Day: April 17, 2016

Like a blade of grass

 

Already it’s the middle of the month.

That is usually when I think of you
Walking by the river,the path green
With moss and small grass blades.
Is that your shadow across the window?
I still expect you though you’re long gone.
Damply trudging through the meadow,
Hand in hand we never noticed the cold,
Though my fingers were painful with chilblains.
I don’t see you any more,nor the chilblains.
Would I walk on knives for you
Like the girl in the fairytale,No.
But almost anything else.
Sand runs through my fingers,
I’m a human timer,though not for eggs,
But for love,my time is running out.
Though even in a moment one can receive love
In the smile of a stranger.
Why should love not be short
Like a grass blade?
Or tiny like a grain of sand?
Dante only saw Beatrice once,
But it sustained his life for ever.
That’s worth dwelling on

Flaws in positive psychology

A Psychoanalytic Examination of Positive Psychology examines its theoretical and clinical flaws. — Inside Out Journal Inside Out – Exploring the Life of the Mind

A Psychoanalytic Examination of Positive Psychology examines its theoretical and clinical flaws. — Inside Out Journal Inside Out – Exploring the Life of the Mind

The dear one we clasp

 

The new doctor is called Donald Bluck…
And odd name but he had good luck.
He might be called Schitz,
Or even Blitz.
He’s definitely not called Doctor F*ck.

I was 22 years old and one day,
When first I heard a young lady say:
what is that word
Lady Chatterley heard?
D H Lawrence didn’t use shades of grey.

What is the long term effect
Of admitting such words without tact?
Now they mean naught
So that someone ought
To invent a word hard to inspect.

A word like a small darting fish,
Not confined to a big round glass dish.
In the ocean of life
Not all words are nice…
Nor is life itself quite what we wish.

Words may take flight from our grasp;
Act like Cleopatra’s sharp asp.
Words kill or give life
Pattern chaos and strife….
Or give love to the dear one we clasp.

My senses are my lovers long-

 

A map’s a guide to find a world

Knitted by angels  and unfurled.

And though you need a map as guide,

Keep your own eyes open wide.

I spent a year caught in a map

Until I found a big enough gap.

I crawled out through this exit slit,

So here I am,like some half wit.

Words can act like heroin,

You live so high ,where I have been.

But onto earth I gladly fall.

The air, the sun, the rain is all.

My senses are my lovers long-

My ears,my eyes,my skin my tongue.

The winds caress my naked flesh,

To dwell on earth is all I wish.

I’ll live with mice and birds and plants,

I’ll share my food with miscreants

I’ll keep my words inside a tin;

And only, now and then,go in.

I’ll live with cats and spiders three.

And like a wild flower grow quite free.

I’ ll give my words to those who hear,

And eventually I’ll disappear

Earth to earth then ash to ash

When soaked with rain I shall disperse.

My atoms wing like butterflies,

And to the Flower I’ll fly,disguised.

What is the Average Retirement Income in the UK?

 

The average retirement income in 2014 was £15,800 but unlike earned incomes which have remained steady or increased slightly in the past few years average retirement incomes have been declining. For example it is 11 per cent down on 2009’s £17,779 and 15% down on 2008’s £18,663. This worrying trend is likely to continue as occupation pension schemes close, annuity rates go lower and the squeeze continues on disposable incomes, which means that most people have less money to save for their future.

The state pension will account for 35 per cent of average retirement income for those planning to retire in 2014, but one in seven people will retire without a pension, and women are nearly three times more likely than men to be entirely reliant upon the state pension, because they made no provisions of their own.

(Statistics source: Prudential)

He went deaf in one eye at 57

?He was a blight on  poor eyes.
Are you a parasite on pores and eyes?
This is  a site for sore flies.
This   writing and sure tries teachers swerves,
How many pleas make us dread men?
Can you cook an octopus’s tail?
Can you afford to tweet?
Is anyone following you on Bumbook? If so,wear a saddle.
What horses are best for scholars?
My pleas swell on  twelve beers.
If I am white then  you are wrong.
How many  goads must a man   be pricked by?

My cat with flat feet

I once had a cat with flat feet.

which in addition loved to bleat. like a sheep.

The vet offered therapy

but I just laughed merrily…

Alas then my cat learned how to Tweet!

He got mentioned on the BBC news.

Journalists were keen to know his views

He smoked a cigar

He called me,Mama.

He loved to help me polish church pews.

Later on he desired to worship in a Church.

I sympathise but didn’t know which

Was the best to receive cats,

Rats,mice and bats…

And how would the sermons be pitched?

Did Jesus come to earth to save cats?

Should women spend a fortune on hats?

I think far too much..

I guess it’s my crutch.

Did Jesus desire to save the gnats?

Email me if you know at

overthinkersanonymous.kate@gurglemail.com

brighterthanthou@godwit.com

iamabook@reading.pan

Or at Purrfectlady@mewing.com

“We’re all in this together spirit”

Morale of the workers is lowered
by tales of accountants and lawyers
triumphantly finding new ways
of helping the affluentia
to evade the normal tax payments.
Morale is crucial to any nation
undergoing a crisis.Recall the
“We’re all in this together spirit”
of the war years.But now,it’s disheartening
for the 50% living on less than the median wage
of about £25,000 per annum
let alone those just above it
to read the stories of “Grey areas”
“Offshore accounts”,”Charities” set up
from which they take just a “low” wage.

To come through a crisis
We need to feel we are all working
And living together.And we need to acknowledge
Very many people work full time
And are still in poverty..still needing
Housing Benefit..so we are subsidising the firms
which employ them on low wages like this.
Yes,the poor children do feel the cold,
They do indeed feel hunger.just like you and me.
And they do worry about parents whose hope
Is to win the Lottery.
Those children feel emotions just like all children.

Alienated now,we’ll not have too many chances
To grab them before they take to drugs..
Or worse,prostitution.

We are all in the same boat
But some are taking up more of it
And we want to know why.

 

Emile meets a dog

Leggings

Stan and his  strange yet talented  and loving wife Mary went to the Garden Centre to use a gift token Stan had been given on his birthday by his cousin Marian.They wanted to buy a big pot of mixed flowering plants to put on the porch of their 4 bed  quarterly undetached executive style home.Stan used to fill such a plant pot or indeed several himself ,but what with teaching Emile to swim,balancing the account book and cooking a dinner every day he was too busy.Not to mention cleaning the windows in the conservatory with his microfibre cloth which he did weekly.And all the baking too..he was missing out on going to the University of the Blurred Age.Emile their talking cat always went with them for a drive but he stayed in the car in case a dog might see him and bite him.Stan said,Emile,would you like to sit on my shoulders,then you could come and have some coffee in a saucer?
No, thank you.said Emile,I don’t want a dog to jump up on you!I will lie down under the seat and have a nap.You can bring me some icecream back..I love ice cream
Stan and Mary went into a huge greenhouse which also had a cafe at one end.How wonderful the orchids looked.. such delicate colours and what delicious and sweet perfumes they could smell.They sat down by the orchids and had a large cappuccino each and a very small scone with strawberry jam.
My goodness,what big mugs,Mary mused.Why don’t they standardize them?This must be half a pint!In some coffee shops this would be “Huge”
Well,just drink part of it,Pet,if it’s too much for you,” Stan replied abstractedly as if he were trying to digest a bitter fact
What are you thinking?,.she enquired gently.
This is the question most men dislike…maybe because they are not thinking and if they are,it may be they are thinking of something a wife or partner would not want to know. like where is Satan?
I’m wondering what colour plants to get.Stan acknowledged quietly yet intellectually.
I always like blue, she informed him.After 69 years of marriage he still did not remember…but it made life more fun… and more surprising.,The next moment they saw Emile. arriving.He was standing on the back of a large handsome black labrador dog which accompanied two men.
Emile!he called,What’s going on?
The two men came over.
Hello,one said,I’m Bert and this is my brother Bart.We found your little cat crossing the road.He said you were in here.Then Max,our dog,said Emile could ride on his back to avoid the mud by the gate
Thank you very much,Max,Mary said in a trembling voice.
But how did you get out of the car,Emile?
You forgot to close the window and I could see a lovely tortoiseshell lady cat across the road so I decided to pop over.Emile said triumphantly.

But you don’t know the Highway Code yet,Emile!
Stan groaned, as it was one more thing to teach Emile.
Isn’t it lovely seeing Emile riding on Max’s back? asked Bart.
Do you mind if I take a photo?
Feel free,Stan replied.Allow me to buy you some coffee.
Thank you,said Bert.Two double esspressos please.And two scones with Cornish cream and blackcurrant jam,thank you
Stan went to order whilst Max and Emile did a tour of the cafe and had their photo taken by several surprised people sipping coffee and tea simultaneously.
My goodness,said Mary,I wonder if this photo will be in the local newspaper next week.It’s a positive symbol of love and peace.
Though of course not all dogs are as generous as Max.Not all cats are as bold as Emile..
Max wagged his tail and smiled upon hearing this.
If you’d like to help your dog to smile please email me at one of these addresses below.Cats can also be enabled to smile though this requires patience
patiencehere@coolermail.com
katepeaceplan@yodelmail.com
The clothes  are on sale at most Garden Centres in the UK
diesel-italy-2013-2014-fall-autumn-winter-mens-preview-collection-lookbook-denim-jeans-jackets-fashion-colour-mutation-02x

In the gaps

  Sunday again;
Hailstones rush sideways,
striking the windows
with small fierce blows.
In the gaps between
two white butterflies zig zag
like motorized wild flowers;
One colour,two forms. I see now
two aspects of Nature:
hard,destructive,stern;
frail and delicate.
Both are coloured the same white.
Hard to tell sometimes which we are seeing
But we can all distinguish between a gentle touch
and a bitter blow.
As the day dips into night my heart falls too.
In these dreams I look for the lost
in the snowy steppes and the ices of the heart.
A white petal falls.
Cherry trees bloom again
Russia in love.

The dog it was that died

Still here

Copy of Self in draeing,Kathryn 2Oliver Goldsmith, “An Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog” (1766)

Good people all, of every sort,
Give ear unto my song;
And if you find it wondrous short,
It cannot hold you long.

In Islington there was a man,
Of whom the world might say
That still a godly race he ran,
Whene’er he went to pray.

A kind and gentle heart he had,
To comfort friends and foes;
The naked every day he clad,
When he put on his clothes.

And in that town a dog was found,
As many dogs there be,
Both mongrel, puppy, whelp and hound,
And curs of low degree.

This dog and man at first were friends;
But when a pique began,
The dog, to gain some private ends,
Went mad and bit the man.

Around from all the neighbouring streets
The wondering neighbours ran,
And swore the dog had lost his wits,
To bite so good a man.

The wound it seemed both sore and sad
To every Christian eye;
And while they swore the dog was mad,
They swore the man would die.

But soon a wonder came to light,
That showed the rogues they lied:
The man recovered of the bite,
The dog it was that died.

Rhapsodic,lengthy,terse.

We’re told it helps to write thoughts down;
Express our grief  somehow;
And if our  feelings are intense,
These words  from deep springs flow.

A sonnet or terza rima
A ballad or free verse.
We have a choice of many forms
Rhapsodic,lengthy,terse.

A practised poet may be blessed
Or so the lay-folk feel
But gifts come with a price to pay:
Experience must be real.

She wrote down all  her grief and woe
By symbols dignified.
The poems received an awed review.
The poet it was who died.

 

Your tender hands

 

 

I have loved you and I’ve held you.
Many years,you have been mine;
As the time has come for parting
Let’s embrace for one last time.

You know you have to leave me,
Though you desired a longer stay.
Let me hold you in my arms now
For just tonight and perhaps one day.

Then I’ll watch you travel on,sweet.
We take this last step all alone.
I’ll be here beside you watching.
I shall feel when you are gone.

May you accept, may you surrender.
May  you reach the promised land.
Into this earth my tears will fall, love,
As I recall your tender hands

Endings take time

A baby too soon shocked from mother’s womb
May linger on for several painful days.
The life force is as strong as is a lion;
And infants too are subject to its sway.
A tree cut down when full of summer leaves
Will struggle on and take a month to die.
And so it is with friendship which is scorned;
Our grief takes time to dissipate and fly.
Bereft of love and child and human touch,
Be careful when you slip from human grasp.
The knife that pierced the heart will cause no gain;
And should we live we feel a bitter pain.
Though cunning wiles and tricks may give the lie,
When you have used them,your  heart too will die.