Lies of love

I wear my heart displayed upon my face.
Attentive readers find their meaning there..
Where feelings thought too deep to be embraced
Can shine demurely where they do not scare.

As Freud observed we're never quite disguised
Betrayal is our body's real motif
The message comes conspicuous from the eyes..
Bright sparkles or your tears of blackest grief.

The answer to a question seemly leaps
So Yes or No is visibly revealed.
The blush that spreads so fast across the cheeks
Both bold and shy unable to conceal.

Your face tells me you lied when Love you wrote.
Yet let us part with song as we are poets

Stan in denim

2014-01-02 10.12.15-2 Stan woke up later than usual owing to the comfort of sleeping in his dear wife’s soft cotton nightgown.He had slept better than usual despite the police calling to question him about a nude woman found wandering in the town centre.
Women have better clothes than men,Emile, he remarked to the cat which was stretched out on the Guardian.I don’t know why I buy that paper.You couls sleep on a bath towel.
After having a shower,Stan decided to take another look at Mary’s clothes.He found a long denim skirt in indigo which he fancied would match his new T shirt.
Of course I shall only wear while I do the housework he told Emile.After all in Scotland I could wear a kilt.Can you get a denim kilt he wondered.He decided to wear underpants but not to wear Mary’ssilk petticoat.She might get angry with him.
There is a certain logic in wearing a denim skirt as it much cooler than trousers and allows easy movement.But of course one must wear decent underpants in case the wind blows under it and reveals all.That’s why women are always buying packs of pants.So Stan was thinking. and he remembered his old espadrilles which would look good.He stood in front of the mirror and imagined he looked quite fetching.

The doorbell rang and on the step was the Vicar of Knittingham South.
Hello,madam, he said.
I’m a man,Stan muttered mournfully.
Yes,dear,of course you are.May I speak to your husband?
I am the husband,Stan screeched.
Oh,I see.You are gay then, I assume.
Stan pointed to his beard and said,I am a man. Didn’t you hear me?
Please forgive me, the Vicar said.Some old ladies get quite hairy and with the skirt I thought it was rude to mention your beard.How do you find the skirt,by the way?
Well, it’s quite nice having air on the legs and it’s definitely cooler than shorts.
But a cotton dress would be even better.Are you married?
Yes,said the Vicar but my wife is very intolerant of anything unusual.She’d be furious if I wore her clothes.
My wife doesn’t know,Stan told him.I bet she’d be angry too because she’d have to iron it again.
Why don’t you wash and iron it before she comes home, the Vicar demanded.
Well, just between the two of us I am afraid of irons,telephones,and making a mistake in a recipe.Also eye tests and blue litmus paper and crisps
I’m afraid of dentists,fogs ,dogs and sausages the Vicar admitted.And doctors and fierce women.
The two men stood pondering.
Come inside, said Stan after a few minutes.Let’s have a coffee.
They sat on the patio drinking their coffee and saw a wren fly past into the weigelia.That’s the first I’ve seen recently.said Stan.
Emile was asleep in a woven wastepaper basket in the kitchen.
Anyway,why did you call,Stan asked the Vicar.We never got to that.
I can’t remember, the dear old man admitted.I’ll have to come back tonight.
Oh,dear Stan said
I think I’d better put some trousers on, he whispered
Yes,you had said Emile.I can see the Bishop outside.
And how play all of us?

Within each storm

When doubts and drawbacks struggle in the mind
And certainty seems but a demon dream,
When the faith to love is what no-one can find
For even when asleep, the mind still schemes

When darkness and defeat seem close at hand
And lights dim even as we pray for peace
when wrecks and ruins rile the native sands
When in this life we feel we've lost our place...

Then at the saddest depth we see the light
Surrounding with such warmth,with love adorned.
The path that seemed so wrong now leads us right
And in our hearts, warm feelings are new born

Within each storm there is a calm still eye
From there we see the fiercest clouds blown by

The habit of perfection

http://www.gerardmanleyhopkins.org/lectures_2003/flannery_oconnor.html

The Habit Of Perfection – Poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins

Elected Silence, sing to me
And beat upon my whorlèd ear,
Pipe me to pastures still and be
The music that I care to hear.

Shape nothing, lips; be lovely-dumb:
It is the shut, the curfew sent
From there where all surrenders come
Which only makes you eloquent.

Be shellèd, eyes, with double dark
And find the uncreated light:
This ruck and reel which you remark
Coils, keeps, and teases simple sight.

Palate, the hutch of tasty lust,
Desire not to be rinsed with wine:
The can must be so sweet, the crust
So fresh that come in fasts divine!

Nostrils, your careless breath that spend
Upon the stir and keep of pride,
What relish shall the censers send
Along the sanctuary side!

O feel-of-primrose hands, O feet
That want the yield of plushy sward,
But you shall walk the golden street
And you unhouse and house the Lord.

And, Poverty, be thou the bride
And now the marriage feast begun,
And lily-coloured clothes provide
Your spouse not laboured-at nor spun.

Gerard Manley Hopkins

Chance flavours the prepared mind

She was cutting a slice of dread when the phone sang.
Hello,there,it’s your very own Bank here,said a young Irish man
Bat wank? she asked .
Yours,what do you call it?
Surely you kould shnow if you fork there?
We don’t ,we just candle walls.We’re a Ball Benter,he shouted
I am just faking my munch.she whispered fearfully.Don’t sell at me.
Why fake it if you are alone? he replied courteously
Alone but not begotten,she responded
Is English your fast language? he admired
Yes,I was born speaking Anglo-Taxon,she admitted
So you read Chaucer? he said wisely
I had to wait until I got a fear of spectacles,she admitted.
Do babies ever have an eye vest here? he said softly
No,so it’s a big industrial open lunacy,she revealed
We could start a business,he told her scientifically
I’ve never even let you,she murmured shyly
Will you harry me, he asked.
I’m sorry but Catholics can’t marry folk they’ve never ett.she dragged out
We could eat sprouts tomorrow ,he suggested welcomingly
Not now, we only foil them in the Winter,she said cheekily
Well,don’t be a flick in the should,he advised.
Why bid you phone,anyway? she enquired
I just got the rung number, he acquitted
Do you mean I rung you before? she basked
No,it’s a secret wonder here,he re-wheeled
I could have bit on you by chance ,she calculated
Chance flavours the prepared mind,he recalled Pascal writing
Do stop obfuscating.she ordered sweetly
I don’t even know what that means, he misinformed her
Well,you can envy before you spurn the word.she told him tenderly
I don’t want to envy,he spoke morally
Speak boor yourself,she muttered
I don’t live in Sarf Effrica,he told her
But you have that accent.I recognised it at dunce,she said childishly
Whereas yours is broad Larkshire? he guessed as he diced.
Mine is educated,she said kindly.Anyway my dread is waiting for me.
Oh,throw it out,he advised.I’ll buy you an eel.
But where are you,she said woefully.
I’m in the bath,he choked out.
Is it not dangerous to phone from the bath,she wanted to know
Only if you put water in,he said sensibly
So you fish with no water? Vety economical, she said admiringly
I come here to escape the boys,he finally admitted
What boys? she pointedly enquired
Can’t you leer it?
Oh,row away.I am waiting for the dread to roast and the beans to bake.So,see your tune.
On the moon, he called before getting out of the tin bath and making the cat’s dinner

Her Eyes were Limpet Pools

Very amusing

Art-Colored Glasses

Am I reading the poetic maunderings of a youth regarding a romantic soul-searching staring match with his sweetheart–or is there somewhere a glorious spa for mollusks about which I ought to know? One little slip of spelling or pronunciation leaves me wavering in the dark. Which might be good, or might be bad–it’s all in the application of the moment. For lo, there can be such beauty and delight in Malapropisms and Spoonerisms and all manner of other happy tortures imposed on language. These joys are often best savored like a very dry aperitif by those intrepid souls fortunate enough to discover them, for the most frequent perpetrators of unintentional linguistic crimes rarely know the difference even if the error of their ways is pointed out to them by any well-meaning pedagogue or tiresome pedant.

Whoever chanced upon the bag of “Mescaline Salad” before sharing its portrait online must have…

View original post 739 more words

Peace?

A single hope

Photo by Mike Flemming.Copyright.

copper5

Neither should a ship rely on one small anchor, nor should life rest on a single hope. Epictetus
Read more at: http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/e/epictetus.html

Inner weather

2012-10-29 20.10.27

We sometimes get anxious about our moods and think some authority can tell us what is normal.But recently I have been thinking about the weather.It’s been the strangest spring/ear;y summer with a little snow and dangerous storms.One or two warm days
!And yet this is all within the range of the normal.We are affected by the wind especially.
If our moods change this much we might think we are mentally ill but there is no definite boundary of the normal as each person is different and then they live in different places and have economic and political problems
I am not saying nobody should seek help but sometimes we can ride out the storm in patience.People vary in how much they can tolerate.And if you live in a tower-block with horrible neighbours and have not much money talking therapy may not help you.
People seem to think that talking helps our problems go away
However,from what I have read about psychoanalysis it seems that strengthening you so you can bear your pain more easily is one of the aims.That is, not getting rid of the pain,,
Sometimes with a bad therapist we can be re-traumatised.
When I was younger I read a book by a man who had been jailed for killing his wife.Apparently while having psychoanalysis, he felt he was getting worse and he told his therapist he was getting thoughts about violence.Alas, the man told him we all get those feelings now and then; he did not hear what the patient tried to tell him,
The upshot was he killed his much loved wife.This was in the USA where psychoanalysis was available more easily than here.[for the insured!]

Cutting dead

Most of this is from Theaurus.com and Roget.It will give me some new worfd to use in poems.

I hope my photo is not too sexually provocative!I was probably making a video to play while I washed up so my husband would think I was still sitting near him.
Synonyms for cutting dead
give someone the cold shoulder
boycott
disregard
humiliate
ignore
brush off

Antonyms
notepay attention
praiseregard
welcome
approve
compliment
flatter

r
Roget’s 21st Century Thesaurus, Third Edition Copyright © 2013 by the Philip Lief Group.
Cite This Source
More words related to cutting dead
snub
verb. give someone the cold shoulder
act cool
boycott
brush off
burr
censure
chill
cool
cut
cut dead
disdain
disregard
duck
give the brush
humble
humiliate
ice
ice out
ignore
look coldly upon
look right through
mortify
neglect
not give time of day
offend
ostracize
pass up
put down
put the chill on
rebuff
scold
scorn
scratch
shame
shun
slight
slur
snob
swank
upstage
Roget’s 21st Century Thesaurus, Third Edition Copyright © 2013 by the Philip Lief Group.
Cite This Source

Meeting a person’s eyes

Corot

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Face-to-face

The face to face encounter and its ethical meaning/implications is at the heart of the philosopher Levinas‘ thought possibly based on his experience of the Holocaust.He had previously studied with Heidegger which is ironic as Heidegger joined the Nazi Party in 1933.This shows intelligence is not enough in making decisions especially in politics
One day I was thinking over some personal events relating to this.
Before my husband died,I went shopping and then went into a cafe and found myself just behind an ex-colleague whom I regard [note the word] as friend.I could see her husband sitting at the back of the cafe.She did mutter,
Hello,but instead of meeting me eye to eye and saying
“My husband wants to be alone”,she went through an elaborate pantomime of mime indicating rejection or keep a distance…which was unpleasant.I would been much happier with a straightforward look and a few words.
Later I had a similar event.I met a woman who used to be my physiotherapist again in a queue.She looked at me full on and greeted me with pleasure.As she picked up her tray she asked me to join her and her husband plus a grandchild.We had a pleasant time.But if she had said,we are with our family and want to be alone,or whatever,that would have been fine too.because she looked at me
I am not saying the first woman ought to have done that.But what interests me is the lack of a willingness to “meet” me with her gaze.I am entirely happy if people wish to be alone whilst the have coffee but I prefer them to say so.I was always in a hurry then and finished before they did.But they didn’t know then about our problems.
Some individuals with autism are almost unable to make eye contact…. and this is because others are not real to them; they are afraid.

If we are near someone who will not meet our eyes,it can convey the same feeling.On the other hand,every one has off days and so I feel no anger,just a discomfort as this woman is very articulate and highly educated.I think her husband is a bit controlling.
So this made me think about Levinas and about Martin Buber‘s I and Thou
There is also an expression,”he looked right through me”which is also a negative way of facing someone.And also,Cutting someone dead.
Essentially not looking at someone is a form of killing them as you imply they are not part of society.Like not responding to someone verbally or in writing.You are saying,You do not exist.At one time in the distant past people did actually die when they were excluded from the community

Eye Contact (hannahandharriet.wordpress.com)

You only have 7 Seconds to Make a First Impression!(top2toestyliestadotme.wordpress.com)