunately when they went to bed the weight of the animal had made the solid oak bed collapse onto the purple and orange carpet.Unable to give up her love,she had spent the rest of her life trying to build a new bed out of sawdust.It seemed not unlike the labours of Hercules in a new form

Mary was sceptical.I can’t believe a woman could love a hippopotamus,even in a dream,she murmured.But even if it was not a dream but a conscious invention,what did that say about the person writing it?That she always fell in love with men who were too heavy for her and who pulled her down onto the carpet to make love whenever they felt the urge regardless of whether she was as flat as a pancake or even dead
A lion,yes, Mary mused,but never a hippopotamus.I mean,they have no expressions on their faces and could they drink tea in bed and chat?Unlikely.Still, other people’s dreams are a mystery.Even our own are but we can sometimes take the hint.
Suddenly she heard the doorbell ring.Who could it be now?
Alas it was only a Mormon trying to convert her which was no good as Catholics can’t be Mormons as well.They are what one might call mutually exclusive groups.As I have no wish to teach algebra I shall stop here.However if that disappoints you,why not read

“A survey of modern algebra ” by Birkhoff and MacLane.I did and see what has happened to me!

 lighter tree

Birthday Bash Part Two: Thomas Becket, Eastbridge Hospital, and Pilgrimage

An interesting post with superb photos of Canterbury.. take a look

Jane Risdon's avatarJane Risdon

Canterbury Cathedral (c) Jane Risdon 2015Canterbury Cathedral (c) Jane Risdon 2015

Part Two of my belated birthday bash as promised.

As you may or may not be aware, in addition to my love of writing, reading, archaeology, astronomy, and the sciences, I have a passion for history which I share with my siblings, and one in particular, my youngest brother. 

My youngest brother and his partner spoiled me rotten during a fantastic weekend spent with them celebrating my belated birthday.

Part One of my birthday bash found me having a look around Canterbury Cathedral with a special treat;

seeing the tomb of a family ancestor, William Warham, Archbishop of Canterbury (1503-1532).

I wrote about our visit to Canterbury Cathedral last time, and I posted photos I took.

William Warham Archbishop of Canterbury 1503-1532 (c) Jane Risdon 2015William Warham Archbishop of Canterbury 1503-1532 (c) Jane Risdon 2015

We had a fab time wandering around Canterbury, especially the pubs which my brother made a point of taking me in to. 

Those buildings with history and…

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Hyperbole of the day

Her brain is the size of a pea.

6378673_f260

Her legs are like the trunks of oak trees.

Her eyes are like the oceans
Her tears make skin lotions;
I mix them with the stings from a bee.

Her smile is like daybreak at night.
She has phenomenalogical sight.
She’s an author de haute
I love toute ses mots
Existentially, this is all very trite

His head is as big as the sun
He has four eyes  and they can all run.
His feet are like lead
And so is his bed.
Yet he’s quite  as chaste as  an  old hot cross bun.

My cat is as big as lion
I call her Ms Ariel from Zion.
She bites foxes and sheep
And made a dog weep.
I am unsure if she ought to stop tryin’

Learning:
Phenomenology (from Greek phainómenon “that which appears” and lógos “study”) is the philosophical study of the structures of experience and consciousness.
Phenomenology (philosophy) – Wikipedia, the free …
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Phenomenology_(philosophy)

An iota

I felt quite depressed after birth
As I didn’t like the look of the earth
But mother was kind
And kept me in mind
Without showing an iota of mirth.

I liked to sit outside in my pram
Whilst eating her strawberry jam.
Our cat sat by me
Till she swallowed a bee.
Then she shrieked,I don’t think yet I am.