Essential has been part of English since the 14th century, and may be traced to the Latin word for essence (essentia). The earliest sense of the word in English was, unsurprisingly, strongly connected to its Latin origin; essential first meant “of, relating to, or constituting essence”. The common modern use (“of the utmost importance”) began to be used in the 16th century.
Words for “Not Essential”
Nonessential, unessential, and inessential appear to have entered use in the first half of the 17th century; all of these words in early use carried the meaning npt essential
The geese no longer fly past at sundown They’re eaten by the “immigrants” folks say Who also kill and murder every day The English are so perfect in my town
That man is not an alien though he’s brown He was born in Bradford near the mills His parents worked there till it made them ill And now he is a graduate with a gown
My ancestors came to fight and to invade They killed the men and made the women wives What chance that some few English might survive Are they now on benefits or aid?
The nesting swans have killed or maimed the geese In their natural world ain’t no police
After hail and storms I see the snails On the rubber doormat and the stones Encrusted shells the blind might read as braille
The shell made to protect is very frail
I trod on several, cracks like breaking bones After heavy rain I see the snails
The lion whose fire and strength will never fail The sea creatures so large , they look like drones Compare them to the perfect broken snail
In the Bible read the warning tales Temptation,,murder, envy, honeycombs God our Lord a lion or a snail?
Come to that, how can God be a male? How can God approve the gold of Rome? She is a perfect sacred sweet shelled snail
On the beach are empty shells, washed foam Abandoned. they survive their use as homes After storm and tempest ,here are snails Encrusted shells their decor and their grace
How like a monster is my fear of pain
Expanding to fill all my heart and mind
Swelling like a giant sponge in the rain,
This fear begets new feelings more unkind.
For humans being chased by lions fierce,
Fear gives us the strength to dash away.
But when by inner turmoil we are pierced
We cannot run yet need not be its prey.
Most strange,we need to do what we most fear;
Walk towards the pain with curious calm.
As else we may be maddened like King Lear
With no Cordelia to bring us balm.
To feel in proper ratio to our pain.
We need perception,grace and all their gains.
Hennetwistle has a railway stop The name is Viking now it’s usually spelled Entwistle, where reservoirs fill up Manchester wants water , here it’s held
Too Thirlmere is an artificial lake For tea in Manchester, those thirsty folk How much more d’ye think that they will take? Hamlets drowned, dull cypress trees that cloak
I once passed through Darwen on a train On the way to Ilkley with my aunt No memory of bliss with me remains Except the flowers so wild, their ghosts still haunt
Yet nowhere else gives me the feel of home This landscape is my body and my soul
A New Yorker cartoon shows a woman standing at a department store counter, asking of the salesperson, ‘What would you suggest to fill the dark, empty spaces in my soul?’
As I looked down the list of groceries I could buy online I saw this
Outdoor bred bacon
Well , stone the crows.I’ve never seen bacon on a farm or with cows in a meadow
Next, chili with rice
I’d like some meat as well.After all it’s easy to cook quick rice and throw some chili powder over it.Even a few kidney beans would be better than nothing
Macaroni cheese
Don’t buy ir
Cook some quick macaroni and add grated cheese.And maybe some cream or butter
1.A man must wear a cat at all times ,except in bed when he may wear pyjamas over his head if he wants to [unless his wife likes his face] I was told this by my neighbour who is now a widow.Why?
2.One must never eat pork hostages
3.Women must be immodest so that men can pick and choose
4.Men must prey at least 5 times a day except on the Sabbath .
6.A man must love his neighbour but is it the right hand one or the left hand one?It sounds like musical chairs.Do women love their neighbour? It’s transitive
7.A man must not convert his neighbours’ wife to anything
8 No-one may hero worship a golden oldie or their neighbour’s calf or a heel
9 Women are both seen and heard whereas men struggle with the obscene
10.If you worship a golden owl ,don’t tell anybody as the cat may be jealous.Not to mention the Divine
How to be chic and elegant when shaped like a brick How to be chic when shaped like a cricket. How to be seductive yet decent. How to lecture when you are not in the mood How to dress for the Welsh Onion Ball. How to look good when feeling itchy How to find your temper and keep it. How to unlock your inner Daemon. How to vote when you don’t feel like making a cross. How to get a new man in from 30 minutes to 30 years How to cook the dinner and be really trying. How to write with your thumbnails How to make quiche that men love and eat it all yourself How to become calmer than anyone else and then die
So why are you eating that layered chocolate icecream,Mary ,asked Annie her dear neighbour charmingly attired in a light purple skirt and blue silk top with butterflies embroidered round the neckline and hips covered by a silk dressing gown Well, it’s a rather a strange story;it all began when Sainsburys had no slots for delivery That’s not very interesting,said Annie foolishly It is to me, Mary muttered plaintively.I wondered if there was anywhere else to get milk and bread delivered as my neighbours were not so keen to get my last prescription Why, was it for heroin? Annie teased her, her smiling face ruined by a too pale foundation by Hercules of Paris and Dalmatia with crimson lipstick from Boots adorning her wrinkled lips.She looked ready to star in Death in Venice No it was for cystitis, Mary cried.Anyhow I went on to Deliveroo and they have a store that sells food from Marks and Spencers.Only a limited range, of course Mary’s oval face flushed with a pink glow and her singular blue eyes flashed like imitation diamonds at sunset in Weston -super-Mare In contrast she was wearing a heather tweed skirt and jumper of pure new wool And her green trainers and matching tights But they had no milk so I continued with them on to Morrisons who again have a small of food and drink In half an hour they were at the door and all was well Then one word came to my mind What was it, Annie asked her nervously, her fingers twisting her newly washed her into ringlets so fast it looked as if she was destroying the roots Eggs,Eggs! They had no eggs,Mary confided.
Have you none left? Yes but Emile fell off the windowsill onto the work surface and crushed them all Do you believe it was an accident? Cats have been known to suck eggs,Annie whispered Wow,I didn’t know that, Emile miaowed furtively Stay away from my eggs,Mary scolded him.Lay your own.I wish I could So naturally I went to Deliveroo where the local Coop was selling food I got eggs,crumpets, marmalade and then I noticed they sold icecream.Chocolate icecream. You never eat it.Annie told her But I like it, so I thought,I’ll just get one as it is Easter Well, the man came to the door and I saw he had a very small bag I took it and it said, “sorry, we have no eggs so we have sent 6 icecreams” That is illogical ,said Annie.You can’t bake icecream nor eat it boiled with toast So then I thought I”ll either fly into a rage or I will eat the icecream Then tomorrow I will phone them and say, those eggs you sent were off I have been sick all night.I want a refund This is not like you,Mary, her friend said.You don’t cheat and tell lies Not up till now but we have to change.Not just ethically but also we have to curse and swear Your fecking eggs were off. But Annie shouted: they will say We don’t sell fecking eggs but we have pickled eggs Then I will shout: pickle off cried Mary That icecream has made you psychotic,Mary.,Annie informed her Am I schizophrenic? Mary asked softly Not yet but Emile might be if you carry on I’ll make us some lovely PG Tips Tea, that will restore our sanity And make some for all of us
A little cherry tree has grown unseen Now it blossoms by the evergreen Pink and slender with a trunk that flows In the wind that softly, gently blows
How did I miss the many years it grew Looking far ahead, ignoring now Still in Lockdown we have time to stare Attention widens , beauty has appeared
Expecting nothing, we are granted all The golden mirror gleams,an image forms All the world’s transparent and I feel Behind this world, another world’s concealed
Walking softly breathing quiet and slow We’re one with insects, birds , in love we grow
Oh,Cumbria I wish I were with you Near Ambleside, the stepping stones, the slate The Langdale Pikes , the valley and the view
The sinking sands, the sprawling sea so blue The tempting path across the bay , it’s bait Oh,Cumbria I wish I were with you
The thunderstorms, the heavy clouds, the dew Water is your element, your fate The Langdale Pikes , the valley and the view
By Buttermere the waterfalls renew My shoes were pools,my socks a Plathian plaint Oh,Cumbria I wish I were with you
I may be human,,I may be astute My feelings, punctured ,let me lose my state By Langdale Pikes , huge shadows stripe the view
The sky is black, the candles flicker,night Fear and awe, I kneel here , faith ignites Oh,Cumbria I wish I could see you The Langdale Pikes , the cliffs, the distant view
There’s something in the faces of the old Transparency, the seeing of the soul A little light that shines out from within A candle burning through the flesh so thin
Everything is taken but their bones A little flesh is stretched out to atone Till after death the skeleton lies bare A challenge to the young whose eyes close there
Now in Lockdown we learn that we are lame We live upon the cliff edge of our pain Nothing seems secure, we can’t defend We see the naked truth that all will end
Forced to see what we don’t want to say We fall upon the ground , our knees give way
What I need are cliches, new and vague The ghost has got it wrong with howling bones Sniffing the police leaves them enraged
If I hurt you, I am wise not sage Moss is useful in a mixing bowl I need lots of cliches, new and vague
Let’s get married if we’re not engaged I don’t have the tools to fetch in coal Sniffing the police leaves them enraged
Paradox is vital in our age Politicians toss out joints all rolled Send me cliches, new and somewhat vague
When this is over who will be in role? The sun has got no hat on ,I it stole I need more cliches, new and quietly vague Sniffing the police leaves men enraged
the art of poetry isn’t hard to master
make the syntax good and entertaining
the gruesome heart of poetry brings disaster
a meter errant makes the lines come faster
an oxford thesaurus gets the listeners waning
the art of poetry isn’t hard to master.
a genius woke and saw a verse rush past her
it only needed polishing and planing
the gruesome heart of poetry brings disaster
she left the oven on, it gassed her
ever since her folk groan, paining
the art of poetry isn’t hard to master.
she saw her selves as coloured shapes in plaster
and round her mind, were ghosts all craning
the gruesome heart of poetry brings disaster
there’s not a lot of hope if we’re complaining
for criticism from hidden ghosts is draining
the art of poetry isn’t hard to master
the gruesome heart of poetry brings disaster
When Dad was isolated, I slept in Mam’s bed With her sister too when he neared death My sisters on a camp bed, in a cot My sister saw a ghost and felt its breath
My brothers shared a room, the walls were thin They heard Daddy gasping, short of air They heard him groan, they heard our Mam’s footstep They heard the silence, oh, was he not there?
Daddy’s bedroom had a little fire We went to say goodnight, but stayed too long We sat upon his bed, he talked a while
Then he ended with a 30s song
On Monday morning he took his last breath Mam ached so., she wished that she was dead
In local neighbourhood groups like NextDoor people are claiming that they are collecting child car seats, pocket calculators and pens for the NHS
Surely the NHS don’t use second hand things…. they would be dirty
Is it someone who wants them for themself?
Photo by Mike Flemming copyright
Let your lips meet gently,
the top one resting against the lower,
touching with tenderness
your own skin to skin.
Forefinger propped on chin,
I let the others dangle,
like leaves on a branch;
how softly gravity tugs them downwards.
Let heart beat quietly,slowly
as the blood circulates
carrying its music,
a river,
following the path of least resistance.
How the blood vessels receive willingly this flow,
touching it kindly as with tiny open fingers,
helping and being helped.
How the hair on the head
floats
on the breeze,
like tentacles of an octopus
waving goodbye.
Top eyelid loves the lower one;
as we blink they touch
like lovers kissing swiftly
behind a tree.
and how the light comes in
we see a world.
[mine may not be yours,]
but the blink of my eyelid
sends waves through the air,
so we’re all touching and being touched,
lips kissing each other,
kiss all living creatures.
skin to skin.
air to air.
And inside us,the rich darkness
of creative night
transforms,in turn,
these touchesinto dreams.
Am I an idolator today For to St Jude I have been known to pray Patron of the Hopeless, the Outcast I call on him to find my shopping list
I call on him when I have lost my phone And long to hear my husband’s mobile groans If this ignites distress I am to blame The fires of love are what keep women sane
I call on him while homesick though at home Without my love the house feels empty, lone Does God detest me when I pray for aid? For these years, with suffering I have paid
Say or sing whatever suits your heart We never gain the end if we don’t start
If we never moved we would sink down Slowly, all unnoticed. without noise Into the earth our ready burial ground
The birds are nesting, hear untutored songs No pandemic there to halt their voice Those who dislike movement have no tongue
Life is given to all ,though we do wrong Is it our inheritance or choice? All end in holy earth, sweet underground
No need in the grave for wedding gowns Linen cloths suffice when we are raised Those who never move, at worms will frown
See the trawlers sink and many drown God’s own finger has each life erased Gone to watery wastes, their fishing ground
Here are buried foetuses and clowns Men hanged dead as traitors, Kings , the drowned If we never move that is a flaw But we are moved by love and its own law
I walked,I stumbled where I’d never been No friend nor ally guided me nor could In the mesmerising sharp pain of my grief
Wandering like an outcast , never queen Reason was no aid in that dead wood I wandered through the shadows of my dreams
I felt the ground beneath me swirl and seethe As if to kill me too or spill my blood In the desolate place of darkness deep
Rosemary,remembrance, flowering wreaths Inside the heart will mercy come to flood? I wandered where to love would be obscene
But in the arctic wastes , surprised by god In late winter trees will start bud I wandered on until my heart revived
From that place of peril came new life
I
By JCTM copyright 2020
How my heart sings 