A real poet

He said I was  a not a real  poet

My knowledge was , let’s say, inchoate

But when I wrote a sonnet

He said,Now you’ve done it.

You are a born   one and don’t you just know it!

 

I said, after  six years of practise.

I might have even become a stage actress.

But my vocation is  to pen,

And to amuse  gentlemen.

As the world turns round  again on its axis.

 

 

Six years is  more than 2,000 days

On which I have studied and prayed

For seven hours or more

Which brings up  my score

To fourteen thousand hours ,by the way.

 

So really I’ve not done that well.

But luckily most folk can’t tell.

I’ll   accept my position

With no self derision.

I might almost be in a nun’s cell

 

 

 

 

 

 

The sky

The sky looks like a Turner painting.
At the high point it’s brighter,even golden cream
Like the top of a bottle of Jersey milk;
then it dims down to a bluey gray
with a slight threat in it
like a blacker gray…It’s
Too warm today for snow.

I swept brown dried leaves from the step..
Had to move my bike.
Then I hid them under the hedge
So they can keep some insects warm in the winter.
But mainly I don’t want to bend down to collect them,,
I’m tired or lazy after the weekend.
I still have a dress here I was ironing just a week or two ago.
Now it will be put away till next summer.
Here’s a denim jacket with flowers all over…
I did wear it but it won’t look right now.

I washed my hair.It feels soft and pleasant.
I like that feeling.I am wondering what you are doing.
Are you listening to music or resting?
Or sitting looking down the road at wet fields?
I think I’ll make some tea.
I need a focus for the day which also has a feeling
Like those late watercolors
Everything merging
Until one thing dissolves into an other.
Some people like it but today
I need some edge,some definition.
I need someone to give me boundaries.
Time 4 pm
Kettle boils and a neighbor’s cat peers by the locked cat flap…
Wondering why she can’t get in.
I turn away.

Now the sky is without any gold
It’s sixty shades of gray.
It’s clouded dark and soft
Like your hair might have been
But I could never have touched it…
You were always too far away and moving..

I didn’t know I knew this…revelation

Hand upturned
Hand upturned

 

The hand upon my tiller

The mystery of the dark

The unknown one who lives in me

And sings like a skylark.

I’m singing  and I wrote you a new song.

I’m singing  for  with music we belong.

 

Thoughts

 

That is the last verse of a poem i wrote recently.I did not have the notion of another hand being on my tiller before I began writing.Yet I feel it is very important.Clearly we don’t consciously make our own blood circulate and you can think of other things  like that.If there is another hand steering me  I need to cooperate with it.Maybe that hand is wiser than mine.I came to the conclusion that we can only cooperate with it if we are relaxed.So becoming relaxed is necessary for good living and also for prayer, if we do pray.The best thing about many religions is that before God all souls are equal and all of us are valued unless we deliberately allow evil to overcome us.I think it’s always been hard not to to share the view that our possessions   or our our  stupidity or brilliance determine our value.I have got more trust in humbler people if they can avoid bitterness in modern society.I think working with the hands benefits the  mind and heart.Intellectuals can be very cold sometimes.Maybe they were cold already and fled into  the intellect to escape human feelings.Meanwhile let’s think about the other hand.110906_5662

 

 

 

A winter day describe

Grey, damp, dark, a winter day describe,

Though sunshine comes  with  white and wintry frost.

While on my paper curving shapes inscribe

The alphabet I learned at childhood’s cost

Humankind can’t bear too much of night

Hallucinations,dreams, symbols confused.

We like the sunny sky where birds take flight.

In warmth soft air, our tension are defused.

Accepting night is one of our sad tasks

Light and dark needs balance in this world

In the light of sun. our sorrow’s masked

We feel false ecstasy as colors swirl.

God created light and darkness first

Their divided unity is blessed

A wall of glass

Between the two of us,almost invisible
is a pane of sheer glass.
The idea is it makes us safer,.
It’s a kind of fence.
We can still see each other.yes.
But also I am distracted by some reflections of myself
which dirty this window as badly as mud.
No,it’s worse because mud is easier to recognise.
Reflections can be mistaken for images of the other.
Reflections can confuse,mislead,disconnect.
And you too may mistake your reflection for me.
You may hit out and then the hard glass will hurt you.
I expect you’ll blame me for that,though it’s your own misperception.

If  “things go well.”
If we seem to “get on”.
If you “fall in love” or just  “love” or  “like” me,
You may reach out,but this glass allows only sight not touch.
You may want to smash it in,to break it.
Danger ahead.
Somehow we got connected the wrong way and I feel unsure if we can change that.
Glass,it’s a boon and a bane…..
Like mirrors…
Which tell us we are not invisible
when we want to melt away.
Ah,I saw “myself” in a mirror in a lift.
It was not a me I recognised.My image.My alter ego.
Meet me next time in a meadow in the countryside..
Glass is not so common there,though one can have a shard in the heart
like ice.
Though ice melts.
So look at my reflection in an ice pond and not through glass.
That’s all I wanted to tell you today

He don’t care a toss

He told me my poetry’s dross;

And he says he don’t care a  toss.

Well,at least I do try.

So  he can cover his eyes.

Let’s see who feels the worst loss.

 

My English is getting real quaint;

Standard it certainly ain’t.

I write like a foreigner

Who’s studied astronomy.

I feel upset when my paper is feint.

 

 

Some people write  with aplomb.

So we must admire them and some!

Others are tentative

Faintly lamentative

All I can say is,how come?

 

I had an inchoate dream.

Woke the cat up with a scream.

No detail remains

But my complexion is stained

With tears   for I  saw the word “MEME”.

 

 

 

Dross : meaning from online dictionary

This is  derived from an old English word.
facedross
drɒs/
noun
noun: dross
  1. 1.
    something regarded as worthless; rubbish.
    “there are bargains if you have the patience to sift through the dross”
    synonyms: rubbish, junk, debris, chaff, draff, detritus, flotsam and jetsam; More

  2. 2.
    foreign matter, dregs, or mineral waste, in particular scum formed on the surface of molten metal.
    “alchemists tried to create gold from dross”
Origin
Old English drōs (in the sense ‘scum on molten metal’); related to Dutch droesem and German Drusen ‘dregs, lees’.

Breathe for help

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From Dr Andrew Weil’s website

The 4-7-8 (or Relaxing Breath) Exercise

This breathing exercise is utterly simple, takes almost no time, requires no equipment and can be done anywhere. Although you can do the exercise in any position, sit with your back straight while learning the exercise. Place the tip of your tongue against the ridge of tissue just behind your upper front teeth, and keep it there through the entire exercise. You will be exhaling through your mouth around your tongue; try pursing your lips slightly if this seems awkward.

  • Exhale completely through your mouth, making a whoosh sound.
  • Close your mouth and inhale quietly through your nose to a mental count of four.
  • Hold your breath for a count of seven.
  • Exhale completely through your mouth, making a whoosh sound to a count of eight.
  • This is one breath. Now inhale again and repeat the cycle three more times for a total of four breaths.

Note that you always inhale quietly through your nose and exhale audibly through your mouth. The tip of your tongue stays in position the whole time. Exhalation takes twice as long as inhalation. The absolute time you spend on each phase is not important; the ratio of 4:7:8 is important. If you have trouble holding your breath, speed the exercise up but keep to the ratio of 4:7:8 for the three phases. With practice you can slow it all down and get used to inhaling and exhaling more and more deeply.

This exercise is a natural tranquilizer for the nervous system. Unlike tranquilizing drugs, which are often effective when you first take them but then lose their power over time, this exercise is subtle when you first try it but gains in power with repetition and practice. Do it at least twice a day. You cannot do it too frequently. Do not do more than four breaths at one time for the first month of practice. Later, if you wish, you can extend it to eight breaths. If you feel a little lightheaded when you first breathe this way, do not be concerned; it will pass.

Once you develop this technique by practicing it every day, it will be a very useful tool that you will always have with you. Use it whenever anything upsetting happens – before you react. Use it whenever you are aware of internal tension. Use it to help you fall asleep. This exercise cannot be recommended too highly. Everyone can benefit from it.

Watch a video of Dr. Weil demonstrating the 4-7-8 Breath.