Tomatoes ripen on the stem;
Apples hang down low.
Summer riches now and then.
From seeds that once I sowed.
Plant your seeds with care and grace.
Nurture them with love.
Put them in where you have space,
As rain falls from above.
Slowly, and in their own right time,
They will manifest
The form with which they were endowed.
Richness comes at last.
Time for sowing,time for birth
Time for love of life.
Time to scatter seeds abroad.
Time to end our strife.
Do you know how many words English uses?
And often these words may confuse us.
Some are from Greek
Pardonez moi,did I speak?
And Latin is the root of snob-buses.
Terminus is not English to me.
Mea culpa,I’m a Catholic ,you see.
Yet we pray Kyrie
In the Mass every day
Eleison,jubilation’s the key
How do you understand me?
I am trying to see how to be
A useful yet modest
Doctor of non-bodies.
So please take your minds off that tree.
This is not Eden you know.
Despite the fact apple trees grow.
Rhubarb grows too
And the Lord was a Jew.
And where He went, we all must go.
I am speaking in symbols,of course.
I don’t wish to cause you remorse.
But by our sins we are punished,
We either grow or diminish.
Dynamic’s just ecstatic on a horse.
My vocabulary is getting obese.
New words are devoured at life’s feast
But what is sufficient
Or indeed beneficient?
I think my mind needs more grease.
As you see I invent my own words.
To the foreign they may seem absurd.
But our society is free,
So the politicians tell me.
Yet inconvenience is often incurred.
Esperanto never lighted my flame.
It’s the classics teacher whom I blame
For I liked ancient tongues
And never went wrong
Except in learning to spell people’s names.
Youclid is the one I refer to.
And Sockratease cause me despair too.
Plato is easier.
Parmenides is teasier.
‘Arry Stottle dropped his aitch,and proved fair,too!
I once had a boyfriend called Dan
Who owned a large copper pan.
He served eggs in glue
As the aspic had flu
Copper pans beat before Dan began.
When serving a group or a mass,
Let all the niceties pass.
Pasta is fine
With sauces divine.
Desserts are best served in glass.
When cats desire and long to join in
Explain that mice don’t come in tins
And as for the joint
Roast up to a point
If burned,well,that is not a sin,
For sin is not based on our deeds
But from evil motives proceeds.
Were our intentions
Without fear or pretension?
Sin ignores neighbours real needs.
Yet often we act or speak cruel.
Which makes our souls look like fools
We need to reflect
Before the true facts
Then life shines out bright like a jewel
How white and blue together recollect us to the summer sky and the imagined swallows darting in exquisite geometry under the great domed space of the heavens, like the Basilica in Constantinople containing and giving space. And how I held you for a moment that was infinite and then you were gone like an angel fearing enchantment into some finite boundaried world
Out of my depth,I feel the call of the sea,oh,how it calls
To me
The land has fallen away,with a crash and a thud
A shudder in my blood
I should not be here at all.
I am no longer innocent
The lissom child who sat on the edge
For then my ligaments and tendons were loose like grass
Now they are stiff like the salty cords on a rigger in the Baltic sea.
Where could I be that would accommodate my history?
I stand on the edge but not by choice
I was here when it was a strong land
Undone by his hand which I held
Touching the contracted finger gently
And singing.
Don’t go.don’t go, he cried.
I didn’t;
Then he died.
Where have you gone my seafarer?
Out beyond sight in Whitby again
With the salt cured fishermen.
Now they sail North
And never come back,never come back
Never come back to me,though I wait ,I wait by the sea.
But now I stand in a dangerous place
I might walk in space,walk in that space
Walk right over the sea
Till the waves seize a hold on me,but I know
I’ll never let go, never let go
Just so you know that it’s me
Where e’re you foam.
Yellow is the horror of my new love’s hair.
When the coat gets thin;hope wings infernal
Dance for your bladder,my little old lady.
I’ll build me a bullet cabin by your date,
Don’t leave me,vet!
God never paid for any little green apples.
On which drummed hill did live a lass?
Parse cues me,have you got the right rhyme?
My life is guinness free.
When liarish eyes’re beguiling.
Tweet, Jolly fell home.
.Rockets and muskets,alive, alive,so.
Which whirled war are we in now,oh Lord?
Does evil never blend?
Will the end be bright maroon
Have you never been in gov,my boys?
My faults are now the opposite of sin.
For I was taught that women never swore.
Yet is this but a private world I’m in,
Where women love and men, at least ,adore?
No language Anglo-Saxon did we hear
Ensuring we thought not what “fuck” might mean.
Was it related to good luck yet freer?
My mind throws up a lark in moorland scene
The man who was my father greatly loved;
And often sang us into sleep and dreams.
But sadly from this life he was removed.
Leaving me accursed wtrh blocked out screams .
Today I tell my tale in my own tongue
Translated into melody and song
As I was boiling some broccoli on the gas stove I received a phone call from abroad from a man claiming he had information about my computer problems.I had been strokng Alfred who was near me.Suddenly the pan fell over spilling hot water onto my jeans and I screamed.Alfred has disappeared and so has the fraudster.So I am looking at this white starling and wondering if we have any in London or is this one the only one in the world and if so perhaps Mike could become wealthy by charging us all for looking at his photos!!
!They who know how to split the atom but have no love in their hearts are monsters!.Krishnamurti.
I wonder if to be successful now we’d have to be monsters in at lastv a small way..Feelings don’t always carry over into actions though.Apparently 1 in 4 people in our society are psychopaths.It’s not easy to spot them as they are usually very charming.Beware of people who make big demands on you too early in a friendship.And charm is easy to learn especially to be charming online.For then noone can see your eyes
I’ve got emotional claustrophobia and I love to be alone again
I’ve got emotional claustrophobia and I want no more to do with men
I prefer to be with cats and trees;listening to wild honey bees.
So keep clear and don’t sit on my knees; and never kiss me or I’ll sneeze.
I’ve got emotional claustrophobia ,I need much tougher boundaries
So please don’t call on me for tea.I shan’t let you in,you see.
I like dear people very much; but never use me as a crutch.
I prefer to idle near a tree;people are too much for me.
I prefer to see you from afar and learn from my own radar.
I’ve got emotional claustrophobia and severe psychic pneumonia
So come to visit me,one day.But keep the silence for I pray.
I’ll give you cakes and Ceylon tea,as long as you don’t question me.
I’ll fry your bacon,boil your eggs but never show me both your legs.r
And if you want to make sweet love,you must wear a silken glove.
Whisper nothing in my ear and that may just avert my fear.
I must be married first of course so then I’ll have a quick divorce.
Don’t lean on me for I’m not strong and I cannot keep upright long
But you have legs yourself ,you know.So use your own and they will grow
Boundaries are useful too,as keeping clear saves catching flu.
But if you’re lonely use a phone;don’t phone me or I will moan
I now swear and curse a lot;if you see me,don’t forget!
Annie was getting ready to go out with Stan to a Wedding.She wore her newest Autumn/Winter clothes.On her lower half she wore a full,long snakeskin print skirt over a fifties style stiff petticoat whilst on her top half she wore a deep ochre boat necked jumper.Underneath her skirt a pair of chafe prevention shorts gave her extra warmth.She debated for a while about shoes and eventually decided her teal calf length boots from Hotters’ Sale with a pair of socks from Next would suffice,She looked in the mirror.Her freshly washed hair[ with a sulfate free shampoo ] sprang from her head not unlike one of the Gorgons’ distant relatives.
Picking up her full length leopard skin coat from Jacques Vert and her red handbag she ran to the door where Stan stood.He wore a machine washable suit from Marks and Spencer with a blue flowered shirt and striped multicoloured tie from TieRack .His short hair was covered by a woollen hat as they were going to a Jewish Wedding and he did not wish to offend anyone with his bald head.
How does my new makeup look asked Annie?
I can’t see it at all,Stan said shyly.Do I need my reading glasses?
It’s what they call the natural look,she replied.I have got on continuously creamy foundation in light beige over Clarins every day moisturiser and tjeir sunblock Factor 50.
It is so expensive that I can’t eat meat fo a month.
My goodness, Stan moaned.What shade is that lipstick?
It’s called Romantic Rose,she said .but it’s really more a light coral with a hint of red.
As for my eye makeup,it’s the usual purple mascara and teal eyeshadow.
Do you think coral and purple go together? said Stan querulously.
Never mind,she replied,I am more worried about my skirt.Is snakeskin a mistake at a Wedding ?
Oh,no,said Stan.It will remind people of Adam and Eve in Eden.And the snake is also a phallic symbol which seems good..I am just not sure about the leopardskin coat.
Don’t worry she replied I have got a plain dark brown coat in pure new wool here.Shall I wear that?
Stan sat down on a folding chair to wait for her to finish powdering her complexion with MaxFactor Creme powder and topping her lipstick with a thin coat of some preservative so that if she kissed anyone the lipstick would not bleed into the fine lines around her mouth.
Suddenly Stan’s chair folded up and threw him to the ground.
Is it broken ,he asked nervously from the doormat..
No, it’s ok.I don’t want to ring 999 now.Let’s see how it is when we get back.
Right,said Stan.Let’s go before any more chairs collapse or any paramedics arrive.
Waxy flowers poking through Snow so white Flowers bright. Made me think of you. I see once more your dark red hair, Soft as snow, On pillow. Now my bed is bleak and bare , Face alight,flower to sun, I loved you. Love so true. Fear by love,overcome. Cyclamen in the snow, Pink and red, Now frozen,dead. Love was,oh,so long ago. But never gone from in my mind. Thoughts so deep, Upwards seep. Love was gentle,love was kind, Always in my mind
In the land which dreams dwell in where love and hate and life begin; where swiftly the deep rivers flow from those lost lands of long ago. I wander through wild poppy fields Underfoot the dark earth yields…. I see the flowering fruit trees start Their blossoms gather round my heart… I hear the sparrows sing with joy And bees their busy wings employ. In those lost lands I saw your face And now I long for your embrace. Are you real,am I deceived? From this earth we all must leave. Earth to earth and ash to ash Glory,pride and boasting pass. Leave me soon,my dearest one For I,too, will be called on. Just love lasts, but truth is real Keep the to that and your ideals.. Earth to earth, we rest in clay We must give all self away Softly on this earth I roam Seeking still my love and home, for until the very end Love and kindnss may descend. Soft as wings of butterflies Tears well up and wet my eyes. My heart has melted into yours Thus we grow and die like flowers
Only the wealthy can choose freely but does it refer to money or to other forms of wealth like having many friends, having a spiritual life,having a creative mind?It could apply to any of these.I wonder if new saying develop or whether our ancestors were better at creating them than we are?
Have a nice day.dear?
Yes,but the Headmistress bit my head off when I asked for a day of holiday next week/
OMG… where is it?
It’s in this bag.
Well,let’s call an ambulance and see if they can stitch it back on.
Do you know.I think I feel better without it!
Well you can’t go out like that! How will you see with no eyes
God works in mysterious ways.So do I.
Well,I am going to make a complaint.I won’t let this pass by.And she didn’t even eat it.
No,she bit off more than she could chew today.
She must have a big mouth.
And that’s not all.She sleeps with the caretaker as his pay is inadequate.
She’s a tart.
Well,her tongue is tart as I can testify.
Take a bag of sugar round and pour it over her head.
This is quite ludicrous.
I’ll try to do better in future.
Plank you so kuche.
Source: How Do You Know What You Know
Despite everything,we can enjoy the virtue of these late flowers
as we wander past the shops and the people
looking for what we already have.
Alfred didn’t like it when I shut the kitchen door so last week I showed him the cat flap..to no avail.But last night at 10 pm he walked into the sitting room looking very pleased with himself.His tailw as bushy and waving gently.He eventually went for a drink of milk.By yhen I was wondering if he would want to stay here alll night but after a while I could see him outside washing h imself sitting on my garden chair. 
Should someone tell the government that the Royal Family are mainly foreign genetically or does being English pass down through the mother?
Why anyway do we keep calling people foreign?We are all foreign to someone!It’s a question of our viewpoint.How about in the USA.Do they call each other foreign there?
I suppose we evolved to prefer our own families but also that is where there is most violence.So love is not enough,in any case.Most of us hate our nearest ones now and then.
Is it fair for the USA to start wars but not to help the victims caused by the collapsing states in the Middle East.Why don’t they take some of the poor Syrians as well?I expect there are a good number already there and it’s a big country.
If you live in an all white English village and are terrified of Muslims,Jews,Roman Catholics and dogs how about moving to Alston in the Pennines.It’s the highest town in England and probably the coldest so it might not suit people from a hotter climate..You go there and they can stay down here in the lowlands..BTW there are a few bulls roaming free in the Pennine Way!
Original photo in York by my sister Eileen.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jan_Hendrik_van_den_Berg
“The past has a task.As long as this task is not fulfilled,the past will,in spite of every control,appear in the sense of the unfulfilled talk.To be cured means to be able to move.”
“The past is not possession of a past time,the past is what it was,what it is, appearing now.
The past that is real,is real now.It’s being real in this way is not without meaning.The past plays a part;it has to fulfill an actual task for better or for worse.If the past has no task to fulfill,none at all, it will not be there.”
J H Van Den Berg
“A different existence.”
Did God create us for the Shopping Mall
Or to ponder over weight and belly bold?
If he approached would humans hear his call
As prophets did in mystic days of old?
Seeing God or hearing that small voice
May be possible no longer while we spend.
For we look for beauty or advice on what is choice
Instead of rosary,what else might moderns hand?
Instead of tenderness, below, above
We hope to find love handcuffed on the rug.
And promises are lost as well as vows.
Vibrating dildos surround us now like bugs.
God has hidden for we are disgraced.
We forget our lowness and his holy face
An apple bit by woman caused our grief
So ordinary yet an act of will.
To think if she had merely bit the leaf
Sweet holiness would surround each human still.
When Sylvia bit Ted Hughes upon his cheek
She marked him for her future appetites.
Consciously she looked for kind love sweet
But marked him more for evil in her rite.
Jonah was not bitten by the whale
Which let him hide inside her womb-like form
And so he was allowed in her to sail
Until his calling hearkened him go home.
Biting wit and words can also cause much grief,
As caterpillars feast upon a leaf..
Come live with me and be my helpmeet now
I’ll share my only bed with you and how!
If you let me love you
I’ll darn your old gloves 4 you..
If you come and meet me brow to brow.
Come live with me and teach me all you know
About poetic licence and Soho
I’ll mend your vacuum cleaner
And learn expressions meaner.
How cheerfully the hours to come will go,
Come live with me and be my lover true
Without one,how will we ever do?
I’ll set up model railways
And learn the Jewish weekdays
Come live with me and I will sweep your flue.
Come live with me in Norway on a fjord
I’ll mend my Canon powershot if I’m bored.
I’ll watch the flowers growing
And then we must be sowing.
How happy Wittgenstein’d be if he’d knowed.
Where e’er there’s loam,cool dudes will plant their feet
Goodbye ,my glove, forever.I’ll never buy another you.
Socks in last year’s theme derided.
Fail who abhor the swings of Rawmayshing.
Some her,my love? What her?Oh,her.Ooh,her!
Raise and hold the wings of Bevin.For we won’t see him no more.
Scarlet women,for their hair.
God never made those little green nipples.
Where the crew sucks,planes don’t fly
Build me a pillow haven by your gate,
Do sue or not to sue.That creates tension.
My mind is filled with love and also with transcendental. irrational and plain non-vulgar numbers. by the infinity aleph null at least.
Are figures always better than deeds?
The entire class of pupils who sat the exam does not intersect with the set of those who have gained a pass in mathematics 101.In brief,you’ve all failed. and Venn diagrams can soften the blow.Never heard of them?Feeling scared of them.Go and find another double of you,W.
Logic cannot prove bread.
Yeast can invade your comb.Then we call it dandruff.So if you are making bread,now is your opportunity….
The heart can misrule all but the fool.For he has persisted in hos folly.
Delilah cut my hair too.
Moses saw a burning dish.Was it King Alfred’s cakes?I have never mastered history and fates.
Why where there so many doors in Babylon?
Why does God roast people and not potatoes?
A force,a force, my quink’s gone and I’m hoarse.
Why did Henry 8th not admit he was an illegal immigrant illegitimately descended from one of the louses of Lancashire such as John of Gaunt? I mean,telling lies is a sin is it not? What is not a sin,nowadays?See three blind mice.
The skirt that I wore,that I wore,that I wore
The dark blue skirt that I ,I I wore,wore wore.
I wore no hat
The skirt that I wore to your, your, your funeral service
Your funeral,the skirt I wore…that day,that live long day..
The skirt that I wore has vanished away
Since the old man decided he’d die.
It hung very well,very well indeed
It hung very well,shall we say?
It hung very well and draped elegant I pray
When the coffin came inside,came inside ,inside…
An now it has gone,like a flag torn from its pole
It’s gone to its home high above
Across the blue sky,it seemed to want to fly
On that very hot day, on that day, I say.I say!
When we sent you,my dear,far away,far away
It’s not a surprise that the skirt has flown so gay.
For such was its nature and way,oh,its way ois own way
The colour was so stunning
Black yet blue,becoming…
It turned the heads of the men,oh the men
So instead of saying,Sorry!
They said,May we meet tomorrow?
And this to my widow’s weeds,Indeed.indeed,indeed.
.Oh,leave me alone, like a toad under a stone
I’ll never love a man again,again,again,again
I have given away my heart
And the deep hole is full of hurt
It pains me to think he has gone.
Has he gone?
No,don’t go.
Has he gone?
No,oh no ,John
I saw him in his chair
But my hands passed through like air
And empty was my fond embrace..
Yet smiling was his face as he saw me dressed in lace
A wedding he wanted it to be,in my dreams,
my dreams and schemes
But it was but a sad yet well right end
To the time here on earth that he did spend
Spend,spend,spend
A working and a loving for a while.
So if you see me smile,I do not you beguile
I am dreaming about what gives me joy yet truly hurts
That divine dark blue skirt and my jacket of jet black
Have gone in search of him,yet again,again
So high in the sky, with the square root of minus pi
For ever they will fly,they will fly, oh fly!
A sign of heavenly love
Yet heaven was not above
But down here with my dove.
A weeping I’ll ever be,
For I shall never feel or see
his tender touch on me
A weeping and a wailing for a year.
His foot on the stair, his benevolent ,wide eyed stare
Oh,love,oh love,my dear.
Oh love where have you gone?
You were a kindly one
For ever I’ll be rent
My skirt tore into two
After your big do
So out of the window it flew,oh how it flew
And now I’ll never see
My skirt and mon ami.
In desolate devotions I shall be.
Adieu,mon petit.
You were such a darling treat.
Till we meet again
Tot ziens
Later, my dear one
I too shall be gone but will we meet again?
How my heart sings 
