Mary may date online but her shoes are no good

Annie the nubile ex-mistress of Stan   and colour fancying neighbour  of Mary has persuaded Mary that as Stan has run away she should find someone else.Mary is doubtfulIMG_0012First of all,Annie cried,you need some brand  new  delicate shoes.No man will be charmed by those chunky ,comfy flatties.Nor do your socks show sophistication.Though a farmer might be happy with themShe herself wore a pink tweed suit and some high heeled boots in purple patent leather over a blue silk  pair of socks.
Well,Mary,answered,I thought I should be myself because they might be annoyed being tricked.I would be.
That’s their  problem said Annie  somewhat rudely.
Well.where do I get the sort of socks a man would like,if indeed all men are the same in that way?
I’d stick with silky black ones,said Annie kindly.Then some smart black pumps.That simplifies  life.
But if I look at Soul-mates online the men will not know what shoes I have got on nor socks
That’s true,said Annie.At least until you meet one if you ever do.
Anyway if it is called Soul-mates,why does my body matter?
Don’t be so literal,dear.You know it’s just a way of indicating they want a lover. that case it’s my lingerie that matters more than my shoes.
See here,said Annie bossily.With those shoes and socks nobody will want to see your lingerie.


Just as well ,said Mary calmly.I don’t have any.
Are you telling me  you have no  underwear on,Annie cried with shock in her tone.Your trousers will need washing more often!!
I am wearing some woollen vests and underpants I got for Stan,Mary said shyly.I like wool.
What do you think a man will assume if you wear that?
That I can’t afford to have the fire on,Mary  queried timidly.
He might think you are transgender.
I have heard of transcendence but not transgender,Mary admitted ruefully.I did used to have  a purple bra, she continued distractedly.
Anyway, what about my learning and job  as a maths prof?
Don’t put  anything about maths on the form.They hate clever women.
Surely they are not all the same,Mary answered.Mary Archer is very clever and she’s been married 50 years
You can’t generalise from one example ,Annie informed her statistically
How about my love of Wittgenstein?Shall I mention it?
If you wear men’s woollen underwear and love a  dead,gay philosopher it will cut down the pool of men available.
I don’t think I’ll bother,Mary whispered.I don’t like fishing.I’d rather have a cup of tea.
Really.said Annie.I don’t know why you decided to try this.
I never did it was you.I am quite happy as I am given the dangers of this world.
And so say most of us.Amen.


What is an Ode?


noun: ode; plural noun: odes
  1. a lyric poem, typically one in the form of an address to a particular subject, written in varied or irregular metre.
    • a classical poem of a kind originally meant to be sung.
late 16th century: from French, from late Latin oda, from Greek ōidē, Attic form of aoidē ‘song’, from aeidein‘sing’.

Like startled flowers

The hailstones pounded the window
as violently,as if they had minds
bent on killing;soldiers in rows and ranks rushing onwards;
as each fell another and another took its place.
Cold and mathematical they had a simple precise force and geometry.
Into this warlike scene,floated two white butterflies
Crossing and recrossing the spaces between the hail
they followed a random path;now apart
Their unplanned,loving dance leads to mating, procreation and a future
while the hailstones can only die.
Seems that fragile freedom is more productive
than the fierce mechanical modern world can imagine.
I see the butterflies now like startled flowers
hunting for the sun

Can we find the space between the words?

How like a prison is this cubicle
So small I’m like a fish inside  a net

My heart beats with a rhythm unmusical
As with sharp terror, I am now beset.

We humans were not made to be en-walled
Our ancestors were gatherers in the woods.
Now  industry  demands freedom be stalled
For production and  consumption of  their goods.

And  executives in advertising   work
In  offices  where they  combine their words
Religiously like members of the Kirk
Yet envying the freedom of wild birds.

Can we  be ourselves in such a world?
Can we find the space between the words?

When my love’s gone

When  my love's gone and doom hangs over head
When life runs like a river to the sea
Then shall I take new lovers to my bed.
And with their carnal touch consoled be?

When true loves lie and break my woman's heart.
When life seems grey and rocks bestrew my path.
Then, shall I my life of evil start
And on the world shall I bestow my wrath?

When true loves lie and wreck all loyalty.
When puzzlement makes all the world seem mad.
Then I shall upend causality
And let myself do deeds which make me glad.

For I will not  retaliate   in hate
Despite my  grief, a new life I'll create


The uncanny is a space which I avoid

The uncanny is a space which I avoid
I do not wish to meet with spirits  vile.
Though with a man ,it’s true that I have toyed.
I  dropped them all and sane was I the while.

Yet when I met your eyes so dark  and strange
A force more strong than my own pulled me in.
A   premonition that my life would change,
Before I knew your double,your dark twin.

In dreams and  in my nightmares he will come
To capture me and take me  to his land.
I do not know what choice to make of man
Nor how to count infinity by hand

The double is an augury of death
Yet in this space uncanny is a path