We both chose

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I cannot mend the lamp that we both chose

The top and bottom split when  he fell down
But I can make it look as if it glows

The candle burns, has fragrance of a rose
That takes away my sadness and my frown
I cannot mend the lamp that we both chose

I find it hard to  bear the pain of loss
The concept is  more verbal than it’s noun
But in my home  the candle  brightly glows

In Blythburgh church, a lighted candle  bless
See the painted angels and their crowns!
I  will bear this breakage and its cost

I will get the strength to bear my cross
Oh,haul me, holy one, if I fall down.
Beyond  these lights we sense  the Light of God

Bless the hand that points us past the known
Where each of us must travel, perhaps alone
I cannot mend our lamp that we both chose
I  wander in my grief amongst the low

Royaume Uni: a hostile environment for “foreigners” England sins again against its own ex- Empire peoples.Some have died of strain and anxiety. Heil Mary



May’s immigration policy seen as ‘almost reminiscent of Nazi Germany’

“Comments from ex-civil service chief Sir Bob Kerslake increase pressure on PM as row over Windrush-era citizens continues”


“Mackenzie claims that May’s mission was to make it systematically difficult to get by without papers, even though the Home Office had no firm evidence of the scale of the alleged abuse.

Work checks, school registration, hospital and GP appointments, bank accounts and credit were all among the everyday activities where proof of status could be required.

“I saw endless papers claiming the system was ‘unsustainable in the current economic climate’ but no evidence to back it up,” she tweeted.

A former head of the UK border force said on Thursday that something had gone “badly wrong” at the Home Office with the loss of experience and knowledge of immigration as a result of departmental reorganisations.

“Corporate memory and expertise has been lost with the abolition of the immigration service and subsequently the abolition of the UK Border Agency now as well,” said Tony Smith, a veteran official in immigration enforcement who was the interim director general of the UK Border Force between 2012 and 2013.

“A lot of people were let go who had that experience “

When I was born my mother said,what’s that?

I wash my hair in Fairy green shampoo
[I do the dishes and the saucepans  hot]
I find the texture better than with glue

If my hair is dirty, I feel blue
My face goes red,my eyes look like pink dots
I wash my hair in Fairy green shampoo

I don’t do what other women do
My perspiration  draws great love from cats
I find hair spray is better than  UHU

I ‘m  trisexual ,I’m harassed  by you
Why  do other folk not find me hot?
I wash my hair in Fairy green shampoo

On holiday ,I hired a  green canoe
It had no engine, no computer mat
I find hair mousse is better than  UHU

When I was born my mother said,what’s that?
My grandma said I looked quite like the cat
I wash my hair in   any new shampoo
It shines so much  a Bobby cried,Love you!

The Start: Writing Your Own Poem


Resisting the urge to interpret contemporary poems and “wrong” dreams. BY JUDY ROWE MICHAELS



Practice of an art is more salutary than talk about it.
There is nothing more composing than composition.
—Robert Frost, from his notebooks[Poetry and Prose,
edited by Edward Connery Lathem and Lawrance Thompson
(Holt, 1972)]

The Love

We knew not of the future or the loss
We blithely live unknowing of the price.
The severed heart, the depth of pain,the Love

To make a narrative at any cost
To be by love and loneliness enticed
Better we dismiss a future loss

Into a union holy and its lusts
Joyful when we feel dear love arrive
The full,great heart, the depth, its piteous Cross

Don’t live apart, split off,in psychic frost
Cut off from passion and creative drive
Better we accept the future loss

Our inner world is filled with these grey ghosts
We rid ourselves of hate and do not thrive
With frozen heart and hand and eye morose

Reality itself, we can’t describe
But in our sensual skin we feel alive
We accept the future and its loss
The severed heart, the depth of pain,the Love.

Loss and grief for both Israelis and Palestinians by David Grossman



The death of a loved one is actually also the death of a private, whole, personal and unique culture, with its own special language and its own secret, and it will never be again, nor will there be another like it.

David Grossman’s speech at an alternative Memorial Day ceremony