From the BBC photos of current winter weather
| ‘I have never started a poem yet whose end I knew. Writing a poem is discovering.’ |
From the BBC photos of current winter weather
| ‘I have never started a poem yet whose end I knew. Writing a poem is discovering.’ |

Although the errors in the last post were made by the computer not me ,some were strangely apt.
The bit about “the children all paid respect to the dead and slept together until puberty “reminded me that after my dad died my sister and I slept in the bed where he died.I find it sad now but we didn’t talk about it.We were 8 and 6 then.
We got single beds after I began to menstruate.
It’s the free association of the software!
My microphone annoyed the one I love
So I had never used it till he left
And now he is in heaven so high above
My voice will not annoy nor be a pest
In fact my lover died 2 years ago
know I’ve been adapting to my fate
But even in the depths of Winter snow
I know what many other losers know
That the one you love has gone and can’t return
That all your secret words are now unshared
And though your heart with agony shall burn
You will not let the neighbours hear one word
The memories, the cowslips by the stream,
The beach at Southwold, and the harbour call
Beyond the happiness of love and all her schemes
You live alone behind a ten foot wall
That love is good, few people will dispute
Let love be judged by nothing but its fruits
Is it apt to search for Love without
When we need to connect with our own soul
For surely we will need to study doubt
Before we can become more real,more whole
The conflict which disturbs is filled with pain
And so we are reluctant to go there
But if in hope we try again again
We may find a way which we can bear
Willingness is potent as our tool
Sullenness will ruin all our hopes
And so it’s plain to all except a fool
There is no advantage in long mopes
With patience and acceptance we are real
And in our hearts, a new peace is revealed

“2. Poetry can change how you see the world
A great poem, like a great novel or even a great movie, can expose you to parts of the world that you didn’t know existed and that you haven’t witnessed first hand. They can transport you to another reality and open your eyes, reminding you that the world is a big, interesting place full of opportunities and adventures.”
Theresa May has ordered that all corridors in hospitals be relabelled as wards. and given names:
“Long thin dirty blue ward”
“Long yellow windowless ward”
Also toilets and cloakrooms.
A toilet is “An ensuite ward for one”
A bathroom is “a ward for people who like sleeping in water.”
Since a ward is now anywhere with a trolley or bed in it no logician can complain.And if it’s you there you’ll be too ill.You may even be dead but as there is no nurse they don’t know.
It makes you think.
No-one should die on a trolley in a hospital corridor. We demand more funding to make our NHS safe for everyone who needs it.
38 degrees appeal.
On his trolley happy and at peace
He smiled then died within my glanceI
sang to let him know that I was near
In the hope my love would ease his fear.
Is it all right to die on a trolley in the car park? Or in the bathroom?
It’s not the trolley,it’s the location.
When my husband was dying I was quite unaware of where we were which was fortunate because I did not realise my singing was entertaining or pacifying the entire A and E department.I should have asked for money!
I sang psalms which usually I’d not recall the words of.Then I sang songs my dad sang to me….lullabies.Paul Robeson.Logically I had no idea he was dying but my actions and behaviour showed part of me knew.I find that odd.
I do feel very sorry that some folk die in a corridor.They’ll probably begin calling the corridors wards soon.Then nobody can complain.
Do we choose what we perceive each hour?
Or are we automata clothed in skin,
Who see the thorns and then ignore the flower?
Can we, like grass, be grateful for a shower.
Or is our store of gratitude too thin?
Can we choose what we perceive each hour?
As we struggle inside Babel’s tower
Ambivalence torture us within
Most will see the thorns yet not the flowers
With softened eyes, we see the whole sweet bower
If we draw near, we see what is now dim
Can we choose what we perceive each hour?
Who sees the sharp thorns but not the flowers?
Now that Trump has been elected leader of the nominally free world, democracy has jumped the shark. But absurdity is nothing new to Guantánamo – a place where peaceful hunger strikes (the last remaining form of protest for detainees) are renamed “non-religious fasts” and suicide is described as SIB – self-injurious behaviour, or “an act of asymmetrical warfare”. It’s a place where even books make the authorities uneasy – Crime and Punishment and Uncle Tom’s Cabin have been banned, along with Jack and the Beanstalk. Thankfully, Reprieve director Clive Stafford Smith is still allowed in – but his books are not (which he tells me is one of the few kindnesses the guards have shown to the prisoners).
Oh,Yale lock on my front door
Your ingenuity I adore.
You keep the thief from coming in
To steal the garbage from my bin.
To steal my husband’s radios
And other bits , I can’t say more.
I know we can have bolts as well.
Which came first, I dare not tell.
We had a Chubb ,I can now tell.
And a giant front doorbell.
It plays a dozen different tunes
To frighten off that crescent moon.
So in my handbag I have keys
Asthma sprays for when I wheeze
GNT for heart attacks
And hankies in those dainty packs
Then , of course, I have my purse
Mobile phones which often curse.
I have lipstick, suncream,balm
A comb and toothpick to add charm
So when I lock the big front door
I knee down to Yale.my door
http://www.literary-articles.com/2010/02/wordsworths-views-on-poetic-truth.html
| antonyms: | dishonesty, falsity |
Was this the apple then, your mother’s breast,
Which father thought was his to oft caress?
And when, in deprived rage, you bit to test
In return, he vowed to ever you harass.
At this, you learned that you could hate as well,
For punishment struck blows to your small heart.
Your memory, since wordless, could not tell;
Though pain and anguish made your soft skin smart.
As unknown as the journey to your birth.
As shocking as the grief of unmeant wrong..
As frightening as the gauging of your worth
As sudden as the ending of a song.
Impossible to foretell or to prepare,
The dangers to our breaking hearts lie there
Oh, hands so painful, why do you test me?
I need to write so God must cure me here!
From the world of ills, I wish to flee.
I feel I am a small boat on a sea.
infirmities like mine hurt like a spear
Oh, dainty-fingered hands, why test you me?
The world is not a womb and cannot be.
Within by good and ill we need to steer
Oh, hands so painful, why do you test me?
I hope to turn my face to better see.
Away from this built world where strangers leer
Oh hands, oh heart, oh God, no more test me
To join the club of pain there is no fee.
So for no one human is the price too dear
Oh, hands so painful, how can suffering be?
We have no other life than this one here.
To see and hear and touch we feel desire
Oh, hands so painful, why dear Lord, test me?
Yet from this world of ills, I ‘ll never flee,
Deceitful winter lets the sunshine in.
I smell the earth and see a snowdrop lone
Yet what seems pleasant is, in truth, a sin.
In minute ways the lengthening day begins.
The virtuous hope the true way will be shown
Deceitful winter lets the sunshine in.
At least the darkness hid what is within
For we each bury shadow under stone
Then what was pleasant turns to torment grim.
The world is other, we live on its skin.
With unfulfilled desires, we infant moan.
Deceitful winter lets the sunshine in.
We blame gods and men, for grace is thin.
Yet must we learn to trust the great unknown?
Then all that’s pleasant feels no longer grim.
Perceptions change as we move towards our home
Where all that’s wicked shall be overthown.
Deceitful winter let this sunshine in.
What seems bad is good, and good’s no sin.
The life boat crew are safely home
They’ve brought the shipwrecked sailors too.
The storm has passed, the wind has dropped
The sea is swaying softly now.
Wrapped in soft night clothes, their offspring
Are all in world of dream still lost.
Their fathers’ safely home this time.
They save wrecked ships despite the cost.
Will any lifeboat crew be there
To help less blessed ones from despair,
And lives, too many , spent in care
No fathers and no mothers near?
The sea we certainly must fear,
But more we fear the acts of those
Who try to buy our minds and wills,
for votes in the election booths.
Oh hush my baby, go to sleep,
It is your mammy’s job to weep.
I wish I knew just what to do
To empower the lives of wains like you.
Sleep well, sleep well, my little child.
The sun will rise, the air is mild.
We’ll trust that when we all set sail
Our love and courage will not fail.
Oh,hush my sweet one, I am near.
The world’s too big for bairns to bear.
We’ll do much better this time round.
We’ll not let this boat run aground.

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.

https://www.reference.com/art-literature/poetry-important-d5cd854f0e4bec39#
“Finally, because the expressive boundaries of poetry are virtually unlimited, it is an excellent tool for encouraging students’ creativity and for exposing the aesthetically elastic boundaries of language.”
Oh tin bath dear I hold you very dear
As by a hot coal fire, I wash my ear
Where Mum has got the water, I don’t know
As in the suds I sing , I love you so.
For in the bath, our forebears also sang
As in the woods they lived with no broadband.
And after many years they understood
They could talk outside the bath of dirty mud.
It did not seem like dirt to people then
As they were often travellers with the pen
Cleanliness it relative, you see.
Some of us were brought up with grey knees.
But relaxation opens up our chords
And in the woods they bathed and sang like birds
Is it better shopping the King’s Road
Or daubing all your family in blue woad?
As singing spreads the words each separate.
So every whispering can circulate.
After that,it’s voices in the head
And to asylums, we are swiftly led
So if we had stayed uncivilised ,unclean
Would our mental health have better been?
For if we do not speak in words and songs
The hidden voices would not make us wrong.
After all, who ever did decide
We are not allowed to hear from our inside?
Only words from other folk are sound
While voices in the head are cruelly blamed.
Far better to make friends with voices all,
Than struggle through that boring shopping mall.
And don’t use power to label me as mad,
If looking at our world makes me feel sad.
Oh book on Wittgenstein, I love you so
As for the hundredth time I go
Through his strange life
And sacrifice
Of mental comfort and the power to know.
You were good value for money , I see.
For through two near deaths you ‘ve helped me
My sister took twice;
My husband seems thrice;
So per word it is very near free.
Wittgenstein, the duty of genius by Ray Monk

In mathematics, so they say it is often necessary
to use letters to represent quantities
of what
it could be in the beginning
if you took a Marxist point of view
the main use would be buying and selling
Or before that, painting goat boots
why should we bother with history
especially when I am making it up
I told my imagination full stop
later the Arabs
in their magnificent Empire had many great books
and it was after the tact of Constantinople in 12215
that
The boats were rating from the library
by the Western Conquerors
and it was here that they discovered
what we know call algebra
that is using letters to represent unknown
quantities which one was trying to calculate
the Greeks, of course, had already made the greatest Discovery
which is the notion of Proof
although intriguingly they were giving
proofs of relationships which were already known
by for example the Egyptians but the Egyptians
Newnham bio experience of buildings
and it may help children learning mathematics
to know that it took human beings a very long time
to invent or discover it for example the sign 4 0
was a much harder development than the signs for 1 2 3 4 etc
because having a sign or symbol for nothing
is actually quite a sophisticated idea
I believe it was invented by Indian mathematicians
homes Sheringham
That we or not the most advanced sculpture in the world
all we have to wait for is the new Dark Ages
which will be arriving quite soon
Adidas did buy
Mr Donald Trump
did the Romans for c the Dark Ages
a poor vehicle that their Empire will continue forever
as they stood disconsolately on Hadrian’s Wall
using into the terrible land all the Scots have
10 Romans have never tried then or now to
Walkabout
no everybody thinks that expansion will go on forever
Andover like the child maniac
her birthday balloon and weeping with fear
when it bursts as it must
and everything inevitably will do the phone
it seems perfectly logical to me
but economist do not say that end of sentence
airline economist don’t say that because they do not want 2 tell that
Poor children or grandchildren will have less then we have
The owl can see with wide and narrow view Focuses both poets and artists know. The broad sweep on the canvas makes a place Where details and designs can have their space. What God endowed the owl with such excess; When all her progeny enjoy such bliss? I think,where is the snake with frightening hiss? What startling accident created this? Eagles,hawks and owls must kill to eat. No blandishments nor kindness make them sweet. What God could make an Eden this deceit; Where lambs are snatched up while their mothers bleat So God himself destroys to fill his leisure; Such fearsome revelations show his measure
Can I download the internet onto an external hard drive?
I still can’t download a new microphone.
I’d like a free glass table too.Can it come down via a USB cord?

I used Google docs Type Speech.I said, I haven’t really got angina ,but you’ll never guess what it typed.Well, you will but it’s a lie!
And when I said, I’m almost a virgin, the doctor said, how long will it take to really be one? Yet he’s a doctor.What does that tell you?
So , maybe voice recognition is not always best,depending on who reads what you say.If you see what I speak.
I feel I am losing my mind with software.Still, it stops the arteries burning down
I blame Google translate.

There are two types of people we classify as haters. One is a critic who comes from a place of love, another is legitimate hater — one coming from a place of fear or envy.

To be criticised with negative intention means that you have aroused something within someone else such as jealousy or a feeling of inadequacy. In order for the hater to feel better and elevated somehow, they need to put other people down. When someone condemns our work, comments unkindly on our appearance, judges our parenting style or disapproves of any of our actions, it is a pure and total reflection of them, not us. Take relief and comfort that a critic’s words often have nothing to do with you at all.

When I was a first-year student I had a very nice friend who had been to a very good school.We used to study together and at the end of the year, just before the exams she asked me a question.
It involved the Greek letter alpha and the sign for infinity which looks like the number 8 lying on its side,
Alpha is open at one side, the sign for infinity is not.
I realised that all through the year she had thought they were the same.Much of what we did used these signs.So how had she sat through lectures and seminars without understanding,
I feel a lot of children at school must be in a similar situation.It must be hard for them
On just the kind of putt that had been a career-long nemesis, he kept his head perfectly still and knocked the ball squarely in the hole. —Jaime Diaz, Sports Illustrated, 20 Feb. 1995
Japan and Iraq have been floated as possible successors for the role once filled by America’s old nemesis, the Soviet Union … —Michiko Kakutani, New York Times, 18 June 1993
In the beginning were the words, winged at first until, paralysed, they fell to earth and were imprisoned by their nemesis, the alphabet. —Erich Segal, Times Literary Supplement, 12 July 1991
Thus, once surgeons implant the new graft, tissue rejection—the unforgiving nemesis of most transplant attempts—occurs in only 3% to 5% of cases. —Christine Gorman et al., Time, 7 Dec. 1987
He will be playing his old nemesis for the championship.
nemesis and always foils his wicked plots.>
Nemesis was the Greek goddess of vengeance, a deity who doled out rewards for noble acts and punishment for evil ones. The Greeks believed that Nemesis didn’t always punish an offender immediately but might wait generations to avenge a crime. In English, nemesis originally referred to someone who brought a just retribution, but nowadays people are more likely to see animosity than justice in the actions of a nemesis.
Latin, from Greek
First Known Use: 1561
How like a cell is my small cubicle
Here I dwell avoiding human kind.
For kind in that phrase is not apt
When many humans lack mere tact.
When suffering deep within my souI,
In the cubicle, I hide.
Till love conspires to make me whole
And stands just by me, side by side
The winter of the soul is hard
Yet spring must come with the small birds
Yet will I wither by grief jarred?
I do believe I shall be cured.
For consolation comes from friends
Whose selfless love will never end.
May I be such a friend to you,
And give my love to life anew.
Art though my own and may I now love thee? Art though my own and shall I thy wife be? As waiting long lays waste to love and joy Art though mine, or with me do’st thou toy? O treat me not like stuff disposable O treat me not as one intolerable. For if thou touch then thou hast made a claim. And from the heart,to lose is to be maimed. For women are not like to sheep or goats We have hearts to feel what thou hast wrought And if thou come to steal then thou’rt a thief. One of many , causing women grief. Do not touch with hand or with sweet words For if thou lie, we feel our love absurd