Day: May 26, 2017

Knitted by butterflies

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Rosa was looking in a very interesting clothes shop online.Here she saw an outfit totally unsuited to her new post as Head of Linguistics in the University of Unisex.
There her eye was drawn to a pair of blue trousers with a red stripe down each leg.The trousers were somewhat shorter than in the days of that pair of women, Trinny and Susanna who told all of us how to dress.Especially to wear trousers  that cleaned the pavement as we walked along as it made  our legs look longer
Rosa met her friend Mary for coffee.
What do you think of these trousers, Mary? she asked, showing them to the bewildered lady on her HP Phablet.
I don’t think Stan would have liked those, she murmured.
I see some advantages, Rosa said.
If you have nice ankles then it reveals them and if not, you can wear really fun socks with butterflies on them.
Real butterflies? Mary queried anxiously
No, embroidered or knitted, Rosa said.You see them in those catalogues that come round  before Xmas
Or you could knit your own, said Mary.
I think knitting butterflies is very hard, Rosa whispered.
Nothing is innately hard, said Mary.It all depends on what you already know and if you have a good teacher and your devotion
How does Quantum theory compare to knitting butterflies? Rosa enquired jocosely.
That makes it sound as if you will knit with actual butterflies or that butterflies themselves might knit! Mary exclaimed.That would be  a thing you might see on LSD
Is that the latest kind of TV set, Rosa asked her?
For goodness sake, Rosa.Have you never taken drugs?
I don’t believe I have.You see at Oxford I was friendly with an ex-heroin addict.He told me not to buy drugs because I saw things like other people do when they take heroin.But I see like that naturally!
Well, that is fortunate for you, Mary sighed.Was it true?
There is no way of knowing, said Rosa scientifically but it saves money.
Well ,how about these trousers?I could get some red ankle boots and a red   shirt.Noone wears dresses anymore except maybe transsexuals.
I wear them,Mary said.When I was thin I wore a knitted dress.
Not knitted by butterflies I hope,Rosa  giggled
Well, it was from M & S so I doubt it although it would be cheaper to use them as butterflies don’t know what money is!
Nor do many human beings now.Why, plastic £5 notes…. it’s like toy money
And so say all of us

All The World’s A Stage By William Shakespeare

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https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/all-the-worlds-a-stage-by-william-shakespeare

William Shakespeare (1564-1616) is regarded by many as one of the greatest poets/playwrights in history. This poem is an excerpt from his play “As you like it” The poem compares the world to a stage and life to a play, and catalogs seven stages in a man’s life: infant, schoolboy, lover, soldier, justice, pantaloon, and old age, facing imminent death. The poem suggests that each stage in a man’s life calls upon him to play another role.

All The World’s A Stage

By William Shakespeare More William Shakespeare

All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper’d pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

Re:love

While vestiges of life remain
I’ll meet you in that  deep domain
Where love and silence trembling  reach
Some hearts, and so to me they teach
The song that’s sung will never end
My love.

I’ll wait in quiet of  Greenwoods sane;
Feelings  will   both teach and strain;
We never  feel as free from angst
As angels in their twilight dance.
Yet there are   finer  axioms here
We may  owe others love not fear
Keep  loving

Everyone has got their heart
And souls, though hidden.  don’t desert.
We might whirl round in hope to see
The other is no fantasy
As angels sighing  float away
My feelings will as ever say
I love you

Their assessment of our hearts endures.

The fear of judgment makes life harsh with pain.
The eyes that spy, the words we spoke in vain.
When we age we have a wider  view
We’re not so strange nor so very new.

The dream of being back at school once more.
Where  teachers power extends most to that door
We’re imprisoned to make  a  safe  society;
Creation from the young makes jeopardy.

We protect ourselves from children’s  open minds
It’s we who’re frightened and we make the bind.
It is the eyes, the thoughts, the innocence we fear.
Their assessment of our hearts endures.

And they are frightened by the Judge we haul
To destroy or mould the newness of their calls.
Till ,in a mirrored palace, we display
The heads of those who wished to change our ways.

Children need protection from the strong
But we, too, need protection from their songs

But a means of flight.

I have no teeth and combless I remain
My hair once silk is now a  tangled briar.
Men gaze on me with ruthless cold disdain
My visage will no longer spark their fire.

I have no mind and so I cannot think
I cannot love nor hate now as I  feel so tired
Yet runs my nose and do my eyes not blink?
Where is that man with care and inner fires?

I have no heart , or it turns cold and hard.
Yet soul I have and spirit and my sight.
At life’s long game I fling down all my cards.
And ask for nothing but a means of flight.

For beauty withers as my wisdom grows.
And none observe the circling of the crows.

All these long meanwhiles

At first , the rage and anger make us live
The energy inside those feelings’ s strong
But when nobody else  receives or gives
We feel that to this world we don’t belong.

The numbness, the paralysis  overcomes
We see the clock but have no urge to eat
We must impel ourselves while  feeling dumb
To stagger to the kitchen with its meats.

In the morning, wakening from our dreams
Of Leonard Cohen  singing as he smiles
It’s hard to  follow any plan or scheme
What to do with all these long meanwhiles?

Paralysed by an illness or disease
All  alone, the love inside can freeze

Mary’s Jeggings

Stan woke up feeling unusually fresh and lively on Monday morning.He gently extricated himself from the bed where his cat Emile was sleeping on a pillow beside Mary his kind and gentle yet tryingly brilliant and intellectual wife.Stan took a photo of the two with his Panasonic Lumix camera and took one of Annie , his mistress, walking past in a lemon coloured light wool tweed suit
.Lemon wool is rarely seen on sheep, Stan thought to himself, though he dreamed of lemon coloured sheep once after he got food poisoning and spent half of the night on the wc or crawling to and from his bed.
He flew down the stairs because he saw the postman coming and then he opened the door quickly in case it was a  vulgar book he was expecting.
.The postman handed him a parcel wrapped in grey plastic.As it was soft it was not a book unless it had no cover on
He opened it and to his astonishment, he found two pairs of old fashioned ladies long legged bloomers or possibly they were short leggings or jeggings as we say nowadays;
He rather hoped they were bloomers as he had always found that they turned him on more than G strings and bikini panties often worn now judging by the lingerie departments of the Department Stores where he often lingered languidly, longing for more love and romance even though he was 99 years old
.
Altogether the the bloomers were a very winsome type of garment…c. as long as they were underneath a dress, perhaps a long flowing gown embroidered with daisies or roses.Stan did not find leggings and cropped tops made him desirous as he preferred some mystery in women’s appearance which gave him a fantasy [often unreal] about the perfection and shape of the body beneath
He made Mary some tea and took it upstairs on a little tray with painted naive owls decorating it.She was awake and looking very charming in a fleece nightdress with robins and butterflies embroidered onto it by her own hands
Hello, babe, Stan said winningly.I have just opened a parcel but it is for you.
What is it, she asked tentatively.
Just some big knickers, he said tactfully.
Oh, yes.They are for the play we are putting on for Xmas,,,, the Importance of being Furnished by Kasper Milde
Furnished with what?
With clothes, she said soothingly.Like women used to wear.So I shall wear a pair of whalebone corsets and these bloomers.
What about your top half?Will your bosom be bare, he teased her jocosely.
No ,dear.Not here…I’d never live it down
As an artist, I think if your art demands a bare bosom you must bare it or die.
Well, she said, I don’t think my mother had a bare top.She had a corselet with a built in bra and then a petticoat made of rayon with lace edging.And a woollen vest too.And an underdress.
Oh, dear, Stan answered sadly.I hoped you’d be half naked…
You can see me fully naked here , she informed him in a gentle and humorous manner…
I know.dear, but it’s not the same alone here as it would be on the stage.. that excites me a lot.I guess it’s my age.
You would not be able to ravish me in public, she said grinning at his reflection in the mirror opposite the bed end…..
Well, we could pop out in the interval, he mused to himself… it’s 15 minutes or so.
That’s not enough for me, she told him firmly
How very kind dear.I am so glad you’d like me for longer than that.
I am just being practical, she murmured, we older ladies take more time to get going ,as it were.And a vibrator never excited me.Where is the romance and humanity in plastic or even in vegetables?
Years it takes them to get ready for it,Stan thought dolefully.No wonder I have a mistress.Even she is only turned on about once a month…
Still, there was always a possibility that sooner or later one of them would want him to stroke their backs and call them darling or buttercup or some other tender word.How he hoped today would be the day though the lemon tweed suit made it seem unlikely Annie would be at home.He smiled at Mary and offered to make her a bacon buttie.. who knows what might happen after that… and Emile is listening and hoping for a display of human passion as long as nobody died in bed and disturbed his cosy nest

And alone

When children are deprived of what they need
To participate in  social life and mix
Then we must wonder where such lack may lead
Can such a loss be overcome and fixed?

Children  will miscredit their own lack
They think it means that they are wicked beings
I wonder whether  pain can be rolled back
If from the  social world they end up fleeing

The silent stabs, the knife inside the heart
The wish to take the blame from parents sad
If some proceed to crime, this is the start
They were not born by nature to be bad.

We must not think entirely  of our own
But of the others poorer and alone

Reasons

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2 Reasons to learn algebra

It has lots of xxxxxx in it

It helps to pass the time

6 Reasons to spend more time naked

It saves buying clothes
It saves washing clothes.
It stops people calling.
You can discover the extent of the law by trial and terror
You can make notes on your arms.
You can  practise life drawing all day on your own body or your room mate’s

6 Reasons to write poetry

God writes poetry [See the Book of Job]
Poems are shorter than novels
You can understand it better if you write it
You can  be surprised by your own mind
You don’t need to dream at night!
You can revere the great poets more.

6 Reasons to learn to cook

Cheaper than ready meals
It tastes better usually!
Cooking like knitting can be relaxing if you are not time pressed
You can invite a friend to share a meal.
You can eat more unusual foods after studying cookery books
You can show off by making meringues and   Russian cheesecakes

Struggle in the mind

When doubts and drawbacks struggle in the mind

And certainty seems but a demon dream,
When faith to love is what  we   cannot find
For even when asleep, the mind still schemes

 

When darkness and defeat seem close at hand
And lights dim even as we pray for grace
when wrecks and ruins rile the native sands
When in this life we feel we’ve lost our place…

 

Then at the saddest depth, we see the light
Surrounding with such warmth, with love adorned
The path that seemed so wrong now leads us right
And in our hearts, warm feelings are newborn.

 

For in all storms there is calm still eye
From which we note the fiercest clouds  rush by

The air between our faces is alive

The air between our faces is alive
A channel of the mercy of the heart
A bridge of  care and liking, not of strife

Liking  is not something  we decide
It’s recognition, knowing, it’s the start
The air between our faces is alive

Each must like themselves, never deride
For  light hides in crevasses, icy  heart
No bridge of tenderness but subtle strife

Mistaken in my vision, I denied
The charged particles had hit me like a dart.
The air between our faces was alive

Love’s illusion, friendship is for life.
Expectations pliable.no charts
A bridge of  care and liking, not of strife

Good will can be a choice, to love allied
The love of friends proceeds, despite our trials
The air between our faces is alive
A bridge of  care and liking, not of strife