Flowers
Month: July 2016
Clerihews
Sigmund Freud
With minds toyed
Saw new ways
To be amazed
Adam Philips
Didn’t will it
He really plays
While reality pays
Joanna Field’s
Mind unpeeled
She liked to paint
I’ve no complaint
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Purcell
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A camera
The eye is not a camera taking shots
Our mind affects the aspect we perceive
And what it feels important it allots
Gives grace or hatred ,causes us to grieve.
When we live in fear,we see the worst
We see disgrace or ruin as our fate
As if our self for horror has great thirst
So all the little details we collate
Yet when we love, we see before us joy
The flowers sing, the birds dance in the air
We see no evil nor with hatred toy
All aspects of our world appear more fair.
We see not what is there,we see our self
To learn ,we must employ our own mind’s wealth
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I’m not “English”
I’m not “English”, I’m like you, unique.
Categories patriotic I critique.
Like all the folk who dwell upon this isle.
I’ve Celtic bones yet Danish is my smile.
An Indian,a Jew some call “astute”
Norman,Viking, mixed up in physique.
I’m not ” English”
I don’t want to injure more all those
Who’re mocked until they lose their sweet repose
A mixture of genetics aids design
We’re just one species in this world malign.
We’re here because two loving persons chose
To share their minds and bodies all unclothed.
I’m not “English.”
Shall I compare all others with my rule?
Shall I measure and deploy more tools?
God himself made folk from clay and air
Gave to us this world so strange yet fair
I do not wish to be an English fool
But seek to understand and to be schooled
I’m not “English”
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Against sadness
These are exercises as I am new to this form.
Against sadness:no-one here must weep
Nor lounge about in melancholy deep
Was Van Gogh senseless to permit his muse.
For even masterpieces ,was the price too steep?
We see the yellow chair but not his views
Nor his mind where technique made great leaps.
Nor was his journey broadcast on the news.
Against sadness.
Happiness or joy is hard to find
When we rest, the News preys on our minds
Yet some are cold towards the slaughtered priest
His nose a beak of bone in old face lined
Now Muslims go to Mass and join Christ’s feast
Against sadness.
What rages in the mind make men kill thus?
In Syrian wars the innocents fare worse.
But these are our near neighbours so we weep
And wonder how to end the frightening curse
The sins we once committed hold us deep
We hold our hands out wanting to be nursed
Against sadness
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Russell’s clerihew
Bertrand Russell
Got into a tussle
Principles askew
He seduced quite a few.
Leibnitz liked dots
Or little black spots
Newton’s notation
Was a great aggravation
Cantor got paranoia
About the eyes of a voyeur
He liked the continuum
As far as one could a’ knew ‘im
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The clerihew
One of the most remembered Clerihew from Bentley's collection is: Sir Humphrey Davy Abominated gravy. He lived in the odium Of having discovered sodium.
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A tax on sin or on grammar
I started writing “conversations” and similar writing a few years ago.Sometimes a word keeps coming into my mind,like “syntax” which rhymes with sin tax”I usually make them humorous.But I never know what I am going to come up with.Sometimes I use “play on words”,sometimes I use an approach based on my emotions or feelings about past experience such as a 7 year old child being prepared for their first Confession…. something which can be agony for the sensitive.Another use could be to discuss something painful with yourself…Humour is the way I tend to travel.Try it.Take a walk with yourself.And enjoy it for me…I am listening to you.
Shoes
She said she never knew what syntax was until she met me.
Well,you do look worn out by your sins.
How do you know they were sins?
Well,you went to Confession twice a week all your life
That was my scruples.Sometimes I went twice a day…
It sounds like having an upset stomach.
In my case it was an upset soul.The soul emptied out and hung out on the Maginot line
Eventually I realized virtue is not attainable by Will Power alone
How is it attained… won’t power?
I knew you’d say that!
That!
Anyway to get back to syntax,it’s about structure.
Like council tax?
Words fail me
That’s good.I meant tax on a building
You seem very rude today
It’s not just today,I’m like this all the time.
I never noticed before
You only met me tonight
That’s almost true..now syntax is a very important topic.
Are we on a date or are you giving grammar lessons free?
No,I have Wasperger’s Syndrome.It’s as if I have Asperger’s but I sting too.
When do you sting
When people say sharp things to me.
Go on,you’re just needling me..
Truly I think you’ll love syntax and spelling rude words.
Well,we’ve had santax for years.Women pay VAT of 20 per cent on Tampax
It’s enough to make me throw up
No,throw out!Throw out the Coalition Government
Do you think Labour will remove Santax?
I don’t know but at least you’ll learn how to do percentages with them
I will?
Thank you so much.I am delighted to hear that.We are engaged.Here is a ring.
That’s beautiful.Was it your mother’s?
It still is my mother’s.
How can I wear it when she might see it?
I’ll tell her I liked hers so much I got one the same.She’s got poor vision so don’t worry.After the Wedding I’ll give it back
How mean.
I never knew you liked statistics.What about deviance?
Well,some I like,some I don’t… you catch my drift?
Well,babe,I’ll explain everything when we lie together.
That makes us sound like the government.
How come?
They all lie together.
Do they really.That explains a lot.Do they come together often?
I guess they have a rota.
You can’t come by will power.
That’s good.I want to come in a a horse and carriage.
It might frighten the horses.
I mean to our Wedding ceremony
Do you want four horses?
I am not that heavy!
No,I want you to have it all.
Suppose it’s not enough.
We’ll have to play it by ear..
Is that the organ?
Well,it’s a kind of organ.
A harmonium?
Maybe..I’ll ask the priest.
Does he play?
No,he just hears confessions and says Mass.
It’s a pity confession secret.He could write a long novel.
I daresay some have…. with pseudonyms.
I use a wordprocessor… should I get a pseudonym too?
You are crazy but I love you with all my heart.
And is it big?
Big enough for two.
Thank you,God.
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From the New Yorker
STEPHEN HAWKING ANGERS TRUMP SUPPORTERS WITH BAFFLING ARRAY OF LONG WORDS
LONDON (The Borowitz Report)—The theoretical physicist Stephen Hawking angered supporters of Donald J. Trump on Monday by responding to a question about the billionaire with a baffling array of long words.
Speaking to a television interviewer in London, Hawking called Trump “a demagogue who seems to appeal to the lowest common denominator,” a statement that many Trump supporters believed was intentionally designed to confuse them.
Moments after Hawking made the remark, Google reported a sharp increase in searches for the terms “demagogue,” “denominator,” and “Stephen Hawking.”
“For a so-called genius, this was an epic fail,” Trump’s campaign manager, Corey Lewandowski, said. “If Professor Hawking wants to do some damage, maybe he should try talking in English next time.”
Later in the day, Hawking attempted to clarify his remark about the presumptive Republican Presidential nominee, telling a reporter, “Trump bad man. Real bad man.”
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The old phone: Mary hears a shriek
Western fashion
Mary heard a very strange sound as she came down the polished stairs of her bijou detached home with its soft blue cosy furniture and deep navy blue thick pile wool carpets.It was a loud two part shriek that was intermittent and so more irritating to a delicate lady’s ear
I wonder if that’s the new answering machine, she thought to herself as she went to put the kettle on to make a few pints of tea.She heard it again,but it was not continuous
Well, it’s not the carbon monoxide detector either,she told Emile who was eating a sardine.Then she remembered hearing it before.
It’s the old phone handset with a flat battery,she murmured as she suddenly began to wash her hair in the kitchen sink with some Persil Silk and Wool detergent.
Annie came to the door
What’s that strangely disturbing beep ?she cried.And why are you washing your hair here,not in the bathroom?
See if you can spot the phone.I can’t find it,Mary told her.I wash my hair sometimes just to clear my brain besides my hair is so limp it needs it especially when we get a truly hot summer
Well,why not keep some shampoo here or that new wash and condition in one bottle Oh,gosh,I have found the phone.It was in the waste paper basket!But you can’t put it in the ordinary rubbish bin,can you?
Well I could but it’s illegal.I will have to pay £20 for a cab to the recycling centre,Mary said philosophically.
I’d better not leave it “by accident” on a bench in the Mall given the current climate of fear and Brexit hatred
Well if we remove the batteries it won’t shriek anymore,Annie told her kindly.
How is the new phone doing .Is it good? she rambled on guilelessly
OK.It has a special button on the front so you can block someone after you have picked it up.There is some much fear now about WITHELD NUMBERS.At one time we only knew after we picked it up.If I use my phablet my sister hates it..Mary disclosed.She refused to have more than 2 numbers for me so it comes up as UNKNOWN
What is a phablet? Annie enquired sardonically,her little soft eyes crinkling with laughter which showed off her turquoise and orange eye shadow which is actually made from pastel sticks from her art box!
It’s just a small tablet but you can make phone calls with it.An if it gets lost you can phobe it!!
I didn’t know you had one of those!
Neither did Stan,Mary said with a touch of sadness.I only wish we could phone heaven from earth.
Wow,said Annie.Maybe it would spoil
How true, her friend responded
.Let’s hope they have some attitude that makes them have a different point of view from us. Now,I’ll dry my hair and you can tell me why you came.
Oh,dear,said Annie.Let me drink some tea.I can’t remember except that your wisteria has climbed up my rowan tree.
Was it shopping? Was it Dave?Let’s ring 999 and see what he has to say.
We’re all gay here,no fuss
We’ll all go play with puss,Emile!!
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Angels
angels
kind beyond words
they protect and forgive
and make feelings of blissfulness
cherubim
Copyright © 2003 Erin Holbrook
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For sale
Archimedes’ pocket calculator in working order
Cleopatra’s nightie [washed and ironed]
Aristotle’s chair with footstool and TV remote
Abraham’s bra [unworn]
Isaac’s laughter [ CD]
My kindle book on spelling
Euclid’s ruler [plastic]
Zeno’s hair [combed]
Ten live Greek tortoises with name tags.
Book of Numbers [ In Hebrew]
My poetry course [ Teach yourself]
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Spelling – Poem by Margaret Atwood
My daughter plays on the floor
with plastic letters,
red, blue & hard yellow,
learning how to spell,
spelling,
how to make spells.
I wonder how many women
denied themselves daughters,
closed themselves in rooms,
drew the curtains
so they could mainline words.
A child is not a poem,
a poem is not a child.
there is no either/or.
However.
I return to the story
of the woman caught in the war
& in labour, her thighs tied
together by the enemy
so she could not give birth.
Ancestress: the burning witch,
her mouth covered by leather
to strangle words.
A word after a word
after a word is power.
At the point where language falls away
from the hot bones, at the point
where the rock breaks open and darkness
flows out of it like blood, at
the melting point of granite
when the bones know
they are hollow & the word
splits & doubles & speaks
the truth & the body
itself becomes a mouth.
This is a metaphor.
How do you learn to spell?
Blood, sky & the sun,
your own name first,
your first naming, your first name,
your first word.
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A sad child by Margaret Atwood
You’re sad because you’re sad.
It’s psychic. It’s the age. It’s chemical.
Go see a shrink or take a pill,
or hug your sadness like an eyeless doll
you need to sleep.
Well, all children are sad
but some get over it.
Count your blessings. Better than that,
buy a hat. Buy a coat or pet.
Take up dancing to forget.
Forget what?
Your sadness, your shadow,
whatever it was that was done to you
the day of the lawn party
when you came inside flushed with the sun,
your mouth sulky with sugar,
in your new dress with the ribbon
and the ice-cream smear,
and said to yourself in the bathroom,
I am not the favorite child.
My darling, when it comes
right down to it
and the light fails and the fog rolls in
and you’re trapped in your overturned body
under a blanket or burning car,
and the red flame is seeping out of you
and igniting the tarmac beside your head
or else the floor, or else the pillow,
none of us is;
or else we all are.
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Unmistakable and real
In the beginning
Matthew Arnold’s Dover Beach
Not God’s word but ours.
Premonitions
Unmistakable and real
Enter into minds
Can we live without
Worshipping something other
Than denim and gold?
I suspect we can’t
Collective melancholy
Becomes paranoid.
Neither can we stop
Until the nuclear fault
Brings hell to the earth.
Who thinks of heaven?
We seek to project our hate
Can we not hold it?
No-one wants to share
We don’t understand others
Are very like us.
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Slowly
A happy blackbird
Cheeps sweetly from the holly
The black cat sits by me.
A thrush came here once
I had no camera then
So I just looked out.
A little black cat
Sits near the house and watches
She looks nervous.
I boil the kettle
Put the coffee into cups
We drink it slowly
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We lie down
Into the darkness we descend
When the day has reached its end
Weary,happy,worn and still
We lie down at body’s will.
The darkness wraps us like a shroud
And in our dreams we sweetly browse
Till we pass the night and rise
To see the world with naked eyes.
.
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All shall be well
You must go out, they cry to me
Loneliness is bad for you
Be with one or better two
Or better still, a mass will be.
You must go out,don’t stay within
You may go mad and lose your mind
So mix with others of your kind
Ignore the quarrels and the din
Yet hermits to the desert went
Though Julian’s cell was in the Wall
She said God is a Mother to all
All shall be well,said mystic saint.
Feeling lonely in a crowd
We miss the few who know our hearts
Yet one day soon we must restart
Isolation’s not allowed.
And we are animals it’s true
Some sleep together in a heap
Comforting whilst in deep sleep
Yet some prefer their privacy
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The myth of race
Instead of staying in
Instead of staying in, I could go out;
But I am held back here by stifling doubts,
The heart is sad the sea is deep and dark
I wonder at the minds of those who shout
Is this true ,they must protest to ease their hearts,
Instead of staying in.
Since the new millenium was here
The world’s been further racked by violent fear
While in his pram the baby sleeps alone
Assuming carers are still watching near.
Until a madman throws a knife or bomb
Instead of staying in.
.
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The sky is dark
The sky is dark and yet the air is sweet
The little blackbird potters near my feet
For I have scattered crumbs upon the flags
And feel the air still has its July heat.
But madmen rage and knife attacks deplete.
The sky is dark.
People who are uncertain of their acts
With words and gestures make a fierce attack
Do they convince themselves or convince me?
Our world is breaking up; we see the cracks.
The sky is dark
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Rondel
http://www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/rondel.html
Rondel
by Kevin N. Roberts
Our time has passed on swift and careless feet, [A]
With sighs and smiles and songs both sad and sweet.
Our perfect hours have grown and gone so fast,
And these are things we never can repeat.
Though we might plead and pray that it would last,
Our time has passed. [A]
Like shreds of mist entangled in a tree,
Like surf and sea foam on a foaming sea,
Like all good things we know can never last,
Too soon we’ll see the end of you and me.
Despite the days and realms that we amassed,
Our time has passed.
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Rondel
http://www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/rondel.html
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A coincidence
I put a rondeau on Facebook and my sister commented:Great.. that was the crossword clue I couldn’t do today!She still had the newspaper on her lap.
A little black cat is sitting on the patio.She looks quite nervous but didn’t run off.
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Why aye,lass
Aye,Morecambe Bay ,they crossed at times by horse
The boatman knew the tides and river’s course.
The shape of Langdale Pikes were seen ahead
And kept back travellers’ fear of river bed,
There were quicksands,spirits and much worse-
Premonitions of a Chinese curse.
Yet as we stand and gaze who feels remorse?
Cockle pickers all sent here by force.
Not tortured except by what was never said
We know such silence fills a soul with dread.
The death, the grief, the hearse
Ah lass, Morecambe Bay.
Across the sands lie Cartmel and Furness
Ships were built by men with tenderness
Now all the yards lie empty and quite dead
While Barrow’s streets provide men with a bed,
The streets were children played affect my breath.
Beautiful and sad,oh, Morecambe Bay.
Oh Morecambe Bay betrayed,they caught their death
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Stabilise me with tea
Doctor,doctor
What’s wrong?
My IQ keeps going up and down.
It must be low today
Why do you say that?
If you were wise you’d avoid the medical profession
Wisdom is not the same as Intelligence>
No,wisdom is a virtue.
But can you stabilise mr
Where.. at the bottom?
Surely the top is better.
It depends on the weather
He that is down need fear no fall
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I’d like to hide
I’d like to hide myself from human sight
In a big oak wardrobe with a light
For as my skin is thinner than I like
Every word affects me like a knife
I’ll come out in the evening for a bite
And look for poets whose words I wish to cite.
In our culture, individual rights
Have been used so much in manners maladroit
I’d rather fish with Hughes and hope for pike
Than socialise as I’m too erudite
And thus I put humanity to flight
I’d like to hide.
Arguing whether Brexit was alright
Such matters do not fill me with delight
I hate to argue with a demagogue and break
Her temper which she’d hid for kindness’ sake
In my wardrobe I will go on strike
And starve myself to make room for a bloke.
I’d like to hide
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Scientific racism
I am a cat
“Such theories, which often postulated a “master race”, usually “Nordic” and “Aryan”, were along with eugenics, pioneered by Sir Francis Galton (among others) and popularized at the turn of the 20th century, a main influence of the Nazi racial policies and their program of eugenics. Galton developed the science of Eugenics whose primary concept was “control” and promotion of quantification and analytical measurements of “desirable traits” so as to set a guide on how to obtain the “truly proper breeding”. [1] However, this was not necessarily a continuous relationship, as several influential authors of Nazism were not themselves anti-semitic.
Quite to the contrary, Arthur de Gobineau (1816–82), for example, was a philo-semite who placed the “Jewish race” above all. Thus, although his racial theories largely influenced Nazi ideologies, they had to adapt him to suit their mindset. Apart from Gobineau’s 1853 The Inequality of Human Races,[2] other scientific racist works that largely influenced Nazism include Francis Galton’s 1870 Hereditary Genius: An Inquiry into Its Laws and Consequences,[3] Madison Grant’s 1916/1924 The Passing of the Great Race[4] and Lothrop T. Stoddard’s 1920 The Rising Tide of Color Against White World Supremacy[5]”
Carolus Linnaeus (1707–78), a Swedish botanist, physician and zoologist, who laid the bases of binomial nomenclature (the method of naming species) and is known as the “father of modern taxonomy” (the science of describing, categorizing and naming organisms) was also a pioneer in defining the concept of “race” as applied to humans. Within Homo sapiens he proposed four taxa of a lower (unnamed) rank.
These categories are, Americanus, Asiaticus, Africanus, and Europeanus. They were based on place of origin at first, and later skin color. Each race had certain characteristics that were endemic to individuals belonging to it. Native Americans were reddish, stubborn, and angered easily. Africans were black, relaxed and negligent. Asians were yellow, avaricious, and easily distracted. Europeans were white, gentle, and inventive.[10
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When we run
The path to take may seem a curious choice
For usually we run away from pain
But sages and deep wisdom with one voice
Tell us we must face it and remain.
For when we run, the action aids our fear
It grows with each long step to giant size
But images are not what they appear
As fantasy can be a dangerous lie.
If we stay and trembling shake and stare
The elephant may turn into an ant
And yet it seems for death we had prepared
Our narrow focus made of this a giant.
The paradox of wisdom isn’t clear
We trust the deep while we outstare ouir fear?
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On quicksands
On quicksands we must travel at some speed
Pausing, to the sucking sands we cede.
No rumination nor excuse will save
Nor will our weeping stop the steady waves
For of our needs , stark nature takes no heed.
If on our journey should we pause to read
Or peer on phone to see where paths should lead?
No, we must walk as swiftly as is brave .
And this alone may give us what we need
On quicksands.
We’d best not stop despite our feet may bleed
As when a bull is charging we need speed
No special clothing nor appearance suave
Will distinguish us from harlots or from knaves.
We’re at risk as in a storm a reed
Will break and God does not deceive.
On quicksands.
How my heart sings 