Play, Father,it is 29 years since my last decision.
What was that?
Not to practice my Faith
Who is Faith?
I mean, like Hope and Charity
So why are you here?
Only God knows
But there are so many of us.Will he want to know?
Probably not but he has to know
Surely we can’t decide what he should do
So if he forgets us, then what will happen?
Just watch the News tonight
Fox News or the BBC
Do foxes have news?How wonderful
No, it’s a right wing place.
Oh,my.I like the Independent.
They want ad blockers turned off
No-one is totally independent
You can say that again
I refuse.
Be like that.
Have you any sins you want to confess?
Adultery, lies and envy.
Be more specific
I fell in love with a beautiful woman
Your wife?
No, it would not be adultery with her!
Oh,dear,Can’t you pretend?
I never thought of that.
What a shame,How many adulteries have you done?
Probably about 12 a year
You look old too
That’s why.
Are they demanding?
In a way.Why should I do it though?
What do you mean? Surely you should not do it.
Well, they won’t leave me alone.
What is it that draws them in?
My  eyes,I suspect.They are like magnets
Yes,I have noticed.
So I am tired with all these women and my wife as well
If you got divorced that would cut it down
But who would make my dinner?
You could eat out or get your lover to cook
I don’t know.My wife is a wonderful cook and also writes novels
What about?
Unfaithful men and  their secret lives
How amazing.Is that why you decided to be unfaithful?
I can’t remember.But after the first time it seems to matter less
So why bother?
I have no hobbies
Well, for your penance  go to Art Classes.
I can’t draw.
Once you could not commit adultery
That’s true.
Are you penitent?
We didn’t do Latin.
Are you sorry
No,I didn’t like French
I mean for your sins?

Buy shoe laces in a weird colour

Buy cheap jewellery

A new scarf?

Do some alterations… make a mini maxi

Wear your bra over your sweater

Buy a fake leather handbag [ lighter too]

Wear masses of eye makeup

Wear lots of moist lipstick

Wear your nightgown as a dress.

Or indeed wear a dress in bed [ washable only]

 

1.

With a dogstooth checked pleated wool skirt 34 inch long [  more since I have lost weight]

Wear bright green trainers,red tights and a yellow  and orange sweater

And an oversized down coat in  a strangely indescribable colour with my husband’s  hat if needed

 

2.
With some beige coloured trousers

Smart loafers in blue, a purple polo neck and a green and black anorak with hood in case I enter a monastery

3

With some very wide legged jeans
A giant size  Arran sweater in impure new wool and a loose denim coat and  striped scarf in brown and orange

 

 

Shame and guilt are noble emotions essential in the maintenance of civilized society, and vital for the development of some of the most refined and elegant qualities of human potential.

https://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2013/11/what-is-a-poem/281835/

 

Extract

“There is at least one kind of utility that a poem can embody: ambiguity. Ambiguity is not what school or society wants to instill. You don’t want an ambiguous answer as to which side of the road you should drive on, or whether or not pilots should put down the flaps before take-off. That said, day-to-day living—unlike sentence-to-sentence reading—is filled with ambiguity: Does she love me enough to marry? Should I fuck him one more time before I dump him?

But such observations still don’t tell us much about what a poem really is. Try crowd-sourcing for an answer. If you search Wikipedia for “poem,” it redirects to “poetry”: “a form of literary art which uses aesthetic and rhythmic qualities of language—such as phonoaesthetics, sound symbolism, etc.” Fine English-professor speak, but it belies the origins of the word. “Poem” comes from the Greek poíēma, meaning a “thing made,” and a poet is defined in ancient terms as “a maker of things.” So if a poem is a thing made, what kind of thing is it?

I’ve heard other poets define poems in organic terms: wild animals—natural, untamable, unpredictable, raw. But the metaphor quickly falls apart. Such animals live on their own, utterly unconcerned with the names humans put upon them. In inorganic terms, the poet William Carlos Williams called poems “little machines,” as he treated them as mechanical, human-engineered, and precise. But here too, the metaphor breaks down. A worn-out part on an automobile can be switched out with a nearly identical part and run as it did before. In a poem, a word exchanged for another word (even a close synonym) can alter the entire functioning of the poem.”

https://archive.org/details/openmind_ep536

https://archive.org/details/openmind_ep541