1  Do not stop your car to read this sign.Thank you
2. If you can’t read this sign get your eyes tested~unless you are illiterate
3 This sign is not here till further notice
4.This sign is here but don’t look at it
5  Harald Bluetooth, please call the police.
6.This sign is due to be painted so please take a photograph  of it for future use.
7.This sign  is paid for by the   local hospital to let you know
they have no A & E now.Please drive carefully.
8.Hollow road ahead liable to  flooding
9. This water is dangerous.Please don’t drink it
10 This sign is the last one before Hardknott Pass.Look at the road.Do not panic.Very few cars  have fallen off since Xmas

 Oh,longhead Viking, who were my forebears
Eric Bloodaxe,Harald  Bluetooth,Cnut?
Their lady wives as vicious as the men
Who  will  love me true or give the boot?

I blame you not for fearing my hot breath
Yet I am  ancient Roman,British,Welsh
A thousand years have passed, but I am here
With Danish eyes and hair, but bones of Celt

Hence my  double joints and  glaring eye
My golden hair  in trouble with its plaits
My legs are bowed,my feet can terrify
Why not send me  home to   feed the cat

Britain   has succumbed to Viking   blood
We’ve’conquered you again, oh men of wood

 

 

After all the wars,love still endures
Grace comes through the cracks, grace is the cure
Babies born in tents  on wet cold ground
Eerie  through the trees comes labour’s sound

But grace, like rain, needs openness and care
How can these refugees  bear children  here?
We enclose ourselves  in  fictive webs
Netflix,Prime , the BBC, the bed

We do not want to see the sky and stars
Downing gin and cocaine in the bar
We have  plastic lawns and paper flowers
From the   handmade dog to City Towers

There is a door but who can spot it now?
No poverty,no chastity no now

Joy sings now in golden light

Though after day comes black of night.

The moon is rising by gray trees

This world is where I want to be.

I want the day, I want the night

I want the day. I want the light.

I want to see and to be seen,

I want to  float into my dreams.

The sun has set , gray clouds turn black,

The day just gone will not come back.

I’ll rest in quiet reverie

Until the Reapers’s scythe takes me.

And then I drop and mix with dust,

As worms and beetles sate their lust.

I fall into ten thousand motes

In  sweet light ,dance music’s notes.

No more striving.no more ambition,

No more fighting,nor competition.

Every particle’s the same,

Without even a personal name.

And side by side,we all are one.

The lusts of life have been and gone.

We dwell with dirt and grain and sand

At last we’ve reached the Promised Land

There seems to be  a mystery inside
That is as big as what is called outside
A world of endless depth, of vision too
As large as all the oceans green and blue

In these depths do monsters swim untamed
Or sacred angels  of the nameless Name?
Is what we see a product of  our needs
And what all humans have, a lonely greed?

Ethics  and our values  make me think
Be careful as you listen not to blink
The  moment when the eye is  closed is short
Yet gives a gargoyle time to make its point

Strange creations, faces  that bring fear
Decorate  cathedrals as they sneer

Baked beans on adders ‘ tongues
Adder baked and multiplied  with loaves, no fish left.
Ten lizards doused  in olive oil and brandy [flamed]
Deep fried eels in batter with chips [optional]
Bamboo  and ducks’ legs in a nest {Duck dead}
Roast potatoes  with gingered  leaves and topside
Beans in lentils brewed with whiskey with side salad

 

Jellied raspberries  and creme faux gay
Transparent loaf  with sardines  teeth  filling
Nail filings on  jumbo strawberries with artifical, artificial cream [ 2 negative may not make a positive]

Someone other guided me to act
Deep inside my voice had been unlocked
I sang the psalms and then a lullaby
Not aware in thought  that you would die.
I fed you with a teaspoon the mashed fish
From a  plate as good as one might wish
Like a little child you tried your best
You winked at me and gazed  like one who’s blessed
You sat up with  a  brighter  face at last
Then lay back and  God knows all the rest
Oh, don’t go yet ,my darling,I am here
The floor of heaven came down  among my tears
Made of sumptuous satin  golden,dear.
For a little moment it hung low
Then it rose and  took you in its glow
I saw your soul like that of a wild bird
Taken by the Power  who  spoke the  Word
A sheet of tears fell down from my closed eyes
It’s hard ,so hard when those you love  must die

This was a  photo of a small lake before I played with it

 

I am sorry I can’t come out.My distressed jacket has just arrived.
Denim,say what you like… you can beat it,distress it, rip it and some idiot will buy it
Distress it yourself.. teach it quantum  mechanics.Or let the dog sleep on it  if and only if you can  sleep by it and sing ,O for the winds of a dove
I can’t come out either.I can’t get my  jeggings off and I need to answer the call of nature.Moo mooo
What made you buy a distressed jacket?
It was half price!
Why can’t  you wear it to come out?
It might cry
Are you crazy?
How would I know?
Are you unwell?
No,I’m Dutch
Like a dyke?
Are you always boring or is it just  the heat?
I have no idea
You can take some of mine.i am full of the.
How much are they ?
How much what are they?Wool?
I mean the cost
Free to all daydreamers
I  like that!

Like the adder,I would shed my skin
Extravagant ,new painted colours bright
Then I’d live with snakes,my new true kin

In my wavey life, emotions run
Tempting only other snakes in sight
Like the adder,I would shed my skin

No arms to hug, no bosom,but much fun
Wriggling my whole body in sunlight
Feeling one with snakes,my new  true kin

Once such transformation has begun
We  cannot ride the wind like   children’s kites
Like the adder,we would shed our skin

All other  needs must for this be foregone
Change and breed, for all must hibernate
Then dwell with snakes in burrows where sun’s dim

In the frozen winter,sleep all night
Sleep all day and live without love’s rites
Like the adder,we should shed much skin
The endings of the nerves , life’s   origin

 

 

 

 

 

What Makes a Good Poem?

 

Patricia Hubbell. Black Earth, Gold Sun. Marshall Cavendish, 2001. City Kids. Marshall Cavendish, 2001.

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“Prose = words in their best order; Poetry = the best words in their best order”—Coleridge said it, and I believe it. Poetry IS about words—their precision, texture, beauty (and ugliness). Prose is about words, too, but not in the same way. Prose is about the bigger picture. The canvas is bigger and so are the brushstrokes. A good poem, whether narrated by a character or by the poet her/himself, uses words wonderfully, and it uses them to capture specific moments in a fresh way, a way that makes the reader exclaim with delight, “Yes, that’s it! That’s right!”

A good poem may also ask philosophical questions. In its condensed form, poetry gives these questions an immediacy, a great power to startle and grab the imagination. Poetry is great for asking—and sometimes answering—those questions that come to you just as you’re falling asleep.

The roses by your gate
Revealed my sweet fate:
That I would love you in summertime,
That my poetry would always rhyme,
That a dream of petals falling from above
Would drench us both with sunshine’s golden love;
That we would fall into deep grassy meadows
Full of daisies,lie on our backs.Swallows
Darting across the sky would see
Our shapes intertwined with bright buttercups.
Who knows when love will erupt
And carry us on its flowing waters
To places unreachable in summer saunters?
Into the eye of love itself

Who owns the weapons of mass extinction?
The Queen has been raining since 1954 at least
Brtain  is a mock-democracy.
We sell instruments of torture to keep the Economy entranced
Across the  globe people are  locked up without trial  but has it made the world safer?
You can kill one Osama but there are others.Why not use the power
of reason?  Why not  think? Why not wonder?
It’s madmen  playing games to make their names

 

 

 

https://www.nature.com/articles/d41586-020-02009-w?

There were three of us on this motorbike,
Father Dan with me,
And he had Jesus in his bag.
That makes the total three.

Transubstantiation, oh my Lord
I looked  at his black  bag.
Is Jesus inside there, I thought?
Should it have a tag?

It’s a secret  never told
But Father Dan gave it me to hold.
So I had Jesus in my lap,
No wonder there’s a hole, a gap.

We zoomed off up an unmade road
As fast as Dan could go.
I felt bewildered and bemused,
I loved my Daddy so.

Father Dan took back his bag,
And went inside our house.
I got my marbles out to roll,
And I ate a chocolate mouse.

So Three of had taken a ride
And after that my Dad had died.
Father Dan said Mass  today
With holy Jesus,so I cried.

 

 

 

 

B

By Mike  Flemming

 

 

 

Though the News is very bad and we are governed by people who see, unfit to be in their positions,I think of the people I’ve met here in  the last  8  years and their kindness, their hopes, their goodness and their humour and I feel honoured to  meet you all.Thank you to each person for being  the person you are and I hope you will   be successful not in money but in using your talents and  in your humian relationship and in enjoying this beautiful  universe with all its promise and  danger, too

Let’s hope we can make a difference by using our talents and caring for our neighnours during and after Lockdown
What we learn now will help the next generation

Come here darling, come here quick,
‘Cos your Daddy’s very sick.
Run as fast as fast, you can,
Get the priest, get Father Dan.
Run,run went my eight year old feet,
Down the lane and up the street
I ran right up to Father’s door,
[Does God live there any more?]
“Come please, Mam said Daddy’s ill”
“Oh”,said Father,”that I will.”
Revving up his motor bike
With The Sacrament beside;
He lifted me up onto the back
And roared off up the church-side track.
It was the best thrill of my life;
If only Daddy had not died. S

I have lost my lap top
Never mind, you can have a skin graft
Can one type on a skin graft?
Why are you alway arguing?
Why are you alway exaggerating?
I don’t know why we got married
You were a good actress
Thanks for the compliment
You were so good I didn’t know how horrible you really were
That’s not very kind
Why should I be kind  to such a nasty wife?
Or  alternatively,  your nastiness has robbed my of my kindness
Why do you always blame me?
Name one example
You blamed me for  a poor Wedding Night because I was menstruating
You could have gone on the pill  to change the date
But we  married for life.Was it so awful to wait a couple of days?
Well,I admit I was tired after the Reception
No wonder, you danced with ten women and left me alone
You are always counting.Nine women,eleven women, what’s the difference?
Two women
You aways were good at sums.
You should not  have shown off at our Wedding
You should be grateful I picked you.
What a nerve.You mean you didn’t love me  the most?
In the dark  what does it matter
Surely  not all women  make love the same way.
So far I can’t tell you, but it seems similar
Of course it’s similar.It’s the emotions, the feelings that count.We are not cats
Why bring arithmetic in?
“Count” means “matter”
As in don’t ” matter”  your chickens before they’re hatched
As in,  to lovers money does not matter
Not till they get hungry
It means money is necessary but not sufficient
Gosh,I  realise you passed the eleven plus
No,I passed out in the exam room so I got an aegrotat based on my course work
You don’t do course work for an IQ Test
Well I did.I began as a moron and ended up as  the most clever of all
All what? Sheep?
You are so cruel
That’s only  the beginning
Did you pass the eleven plus?
I never took it.I was privately educated
Where?
Holloway
I’ve not heard of that
You should.It’s a prison
Why did they send you there?
It was an experiment
To find out what?
They never said but I passed 9 A levels and got a place at Oxford to read maths.
I didn’t know one could read maths
Why would I have all these books?
To impress visitors?
Would you be impressed by ” Thoughts on 4th order differential equations” ?
I    have never heard of such things.Why 4th order?
Three space plus time
Can you add space and time? They are different things.
They can interact.
I suppose it’s like a railway timetable.A three dimensional train arrives at a certain time  at the station
Unless there are leaves on the line
Did Dirac think of that?
I doubt it.Maths is perfect ,elegant and bare
Sounds like a new bride.
Well, take me back and marry an infinite series of irrational numbers
Can a phone have an  irrational number?
Ask BT!
How rational!

T

 

 

The history teacher failed my essay on the French Revolutiom
She said it was more boring than a railway timetable.
I l

The head nun was angry when I was top of the class
She said, you don’t look intelligent

When I was being interviewed for university I was asked what I wanted to do a degree in maths for.Research  was my aim,I told them
Both men burst out laughing and slapped their thighs
I’d never seen men with manicured nails before
I’d already done some original work by myself
I did more.

I lost a job offer as I was wearing an engagement ring

I amazed my students by never using lecture notes.I thought I’d be bored just reading it out.Boring one’s self is bad.

Why did I  take a job lecturing when I was a silent person?
I suppose it cured my muteness but I’d  like to get it back  before
I say I hate the government **** **** ****

People do want to learn but many teachers have not got the ability
to imagine what it is like encountering x,y,z   instead of numbers and wisely believe quadratic are meaningless

Maths is like studying a skeleton
But the flesh is what  makes us alive.

 

 

 

 

 

A blind man is sitting on a park bench. A Rabbi sits down next to him. The Rabbi is chomping on a piece of matzoh. Taking pity on the blind man, he breaks off a piece and gives it to the blind man. Several minutes later, the blind man turns, taps the Rabbi on the shoulder and asks, “Who wrote this?!!”

source: http://www.jokes4us.com/ethnicjokes/jewishjokes/blindmanjoke.html