Day: May 20, 2017

We touch the one who is our own true source

We do not need to fear a loathsome thought
They travel through our minds and then move on
Perfect peace of mind cannot be bought
Do not replay these thoughts for we will grieve.

If one day we feel of little worth
Who are we to judge and so condemn?
Do we think we are unduly cursed?
The underlying peace does still remain

Our central core can always be re-found
In silence, music or the human voice
In such rhythm and melody   now bound
We touch the One who is our own true source

Let all float by without the need to seize
Rumination is to blame for much unease

My big toe’s red,I feel a piercing ache

What’s wrong with you?
They think that I’ve got  gout
My big toe’s red,
I feel a piercing ache
Oh, I’ve got Parkinson’s .I feel depressed.
The doctor never sees me when undressed.
Him or you?Be careful with your speech
Are you trained  to join the word police?
No, I’ve got  swollen kidneys on my back
I brought some paper;I will draw more graphs.
Do you feel the gout is getting worse?
No , it’s menstruation, women’s curse.
You should let your mind go blank like verse.
My advice is,  care and never curse
But what about this blood on my big toe?
That is not where menstrual blood should flow.
I know that but maybe as it’s low
The blood sinks down and emigrates like snow.
Pardon me for parking on your blog
I need a place to  come to with this dog
This is Urgent Care we don’t do pets
Are you telling me you have no vets?
That is right, we  only take Great Brits
By the way,  a wondrous pair of tits.
I think they’re blue but I am not quite sure
Take your top off, let me see your flower.
This is not the place for  casual sex
I’m serious.I’d love to  bite your neck
But that is like Ted Hughes and Sylvia Plath
We must not go down that terror path
And if you’re really ill , you have no power.
I rent some from the station by the hour!
So to function in that way.  you’ve just been wired
I’m the  manager.Get out, you are fired
Can patients now be fired like men from work?
No, more like bombs that go off when I smirk
Well,I guess it keeps the patients down
Tell the management that Labour frowns
What’s this, more patients coming to be healed
OMG, it’s Donald Trump on wheels.
Is he disabled by some rare disease?
Maybe the Israelis  asked him to say please
No, he has not seen Bibi as yet
Thank the Lord, he looks like one beset
He’s with the Saudis, where will he abide?
I am mental, please tell me no lies.
They say he likes to sleep in his own bed
Don’t we all,?I’ll build one in my head
I wonder what he’ll say to Pope Francis?
I am gonna take mankind down this abyss
And I’m gonna test my great big nuclear bum
When I shout go, I want you all to come!
I’m feeling worse, I wish that I were home.
Urgent Care has turned my mind , I groan.

 

 

A potent feeling of your presence here

I sense you just behind me as I write
A potent feeling of your presence here
But turning round, there’s no one in my sight

Here I love to sit in gentle light
The shadows and the pools are how I steer
I sense your arms around me as I write

I like to go to bed when it is late
Another day gone, love, and still I fear.
Feeling round, there’s no-one in my night

I think I’ll get a passport and escape
Love’s gone missing; now men merely leer
I sense him just behind me as I write

My heavy feelings  enfold me, they drape
Bring me down to earth and atmosphere
I turn round, there’s no man at the gate.

In my side, I feel again the spear
I ask for aid but nobody can hear
I sense you just behind me as I write
But flailing now, there’s no one in my night

 

 

Baroque

DSC00034
Word of the Day : May 20, 2017
 https://www.merriam-webster.com/word-of-the-day

baroque

play

adjective buh-ROHK

Definition

1 : of, relating to, or having the characteristics of a style of artistic expression prevalent especially in the 17th century that is marked generally by use of complex forms, bold ornamentation, and the juxtaposition of contrasting elements often conveying a sense of drama, movement, and tension

2 : characterized by grotesqueness, extravagance, complexity, or flamboyance

Examples

Though I was interested in the book’s subject matter, I was put off by the baroquedescriptions the author seemed to favor.

“The Rev. Canon Patrick Malloy, the priest who oversees arts-related projects at the cathedral …, said the idea was to recreate a Baroque chapel and show the tapestries differently from when they hung over the transepts.” — James Barron, The New York Times, 21 Mar. 2017

Did You Know?

Baroque came to English from the French word barroque, meaning “irregularly shaped.” At first, the word in French was used mostly to refer to pearls. Eventually, it came to describe an extravagant style of art characterized by curving lines, gilt, and gold. This type of art, which was prevalent especially in the 17th century, was sometimes considered to be excessively decorated and overly complicated. It makes sense, therefore, that the meaning of the word baroque has broadened to include anything that seems excessively ornate or elaborate.

To comfort those who need eternal rest

Oh,  teapot round you are a  soothing breast
To comfort those who need eternal rest
For in the meantime we must do our work
As dust and dandruff  and algebra all lurk

Oh, teapot let me sing your praise anew
The best thing in my life is feeling you
And pouring over tea made with loose leaves
Some brandy liquidised with Chesire cheese

For after doing  real analysis
My mind is in a state of bitter mess.
Those functions and those forms make my head reel
I need a fishing rod, whose shall we steal?

Ted Hughes said he often fished for his ideas.;
That meditation soothes the minds of seers

My mother was the mistress of the leaf

I can’t write a poem, they all tell me.
Can you write a letter, read the tea?
My mother was  the mistress of the leaf
Paper, tea or even legal briefs.

She told my fortune after I  drank wee.
You’ve swallowed all the leaves, how can this be?
You’ll never be well off  despite your mind
Yett you’ll never want for love, you are so kind.

I tore a leaf from out her book of cheese.
I wrote a free verse on it, just to tease.
She said she  preferred to read the sonnet form
Or  humour, as the laughter kept her warm

Oh, mother how I wish  to hear you laugh
I  have a sense of humour and  much love

The electric world of love

 

Touch me with your silence and your words
Embrace me through your language and your love
Let us share our beautiful new world
From the lowly earth to stars above

Touch me with your silence and your song
Embrace me with the tunes of love and note
Eloquent your talent, pleasure brings
And makes us closer when one feels remote.

Touch me with your silence and your tongue
Embrace me with your body warm, serene.
Babel was a punishment for wrong
I have always felt the goodness of your being.

Two lovers make a pact to ever be
Kind and gentle in their subtlety

What’s of value’s not by effort bought.

s
I have  filled my mind   with  dreams   and thoughts
I have drawn conclusions  that seem real.
What’s of  value’s not by effort bought.

As Ted Hughes said,  his fishing was the sport
Which brought both meditation and a meal.
I have   studied minds   and  dreams   and thoughts

We see ,like that,   new images are caught.
In silence and in noticing  the feel
What’s of  value’s not by effort bought.

What we find may not be what we sought
At  first ,it may not show its wise appeal
I have  found  my mind   through  dreams   and thoughts

In the night the images  take flight.
God’s lioness  destroys what  is  congealed
What’s of  value’s not by effort wrought.

Like a butterfly, a flowering dart
Of love and beauty  which was once concealed
I have  found my mind  by  dreams, my  wordless thoughts.
What’s of  value’s not by effort bo

The art of travel is to guess

Photo0323

Words structured make a map for me
Sentences enable me to see.
But there are maps of other kinds
And different maps suit different minds.

The artist with her skilled brushstrokes,
Her unique sense of the world evokes.
This goes straight to the heart and tells
Of feelings’ deep, unfathomed wells.

The sweet, plain singing of the spheres
Moves those who hear to happy tears.
Yet notes are written on just five lines
From these flow all music’s rhythms

There are so many different worlds,
Which all these maps to us unfurl.
The Art of Travel is to guess
Which Map will suit which World the best.