Katherine is having a break today……sad about leaving the EU and all the lies and wasted money..
Thinking of people all over the world who are suffering much worse traumas
A break
Month: January 2020
In such a moment all thought dies
A beam of light passed through my eyes
And showed to me a world disguised
So near,yet far,we do not see,
Unless by gift of grace redeemed
That world is full of peace and calm
Its colors mingle,like a balm.
In such a moment all thought dies,
Revealing Love which underlies.
Colors caress my naked eyes.
Sunlight blesses new designs.
I stand enthralled,and do not wish
For one delight,other than this.
My breath slows down, and filled with joy,
I rove my eyes with bliss to toy.
Everything is just itself.
This is now my living wealth.
Beneath the noise of city traffic,|
This mellow joy,love soporific,
This depth and peace, is always near
When we choose Love and turn from fear
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The secret self shrinks and the falseness blooms
Time when life divides, it has two streams
One is on the surface, one below
The secret self, the other one assumes.
I walk on as the gap grows wider,screams
One shakes hands and one hides, stamping low
The secret self, the other one assumes.
Can I link the two or must I dream?
Times when life was gentler and more slow
The unknown self, the outer it consumes
Now one is riding high to crash and bloom
Will death be the outcome,I don’t know
The secret self, the other they assume
The longer I go on, the nom de plumes,
The silent axe, the present danger grown
The unknown self, the outer it consumes
Cannot someone sew me ,mend my holes
Help me, Lord,I have no place to go
Time when life divides in its two streams
The secret self shrinks and the falseness blooms
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Aching
My skin is aching,tender, loss has pierced
My heart needs walls, its boundary has gone
I miss the touch of love from him so dear
A belt of metal pins brought me tears
Why suffer this till I am quite undone?
My skin is aching,tender, by loss pierced
We forget that grief is close to fear
Then alone, we panic, what’s to come?
I ache without the love from him so dear
Psychotic with no unity, who steers
My head is so remote,I have no plan
My skin is aching,tender, by loss pierced
Cursed be the One who made our sphere
Since Eden went,by so called sin undone
I ache without the love from someone dear
I should get my cell, like Julian
Hide inside the church wall, will Love come?
My skin is aching,tender, loss has pierced
Uncaressed by him whom I held dear
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And so to bed
Please help me to cry
Daddy, how we missed you when you died
I had not been told when I was five
Come back,Daddy,miss your smiling eyes
We were told that we must never cry
When the cancer took your earthly life
Daddy, how you suffered ,then you died
When you wanted company, I tried
I was too articulate to thrive
Come back,Daddy,miss my Daddy’s eyes
By the flower beds, you wanted a guide
You wanted me to talk.I really tried.
Daddy we fell down a black hole, why d’y die?
You slept all alone, the pain arrived
We slept with our mammy, on your side
Come back,Daddy, don’t you miss my eyes?
I always hum like you did though I’m shy
You are singing through me, close and wise
Daddy, we still miss you and your pride
Come back,Daddy, teach me how to cry.
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Thinking, love
Love thinking about you. Love,thinking about you. Love thinking,about you...... Thinking about you,love. Thinking love about you. You, thinking about love. You thinking about love? You love thinking about.... You about,thinking love? About you,love,thinking. About thinking,love you. About.com,Love Thinking Love About.com, Thinking Thinking,love About.com. Come love,stop thinking. How come there's love about? Think about it
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Creating love from endless tiny sparks
Our roots are in another kind of earth
Invisible, yet felt in guts and heart
Unlike the trees that bow down at our birth
Ignorant of our roots, now torn and worse
We come to grief and all its little parts.
Our roots are in another kind of earth
Our conception, to the sperm, is merry mirth
The egg is eager for her life to start
Unlike the trees that, windy, flounce and curse.
We do not know what our deep roots are worth
Till sad we see our angels each depart
Our roots are in some other kind of earth
We grow,enlarge, and learn a language first
Then in our home grown narrative we star
Unlike the trees that bowed down at our birth
Creating love from endless tiny sparks
The form of every universe must start.
Our roots are in another kind of earth
With fabled trees entrancing every birth
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Limericks on ladies
There was a young lady from Barnet
Who wore no damn clothes, just a hairnet
When she was asked why
She said,I’m a spy
I write on my skin or the carpet
There was a young lady from Ealing
Who had glued her bed onto the ceiling
Her partner fell off
Disturbed by a cough
Then he felt drunk, because his head was reeling
There was a young lady in Venice
Who thought men were naught but a menace
Then she met one called Jack
Who filled every lack
Then they had lessons in tennis
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Why are you not narrow minded?
Mike Flemming 2020 copyright
Why are you paranoid
Well, my mother was.
Why are you Paranoid?
I was born there
Why are you not paranoid?
I have a trust fund
Why are you sceptical?
I was poisoned
Why are you not Voting?
I was born in Pakistan though my dad was Voting.
Why are you Anxious?
My mother lived with an Anxy for ages
Am I French?
No,I want to leave.
In my absence, posts will be written by ghosts
Are they writers?
Well, they learned to print well enough
Can anyone print?
If they have a hand
Well, they can’t have mine
How mean
That’s not a sentence
Alright you can go to jail for a year.
Where is it?
Next you’ll be asking for sheets
What else can I print on?
Not my Egyptian cotton,for sure.
I prefer paper
How come?
I can offer the back of my hand
But we can’t sell that.
You can put me in a Gallery
It pays
But please feed me.
You’re on FB.
Take me down
Order,order
Why do they stamp on my feet?
They want to post you on a blog
I prefer letterboxes
Or pillar boxes
If they are not salt
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Take me in your hands , give me a soul
From my fragments, what can be retrieved?
Is my story finished and untold?
Am I real or have I been deceived?
Is there goodness, will my pain recede?
On the art of life must one be bold
From my fragments, what can be retrieved?
I am proud, and I shall never plead
Though my heart is saddened and grows cold
Am I real or have I been deceived?
What has any worth, what are my deeds?
Into whose heart might my heart unfold?
From my fragments, what can be retrieved?
I did not suffer from the sin of greed
I posses no silver and no gold
Am I real or have I been deceived?
Oh God in whose name many goods are sold
Take me in your hands , give me a soul
Of my fragments, what can you retrieve?
Am I real and here, are You deceived?
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La belle dame sans merci
https://poets.org/poem/la-belle-dame-sans-merci
La Belle Dame Sans Merci
John Keats – 1795-1821
Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,
Alone and palely loitering;
The sedge is withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.
Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,
So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel’s granary is full,
And the harvest’s done.
I see a lilly on thy brow,
With anguish moist and fever dew;
And on thy cheek a fading rose
Fast withereth too.
I met a lady in the meads
Full beautiful, a faery’s child;
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.
I set her on my pacing steed,
And nothing else saw all day long;
For sideways would she lean, and sing
A faery’s song.
I made a garland for her head,
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She looked at me as she did love,
And made sweet moan.
She found me roots of relish sweet,
And honey wild, and manna dew;
And sure in language strange she said,
I love thee true.
She took me to her elfin grot,
And there she gazed and sighed deep,
And there I shut her wild sad eyes—
So kissed to sleep.
And there we slumbered on the moss,
And there I dreamed, ah woe betide,
The latest dream I ever dreamed
On the cold hill side.
I saw pale kings, and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
Who cried—”La belle Dame sans merci
Hath thee in thrall!”
I saw their starved lips in the gloam
With horrid warning gaped wide,
And I awoke, and found me here
On the cold hill side.
And this is why I sojourn here
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.
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Ye olde limerick
I once like to make apple tarts
I was never much good throwing darts
To add some confusion
I had a delusion
That life can be lived as an Art
I like making quiche while at home
The smell of the pastry is warm
I saw a small ghost
Steal my hot toast
Then he left, he went over to Rome
My husband would pray in the night
Until dawn came with its gentle light
He liked my strange fiction
Without contradiction
I wish he were still in my sight
I miss his dear face and his smile
He knew that I had little guile
How will you manage
He died feeling anguish
The Devil was let out on bail
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Maximilian Kolbe
Delicate image by Mike Flemming 2020.Copyright
When reading this please remember most of the prisoners were Jews some of whom had been raised as Catholics so Fr Kolbe said Mass every day while he and they were being starved to death.They were reduced to whispering the prayers as they slowly died one by one.Just think this, was Enlightment Europe the proud centre of ciivilised Europe
He did not die so the Nazis shot him
Tracing back, however, to the inhumanity of World War II, where a shattering sense of hopelessness pervaded the death camps as the Nazis took over Poland, this place of infamy became the Calvary of the modern times. Anger and hatred filled the heart of every prisoner until one stepped forward from the prisoners of Block 14, among whom ten had been singled out in retribution for one escapee. Not initially selected, this obscure man – Father Maximilian Kolbe, a Catholic priest – voluntarily took the place of one of the ten, the father of a family, who, along with the others prisoners, had been sentenced to death by starvation.
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Where is paranoia on my sat nav?
Why have you not got schizophrenia?
Because it wasn’t on the shopping list
Why the panic?
No, it’s a punnet
I want some nutter
Do you mean butter?’
When I say nutter I mean it
Do stop knattering
What is a declension?
All I know is you can’t eat it
What is the plural of yoga?
Yogae
You broke the Law
Divide and conquer
Where is Latin?
It’s under “Tongues”
Tongues of Fire?
Sacrilege is bad for you
I’m a demoness
That is not PC
I’ll take the WC instead.
You can’t take it all with you
I’ll just take the cistern
Do you think that is funny?
No, but this is
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Our particular language may shape our thinking more than we can imagine.
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Eternal Life
I’ll stick with Thee…fast falls the chill of night
Send me an angel,I need something bright.
I have no fear,with Thee I’ll be alright.
Why not succumb and use electric light?
Large now or small.It matters not what size.
All that now matters…must be our Lord God’s eyes.
In their sweet light,I’ll love my neighbour’s wife
As she seems unhappy with almost all her life.
I do not mean to fornicate or lust.
No,I’ll calm her gently and I’ll earn her trust.
I’ll cook their dinner,so she takes a rest…
Then when the evening comes I’ll sit my test.
Do they eat meat?I have a little lamb…
If not I think there is some well cured ham.
I’ll cook nine veggies as we are advised
That will definitely bring us to Eternal Life
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The kindness
Every time I think that I will stop
That poetry is not my kind of game
The kindness of my readers picks me up
I start again and emptied is my cup
I wander through the library of names
I feel the affect and the unwilled stop
In the mind we know we suffer gaps
That every heart and soul has got its stains
The kindness of my readers picks me up
Each of us can share our homemade map
Can ask for comfort when we are in pain
All feel the affect and the unwilled stops
Comfort me, give charm to my black cat
He seems to have no affect, he is lame
The kindness of my readers picks us up
Would we wish the wild world to be tamed?
Were better if we could start life again
Every time I think that I will stop
The kindness of my readers draws me up
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LOVE
Photo by Mike Flemming.Copyright
Love bade me welcome. Yet my soul drew back
Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning,
If I lacked any thing.
A guest, I answered, worthy to be here:
Love said, You shall be he.
I the unkind, ungrateful? Ah my dear,
I cannot look on thee.
Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,
Who made the eyes but I?
Truth Lord, but I have marred them: let my shame
Go where it doth deserve.
And know you not, says Love, who bore the blame?
My dear, then I will serve.
You must sit down, says Love, and taste my meat:
So I did sit and eat.
Source: George Herbert and the Seventeenth-Century Religious Poets (W. W. Norton and Company, Inc., 1978)
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Faltering voice
The moment that they told me he was gone
I knew I never more would be at one.
The guilt is bad, the shame is harder still
That I no longer am what I would will
That I did not perceive the your state of mind
That to your heart I seemed to have been blind
That I was not enough to keep you here
That life and death most grievous are so near
Then shamed by my emotions I withdrew
Into the prison cell that no-one knew
My soul was pierced , I could not own my grief
Limp, submissive , blown away, a leaf.
Shame is deadly, unexposed to speech
With reddened face and faltering voice I weep
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Their own heart
Living with division in the self
Two parts that can’t be joined by any wealth
Worthlessness, remote the place it starts
Can we heal,rejoin the broken parts?
Must we go back to places where we failed
Or be unfree, a prisoner with no jail?
Who might knit the stitches that would join
The valued half, the other part they scorned?
Ways to go down deep might lead to death
Earn the anger,bait the holy wrath
The earth cracks wide, the precipice appears
Astride the split, there is no use for tears
So easy to break up , to split ,to part
Who will hold their self in their own heart?
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The enemy of vision
The sacred heart fragmented does not awe
Broken,lost, and trampled, global wars.
We worship our own selves, by camera formed
There are no depths, no Saviour to be born
The horizontal Flatland where we crawl
Does not encourage us to stand up tall
There are no experts, no-one understands
The dignity of art, the learning scorned
The heart has cracked, the jigsaw can’t be done
We all lose a game that no-one’s won.
Here comes a vacuum cleaner which will suck
The heart of God mixed with our human muck.
Can we think there is no vertical
The lost imagination, the strained will
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A different attitude to emotions
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How is this?
An unusual image by Mike Flemming 2020 Copyright
I have got more and more incontinent.
Do stop admiring Europe
Why do the government tell us to eat more fruit and veg?
To help evacuate the Common Market from our bodies
Why do the government not have enough beds in hospitals?
They can’t all go to sleep at once
Why are the politicians so stupid?
Because we are.
I am still incontinent
Don’t worry, only another week in the EU
I’ll apply for an Irish passport
You’re not Irish
No, but my parents were
I will miss the Spanish omelettes
But you never go there
I will not miss Mass on Sundays.
I will become an atheist and worship myself for an hour.Much more satisfying.
I wonder how Enlightened we are.
Well, the light is not the problem.It’s the vision.
I saw the Light once
Say hello from me.
God is love
So is real love God?
Can we go on the Trans Siberian Express
Only if you are Trans
But how do they know?
Wear a T shirt with Trans on the front
That won’t be very warm in Siberia
We all have to suffer for our beliefs.
It’s not a belief
What, you don’t believe you are trans?
I believe everything.
You’d better be careful.Some people tell lies
Really? I’d never have guessed
You must be stupid
How rude.
I am very stupid at relating to people
That’s honest.But don’t tell anyone
But they’ll know after I’ve insulted them again and again
Just smile and keep quiet.
Smile
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My new obsession… not the voice, the song
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Joan Baez
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We look and see the Christian story failed.
Image by Mike Flemming 2020.copyright
We live on earth and act in plays we write
The shadowed drama folds out scene by scene
In Eden, sin brought knowledge to our sight.
Freud desired to bring the dark more light
It’s hard to suffer, harder still to learn
We act on earth in plays we partly write
We each have lived in ways without much light
But fire brought power and light then darkness gleamed
In Eden, sin brought knowledge to our sight.
Christ was born, and yet we live in flight
From guilt about the apple bit unseen
We act on earth in plays we try to write
Our play with good and evil has its might
For meaning’s worthy of our human schemes
In Eden, wrong brought knowing to our sight.
We look and see the Christian story failed.
For the Holocaust itself was not derailed
We live on earth and act in plays we write
The Christian play we had gave slight insight
As refugees, as children drown who fights?
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A million kindle fires
Do you think my house should be rewired?
Should I enlarge my kitchen,go for broke
I have got a hundred kindle fires
I wonder why I cannot be a liar
I have got less faith but still I hope
Do you think my brain should be rewired?
Can I rent a mind for thirty hours?
I ‘d love to go to Chester in a boat
I have got a hundred kindle fires
Am I misusing love and with it power?
Where did Charley hide inside an oak
Do you think my tongue should be retired?
Many minds have like the milk gone sour
All they do is send me bytes, not talk
I have got a hundred kindle fires
Why do all the British fight or mope?
They must have washed their mouths with Fairy Soap
Do you think the world should be rewired?
We have got a billion kindle fires
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The more we hate
Idealisation,violent innocence
The notion that our Faith comes by our will
The unseen sin, the lack of penitence
We think as if we’re still omnipotent
With New Year Resolutions unfulfilled
Idealisation,violent innocence
Force cannot bring truth nor give souls rest
When the virtues of the heart are silent, stilled
The unseen sin, the lack of penitence
Beaten children, broken spirits quenched
What God could wish for adult acts that quell?
Idealisation, tyrant’s innocence
The acts of war , the terror, the immense
The more we hate, the more we harm ourselves
The sin denied, the lack of penitence
We do not need a Saviour,we know best
We boast at Judgement we shall pass the test
Ideally perfect lives , oh, innocence
The hidden sin, the stinking penitence
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Jennifer Warnes
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In the slutch
My mauve silk trousers fell off in the slutch
I ‘d read the fashion page on Friday night
Whatever did they mean, do bring the pitch?
In heels my entire body seems to lurch
My mother often muttered, what a sight
My mauve silk trousers spluttered in the slutch
A clutch of eggs . a handbag, butter Dutch
My coat was yellow since that yolky night
Whatever did they mean, we wring in Church
Slutch is kind of mud that’s damp and rich
In Lancashire, we fall in it when tight
My mauve silk trousers wasted by the slutch
My hem is down and I’ve no-one to stitch
Am I here for love or to be right?
Whatever did they dream about our hunch?
I read the fashion page;I saw the light
Turn it off. I don’t feel I am bright
My mauve silk trousers ruined in the slutch
I had to wear pyjamas in the Church
How my heart sings 