Month: December 2016

To tell the truth and not a wild, cold lie?

My fingers trailing in the river
I see the sun reflecting ripples fly
Would you like to be forever
In this   gliding boat until we die?
Or will you forsake  your illusions
To tell the truth and not a wild ,cold lie?

The sun is ideal as a  poet’s symbol
The god of fire and love and life.
The mighty one can make us tremble
Or burn the vision out our eyes.
Retinal tender, silky cobwebs
May not last until we  come to die

Many love the moon’s reflection;
Her silver crescent slender as a bone
And for many she’s perfection
While for others she’s a  smiling crone
In the gliding boat I still look upward
Silent,trembling,aching,all alone

 

Wild geraniums

 

Stepping through the door
I am assailed by perfume
Wild geraniums.

I ease these flowers
Out of  the    patio bed
For they cover sage.

They cover flowers-
Blue geranium and saxifrage
Rosemary  sprawls now

Lavender’s nearby.
Now  inside  I hear singing.
Bird by the windows.

A robin came in,
Looking for my old man
I said,he’s not here.

Embodying soul
Sacramental  life in scents
Flowers are themselves.

How I’d like to lie
In the poppy-filled meadows
With my beloved.

Or splash through the ford
Near the open air display
Work of Henry Moore.

The topology
Of his sculptures moves my heart
Vast,holy, peaceful.

Massive like  unto God
They transform the soul and body
Into one being.

Then we are all one
With the sloping green meadows
And the wind bent trees.

Most of all,I know
Wildflowers are God’s darlings.
How he dwells in them.

Low,modest beauties
On the verge of the main road
See ,even here, smiles.

To lose one’s own self
To become a wild-flower
Grace will sanctify.

First, grow an ego
Then lose it in these green woods
Unselfconscious Eve.

PUTIN AGREES TO RECEIVE INTELLIGENCE BRIEFINGS IN TRUMP’S PLACE [Satire]

picasso
 http://www.newyorker.com/humor/borowitz-report/putin-agrees-to-receive-intelligence-briefings-in-trumps-place?intcid=mod-latest

SATIRE FROM THE BOROWITZ REPORT

PUTIN AGREES TO RECEIVE INTELLIGENCE BRIEFINGS IN TRUMP’S PLACE

By

NEW YORK (The Borowitz Report)—In what Donald Trump’s transition-team members are calling a further example of international coöperation, Russian President Vladimir Putin has agreed to receive daily U.S. intelligence briefings in the place of the President-elect.

Trump, who had earlier decided that he did not need the briefings and had assigned Vice-President-elect Mike Pence to receive them, said on Tuesday that Putin was a “much better choice.”

“In securing the Russian President’s services. “The American people are getting an amazing deal here,” he said. “Putin is doing this totally for free.”

We must be incarnate

 

dscn0042

So much depends on mood and time of day

We interpret or mis-shape what we perceive.

The sun may shine to show a better way

Or absent that,  a transient cloud deceive.

 

No lowing herds wind down our oil fumed  roads.

Tranquillity at dusk has disappeared.

With artificial light the daytime mode’s

 Prolonged and reverie’s  feared.

 

To truly live we must be incarnate.

God himself  has paid this price alone.

For time misspent we do not get rebate.

As ,like the leaves in wind, away we’re blown.

 

To live  aright perception must be clear

Including in its breadth all that we fear.

Harm churner

  • oxford2016-1Bank has fit
  • Baptism by liars
  • Spare buns?
  • Hare faced  cryer
  • Large pun
  • Larking lad
  • Parking up the wrong tree again?
  • Harm churner
    A  warren of  grief
  • Casket base,
  • Biased hack words,
  • Cats  have eyelids
  • Sat the  radio underground,
  • Baited Wrath,
  •  Tax pats  for the wealthy.

All right then I stole my wife’s purse.

Pray Father, give me your blessing

To my peccadilloes, I am now confessing.

Please name them in rank,

From a  theft to a wank.

Or Jesus won’t half you en- spank.

 

Beg pardon, dear Father,I’m shocked

To hear the Lord’s name being mocked.

Well, we’re now up to date

So got on with it, mate.

Or who knows what will be your fate!

 

All right then  I stole my wife’s purse.

I also indulged in a curse.

Why, where is your own money?

I have not got any!

I work hard  but I buy myself honey,

 

Is honey a euphemism then?

No I buy the Manuka  when

I get bronchitis

Or bad tonsillitis

Surely that is never a sin?

 

Well all in proportion, dear friend

You need to earn more than you spend.

I see that is logical,

Almost a thimbleful

.But applying it sent me round the bend

 

But how about priests like yourself?

They are not meant to accrue any wealth.

Well that is the theory

But, cripes,holy Mary.

Some of us do it by stealth.

 

Well, how about absolving me now?

I do repent   fully and how!

Your penance is this:

Give Facebook a miss.

And earn more money somehow.

 

 

 

 

 

The face that was familiar is no more

 

The face that was familiar is no more
Yet in my dreams ,he is alive again
If ,by a chance, his life could be restored
It would affect me like the hidden chord
Which played, my own life force would go.
That one must live and one must die is plain
The face that was familiar is no more.
Yet in my dreams ,he is alive again

Stan feels the world owes him

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A few weeks after Annie moved into the house next door to Stan,he met her when he was  seeing his wife off to work.
Why does your wife not have a car? she enquired suspiciously.
She is trying to keep slim,Stan told her.
Well,she’s not been very successful,Annie said scientifically.
She might be much fatter than she is now if she drove a car,he stated ponderously
That’s true,muttered Annie meditatively
I am your new next door neighbor.she continued melodiously
Yes, my dear, said Stan,I have seen you sunbathing in the garden in your bikinis.
How come? she asked scientifically.
There’s a big hole in the fence.
Is it legal to look at women through a hole in the fence?
asked Annie curiously>I know it’s illegal to look into their bedroom windows.
Is it really,asked Stan nervously,I had no idea.
How about women looking at men through a round hole?
Oh,they  can’t be  bothered to do that,she told him charmingly.
Well,said Stan,clearing his throat,I think I owe it to myself to tell you that I love you.
Wow,you’re quick off the mark,the lady said saucily.
What do you mean,you owe it to yourself? Why are you owed anything?
I don’t really,said Stan tepidly,I could not think how to word it.I mean I wish to unselfishly love you and admire your ripe body and your cute sense of color.I love your teal trouser suit.And you sing so well in the bath.
You didn’t mean you owe it to yourself to take advantage of me? she continued fluently
Not unless you want me to take advantage of you,the gallant old man informed her.
And you can take advantage of me.I make cakes and biscuits,wholemeal bread and I am training my cat, Emile, to do statistics on an i pad.
How extraordinary,Annie whispered.I didn’t know cats had an “I.” let alone pads.
Well,they have pads on their paws,he informed her intelligently.
True,she said,but where are their I’s?
Where are our I’s ?he responded in a manner to rejoice the heart of Mary Midgley or Susanne Langer two of Stan’s favourite writers on philosophy,logic,symbols and ethics.
Not that he practiced the Ethics but he liked to know what he was doing wron
A man who seduces women merrily one after the other may have no idea it might be wrong.Neither might the women.Why is it wrong?Surely it’s better than killing people or leaving the lid off the jam all night so the wasps get into the jar?
Still,not many men get the chances that Stan got.No-one suspected this kindly,handsome practicing Catholic was a womanizer despite his blue beard,green eyes,white skin and red hair.And his slim yet strong figure clad in navy trousers and white shirts all the year round.Maybe his wife did but she preferred to read Aristotle in bed and dream about mercury… those little silver balls,so cute!
Well,as we know,Stan is about to make Annie his mistress but in such a cold wet summer,where can he take her to do the deed?
The shed?The public library? Cafe Nero?
I owe it to you not to tell you yet.That will give you time to think of a solution for this sweet old man and his naughty but nice neighbor.
Like,how about the confessional in the local Church?
Whatever next?I owe it to myself to keep it secret as you may come along and spoil the fun.
Stan went indoors and washed up in the boiling hot water he kept by him constantly as he owed it to himself to be ready to make a hot drink at any moment he fancied and by gum,he did fancy like no man has ever fancied before.So his daemon tells me.
Next time:Why did God create Stan and why does it matter?

Guide to what not to say to very ill people

Paper flowers
Paper flowers

 

https://www.quora.com/What-are-some-things-you-should-not-say-to-someone-when-they-are-very-ill

 

  • Respect their boundaries.   Let them decide how much help and input they want to receive from you.  It is exhausting to be sick and be expected to gratefully receive a parade of people.   The parade actually feels predatory because you get people who want to snap “last photos” with you, see you for the “last time”, and hold you hostage with religious speeches that make them feel better while you feel worse.   If they don’t want the hassle of dealing with anyone but immediate family, respect that.   If they will see you but are running low on energy, meet with them briefly. If you were never touchy-feely with them before, don’t start now unless they initiate physical contact.   Follow their lead.
Magdalena Augeneder, It’s all about communication.

I saw a hearse

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I need to be assertive and to  curse
For even  on the  radio people swear.
I am out of date and what is worse?

If I lose my handbag or my purse
I feel I can’t survive with feelings bare
I need to be enchanted by some mirth

I did not swear when   outside stood the hearse
I felt so numb I did not feint  with care
I was  up to date and what is worse?

I really don’t know why I’m writing this
I feel like hiding in a  fox’s lair
I need to be assertive and to  curse

I’d rather watch  the cat take a   long piss
I seem to  travel  though I know not where
I am fast  to sin and that is worse.

I need to wash my face and  curl my hair
I  wonder of my beauty is quite fair
I  try to be assertive  and  get cursed
I am  nearly late ;I’ve lost my purse.!

Finding time to write

sausdiag
More free time doesn’t mean you’ll use the time to write—you’ll do everything but write.
img_0042img_0039
http://nybookeditors.com/2016/06/balance-day-job-writing-passion/?inf_contact_key=2622d7e642f193a3873be454e6be59b94821257d9a9d7bf272b507f4e5d7d949

Instead, you must make writing one of your top to-do’s, wedged right between your weekly grocery trip and your dry cleaning drop off.

You may think, that doesn’t sound very romantic. And it’s not. But most of writing isn’t romantic at all. It’s you staring at a screen and willing words to materialize. Or you staring at a notebook and doing the same thing. Or you just staring, full stop.

Here’s the good news: Writing requires just as much discipline as it does creativity. This means you can learn how to make writing a daily habit. It doesn’t have to compete with your day job. Below, let’s discuss the top tips for balancing what you have to do with what you want to do—and that’s write.

Be sure to grab our list of inspiration from fellow writers that you can print and post near your computer.
CLICK HERE

But First, Remember You’re in Good Company

Be encouraged. You don’t have to quit your day job to contribute a wonderful work of art to humanity. Many writers, from Bram Stoker to Lewis Carroll, managed to write unforgettable pieces of literature while working full time. Here’s a partial list to inspire you:

Anne Rice

Anton Chekhov

Frank McCourt

Franz Kafka

Harper Lee

Herman Melville

J.K. Rowling

Jorge Luis Borges

Philip Larkin

Toni Morrison

T. S. Eliot

Wallace Stevens

William Carlos Williams

Virginia Woolf

 

FINAL THOUGHTS

Remember that all the time you have is right now. Don’t wait for someday when the conditions are just right to write. They’ll never be just right. They’ll always be another distraction—if not work, it’ll be something else. Make writing a priority and tell the story that only you can tell. Good luck!

When I cannot tell you how I feel

2012-01-221

When I cannot tell you how I feel
When I want to see you ,not  to speak,
I talk about the weather like a  fool

Sometimes when I’m tired I feel unreal
Or life seems lost and  meaning seems to leak
Then I  can not  tell you how I feel.

Some months have their winds to make misrule
Winds to  throttle  throats and freeze the cheeks
I talk about the weather ,as its cool.

We must keep moving or our blood congeals
So sheep must  on moorland  frosty, bleak
I don’t want to  lie for  life is real

When winter mocks our age I find it cruel
Yet you are old and for amusement look
I talk about  the sunshine like a  fool

Oh,happy   snowfalls keeping us from school
As on the ice we tumbled with loud shrieks
When I  cannor   tell you how I feel
The weather  stands for  what  I   have concealed