Day: November 10, 2015

No more than ninety two.

I used to love my father
Until he went away.
They said he’s with the angels
and small girls ought to pray.
And then I loved the cat we had
And all four kittens too…
Until my mother got fed up
and sent them to the zoo.
I said I am disheartened
Life is far too hard…
or else I’m hypersensitive
and must become a bard.
I loved a Spanish waiter.
A young man from Peru.
I loved a lot of others–
No more than ninety two.
That is just an estimate
An average, a norm.
It’s what I told the doctor

When he filled out a form

He said to me,You err,my dear
And I mistook his speech
I thought he meant he loved me.
But he just meant to teach.
What he meant was quantity
is not what we desire..
One man is sufficient
Unless he is a liar.
And in the darkness of the bed
What matters is their smell.
Some men smell like honey..
much more I cannot tell
for though these men pursued me
I had such poor eyesight
I didn’t  see them properly
especially at night..
I was more keen on Wittgenstein.
and whether I am real..
Maybe I’ve gone crackers

And don’t know  I’m surreal

I don’t want any lovers now
for love brought so much pain
I’d rather be a jellied eel
than fall in love again.
But friendliness and welcome
Are what we humans need…
And cats and dogs and willow trees
Which don’t make our hearts bleed.
One man is sufficient
And necessary too..
Without my own sweet husband
whatever would I do?
He listens with his heart and soul
And he is never harsh…
He likes to hear me singing
Across of Southwold Marsh.
He likes to take the ferry boat
Across the River Blythe.
But now I hope the ferryman
will not yet arrive..
We have to cross that river
We have to let life go…
We have to be untied and freed.
We think,but do we know?
In the silvery moonlight,
Time gets her own  way
In the darkness of the night
Time will have her say.
Time has come and gone again
And so the hand descends
So I bid you fond farewell,
We have reached the end.
Oh,wrap me up dear mother
in my winding cloth
Take me in your ancient arms
for I have had enough.
I’ve loved and loved and loved again.
I’ve puzzled and I’ve pained
but now I have decided that

I’ll never love again

Hearticles

raymond carver_cathedral_cover

I told him it’d be a  crime and a sin which is an achievement of sorts  .. Satanic,almost
The whip of the iceberg struck my face like a frozen crumpet unbuttered and  unjammed.
If two hearts meet then  don’t use superglue in case it sticks
I was so feverish I was waiting for the dust to prattle and the skittle to boil.
When all is said in fun,where is the boundary of an art?
He spoke a word that he left as a token..love.He wrote it in the phone directory.What does it indicate?He has no pocket calculator?
He literally clawed at my lemon tart.. imagine what followed that..Or perhaps don’t!
You held onto my cart so I took you to the till and bought you for home delivery later on
He makes the sun whine when he’s down and if he’s up, he’s out  on the clown
He put my heart on a pyre for his pleasure
You bored my heart so I went to tsee he River Severn instead of meeting you
Flung over a hedge by a lover,she landed in a meadow full of flowers which made a wonderful change from his glowers.
Your lying heart misled me into a fair ground and I went on the ghost train.What a terror.
Please relieve me,let me wee for I can’t hang on any more
I feel I am gathering dross today and it’s all over my room.Or is that dust?

I don’t want to part your hair.Let it hang loose.

I don’t like your  chocolate moose by the way.Was it the gelatine?

Never blank a man when he frowns

Kakistocracy

Photo0770

This is new to me but might be useful nowadays

kakistocraThcy (n.) Look up kakistocracy at Dictionary.com1829, “government by the worst element of a society,” coined on analogy of its opposite, aristocracy, from Greek kakistos “worst,” superlative of kakos “bad” (which perhaps is related to the general IE word for “defecate;” see caco-) + -cracy.

Stoical grieving won’t work

Feeling one’s woes takes much courage

Stoical grieving won’t work

Yet if we evade it, disease may invade us.

Feeling sorrows can never be shirked.

That lump in the throat we can’t swallow

The stomach ache there with no cause

We suffer bodily,and indeed horribly

Stoicism does have its flaws.

Let loose  the tears of this sorrow

Wrapppd in the arms of a friend.

For if we don’t do it,later we’ll rue it,

With physical pains without end.

Soldiers are told to be stoic;

But supposing they all refused?

Would war end tomorrow, at the sight of such sorrow?

Ah,humans,we’re surely confused.

We may be from different races

We may be brown,gold or green

But our hearts form a layer,to hold out our care.

We’re all one and always have been.

Throw away stoic behaviour

Throw out melancholia too.

Feel pain when we need to and then it won’t lead to

Dead soldiers and fighting anew.

Stoic

stoic (n.) Look up stoic at Dictionary.com
late 14c., “philosopher of the school founded by Zeno,” from Latin stoicus, from Greek stoikos “pertaining to a member of or the teachings of the school founded by Zeno (c. 334-c. 262 B.C.E.), characterized by austere ethical doctrines,” literally “pertaining to a portico,” from stoa “porch,” specifically Stoa Poikile “the Painted Porch,” the great hall in Athens (decorated with frescoes depicting the Battle of Marathon) where Zeno taught (see stoa). Meaning “person who represses feelings or endures patiently” first recorded 1570s. The adjective is recorded from 1590s in the “repressing feelings” sense, c. 1600 in the philosophical sense. Compare stoical.

Warped Sins of Humor

http://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/health-and-families/health-news/warped-sense-of-humour-could-be-sign-of-impending-dementia-a6728026.html

My humour is very satanic

I laugh when the cat combs her hair

My humour is overly manic

I get it from the devil know’s where.

Now I am labelled demented;

And  they put me on dangerous drugs.

Apparently folk  felt tormented

Because I gave too many hugs.

I cannot  blunderstand novels;

And I cannot understand signs

And they say that my home is a hovel.

I never knew ’twas a crime.

For I prefer studying logic

And I love those infinite groups.

I like to mend broken gadgets.

Yet it seems I am now in the soup.

I just got out all my screwdrivers;

The frying pan handle fell off.

It’ll save me from spending my fivers.

If it’s not feminine,I don’t give a fluff.

I have to be feminine,clean and be with it;

To recall the Prime Minister’s name.

As for humour,I have to sieve it.

I blunderstand their little games