When in my clothes I find unique moth holes
And have no matching wool which I can use
To darn them all becomes my only goal
And then my little mind becomes confused.
To simplify my life, I’ll wear but blue
And toss all other hues into the bin.
Does this seem the wisest way to you?
Or might it be an error or a sin?
Excessive contemplation of one’s acts
Can produce a hint of agony in the mind.
And so I’ll numb my brain with wax
Then my tension will at last unwind.
Ignore all moth holes and peculiar stains
For dwelling on these matters harms the brain
However if you find an acrid smell
Toss all your clothes into the nearest well
For what is a metaphor selected?
To convey truth without being detected?
My love is reality
And exacting theology.
So my mind has been password protected.
I know not who holds the key.
Unfortunately it is not known to me.
So my mind works alone,
Cut off from my own
Heart,in its quiet mystery.
No metaphors allowed in maths exams
It looks like a story.it feels like a story… it’s a parable.
A parable like Jesus often used is a traditional Jewish way of teaching.
The seed that fell on barren ground’ the way Jesus explained what he wanted for his followers .. to be fishers of men/
In many situations we can only explain one thing by comparison with what we know
Table and chair “legs”
That’s no man, he’s the son of a bitch
You get my “Drift”….am I a cloud or a wave?
When we are sick ,how we long for the mundane
To eat with our friends once again;
To walk under trees,
See blossom and bees,
Or ice on the old window panes .
Remember those patterns of frost?
Are the glories of childhood quite lost?
Boots crack frozen puddles ;
Get warm now with a cuddle.
The mundane is still here at no cost.
The smile of a familiar friend
The Xmas cards yearly sent
Waking slowly in bed;
Making love in the shed.
A slight change to the mundane and life mends.
Move furniture into new places
Sit nearer your love for embraces
Or where you can see those old trees
Which all eyes do please.
Above all,avoid winter stasis.
The word mundane reminds me of what I was talking about with a friend some years back.She had been on holiday in Cornwall and was moaning about how awful it was to come back here.I tried to say that one must enjoy a place for what it has,not grumble because it’s not on the coast with beautiful scenery.The borough we live in has the highest number of trees of any borough in the city.So that is its beauty.However I don’t think she was listening.I also used to say,A holiday is a state of mind.Owing to my husband’s health we’d not been away for 13 years and to me just sitting in the garden was beautiful