Day: May 4, 2016

Reach

Black against light sky
Bright flowers blown ; bare branches now
Reach  beseechingly.

Reluctant sun hangs
Sending thin light  and pinkness
To clouds sleek as  cats

Now paling, blue grey,
I see mauve dying into dark
Night sky edges in

The  blackness awaits;
Dreams dangle  like stringed balloons
A new born gurgles

How full the holly!
Forsythia large and darker,
Birds shelter  wisely

Syntax, the verses.

Syntax and spelling and grammar
They hit my old brain like a spanner
My screws have come loose
I suffer abuse
From  a man who has never had manners.

 

Syntax is unconsciously selected
And so we can feel we’re protected
Our sentences form
So blow the ram’s horn
Foe beauty has now been detected.

Syntax is a  word for  the academic
As they rejuvenate their aged polemic
We all can use it
And the really good news is
Anyone can be orally prolific

Someone invented strange language
To cover up nudity with a bandage
In ivory towers
Professors will glower
As syntax  still need home assemblage

Syntax again

hand writing

syntax
ˈsɪntaks/
noun
noun: syntax
  1. 1.
    the arrangement of words and phrases to create well-formed sentences in a language.
    “the syntax of English”
    • a set of rules for or an analysis of the syntax of a language.
      plural noun: syntaxes
      “generative syntax”
    • the branch of linguistics that deals with syntax.
  2. 2.
    the structure of statements in a computer language.
Origin
late 16th century: from French syntaxe, or via late Latin from Greek suntaxis, from sun-‘together’ + tassein ‘arrange’.

Tramps might sleep on them

I slipped on the stairs,
In  our Waterstone’s  bookshop
They don’t have a lift

In the old churchyard
There are no longer benches
Tramps might sleep on them

Waterstone’s  is out
I’ll buy all my books online
Sad as it is quiet.

In the sun a great heat,
I think I heard a cat mew
And my late husband smiled

I feel  happiness
Rising like a tide in spring
I’ll write a poem

 

Strange moments in life

swirlySometimes there’s a moment in life when you know something is utterly wrong, that your life as you have known it might become something other,something alien.This happened to me in late February 2014 when I took my husband to buy some shoes.
For it seemed he had given away all of his shoes but one pair.It might seem obvious to a practical dreamer like myself that in the winter a man needs two pairs of shoes,in case snow or rain attacks one pair.But  he knew better than I did what he really needed
He never explained.He was really a very quiet man but at the same time an extravert affectionate person.He didn’t share my need to help  or amuse others by explaining why I had done something.That .was one big difference between us.The bigger one was that he was a man and I am a woman,
The shoe shop was crowded but we had no plans to go anywhere else.Then I felt sick.He eventually found a pair he liked;he rejected my suggestion he should get two pairs which turned out to be a wise decision though I had no way of knowing it  on that day.I was like an animal that smells a new scent in the air and has no idea whether to run or to get closer
When we got home I knew:something is going to happen but to which of us?And when? And now I know a I sit here with the deep but almost invisible,indecipherable scar on my Viking  face looking at the mantel shelf where 60 or 70 letters and cards of condolence stand,I know that it was to  both of us but I am the one left behind; the one who arranged the music for the funeral;the one who answered  the  letters .And I am the one who saw death enter,a black shape moving like a dancer across the threshold behind the bold woman who took our lives and tore them apart.As if she were under orders.As if there were no choice.

Stan wants a chamber pot

Stan was recovering from his long feverish cold and cough.He had Emile standing on his desk under the window cleaning it with a microfibre cloth fastened to his right front paw.Very good,Emile,he said in a husky voice.I think I’ll get up and make a hot drink.I feel better now than I did and I  enjoyed the Reith lecture on the radio.Mary came into the room wearing a long dressing gown with a zip front.
Where did you get that,Stan enquired jocosely.
It was hanging behind the door, she said.I must have bought it in a sale.I get almost all my stuff in sales.It makes  it more of an achievement.
But are they really want you want,Stan enquired.
I am happy with them because I like bright colors but most folk don’t so they end up in the sale.I just boughY some pewter shoes for £29.99 when in black they were £79.99.
Will pewter shoes not be too heavy?Stan joked.
It’s the colour dearest.It’s a good colour for when we are going out in the evening to a do.
But we never do go out nowadays .he told her sadly.
I live in my imagination,Mary responded, and so I get clothes and shoes for any possible event funerals.weddings,evening balls.
The only balls you see in the evening are at home ,he murmured vulgarly.
I don’t think that’s very funny,Stan,she told him.I am a woman of gentle birth even if I was born in a coal mine.
I am sorry dearest,my mind is not right since I fell out of bed and banged my head on that heavy tin chamber pot.


That’s a flower vase,she told him honestly and directly.We no longer use chamber pots now we have an en-suite  here and a cloakroom downstairs plus an outside lav too.

Well,I do.Stan said.I was brought up with one and I always use one at night.
That’s strange Mary told him.Where do you find them?I have never bought any,not even in the Sales.
In the kitchen,Stan said.In the cupboard
.Those are my baking bowls, she said crossly.I forbid you to use them to wee into.Well,will you buy me one? he asked her tenderly as he stroked her curly light blonde hair just washed in Boots Dandruff and Acne shampoo. with Rosemary and Rose Essence.
Of course,darling,if it wil make you happy.I’ll go online.I am sure they are still made though originally they were used when people had outside loos.
That can be my Xmas present,he joked,if you pay for express delivery but don’t have it gift wrapped.
Adulterous Annie their neighbour came in.She wore a grass green trouser suit and pink calf high boots.Underneath she had spanx hip and thigh control pantees and a blue lace bra which peeped out as she had forgotten to put a blouse or jumper on despite the cold weather.
.What is that, in your hand,Annie ? Stan asked thoughtfully.
It’s a pewter chamber pot that we inherited from my granny she said
.Gosh,how amazing,it’s just what Stan needs,Mary informed her.He’s been using a vase..
That is very naughty,Annie told him.You should know better
.Naughty!That’s strange word to use.I am a man.I can do what I want.You’ll see.
But can you want what you do,Mary asked like an Oxford don on low dose speed.
I can if I choose to ,he said.
So do you believe in will power? Annie asked curiously.
Sometimes I do and sometimes I don’t, he replied ambiguously which was one of his defense mechanisms when #
he was with clever women.
I see,you twist the world around your little finger.
That’s a strange parallel,Stan told her.But parallel lines on the earth’s surface do meet at the Poles which proves that Euclidean geometry is not the only sort possible.
Why is that?Annie asked,though she had no idea what he was talking about
Because one of Euclid’s axioms is that parallel lines never meet .
It sounds a bit like men and women nowadays,Stan said thoughtfully.We will only meet if we go up the pole

I wonder what the origin of that phrase is,Mary said curiously.It’s a strange world.
Meanwhile Emile finished the window and was polishing the dressing able mirror.What luck for Mary and Stan  that Emile loves microfibre and Windolene.Next they are hoping to buy him tiny vacuum cleaner… that would  help to gather up all the dust from the floor and let Mary get on with her book
Mirrors and the development of the pre-oedipal child’s theory of integers and meta-language as hypothesised by Philomena Seagull.a Follower of Freud