1.Wear ugly.dull  greyish clothes.
2.Pretend to be very shy and inept,carry  red plastic handbags full of tampons
3 Tell people  you have periods every week but don’t say what sort
4.Never meet anyone’s eyes except for the police.Tell them they look arrresting
5.Never speak except to swear  and curse or mutter,I have no self esteem
6.Say your mother said never ever  talk to strange men, women or dogs
7. Tell people you have a dangerous or infectious skin disease.
8.Never go out socially
9 At work stay silent and strong.
10 Remember however horrible,boring,stupid ,ill dressed and ugly you are somebody is your  perfect match.So beware

Women must not give off natural scents
Deodorants,perfume,money spent
But men  can look dirty
Even when flirty
Is such distinction the sign of a gent?

Women   like wearing red frocks
As they tend to the sheep in their flock
For shepherds are handsome
They love to go dancing
Then you take them home  drunk in a box.

As for shoes, it seems heels have gone out
White trainers are in, without doubt
We all copy each other
But under the cover
We suffer from bunions and gout

I’m a secret agent,I’m a spy
I often will improvise lies.
I never let  men near me
As they may well fear me
I broke all the codes  in the guide.

I must not reveal my true  name
Or mention I voted,Remain!
I will be hanged,drawn and quartered
Illegally tortured
They’ll say I’m a Muslim insane

My photo is so stunning men rush
To entice me to hide in a bush
They   must want to  caress me
Or even arrest me
I’ll say no more now lest I flush

 

1.Look at yourself naked in the mirror before your partner arrives.Then be thankful someone fancies you.Then laugh at the humour of life and cry for the lost beauty
2. Put Maltesers under the pillows then scream when you hear them crunch.Then share them and another bag you keep in the drawer for emergencies
3. Let the cat lie on top of you both.He won’t need much persuasion.
4 Play “The Ride of the Valkyries” on your smartphone while you are in bed.Then play with each other.
5.Pray aloud for God’s help  to ne able to make love once more when your lover believes you are an atheist.Keep them guessing.
6.Leave a funny message on your answering machine  which is by the bed and ring your landline with your mobile.

A  new Word
There was no time to  think, to frame new  words
His breathing shallow as a gentle bird
It was the life force emptied,oh,this sign.
Although the doctors never tell their paradigms
Their eyes seem wise yet blind, they try to care

Behind my ribs, my heart was scissored, stirred
A Bach motet quite distant, softly held
A sacred image seemed to  be assigned
What  cruel word?

Oh, if he could have spoken, I’d have heard
If he should have wakened, I’d prepared
All our going’s are in nature’s reign
Down deep inside our hearts, we sense  God’s mind
Would that all sweet comfort  could be shared
And when  one Jew was sacrificed, we heard
The New,The Old.The  One, The Stuttered Word

 

 

 

1.Become  even more self centred and never listen to a person who is talking to you
2.Never have a shower or bath,Do not change your clothes  more than once a week.
3.Make your bed with dirty sheets and scatter used  tissues on the floor.Have pillows  with no  cases,
4 Never remember a  person’s name
5.Shudder if a potential  lover holds your hand
6.Boast as much as possible.
7.Argue about Brexit.
8.If people are atheists tell them  they are damned and if they are religious attack them as naive and evil killers.
9 Talk admiringly of Trump all day
10.Say Cain was right to kill Abel.
11.Keep going to the loo so much that nobody else can go
12 Get drunk and be sick on the carpet

First we are  one,then two,then one sometimes
When we love another human kind
Or lost  and grasped by mystic work sublime

Ironically we must lose to find
Absorbed in writing,there’s another mind
First we’re  one,then two,then one  at times

A gift, a word, a phrase a new wrought rhyme
With growing work,our minds are  furnished fine
We’re  swimming  in the mystic seas sublime

We dive into the depths, we rise,we dream
Add to our creations, line by line
First we’re  one,then two,then one  at times

The journey of the heart has major claims
Tempests,rages,do not love define;
We’re  making it  in mystic seas sublime.

Those who see not beauty must be fined
Criminals to Nature, cruel  before,behind.
We’re  all one,our human souls aligned;
To loose  and find, by mystic work we’re claimed

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2010/mar/13/carol-ann-duffy-poems-ageing

 

“Peter Porter, whose Better Than God was shortlisted for last year’s Forward prize, has spent a lifetime making the difficult dazzle on the page. Fleur Adcock is one of the most formally skilled poets of our time and, along with Feinstein, Fainlight and Anne Stevenson, provided a role model for women poets at a time when sexism and tokenism were nastily predominant. Clarke is a tireless evangelist for poetry and founded Ty Newydd, the Welsh writers’ centre, one of the most idyllic places in the UK for studying poetry in week-long courses. Anthony Thwaite and Alan Brownjohn share her sense of altruism, sitting on committees that give awards or support to much younger poets. Linda Chase runs the flourishing Poetry School in Manchester. Maureen Duffy, well known as a novelist, has always kept poetry close to the centre of her writing life. To see Nina Cassian perform her poetry is awe-inspiring. Gerda Mayer and Lotte Kramer are fine poets who should be better known.

I invited the poets here to write, in any way they chose, about ageing. Our society, I believe, is turning gradually away from its obsession with “yoof” and “slebs”. We are beginning to realise that we face, at the very least, an uncertain future, one in which wisdom and experience – and respect – will need to be accorded a more important role. A good place to start is to read and listen to some of our most distinguished poets and, through them, to assert the importance of poetry in our culture. As poet laureate, it is a privilege to say to these poets, on behalf of their readers and the poets who follow on from them, a loud thank you.”

1.You are not unique,They may  treat everyone the same.They possibly have OCD
2.You keep doing stupid things.
3.They hate you and consider you should change to suit them.Or they need a scapegoat
4 They love you.
5.They are too shy to praise you.
6 They  think you are a foreigner because you have a Geordie accent,light hair and blue eyes.So you are  Polish.They may ask you if you have packed your suitcase.Do not reply.Just hand them a stamped, addressed envelope.

1.Get undressed  especially if you wear elasticated, skinny jeans which are hard to remove.
2 Have a bath
3.Make sure you know their name.
4 Put the cat out or….
5.If you have sex in the garden,put the cat in!
6.Grow a thick hedge in the garden as while it is growing it gives you time to find a lover gay or miserable.

Don’t let them take any photos unless you are married [ to them]

 

https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/the-mindful-self-express/201408/the-30-most-common-reasons-people-might-criticize-you

 

1. They feel insecure and are overcompensating.
2. They think you are making them look bad in front of others.
3. They feel criticized by you and are counter-attacking.
4. They think they are genuinely helping you by giving you the benefit of their wisdom or experience.
5. They have strong opinions on a subject (e.g., politics, religion etc.) and see other points of view as less valid.
6. They are trying to get your attention or connect with you but lack skills, so they end up whining (e.g., kids, teenagers)

Luther made a future of despair
For the Jewish people and their heirs
He split the Christian world into two parts
And for the Jews, promoted their dread fate.

Such vicious statements he wrote in his books
I do not understand the way he looked
For Jesus Christ himself was born a Jew
Their Bible was made ours and added to

I wonder publication was allowed
To work in which such wickedness abounds
It indicates that he was not alone
In hating God’s own people, heart and bone

If religion speaks of hate and death
Tormented it shall be by God’s true wrath

https://www.nytimes.com/roomfordebate/2014/07/18/does-poetry-matter/poetry-is-hospitable-to-strangeness-and-surprise

 

“You may want something “practical,” so I’ll say this: poetry and science are kin; they share a series of principal labors. Those are 1.) observation and attention 2.) reflection and memory 3.) description 4.) imagination 5.) re-seeing and discovery. Both disciplines cultivate curiosity and interrogation.

Moreover, both disciplines are highly hospitable to strangeness and surprise. We don’t acknowledge this enough in science. We aren’t taught to enjoy this enough in poetry.

We don’t have to do much to make poetry “more relevant.” We just have to let science and poetry grow and change as they do. We just have to give them enough space and support to work in solitude but talk together too.”

You revealed the face within your face
Human, lowly, humbler than an ant
The pathos in your eyes made sad my gaze
The other face, defended, has no grace
With it , you appear quite confident.
Yet you revealed to me your hidden face
I know so well the suffering of your days
A fear of tragic pasts feared imminent
The pathos in your eyes made sad my gaze
The mental torment heavy all your days.
Yet you must hide from men intolerant
You revealed the face within your face
Like martyrs, you were tortured and disgraced
You wandered feebly, lost, itinerant
The pathos in your eyes makes sad my days
If Love exists then would that not embrace
The lost, the lonely, even the vagrant?
You revealed the face within your face
The pathos in your eyes made me feel base

My doctor is a merry fellow now
He is Hindhu so he can’t eat cow
I asked him if he likes to think
His eyes gave such a mighty blink
I still would like to ask him where and how.

His son has joined him  and they make a team
There  is a lady doctor to whom I have oft been
But I prefer a nature cure
And grass has such a great allure
The lawn tastes  wonderfully green

Soon  they will give me a jab for flu
They do not tell me what they plan to do
He crept behind me, seized my arm.
Fortunately ,I felt calm
So then he stuck the needle in with glue.

I try to go there only  if I’m dead
They can resurrect me from my bed
I find some doctors  can be kind
But sometimes  they affect my mind
And once it happened, so I stood and fled.

 

Oh,doctor I am in a flap I cannot turn this childproof cap I cannot take my medicine So I shall toss it in the bin The beta blockers make me down I am in a study brown. The mini aspirins make me bruise And my mind is quite confused. The ibuprofen hurt my heart Yet without one I cannot start. The thyroxine has no effect So now I feel my life is dreck. The codeine fails to make me high I'm not addicted, though I try. I'll have to take a shot of gin And alcohol will make me sin. I'll go to parties in a dress That makes men's hormones more or less. I'll take a big one home with me, And give him poison in his tea. And when I am in jail at last I'll feel remorse for all my past. For as I suffer dreadful pain God has hit me yet again. It's not enough that I am blind And suffer terrors in my mind Not enough that lovers cruel Give me stick instead of jewels. Or maybe life does not make sense Especially when I feel so tense. Maybe random are my days and my life has gone astray. I think that I shall buy a cat And love it tenderly and chat. But if my cat gives me a scratch... I'll light its tail up with a match. All the world must me obey Else I'll be enraged all day. I want my own way all the time. Other people must conform. I am here and full of ills What do you think of these blue pills? If they take away my heart That at least will be a start. Then they can remove my brain To help me with this damned pain. Why not kill me right away Then I'll be from pain astray?

I was so kind I let sharks bite my legs
I let the swordfish cut my skin
I  let my  cats hunt for clothes pegs

I gave help to all who  had begged
But one of them sat down in my bin
I was so kind I let sharks bite my legs.

I made myself walk over eggs
And paid children to bring me old tin
I  let my cats play with clothes pegs.

A man  told me he wished I were dead
I decided to live without him
I was so kind I let sharks bite my legs.

My heart felt like a  pellet of lead
So I kicked this man on both his shins
I  let my cats play with clothes pegs.

I will put out the cruel in my bin
And let God decide if they sinned
I was so kind I gave sharks scrambled eggs
I  let my  cats dance with clothes pegs

 

 

 

http://www.cosmopolitan.com/uk/body/diet-nutrition/a3137/blender-recipes/

Flour free cakes made with a blender.

Reflecting on  a leaf that lies alone,
Cut off the shrub or tree by wilful wind,
May touch a heart which now feels like a stone.

Beneath our generous flesh there lie our bones
Within a skeleton, a heart we find,
Reflecting on  a leaf that lies alone

From our lungs, we hear pathetic groans
As all the certainties once strong become untied
Then our hearts will feel like cold,  cold stones.

Yet on a kinder wind, red  leaves are borne
And left renewed in places more than kind
Food for ants, no more to lie alone

Inside my heart, an emptiness now yawns
But  like a womb, with rich velvet it’s lined
In truth, a heart is no kin to a stone.

To the dust and ash leaves are consigned
For a former neighbour do they pine?
Reflecting on  a leaf that lies alone
Will touch a heart no longer a cold stone.

Emile woke Mary up at 7am.It was a  Sunday in October, grey and damp.
Go away, she told him.The clock has changed.It’s not 8 am yet.I have to wash my hair as well.Get the Observer out.
I can’t read. the dear animal replied.And why don’t you rebel and stick to Summer Time
I know Stan wanted to send you to Eton but we couldn’t afford it.Yet you understand days and calenders, Mary joked
I can make myself some hot toast, Emile remarked boastfully.
You’ve never eaten it, she murmured fondly
Well, I want to.Let me try it!With butter.
Mary got up and found her fleece dressing gown; it was  brown and covered in coloured spots.She went downstairs and gave Emile a whole kipper.Then she made some tea and took it upstairs so she could drink it while she came round from her dreams
Suddenly Annie ran into  the room wearing a  long black vinyl coat and  red knee-high boots
You never locked the back door, she howled like a wild  leopard which has had no breakfast
I don’t suppose anyone wants my old TV as it is only 19 inches.And my Chromebook is not something worth re-selling.I do have a new coat.
How about Ray Monk’s life of Wittgenstein, Annie asked her defiantly, her apricot lips pouting childishly as the Riemann of Paris lipstick glittered uncannily
The people who might enjoy reading it are by virtue of that , not the sort to steal or buy it on the black market.
That is very racist, Annie told her.You should say. the beige market!
Then nobody would know what I meant, Mary said lovingly
Anyway, do you want to come to Marks with me?They have some lovely coats in
I’d like a pink wool coat, said Mary.
Quite right ,said Annie.Bring back feminine colours
Actually, gay men might like pink coats, she continued.But if they go on the bus they might get dirty.Come to think of it,so will women’s coats
They will have to buy pink puffa jackets and we can wash them at 30 deg.Mary whispered
Using a special detergent, Annie asked?
I have never seen a detergent for washing gay men.I don’t think they will fit into the washing machine.On the other hand, you are small so you will fit in
Shall I get undressed first, Annie asked furtively.
Yes, I’ll try to put you on a rapid wash for 15 minutes but it is your choice.Maybe a bath would be safer?
No problem, said Annie intellectually.Are you having one with me?
You#d better be careful, Mary ad-libbed.It might be sexual harassment.
Well, I am not gay , said Annie.
You never know till you try, Mary giggled ,like a child behind the school canteen
Why, we might become gender fluid and then who knows?
And so say all of us
Miaow,

When the pain of grief is wakened up
And sorrow falls  down like a winter storm
Avoid another’s careless talk and lip.

As we struggle to control our ship
Fearing to be injured, suffer harm
Alas, the pain of grief can waken up.

With endurance, we must be equipped.
And  we must take in both love and balm
Avoid the others’ careless talk and lip.

In our deepest souls, a  wound is ripped
Most soothing  is the singing of the psalms
When the pain of grief is wakened up

By a  rock, an avalanche is tipped
Destroying those who’re trapped within its arms
Avoid the other’s wicked open lips.

By humility, our pain’s disarmed
Being nothing, nothing can do harm
When the pain of grief is wakened up
Do not drink the bitter final cup.

 

We speak in cliches yet we do not know.
The clock change makes us grumble every year,
We say we hate dark nights and   winter snow

If we were original, what show!
The unacknowledged boredom makes us swear,
We speak in cliches but we do not know.

Oh, lovers and strength lost deal many blows.
And life itself will at frail bodies tear
Then we say we hate dark nights and snow

While we’re  living, we will undergo
The changes of the seasons and the years
We speak in cliches; we’re afraid to know.

We have gifts  yet we each suffer blows
Like all  creation, we might live with flair
Though we hate dark nights, the ice, the snow

Inside dwells our soul both frail and bare
Despite its lack, with it we love, revere
We speak in cliches, still afraid to know.
We  reproach the low down sun and snow

 

http://www.bbc.co.uk/poetryseason/poems/nature.shtml