Day: May 19, 2019

Writing tablets?

1* Writing tablet
1* Stylus

Precautions:
1.Do not violent writing, will damage the screen affect the writing effect.
2.Products avoid water, avoid using sharp objects scratch the screen.
3.Clean with clean cloth when cleaning.
4.When replacing the battery, please use the battery that matches the battery.
5.Age of application: over 3 years of age.

 

img_20190510_163338-1

 

I’m over 3 years old, I must confess
Will violent writing help me to express
The rage of Brexit, Union Jack
The hatred of the Jew and Black
The Muslim woman answering back
The anorexic culture thwack ?
I’m over 3 years old ,  and nappyless
Are we depressed
I think you guessed

 

Spiritual poetry

36064355_1156369647836245_7488378942043193344_nhttps://www.poetryfoundation.org/articles/68606/spiritual-poetry

 

“The root of “spirit” is the Latin spirare, to breathe. Whatever lives on the breath, then, must have its spiritual dimension— including all poems, even the most unlikely. Philip Larkin, Sylvia Plath, William Carlos Williams: all poets of spiritual life. A useful exercise of soul would be to open any doorstop-sized anthology at random a dozen times and find in each of the resulting pages its spiritual dimension. If the poems are worth the cost of their ink, it can be done.

But, no, I’ve been asked to choose, to recommend. The poems I suggest here are this moment’s choices, not “the best spiritual poems” (a phrase weighing nothing in so intimate and personal a context). The “gates” are an equally personal selection of entrance points into spiritual life. Some of the poems are well known, others less so. “

I see your face,  you disappear again

The blank paged notebooks where you  used to write
First with pencil then with ballpoint pen
The Freeling novels you read in the night

These special objects bring you to my sight
I see your face,  you disappear again
To blank paged notebooks where you  used to write

The reading lamp showed in its small clear light
Your telephone, your desk, your writing plan
The Freeling novels you read in the night

My heart feels strange, my feelings re- ignite
The fires of love quelled by the sudden rain
Oh, blank paged notebooks where you  used to write

I did not let you go without a fight
But once accepted, I endured the pain
I read the  books that you read in the night

The force that makes the  wheat produce its grain
Also kills   as freely as blood stains
In blank paged notebooks where you  used  to write
Where  do you read  now in  endless night?