I’ll never leave you,but I will,no doubt, grieve you and deceive you,misperceive you.

Until the very end of time I’ll be loving you.
Until the end of all my rhymes,I’ll be writing you.
Until the day I die,I’ll be unintentionally annoying you.
Older and older,I’ll never leave you,but I will,no doubt, grieve you and deceive you,misperceive you.
Otherwise I’ll think of you,wink at you and make a hyperlink to you
Still,for ever,I’ll be all over you..looking for fleas in your floes, and
B’s in your Y’s.
I’ll be looking for tears in your eyes
and making you feel surprised.
That’s a love poem,innit?
Well,innit?
Wot!I’m British,innit!
Oh, geddit!

Why learning may be difficult

NextDocument 23I have several friends who are very good at some art or craft but are unable to teach another person because they can’t imagine themselves back at the beginning,not knowing how to knit or read
Teaching is harder than we think.
And how would you tell someone [in words] how to write a bicycle? Do you think that it would make them able  to get on and expec cycle away? NO!
Some people have blockages.I was with a person who asked me to explain the difference  between 0.1 and 1%
It was a disaster.I literally felt a force pushing me away.So I told her to find out some other way.And  she says I am very gentle………
Teaching is harder than we can imagine.In the last case, I had not been able to reach her where she was.I didn’t  know why she asked.
Some teachers are cruel.Perhaps they dare not imagine being a beginner again,

A tautology of tripe

 

Mary went into the kitchen and put the kettle on.In ran Annie wearing a  pink chiffon jumpsuit.Her lips were covered with a thick layer of “Deadly nightshade” by L’Oreal,  a strange shade of burnt heather such as can be seen near Stalybridge UK right now
I’m going out with Joe, she cried.
Where to, asked Mary softly her eyes widening
Up on the hills I believe,Annie cried
Well, is a jumpsuit so thin really suitable? Suppose you need to  have a leak?
Oh,dear,said Annie.A skirt would be easier.But do I have time
Take one of these,Mary ordered, holding out a  long thin cardboard box
Are they biscuits,asked her friend?
No, they are panty liners.I assume you are wearing knickers,Mary murmured as she approached with a large magnifying glass to check.
Delia’s Lights,
the box was labelled
Is it Delia Smith, that TV COOK? Annie asked
No, it is Delia’s Protection for older folk or indeed young mothers!
Funny how we need all these products all our adult lives.How about a loofah?
It might get loose and drop  out,Mary retorted.You mean a sponge?
Cakes and biscuits and Delia…. something odd here,Annie  whimpered.
Are you trying to make me feel old?
Well, you will feel young if you wet yourself,Mary teased her in a knight hearted way
Suddenly Joe walked in looking pale
I am hungry he said and picked up the box
May I have a biscuit?
Mary began to laugh out loud as Joe pulled his hand out clutching  a sticky white pad.
Funny looking biscuits, he shouted!
Are you a witch?
Not  yet, Mary said,but I am getting a Ph.D next week
Not in baking, he asked rudely?
No, it’s in Tautology and Magic Roundabouts
That’s a load of tripe, in my view.Not that I know much about it but as a man I   like to make a mark
How about a Vicious Circle? Mary queried?
Alright,I’ll take two, he shouted warmly
That will be £2.99 altogether
Is this a shop? Joe demanded.
In Capitalistic Economics, everywhere is a shop.
In that case, give me ten for nine!
As you wish,dear Mary answered.Don’t toast them now,my good fellow!
And so say all of us…..unless he is very hungry?

Poetry and truth

Photo0136https://www.newcriterion.com/issues/2015/4/poetry-truth

Extract:

“For Winters, poetry—and, in its concision, lyric poetry, especially—is the highest linguistic form because, taken together, connotation and denotation compose the “total content” of language. It’s true that the two exist together in other kinds of writing, a novel, say, but poetry, by dint of its meters, lines, and highly wrought rhythms, modulates feeling with the greatest control. Connotation in poetry, then, acquires what Winters thinks of as a “moral” dimension. In order to render human experience truthfully, connotation or “feeling” must be precisely managed:

The artistic process is one of moral evaluation of human experience, by means of a technique which renders possible an evaluation more precise than any other. The poet tries to understand his experience in rational terms, to state his understanding, and simultaneously to state, by means of the feelings we attach to words, the kind and degree of emotion that should properly be motivated by this understanding.

The term “moral,” then, refers—at least in this instance—to a fairly technical process of selecting the best words in the best order for a given subject. “In so far as the rational statement is understandable and acceptable, and in so far as the feeling is properly motivated by the rational statement, the poem will be good,” he tells us.

Winters’s detractors—who feel that he, in his adherence to reason, quashes emotion in poetry—miss the point, I think. For Winters, emotion, expressed in the proper degree, is the whole ballgame. But this question of degree is crucial; if the feeling in a poem is either overstated or understated, the poem falls down. Excessive emotion, a form of sentimentality, obscures the experience under consideration, while the opposite of sentimentality—a kind of cold reportage—can also be a failure of evaluation. Understatement of the emotion robs experience of its humanity. The statement “Three prisoners were publicly executed in a detention center” crisply relates the facts, but in “The Shield of Achilles” Auden affords the reader some inkling of the feelings involved:

Barbed wire enclosed an arbitrary spot

     Where bored officials lounged (one cracked a joke)

And sentries sweated for the day was hot:

     A crowd of ordinary decent folk

     Watched from without and neither moved nor spoke

As three pale figures were led forth and bound

To three posts driven upright in the ground.

The mass and majesty of this world, all

     That carries weight and always weighs the same

Lay in the hands of others; they were small

     And could not hope for help and no help came:

     What their foes liked to do was done, their shame

Was all the worst could wish; they lost their pride

And died as men before their bodies died.

It is important to teach poetry

portrait of young woman against white background
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

https://www.theatlantic.com/education/archive/2014/04/why-teaching-poetry-is-so-important/360346/

 

“Students who don’t like writing essays may like poetry, with its dearth of fixed rules and its kinship with rap. For these students, poetry can become a gateway to other forms of writing. It can help teach skills that come in handy with other kinds of writing—like precise, economical diction, for example. When Carl Sandburg writes, “The fog comes/on little cat feet,” in just six words, he endows a natural phenomenon with character, a pace, and a spirit. All forms of writing benefits from the powerful and concise phrases found in poems.

I have used cut-up poetry (a variation on the sort “popularized” by William Burroughs and Brion Gysin) to teach 9th grade students, most of whom learned English as a second language, about grammar and literary devices. They made collages after slicing up dozens of “sources,” identifying the adjectives and adverbs, utilizing parallel structure, alliteration, assonance, and other figures of speech. Short poems make a complete textual analysis more manageable for English language learners. When teaching students to read and evaluate every single word of a text, it makes sense to demonstrate the practice with a brief poem—like Gwendolyn Brooks’s “We Real Cool.””

Oh,take a pinch of humour in your tea

I found the answer , what to wear in heat
Buy a cotton nightgown with some pleats
Throw a denim jacket    on and go
Wear some boots in case we get  that snow

Or wear a full length slip and  patent mules
I guarantee the air wil keep bums cool
We have to think outside the normal box
But never wear pyjamas without socks

Take some shorts and slash them with a knife
Combine with a man’s vest if you’re his wife
Dye your hair deep purple and take heart
We human beings can look  chic and smart

Oh,take a pinch of humour in your tea
Then strip off and swim   clothless in the sea.

In summer heat,  our clothes can cause us pain

black-patent-a-line-skirt

From an online store for larger ladies [Elvi]

My wide leg  trousers sweep dirt from the floor
My  top is polyester, how I fry.
My underwear is nylon, and I’m sore
Deodorants give me eczema  as does dye

I note my denim skirt is stained with ink
My hands are black from making pencil points
My T shirt is in fashion but it’s shrunk
Sandals  show my toes  without their paint

I wear a three penny bit on a brass chain
if it were  made of gold, how thieves might blink
My hair has gone  but you can’t see my brain
I’m likely a baboon in female shape

In summer heat,  our clothes can cause us pain
So see us here all shopping nude, again.