The silence seems more friendly than  before
It’s like a melody  felt in my ear
This love has taken from me, my own fear
When silence was an omen with dark door
The flowers and all of nature, I adore
Gone are paranoia and its seers.
The silence seems more friendly than  before
It’s like sweet silent music to my ear
I am drawn to love you more and more.
Hypnotic  like the sun on Windermere
A misty air arising as we peer
The silence is more friendly than  before

I meant to put the cyclamen outside
Their scent’s  so good, I may keep them near me
We walked through yellow gorse near the North Sea
Such perfume like a flowery, prickly bride
Flowers and their  small hearts can never lie
Nor can maples and the holly trees
I meant to put the cyclamen outside
Their scent’s  so good, I may keep them near me
I must be sure I don’t let them get dry
I   promise I will  listen to their plea
No longer can plants stand on our TV
I meant to put the cyclamen outside

 

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2016/oct/22/losing-online-friends-same-as-real-life-relationships

 

“When we get close to people online, we run the same risk as getting close to people in the real world: that we will love them and then lose them. And yet, just like in the real world, we reach out anyway, because that’s the kind of creatures we are: ones who crave emotional connection, be it across cyberspace or right across the table.”

Why did Jesus walk on water?
They had no roads!

Why did Jesus have followers?
Because he had a blog in mind

Why did God  make us?
That’s what we all wonder

Why did Jesus love us?
Because he had not met us!

Did Jesus keep a diary?
Maybe the Red Sea Scrolls.

Did Moses like law and order?
Only on tablets.

https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/text/why-i-write

“What we take out of life is the luminous moment, which can be a bare branch against a morning sky so overcast it’s in white face, seen through a window that warps the view because the glass has begun to melt with age. Or it can be the face of a beautiful man seen in passing on a crowded street, because beauty is always passing, and you see it but it doesn’t see you. It’s the promise that beauty is possible and the threat that it’s only momentary: if someone doesn’t write it down it’s gone. The moment vanishes without a trace and then the person who experiences that moment vanishes and then there’s nothing. Except perhaps the poem, which can’t change anything. As Auden wrote, poetry makes nothing happen, which also implies the possibility of making “nothing” an event rather than a mere vacancy. Poetry rescues nothing and no one, but it embodies that helpless, necessary will to rescue, which is a kind of love, my love for the world and the things and people in the world.

In a graduate contemporary poetry class I took some twenty years ago, a fellow student complained that a poem we were reading was “Just trying to immortalize this scene.” I found it an odd objection, since I thought that’s what poems were supposed to do. One is deluded if one believes that one can actually preserve the world in words, but one is just playing games if one doesn’t try.

The world cannot be saved, in any of the several senses of the word. To save the world would be to stop it, to fix it in place and time, to drain it of what makes it world: motion, flux, action. As Yeats wrote in “Easter 1916,” “Minute by minute they change;/ …. The stone’s in the midst of all.” Poet and critic Allen Grossman is not the first to observe that poetry is a deathly activity, removing things from the obliterating stream of meaningless event that is also the embodied vitality of the world and of time’s action in and upon the world, which creates and destroys in the same motion. The stream of time is both life and that which wears life down to nothing. “Poetry is the perpetual evidence, the sadly perpetual evidence, of the incompleteness of the motive which gives rise to it” (Grossman 71).””

Scientists have found humor helps arthritis, instead of prescribing ibuprofen the doctor will tickle you with a feather duster.You’ll have to strip of course and if the nurse cam in it would look strange to have them doctor running around the room saying,”You need another tickle”
So he’ll give you a pack of cards each of which says:
This card entitles the carrier to one tickle today,two tickles tomorrow.Four tickles the day after, and so on.
If the number of tickles doubles each day,how many tickles will you have been entitled to in a week?
In a month?
On the last day of the year would the number of tickles you were prescribed be more than the number of seconds in the day?
You’d better tick off the doctor for not understanding the growth rate.Still if it gives you or her/him a laugh……..your pain will diminish.
Bring back the tickle,I say.It never did me any harm,though I say it myself.
If that fails to heal you,you could ask for Capital Punishment…. you’ll have to move to London for that.

Lord,it seems until recently we were able to move from summer clothes to winter ones without a thought.But now there are article in Newspapers advising us ho to manage it.It’s a sad moment when we have to give up our lovely light summer things into heavy dark winter ones
In general we seem to be offered a good deal of advice which might be insulting as it implies we are very dim

Well,I can offer you a few thought for women

1.Wear some lightweight boots with your summer dress but only if you already have some. or wear  tights
2.Wear more layers of underwear  like petticoats.Especially if you are thin.Like 2 camisoles, 3 pairs of pants and 2 waist slips.It may start a new trend as pyjamas are already worn in Tescos!
3 Put a lightweight coat on.Even indoors!It may be colder inside than out.
4.Wear summer trousers with wool socks and proper shoes.And a jumper.Wool socks are amazing
5 Do you have that wonderful thing,a trench coat with a removable lining? If not  just wear a long thin cardigan under a cotton trench.
Alternatively, get your warm clothes out because it will save you putting on the heating.And trying out some new combinations amuses some of us