Day: January 30, 2016

My sister and my hair and my vanity or humiliation

lit

 

My sister and I had a lot to talk about but when she got home she rang  sounding  mor animated to say she and her daughter in law loved my new hairstyle.Unfortunately the main difference is that it is shorter at the back  and longer on top and in front which does not show in a photograph.When we had major things ro discuss it’s good  they could think about my hair!I had been about to buy a wig.To satisfy my family who may be reading I shall take a selfie of the back of my head later on

 

coral

 

tiff infomation
tiff infomation

9f0be6286e0d1b4aff19447d4509a522_400x400

Myself  someyears ago,carefully hiding my hair which stopped growing owing to underactive thyroid gland.,Unfortunately after treatment I became  extravagent.So if your wife’s habits alter it may not be lack of will power it may be her glands…even my glasses were more upmarket.Lord knows why when I have not been able to have a social life and my cat does not mind what I look like.My husband did like me in bright colours.Sometimes I even wore clothes.

I think I hear you humming.

 

I look up our small street,
To see if you are coming.
I don’t know what time it is,
But I think I hear you humming.

You sang sweet songs for us,
And you could whistle well .
You wore an old tweed jacket
You loved us,I could tell.

I look out there each day,
But I can’t see your tall, thin shape.
I saved your Woodbine packet,
It made me feel some hope.

What does death’s door mean?
Where has Daddy gone?
When will be the welcome day,
When we hear his songs again?

I’ll sing like him all day,
I’ll dream of him all night.
I hope he won’t be angry,
If his cigarettes won’t light!

He can’t write his own songs now.
He went too far away , too soon.
I’ll write down what I think he sang,
And I’ll invent the tune.

I hear him singing now,
He dwells inside my heart.
And though I still can’t see his face,
I recognise his Art.

The newest words in verse.

Cats

I once was the  main cynosure

Of eccentrics who write and endure

both mockery and fame

when one mentions their name

But lately I’ve found my own cure.

Cats

Elusive I move through lightwaves

Pellucid till I’m in the grave.

Never abscond

From where you belong

With Plato stuck in a  dark cave.

3436468-508432-group-of-cats-in-the-dark

Perambulate, if you desire.

People are flesh,not barbed wire.

Walk up and down

Around London town

Wear a  T shirt saying.I’m not for hire.

Cats praying
Cats praying

Do you like eyes pellucid and blue?

Complexions of a peach and cream hue?

Well be less demanding

In your search never ending

For women are particular too

I’ll be loving you

Until the very end of time I’ll be loving you.

Until the end of all my rhymes,I’ll be writing you.

Until the day I die,I’ll be unintentionally annoying you.

Older and older,I’ll never leave you,but I will,no doubt, grieve you,

deceive you,misperceive you and misconstrue my meter when I am writing for you

and I can’t stop to get the right rhythm

Otherwise I’ll think of you,wink at you and make a hyperlink to your blog

For now,my fingers will be all over you..looking for fleas in your clothes,

and for for mice in your shoes.
I’ll be looking for tears in your eyes  to lick up for you

 

and making you surprised.

That’s a love poem,innit?

Well,innit?

Wot!I’m British,innit!

Don’t you know Estuary English?

Or Frenglish?

Oh, geddit! You’re a dimwit.I love it!

You spun me a tale…..

Love your particular detail,like you are male

Here’s time and a wail.

Signs and symbols

Signs and symbols guide the route.
Love gives the soul her appetite.
Though the night is black and starless,
The inner guide is never careless.
The notes are struck,the tune is played,
Plain melodies are overlaid.

In this chant and benediction,
Healing comes for desolation.
Though the passage way is narrow,
This road is the   one to follow.

Struggling through the mud and mire,
We see,in darkness, tongues of fire.
The sacred center of our life
Is rarely found without some strife.
Just then, the dark and light combine,
To create an image for the mind.

The keyhole

Sometimes I had my eye too close to the keyhole

Pulled there by some force like gravity.

I was gazing with a sharp but narrow focus

into what I thought was the real.

But the precision of my gaze

left out the surroundings, the other doors and rooms

that  I might have inhabited.

As he came to me and opened his arms with no rancour,,

so my eyes opened wider,I took in the new wide vision

and left my crouched and aching position

no longer attached like a magnet to your force,

He was there with his sea eyes.

He knew the human condition

And how to inhabit a  conversation.

Of course he’s had his wounds but never failed to feel

for himself and others.

In the night he goes through in his mind’s eye the faces

of his friends;

holding them ,like he’d once held fragile rose buds

when we were married,

and asked silently for grace.

The keyhole no longer seemed important

I suppose narrowing the focus can keep out knowledge of pain..

But the pain is atill there;

I have always loved the word “Acknowledge.”
And now I use it. I acknowledge this pain