Day: May 2, 2016

Mirror by Sylvia Plath

 

I am silver and exact.

I have no preconceptions.

Whatever I see I swallow immediately

Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.

I am not cruel, only truthful

The eye of the little god, four cornered.

Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.

It is pink, with speckles.

I have looked at it so long I think it is a part of my heart.

But it flickers.

Faces and darkness separate us over and over.

Now I am a lake.

A woman bends over me,

Searching my reaches for what she really is.

Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.

I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.

She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.

I am important to her.

She comes and goes.

Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.

In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman

Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.

Title : Life’s Complexity Author : William Mae

From poetry and quotes

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P O E M # 1
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Title : Life's Complexity
Author : William Mae



The body shall lose its seely grip,
And the soul and spirit leave,
Fly past nature's natural bonds,
While the urn lies down in sleep,

Leaving the body they bid farewell,
And from its presence slips,
They mourn the days that use to be,
But still they make their trip.

What awaits we only guess,
And the body begins decay,
The spirit and soul rise to live,
They do not pass away.

Life is taken for granted,
With endless days it seems,
Memories now and aching hearts,
No visions now or dreams.

The wind of change left it's mark,
Nothing to dispute,
What's written now is written, 
When death spells out it's truth.

The hour glass drips no more sand,
Just silence fills the void,
The song of life is quieted,
No more strumming on its chord.

The foolish thought would think like this,
The person can't return,
But harder to birth a person once,
Then twice to birth the urn.

The question isn't will they live,
The answers clear they do,
The question left is tell me when,
They will be born anew.

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It’s called love

I run my fingers tentatively down your cheek,
asking you a question
with my eyes.

looking at each other,

you touch me too.

This is my skin
my boundary.

Yours is thicker,
like rubber.

I run my fingers down your chin.
what is this little bone?
I like it.

I like your skin

I like your bones.

I like you.

you please me.
you are tasty.
I like your taste,

your skin,your eyelids.

I like your eye here,
and your other eye .

Nice one!

I like the hair on your head.
May I touch your hair?
do you like hair?
Hair makes me laugh.

I have a fondness for laughing.
I love to laugh.

I enjoy laughter
I love your laughter.
If not, smiling is good also.
Or a gleam in the eyes,
showing the inside smile,
the smiling heart.

I like your inside,
Outside
and possibly
your backside.
your upside and your downside.
your side sides.

I snuggle you all around with soft wool.
I knit you into my scarf.
I’ll have to wear you round my neck now!

How unusual
How flexible.
How charming.
How alarming

How creative
How interesting.

What an idea!
what a notion

but you are too big for me to knit
So I’ll just touch your hand
with my fingers.
and you touch my hand
with your fingers.

What good hands we have
with such fingers.

fingers are for touch.
fingers are keen to touch.
I like touch.

what would we do
without fingers?

I like your skin.
skin is good
We love skin
We love.

We.

I want skin to be ours
and yours
is mine
and mine
is yours

where is the edge of the world?
skin has no end
it’s infinity
au naturel.
what order!
what design!
What wonder.
what awe.
where is the world’s skin?

tenderly we touch the world
as the world embraces us.

It’s called love.
Love.

It’s called love

Stan gets a letter

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 Dear Stan
I hope I you don’t mind me telling you I had some problems with your last few letters.Even at your age it is risible to learn.So hear are my thoughtd
Your spelling is now so absolutely ferocious I almost passed out in Church [The sermon was too boring so I opened your latest missile]
You seem to have forgotten all the wiles of grammar we once learned at school..Maybe you should write more letters to keep you au fate with English as she is poked about today all over the world and beyond
And don’t you have anything interesting to tell me about.Surely something indecent must happen over and over again in your town.Why not pass it on to me.I would be delighted to be read all about that sort of thing… old age is so dull.
You never say how Mary is.Is she still riding that old bicycle from University days.I can’t imagine why you don’t get her a new one instead.Can she not drive?
I think it’s unseemly to let your wife ride a second hand bicycle.The neighbors may despise you,imagining you are from the underclass and therefore ripe for abuse by all and thundery.Nowadays being poor is dangerous.
Why even your car is 19 years old.Have you never been tempted to keep up with the Jones’s, whoever they may be nowadays.A new car and a loft conversion would only be about 60 thousand pounds and your self esteem would rise like a butterfly in a thunderstorm.I say this only to help you
I have noticed you are getting thinner and Mary is getting much fatter.I do hope God has not worked a miracle and made her big with child at her age,though we could certainly do with a New Messiah.
On second thoughts,it would save a great deal of suffering if she were to get an abortion immediately… it’s less painful than Crucifixion…. you catch my drift, and giving birth at her age would be dangerous.Not to mention you gave up carpentry long ago.And pensions are low.
I hope I haven’t offended you but at 109 I doubt if you are still potent… it’s only natural we lose a little with each passing year especially when you have both a wife and a mistress as you did for many a merry decade.You must have worn yourself out with pleasure.
Well,I just wanted to tell you about your dreadful spelling.Think about getting an online Dictionary.We all regret things as we age.Don’t be shy.You can tell me anything and regret it with whoever later on
Well,that’s all my news this week.I hope you get some good weather soon.
With love and warmest wishes from us both,

Joshua and Marie.

PS.It’s terribly hot down here  in Hell! Hope to see you soon

Scruples in verse

Scruples nearly mad me go mad
I believed I was overly bad
If I’d had a gun
My end would have come
Looking back I  now feel rather sad

For virtue’s not made by  will power
Being ready to receive is what’s ours
Like the virgins with oil
To get ready takes toil
But  with grace we will become like wild flowers

Jesus was a holy hasidic
His intentions weren’t very specific
He  prayed in the Temple
And was an example
Then made remarks that were  somewhat acidic.

 

Scruples

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Les boutiques

We used to dress  from boutiques
Each one had something unique
Our hair was Sassooned
Our morals were doomed
In the sixties I fancied a freak

Mary Quant was a  very bright woman
Her day was not long in its coming
She made herself wealthy
And ,Lord,she was  healthy
The minis all round  were just humming

Two course meals free

Polished bizarre roast with  fried beetroot
Lamb oubliettes and sauteed potatoes cakes.
Fried bacon nuggets with raked eggs and beams
Omelette with frozen mixed vegenubbles and French lead
Vegetarian lasagne with bream salad du jure
Chips of beef in cream buoys with leaves of grass
Sheep’s tail stew and dumplings a  la mode

Puddings

Rice jelly and  tinned preachers
Les mariners and jam boiled pudding
Honeyed maple weaves and jugged cream
Yoghurt apple and jam in a Burberry sauce
An odd looking stippled icecream with Dow statistics and transcendental numbers
Iced cake  and lemon sauce with my wife

Well,what is your sin?

Pray,Father,give me your cursing
I beg your pardon!
That’s not cursing.
You must be confused,we give blessings here not cursing
Oh,dear.I must have got mixed up as it’s a long time since I came here.
It is only a Freudian slip.Have you done  something evil?
Well,not on a par with bombing the Middle East,I guess.
Well,what is your sin?
I don’t really know but something made me come here.
Have you seen any pornography on line?
I’m sorry,but I haven’t.Is it good?
No,it’s sinful
Well,Jesus liked sinners so maybe I’ll watch it.
A logical error.He didn’t want people to commit sins on purpose.He just  mixed with ordinary folk who ate themselves and others,are envious,malicious,cruel,thoughtless.
It sounds like a Soap Opera not the Bible.
I  take your point.Now then what brings you here?
I stole my husband’s beer money to buy a pen.
That seems quite nice really.Have you no money of your own?
I bought the paper with that.
Maybe you need a  paying job
I have the job and I stole the pay!
Won’t he be angry when he has no beer money?
I’ll tell him it must be in the vacuum cleaner.
Will he look?
I don’t possess one!
Does he know?
He thinks it’s in the cupboard.
Where is it?
I sold it to buy some paint.
You’re not Jewish,are you?
Not yet but I  am thinking about it.Why do you ask?
Well,they are used to buying and selling ,like in Marks and Spencer’s.
But if I convert you will not be able to hear my sins.
To be honest they are somewhat boring.Why can’t you commit adultery or kiss the postman?
Do you?
I’m not married.
You can still kiss the postman
In theory I suppose but they are in a hurry.
That’s a bit feeble.Do you absolve me?
OK and for your penance steal some canned beer for your husband and go to jail
I’ve never been so  insulted in my life
Well,why not come back next week and I’ll do it again.
Things seem to have changed.What’s your name?
I’m Father Blogger.
That’s a funny name.
Better than………

 

 

To see what’s here

If you have a beautiful old tree
Then do not cut it down to plant a rose
For trees are carriers of great mystery
Their roots go deep and where no human knows.

Instead adapt your planting to the shade.
The flowers of woodland are most delicate and fair
The white foxglove will pleasure eyes in glade
With some searching, we may find flowers rare

But if with weeds your garden is distressed
Work is needed to restore some grace.
And if the shadows fill with errant pests
Light is needed ,so their sin we face.

We all look with widened eyes to see what’s here.
And so we face it gladly without fear

Moon-bathe in the rain

Wind and rain and hail now alternate.
There is no constancy nor steady state.
And so on moods I will next meditate
As tolerant we must be until rebate.

We don’t believe the weather is our fault
We buy umbrellas, shield ourselves  from  rain.
When  a darker mood  our mind assaults
We rush to look for how we are to blame.

Our  human self is larger than we know
Will power can’t bring virtue or good moods.
From  unknown places psychic winds may blow
And subject us to pains, violent and rude.

Don’t send your self to Bedlam  much too soon
Moon-bathe in the rain  and laugh at doom.

i

 

One letter


I’ve got just one letter
written in your hand
One short letter
I understand,
One is as infinity
compared to having naught.I’ll keep this letter
In the museum of my heart.
I’ve only got  one photograph
and that is  very old
but to me this photograph
is more valuable than gold
Time has wandered by.
Is it now too late?
But will there be a second chance?
Let’s not  accept  love’s fate.
No matter how we falter,
No matter how we fail,
Can we still forgive ourselves,
and rewrite this  sad tale?
One more letter,
One more   heartfelt smile,
That will be sufficient
To rebirth a love grown frail
For once this love was stronger
Once this love was true;
So now we are  wondering
If we can create our love anew
Cracks will make a pattern
Beautiful,complex.
Our love will be more real
When we both reflect.

Emile’s diary


I had  a full day watching Stan hoover the bedroom.He found 5 pence on the rug.
That makes 60 pence this week.He swore when he saw the duvet had slipped to one side of the bed.I jumped up and stood on it while he pulled it back into place..a bit of fun..I can’t help him much but i hope being watched pleases him.
He tried on Mary’s dressing gown and looked in the mirror.Then he swore again.She was out giving a lecture on something called “Rings and groups.” It sounds like a dance or a sacred rite.I’d love to go in her wicker basket to the Uni and listen to a lecture.I believe she’s very popular and is always pleased to prove that “e” is not an algebraic number.
Well,it’s obvious………even a cat knows it’s a letter!
Does she think it’s another more advanced kind of number.
What with that and all the times she brings in pies…she has me wondering what mathematics is now.Why does it frighten people?
Cats like me love a nice meat pie and will run in rings or circles
mewing “eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee” for hours if we get some Earl Grey tea .
We are not into groups though except maybe groups of mice.
Now where’s my milk?I’m worn out writing my diary.
Still,I hope you know what “e” and “pie” are now!
Mioaw.

Stop thought with the eye

Waiting for the phone to ring

Waiting for the mail

Waiting for the test result.

Waiting to go to gaol.

It’s that strange uncertainty

Have I made an error?

Waking up at three am

Filled with puzzling terror.

Terror in the night of mind;

Reason’s tied up in a bind.

Horrors rise like geese in flight.

Fill dream eyes with blight.

But now I see the burning sun

Rising in the sky

Every day I greet nature,

And stop thought with the eye.