I love the shade of you

I love the color purple.

I love all shades of blue

But most of all,my dearest,

I love the shade of you.

I love the color circle.

I love to paint the dew.

But first of all,before I start…

I’m studying your hue.

I love to see the sunlight

Gleam across the trees;

I love the green,I love the shade

But it’s you I want to see.

Feeling depressed?

Avoid visiting places that ask you to copy captchas…..it’s better to call a friend on the phoneand see if you can talk.Talking is very therapeutic if it’s a person you trust.You can talk about  a book you read or recipes.just having a good conversation is therapeutic.

Alternatively write a poem but avoid illustration…art is too much trouble.Just put down  a few words.

CAT SAW

I AM

HERE

SHE WANTS MILK

OH,DEAR.

I DIDN’T MEAN TO RHYME

BUT THE WORDS JUST CHIMED.

You see,anyone can do it… just like Modern Art.

Better still,iron all your clothes.. and your bed…and mend all those torn dusters…

Use your hands.Feel someone…

A stitch in time makes  a rhyme.

Does time need a stitch?

That will give us food for nought

And so pray all of us

Emile sings

Fish,fish wonderful fish…
Nothing so tasty gets onto my dish.
I live on Whiskas and milk and cold tea.
They don’t know I drink it to help me to pee.
Milk,milk,I love it well.
Mother’s was best,but,oh,what the hell!
I drink it at night,to send me to sleep.
I feel so nervous when Stan’s old sheep bleats.
I sleep with Stan and he’s very kind.
I lean on his legs to help me unwind.
When he’s got company,I stay outside.
I look through a mirror and blimey,I spied
Stan was cuddling a lady who was totally nude!
You would not believe the weird sights I have viewed.
He was quite naked but I’m used to that.
He has no bosom…………..men are quite flat!
Mice,mice,mice are so nice!
Mince the left overs and serve with boiled rice!
Do you need puddings…we never do.
Some cats like chewing their master’s old shoe!
Drink,drink let me imbibe
Nothing quite like it for aiding  the Scribe!

It was not him

I saw him going
He winked at me and smiled broadly
He looked much younger

Then he lay gently
You want the moon to play with?
I sang so softly

He had blown away
The doctors had heard it all
We were in A and E

They each looked happy.
He curled down pale in his shell
No,it was not him

I had seen him leave
I did not scream nor wail loudly
A brief sheet of tears……

A water curtain
Veiled me for my widow birth
Now I am silent

Depths

I looked under my chair
To find a box of oddments
It was almost clean

I wonder if Marge
Would like a cat to help her
Chemotherapy

I don’t hear a sound.
She’s behind the party wall
Feeling nauseous

A cat might comfort
I’d feed and clean it for her
If she would like it

But when I call her
She never answers the bell
She contemplates depths

I have not seen stars fall
I saw the moon reflecting
The sea is calmer

The cruelly chopped trees
Have burst out in bright new leaves
How incongruous.

Crucified, they show
Aaron’s rod planted again
Surprises the world

Death takes all colour

Original sin is
Cain must kill Abel again
And again.There is no end

More,he  says he’s right
Does not see the still  corpse  pale.
Death takes all colour

White and shrunken too
They burn him  sacrificial
Plant the land with seed

Sunset

The sunset is pale
Coral with grey finger marks~
No bird sang today

The leaves wait like mouths
Now they are shutting their lips
They don’t get night feeds

All is calm and still
The moon is singing  Mahler
Dead babies  whisper.

Lullaby,the  heart
Enfold all  infants’ pathos
Dies with them daily

Forget not at night
Those for whom the sun is dead
They are stiff like dolls

Mary is worrried

On Saturday afternoon after luncb ,or midday dinner as we said up north before winning places in posh which stole our native language, Mary began to feel very nervous, as she was going to the hospital with Stan on Monday for his next appointment with Dr.Range Rover.
Mary was puzzled.She felt almost happy last week about seeing this kind hearted and gracious well dressed female doctor.However she had been shunted sideways onto a male doctor who was almost totally silent.. so much so that he seemd to absorb Mary’s questions into his sponge of a brain without feeling the need to respond,just like many British husbands do… and it may be aa universal trait in men world wide.
Why do I feel so apprehensive this week? Mary asked her dear black cat Emile.
After all.I was happy to see her or to even have a biopsy last weekend.Why have I changed in my feelings so much in a week?
Does it matter? purred Emile.
Maybe your mood is affected by something else.. like fatigue or housework or the ravages of age… [he was well read]
We don’t always know why we feel a certain way but I feel it’s good if we are willing to accept these negative moods.Even I have my moods when the fish you get me is not the right sort and you don’t give me my cat’s handkerchief neatly ironed.
You are so wise,Emile,especially as,being a cat,you never have to endure these interviews with consultants in horrible outpatients clinics.So you must have a wonderful empathy for humans
This lady doctor tomorrow is exciting me,cried Emile loudly.May I come in your Grace Kelly handbag.
What’s wrong with my shopping bag?Good grammar,by the way..
Well,she wil be surprised if you take a heavy shopping bag even if it has a Mondrian design on it… she may get suspicious.. even paranoid.If I am in your handbag she will not realise.
Not unless you miaow,mused Mary benignly as she smiled down at him her singular eyes gleaming like the headlamps on a Roller.
I like to know the reason for things,she continued somewhat frantically.I think therefore I might be eventually.I am not yet,for sure.
Does everything have a reason,shouted Stan querulously from the hall…
Wel ,it does,but it might be beyond human understanding like the Burning Bush..
We can only perceive what our language permits unless we are poets,mystics or artists and even then it’s tough to venture into the unknown,unthought or unknowable..
languages develop in societies and learning your language embeds you in many cultural assumptions without you realising it.You think it’s reality when it is just one perspective.
How true,screeched Annie their neighbour from outside the open patio door.She stopped there in her teal velour tracksuit with matching eyeshadow and trainers.
You seem to be overthinking,she said to Mary.Are you sickening with the heat?It’s like loving too much, which may be co-dependency.
That’s a very silly pc word,said Stan rudely.We are all dependent but men can hide it until their wives run away with the milkman and they get a shock not knowing how much they’d miss her changing the sheets and buying their underpants and socks.And ironing their hankies
Surely that’s not the main reason a man might miss his wife,cried Mary as she carried in the tea tray with a big white insulated teapot. so I hear
Well,you can go on the web and find a virtual sex partner or even buy a dummy woman. but it’s tough to find a devoted woman who knows what you need to function.
Why don’t you buy your own underwear and use tissues?,asked Emile
Well,Emile,I put out the rubbish and wash the heavy Le Creuset pot.I see to the car and bikes.I paint the fence and even bake cakes.
Mary washes the clothes and changes the sheets unless she has an idea to write down.She kindly does all the worrying for both of us and I remain calm like a lighthouse.We complement each other ideally.. and we love each other and a few others as well..without giving away our secrets
That’s one waay of describing it,thought Mary without commenting out loud
Anyway,I am still wondering why I feel nervous about Dr Range Rover….
If you accepted the nervusness it might ease,said Annie wisely in her high voice like a car siren going off at night
Just then the doorbell rang.It was Dave the bisexual transvestite paramedic.
Emile phoned 999 saying Mary was having kittens, he said rapidly.This really must stop;inter species sex is not allowed here like most sexual activity
He was speaking metaphorically or is it metonymically,Stan groaned.
Now you are here go and make us a fresh pot of tea and admire my new tea caddy.I bought it for Mary last week in that new shop in town.
At your service,sir,Dave said politely,his flowered dress waving in the breeze.
Do you know anything about Dr Range Rover,Dave? Annie murmured
What is her reputation etc
Some people like her, Dave said,Usually men.she’s not so good with women..
Well it’s too late to change thought Mary so I shall have to willingly endure the agony of meeting her again as I cannot leave Stan on his own with her…
why who knows what might happen? She might become his mistress as he likes several nowadays. despite nearly being too thi to live…
God only knows, a little voice said.
Hello,said Mary.I’ve not heard from you lately.
Well,I am still here looking after you
Thank you, Lord,I love you, Mary shouted joyfully to the surprise of Stan and Annie, not to mention the cat Emile who was unlearned in the religion of his owners.
I thought you were an atheist,Annie said with horror.
I am an atheist and I believe in God.It’s what we call a paradox..Mary cried graciously….
What would Wittgenstein have said?
Whereof one cannot understand,therof one must be patient and tolerant,.
Why does Mary need to understand all her feelings…Stan wondered
When it’s raining she doesn’t spend hours wondering why and similarly if it’s raining in her heart she must take it like parched grass…she thinks too much.
Too much for what? Her sanity perhaps which has at times bei.ng doubtful but that has made her very understanding to those who find life hard.Everyone has value,even mad,nervous half blind, supersensitive, vulnerable,stout arthritic female mathematical geniuses like Mary.She enriches the tapestry of life in a very real sense as e once said
And so say all of us,she’s a jolly good Fellow of All Proles College,Oxenford..you know how famous it is!

  Waxy flowers in the snow

Waxy flowers poking through

Snow so white
Flowers bright.
Made me think of you.I see once more your dark gold hair,
Soft as snow,
On my pillow.
Now my bed is bleak and bare

,
Your face turned to me,flower to sun,
I loved you.
You were true.
Fear by love was overcome.

I saw the cyclamen in snow,
Pink and red,
Now frozen,dead.
Love was,oh,so long ago.

But never gone from in my mind.
Thoughts so deep,
Upwards seep.
Love was gentle,love was kind,
You’re always in my mind

They will be silent

The algebra  book
Full of  new structures unformed
Is lonely like me

I am unread yet
Please touch me with  your fingers
Find out my secrets.

Find the formula
Blow up love with your bombshells
Make finger bones scream

Alone on the rock.
One day someone will find them
They will be silent

Mountains  will fall down
The temple will rise again
The Messiah shifts.

Lambs will lie down here
Tigers of wrath shall pounce then
The lion was late

 

Faces full of light

I saw pretty clothes
Hanging in the shop windows
It’s still very cold.

Laughing girls ran past
Long slender legs,gleaming hair
Faces full of light.

A circle of men
Drinking  coffee and talking
By the big windows.

The gale has gone now
Then I heard the still,small voice.
Why am I still here?

God is burning us
In his eternal furnace
We will turn to gold

Sung geometry,

 

Cracks in the pavement
Look like rivers approaching
an estuary.

Natural beauty,
the shapes and forms wandering,
sanctifies the road.

Cherry trees branches,
A wide canopy of leaves,
Blossom blows away

Sung geometry,
held still and made eternal,
Catches at my throat.

I’m getting buried in the morning

I’m getting buried in the morning.
Ding,dong the bells are going to rhyme.
I am in no hurry
So do not make a flurry
And do not let me get there quite on time.
I’m get buried in the morning
I’m puzzled as I am  alive not  dead.
There must be an error,
But never mind the terror
I am thinking of those books I’ve never read
Put them in my coffin
And please stop that  raucous laughing…
I’d like to die right here in your soft bed.
I’m getting buried in the morning…
We had to book it ten years in advance.
We are running out of space
To take the human race..
But why don’t we make love again,just once?
If the exertion kills me
It will surely thrill me
And I’m sorry I am too rigid for a dance.
You may die as well..
There’s no way we can tell..
So why not take this very last cha…..

Lodestar

You’re my lodestar,you’re my light.
You help me through the darkest night.
You keep me on the path I follow
I know you’ll still be here tomorrow.
You’re my companion, my other self.
You have knowledge and spiritual wealth.
You have studied,you have thought,
In meditation your soul was  wrought.
You are there when I’m in need.
You don’t allow my fears to breed.
Your sweet touch brings me such peace
So all my anxious worries cease

The curse of the Sykes-Picot agreement

http://www.newyorker.com/news/news-desk/how-the-curse-of-sykes-picot-still-haunts-the-middle-east?mbid=nl_050216_Daily_Analytics&CNDID=39895781&spMailingID=8864576&spUserID=MTE3NjA0NjA0OTQwS0&spJobID=920152134&spReportId=OTIwMTUyMTM0S0

 

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