Don’t send me an apron forXmas When all that I want is a glove A glove for the oven Its hands must be frozen Let’s drown the old oven in love.
Don’t send me a card on my birthday I cannot remember your name Just bake me a cake I prefer it to steak Don’t limp unless you are lame Don’t change the sheets every week,dear For washing them makes them wear thin Just give me a brush I’ll beat off the fluff Then we can both have some fun
Don’t give me bacon for breakfast God won’t let Jews eat it yet His aversion to swine Is what makes him divine The fig tree is dead I regret
As Mary put her navy blue peacoat on over her red dress and grabbed her red bag she saw the cab arrive. Bye,Emile,she called before locking the front door She got to the Podiatry Clinic early.Just as well since only three of the chairs were in use Soon her name was called and a calm yet warm young woman called Emma told her where to sit Oh,dear.You are unlucky.You have Celtic feet,Emma murmured It’s not bad luck, it’s because 5 of my great grandparents were Celtic, Mary lectured her But they were all dead when I was born, possibly due to the Famine in Ireland Well, at least they had children. How do you know that? You are descended from them My, how clever you are.I never thought of that before Do you have children,Emma enquired Well,I did lose at least one in Spain near Malaga Goodness,can’t you get in touch now?How old were they? I guess about 3 months old so no doubt they fell into the Mediterranean sea. Miaooooooooooow!Miaooooooooaaaaaaaw.Boo hooooooooo Emma nearly passed out. What on earth is that? Mary opened her bag and there sat Emile crying copiously Emile, how did you get into my bag? You left the zip open and I was looking for a mask.Then you suddenly fastened it Mary gave him a tissue to dry his tears. I felt so distraught when you said your unborn babies died,I could not stay quiet Emma said, you must put a mask on and I am not going to even look at your paws Why not? The NHS is for humans, she smiled graciously, if not superciliously Well,Mary, you must let me examine your other foot Which? Well,you only have two, I hope! Mary carried her red bag into the Waiting Room. Hello,she said into her phone.Can you send a cab to take me home MeToo ,yelled Emile What the bleeding hell is that? Don’t worry, it’s just my cat.Will I have to pay extra? Not if he sits on your knee Thanks, said Mary, She and Emile sat looking through the glass door Well, this made a change,he purred.I like Emma MeToo cried Mary as she saw the car stop outside Home and some Twinings Tea With brandy, called Emile And so wish all of us
When I was little we had a lovely picture on the wall.It was the Three Bears My brothers and I all loved it, When I was five,it changed into a bridge with three arches and a river
Similarly the house up out street had faces.So did the armchairs in the living room Everything was alive and to be related to
The music is the waves as they run high Across the pebbly sands onto the road Then groaning of the shingle as waves die
The fish that dwell deep in the dark, dark brine The flow within as outer waters flow The music of the waves as they run high
The moon reflects sun’s light to other eyes Above the seas which rise up to its goad. Then groans the shingle as the steep waves die
The sea holds hidden goods where we can’t pry In the deep the heavy water moulds The music of the waves as they run high
All the day and all of the black night The seas and oceans change from high to low Ah, groans the earth as each wave has to die
Re-hear these sounds, are they a sacred code? As angels wrestled, Jacob feared the Lord His music is the waves as they run high His groaning is the shingle as waves die
I was walking in a desert grey and bleak All alone, with none to speak or eat I shuddered when I realised the truth I was unmarried, pregnant, mere refuse.
Cast out for other failings all unknown My baby came too soon and I alone A doctor with no face appeared and said Your baby died ,I see he’s never fed
He flung my baby on his heap of dead I lay there in the dirt, red with my blood I had to leave or I would die of grief The will to live just stronger than a leaf
I went to see my baby, and he smiled He was still alive, my love,my child I took him in my arms, where should we go? I walked into that darknessfull and slow
When strangers ask for photos of you nude Or wearing clothes so scanty they’ll go blind Let them see your feet without their shoes
Let them see your twisted toes turn blue Let them see the bunions God designed When strangers ask for photos rather rude
Can one solve a crossword with no clues? Can one have no bosom and look fine? Can they love your feet without cute shoes?
When you’re feeling sad and life is blue When you long for love but not divine When gentlemen want photos somewhat crude
Try to sell them on the Evening News Take the veil or drink the Altar Wine Let them kiss your feet without their shoes
When you’re looking for the hidden signs Don’t read numbers settlers left behind When strangers ask for photos, give them clues Let them wash your feet but make them queue
Annie ran into Mary’s kitchen wearing a pale green coat and matching suede s oes Oh,let me tell you my happy news,I am gettng married again Is that why you are all dressed up?Why green? Don’t be ridiculous,marriage needs organising You mean the Ceremony? Yes, and the meal I think marriage itself needs organising.Who will pay the bills and bring in the coal? Which side of the bed will you sleep on? Oh, I must get larger bed,Annie realised thoughtfully And who is to be your husband? I’ve not decided yet,Annie admitted quietly How many candidates are there for the position,Mary asked quizzically? Well, the main one is Denis, the psychoanalyst across the road I expect he already has a big bed..Mary joked knowingly Yes,I spent a night or so with him and he has a memory foam mattress here. I hope it doesn’t remember all the women he has slept with Well, only if they slept there.They might have gone to an hotel or been in a caravan at Southwold Harbour,Annie rambled on They might have slept in a wood by a log fire or in a tent on the West Bank So will he be faithful to you? He’s already told me he adores me more than he knew possible That will soon wear off when you live together How cruel you are,Annie sighed ,like martyr waiting to be executed Shall I make some tea for us both? Yes and boil my hankies as well,Mary joked. I shall boil your tongue if you keep teasing me! They sat down near the window while the sun was setting in a wine coloured sky I do like your outlook,Annie said I thought it was Microsoft’s,Mary told her innocently You silly idiot,I mean your view I’ve never heard of YourView.Is it a new thing like Zoom? Mary asked nervously I mean, this view here from your window at dusk Wow,I am frightened how I assume everything I learn of is related to Modern Technology Yeah, said Annie,I’ve done it too You are both stupid,said Emile the resident cat How rude.Why do you say that,Mary enquired boldly? It’s the whole human race.All hooked on Skype or a Twatter What’s a Twattter? It’s someone who lives on Twitter You won’t find a bird on Twitter. So a bird can’t be a Twatter That is correct.Aristotle would be pleased if he were here Where is he? In a book.
That is end of “Logic made simple” on BBC education
He kept his tongue in his cheek too long so he couldn’t eat Starved to death
She had her head screwed on the wrong way Lack of light
He wouldn’t wear his glasses so fell down a well Unconscious suicidal wish or vanity led to error
She wore shoes that were too small and developed 100 untreated corns Died of stupidity or poverty
His brain got stuck on the underground as his head fell off his body. The glueless disease
She wore a yellow bikini on the beach which attracted a lot of wasps Need I say more? Died fighting as men wept
She was baking bread but got into the oven and was roasted with a potato Bad luck.Only do one thing at a time Died of hyperactivity and lack of concentration
He was writing a blog post and got sad as it seemed too poor Then he drowned his sorrows [ and himself
He got chilblains which stopped him from walking so his blood froze
Verdict: Bad weather and lack of housing
Arthritis made her so stiff we put her into a coffin and accidentally buried her Verdict-Misadventure and human error
She fell over the cat and hit her head on the fridge Verdict? Misfortune as skull too thin
She got off a moving bus as the doors opened Verdict: Died of conceit
Look without and see the claret sky The sun is falling like Greek wine tonight As sparrows hide in holly,safe from eyes
We need protection till our minds sublime Into dusty corners shine their lights Look without and see the curious sky
Tell your heart, your truth, though others lie Seem rewarded with both cash and spite Oh, sparrows hide in holly, leaves awry
A man is called an emperor , yet he dies Look without and see the fatal signs The sky is turning panic to delight
At last, philosopher, the silence sighs Throw away the your thoughts, cold or benign As sparrow safe in holly, shut their eyes
The hawk may soar across the sacred lines Where patterns of complexity arise Look without and see the open sky When sparrows rest in holly, owls surprise
Mary sat brooding in her armchair, while Emile slumbered by the red hot fire How can I be sure to waken up tomorrow in time for my Podiatry visit? she pondered I am used to waking early, but you never know,she told herself When she went to bed, carryin a flask of English Breakfast Tea she picked up her alarm clock but the battery was missing yet again Never mind, she thought.I shall use my phone instead as she put on her long nightdress and a wool jumper full of holes How fortunate that I can wear old clothes in bed rather than seductive satin lingerie, she thought They are usually polyester and that’s not warm.Though no doubt if it is very seductive you will soon get hot unless your mate works nights down a coal mine.Then, why would a woman wear it? Does it mean she has a lover living near by, perhaps next door? We can only wonderwhy women must suffer not only this but stiletto heels and blow dries She put the flask of tea down and got into her cosy bed. Alas, Mary was still anxious about the alarm I’ll go downstairs and get the kitchen clock, she decided.She struggled out of bed and fetched the blue clock upstairs where it was agreeable to being used I really do need Stan to come back so he could resume waking me when he brought me some tea at 8 am each morning Shall I put an advert online< Very thoughtful, anxious kind & gentle lady mathematician, good at cooking and boiling hankies needs a kind well read man as a partner.Must get up early to make tea and filter the News Preferably a man from Tyneside or similar area Please phone 0207 ccctheo or email iamme78@ymail,com She set her spare phone and the clock then fell asleep. She dreamed she was in a rowing boat on Lake Windermere with her first boyfriend who looked as attractive as ever Come and give me a kiss, he ordered her But surely it is dangerous to make love in a rowing boat, she remarked wonderingly Yes, we might fall out but I can swim But I can’t, she said.Are you hoping I will drown? Don’t be so anxious.The Mountain Rescue Team will come and help We’re not on a mountain, she retorded.Anyway I don’t love you anymore Why not, he asked angrily? I went off you because you never read a book and always chose the films we saw. Did that matter? There you are,you didn’t even ask me if I liked James Bond.You must be an egoist His eyes glared angrily.Why did you not tell me, he asked Should a man need to be told to please a potential girl friend? I suppose not, he answered,Please forgive me.He leaned over to kiss her but just then all the alarms went off,It was morning,, How nice to have a cup of tea while trying to remember one’s name and date of birth And to forget the worst boyfriend ever At least he never hit me, she exclaimed And so say all of us
My toes were cold ,like frozen strips of fish Chill- blains threaten,I must not choose this I’ll buy some woollen tights and knit some socks Keeping warm in winter with the flocks
Podiatry is on the NHS And so my lady kind I vow to bless Gentle as a mist on Whitby shores Warmer than the sea,I can’t say more. I ought to wear some warmer clothes at night I have a little cat his name is Blake He will not eat his dinner, he wants mine I wish he were a man and we could dine My fingers are as cold as stainless steel Was it I who made the motor wheel ? I like ellipses yet they do nor roll Though neither does a dollop of hot coal
When we all are old we’ll go to God He recycles people with his Rod Some of us come back as Eskimos I can guess that just by my cold toes
I prefer a hotter place to live Hell has its attractions like a sieve Naughty people have more fun I feel I want to change my feet into small wheels
In the end, it’s good to feel and hope Before we turn into the holy smoke
Fried frogs on a bed of lice with free desert and Bedouin prisoner Scottish moles and salad with hot flatbread from Gaza & strip English Enema with free water and wafers and Syrian Refugee Welsh Wrabbit grilled on West Bank of Thames plus Binoculars and Gun Scottish Sausage with alimony tossed in lemon juice and oil HP Sauce on Macaroni in butter with Russian Cheesefake Fried Fish with chip on boulder of Galilee with boat German Green Goose with mesh of potato free to engage Grumbling Grand Gorse with spikes and dressing and free Baptism Spanish Hamlet with chunky chips and a pack of cards with Joker Linear Equations of Spaghetti with photo of salad Macbeth Matrix of Pasta in green gauze with free wound and needle Hindu Blessing and free food for all who smile Cherry Tree blessed by God plus Rice and Nuts and free Tea Irish plight and potato free to all
This poem is written in the sonnet form, And yet I have my doubts about its shape Though nearly to that structure it conforms There may be holes where nightmare faces gape.
It looks and speaks just as a sonnet would And talks of metaphysical concerns. Do we conclude, as poets and readers should, That in our schizoid age we cannot learn?
For humans may be decked in clothes of wolves; And lambs be dressed in lion’s fearsome furs. Thus, sense is tricked and problems are unsolved. Landscapes etched, yet details seem quite blurred.
It looks like one,it feels like one,it speaks; Yet from these words, does human feeling leak?
Put your painful feelings into form The sonnet,villanelle, the triolet The shape controls the anguish of the storm Our wounds can shape our vision and our thoughts Remember school, where bullies made you pay? Put your painful feelings into form
Words like daggers pierce the loving heart Oh, memory must not cut us off from play The play controls the violence of the storm
Let all thought of vengeance now depart Or our spirit blackens, then decays Put those painful feelings into form
In its time the sun will bring new dawns Tears will wash our souls from black to grey The words compress,contain the bloody storm
Do not give the monsters time of day Conversation does not always pay Put your painful feelings into form The shape will heal the anguish like a balm
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
The grief that was a stone inside my chest Has melted into water,now my tears That rain upon my face, that feel like death
Is human life a lesson with its tests? Must people walk with anguish down the years? The grief weighed like a boulder in my chest
God did not evoke the fierce Tempest His still small voice will whispers in the ear The rain runs down my face, I hate love’s death
I rage against the fever,give me rest The little whisper tells me,do not fear The grief stood like a boulder on my chest
The Dove flies on the current of God’s breath My shrouded eyes are wet, how is Love dear That rains upon my face, that feel like death?
From the cliff top I saw white walls sheer I shall not go again,my mind is clear The blocked grief was a stone inside my chest It turned to tears, yet still I feel love’s death
As I writer I have been sentenced to death after 50 years In future I’ll use phrases Also I am censored to death so my novels don’t make sense Do sense my feelings and be kinder to me I feel like a soporific With tea, bread and butter? The sensation of love is a distraction when doing partial differential equations. Why am I doing them? They are better than Su Doku
The hailstones pounded the window as violently,as if they had minds bent on killing;soldiers in rows and ranks rushing onwards; as each fell another and another took its place. Cold and mathematical they had a simple precise force and geometry. Into this warlike scene,floated two white butterflies Crossing and recrossing the spaces between the hail they followed a random path;now together.now apart Their unplanned,loving dance leads to mating, procreation and a future while the hailstones can only die. Seems sometimes fragile freedom is more productive than the fierce mechanical modern world can imagine. I see the butterflies now like startled flowers hunting for the sun
When you struck me,I vibrated like a kettle drum, then as smaller percussions and repercussions echoing from all the glassy surfaces creating a balletic geometry of sound tracks in space and time.
When you knocked me down, I fell against her and her and her; we were like a row of skittles and we all went down with the lifeboat; The infinite chain of being is.
When you hit me,the Fall spread across the world Now there is no Vertical All is undivine and graceless. By the Rod it’s ruled
When you left me,I left myself,the world,the rocks,dry land I weighed down sank to the ocean bed with coral eyes gazing.
When you struck my mind I became an instrument of a foreign power Singing a song I didn’t know.
When the glass was smashed the splinters flew into all our hearts. You didn’t know what we couldn’t see.
I lay on barren ground and gave birth To my own Creator in the desert.
If we can’t do good, we may be able at least to avoid harming others But some people like President Trump either don’t know or don’t care And it seems to to be hard to know when we may be harming others Probably requires a lot of humility That is not something admired in our culture But when you are dying it may affect you unless you are totally sedated My husband used to say, as you live so will you die He died very peacefully with me singing by his side I’m a singer inside and I get messages that way.I don’t always hear them I heard the bird tapping on the window in March I saw Death like a black shape dancing in May Then I knew. I did my best and if I harmed him I am sure he forgave me We are not always able to be aware of what we are doing However we don’t always want to know Just knowing what is good is not enough We have to let it come to us and be part of us And generally Be courteous Be dignified But have fun Enjoy the life we carry within Then let it go
Oh,Mary is in horrid pain It’s her sciatica again. No pills can cure but nettles might She will roll in them tonight Emile is aware of this He gives her a loving kiss Emile, I’ve told you it’s not done To kiss your mother though in fun What would Stan think,were he here Drinking from a can of beer? What would Annie think of this? Go, give her a big wet kiss
Oh,mother I might bite her lip As my teeth are made to nip Take my emery board and smooth Your pointed teeth and any grooves Can I use Stan’s old toothbrush No, I’ve put it in the Wash
Maybe seals will use it there Send them combs and do not swear I did not mean to curse again My back is aching,I’ve no pluck Mother, dearest, don’t say feck
Well, that’s Irish, it’s ok The Catholics wlil offer prayers I pray too for all my friends Those bereaved or round the bend Do you mean those who see ghosts ? Maybe it’s the heavenly Host
As long as you look clean and neat Noone will see your hooves or feet Noone will know you see and hear Emissaries from other spheres. Don’t meet eyes nor stare at men And always write with a good pen
You may be in another realm Dave can see you’r overwhelmed He will pat your head this day For this he gets his kicks and pay When you feel yourself again See it you can spot old Stan Where is Annie,Mary’s friend? Where the Spirit which descends Where are our neighbours whom we love? Singing with the turtle dove All the Saints will chant along As Jesus sings his ancient songs
Spirits rise and Love is here Drinking in the atmosphere
The butterfly is like a flower which moves its station every hour. Oh,happy is he on the wing. The vision makes me quick to sing. The flower is open in the sun, And to its heart, true love shall come. The bees shall feast and fly replete With nectar they are now full sweet. I sing of colour and of love; Blessings that rain down from above. I wish to be a flower too. Ah,that the bee could but be you.
