Ode to a lightbulb


Oh,light bulb foreseen by our God
Save us all from darkness’ rod
You are our Saviour as foretold
In prophecy by ancients bold.
We will worship you at night
When sunken is the sun so bright.
We’ll watch TV and Kindle fire
No more to play shall we aspire.
We’ll wear ourselves out watching screens,
As from a can we eat baked beans
We’ll send for pizzas with our phones
With which we never feel alone.
We might talk to our partner dear
Though texting is much easier.
We see the neon street lights gleam
Where once we saw the moon’s cold beams
And in bed we read our books
With a kindle or a nook
We put beneath out pillows fair
I phones which we long to hear
Can one have too much new light?
From technology some take flight
For gone are seasons, and their fruit
As our computer we reboot.
New potatoes all year round
Avocados once quite rareN
ow are seem ‘most everywhere
.Melons,grapes and fresh green peas
As the birds sing,life’s a breeze.
Oh light bulbs,fluorescent tubes
Electric candle, light is cubed.
We thank you for extended days
Maybe we’ll find time for prayers.
God is great in mystery
No light bulb can help us see.
In silence,darkness, meditate
Wonder what will be our fate.
As retribution for our wrong
Satan stabs us with his prongs
He needs no more light in hell
The fiery furnace cooks as well!

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The doorbell phoned





Mary was trying to find an online shop where she had once bought a red winrer coat~
Instead. she landed on Amazon
Oh, there’s a nice frying pan,she thought.
She enlarged the screen and saw the words,Amazon Echo
That’s a strange name for a pan, she muttered
Then she realised it was a new fangled device which may be collecting messages& images for MI5
I wonder if my email has anything suspicious in it?
I have written to two people weekly then my sister and my six brothers
Are any of them under suspicion?
Soon,Mary realised that the Echo would not collect anythbg unless you had one installed in your home
I suppose it’s a bit like God.We can read about him,
go to church or pray but meeting him would be totally different
But Jesus hinted that if we fed the hungry or washed the feet of a beggar we were meeting God
In Knittingham all the beggars have shoes, she murmured
Maybe I could wash their hair?
God may be right here,but just as the blind can’t see colours we may lack some sense that would enable us to see God or even angels.
Annie knocked on the window.
Shall we have a cup of tea? Oh.I say, are you getting an Echo?
I don’t think I need one, unlike a shadow.I thought it was a frying pan
I recall you have burned two plus 7 milkpans
Don’t keep going on about it,Mary begged
Annie made some tea and Emile wandered in
Would you like tea,Emile?
Only if it’s green, he mioawed
I thought green was mould on food,Annie said
But tea is not food, is it? Emile cried
Only the milk and sugar,Annie mumbled
I’ve never seen green milk,Mary said nervously
There’s always a first time, the cat uttered in a manner resembling the Oracle
at Delphi.
But can you even buy green milk?
They all sat quietly meditating until the door bell rang
Mary picked up the phone
Hello,I am your door bell
She put the phone down and told the others about this new kind of crime where non-human objects would try to persuade you to wash them or put oil into them.
I can’t believe it ,Annie said as she stared round the room wondering which gadget
might phone Mary next.
Her mobile rang,
Would you like to pay for your Funeral?
I’m not even dead yet, she replied.When I am I’ll call you.Do you do 3 for 2?
Do you think Trump might phone?
Yes, he needs money to pay his lawyers
Well.I am not going to give him any?
Yet Jesus mixed with sinners
They were thieves & whores…. just ordinary people, not like Trump
I wish you were a whore,said Emile
How horrible,said Mary, why did you say that?
Well,I long to see Jesus, Emile smiled to her
He will let you know the time,she informed him.Meanwhile just keep living the best life you can

And so say all of us



Take your love and in your arms enfold

.

Did anyone believe blind rage expressed
Could benefit the agent without harm?
Did anyone read Freud and then digest?

Feelings need the heat of blacksmith’s fires
Held inside until they find their form
An image worthy of our right desire

As well as rage, we should mistrust love too
Be backward in expression till more’s known
Or risk an avalanche of cruelty.

Take care of others, they are not our fools
From sacred meetings all mankind has grown
We misuse folk to test our worth and tools

Holding in the inner fires our wish
The blackness of the heart can turn to gold
No contradiction hides such sacredness

Take your love and in your arms enfold.
The future of the world is growing cold
We liked to have the choice for rage and death
Until we found the charred remains of bliss

The future is fiction

The future unpredictable as gas
Its fictions must be written by our hands
On tablets with the clarity of glass
Which crack  like bones  dried out  on foreign sands

The prophets’ meanings , unnnamed, cannot pass
The sentences bind stories till they blend
The whispers and the excess of his blasts
Till all are crucified  by  loss of sense

The arches of the heavens will surpass
The  golden eye ,the mind its telescope
Then all  at once humanity is trash
The microcosm, a particle   escaped

Will Evil  change our hearts  till blood is  brass
The valves  are closing,   polished  into death

When music ends and silence overwhelms

As music went and silence overwhelmed
As in deep despair, I thought to end
When nothing seemed to help me on on my way
Perhaps I’d lost the track and so must pay


Empty now of thought and of desire
The vision of the darkness without fire
The utter loss of any help at all
From the depths, my heart cried out appalled


Expecting nothing, hoping even less
A fire of gold appeared to hold,caress
And tears rained down my face from eyes amazed
While in my flesh I felt caressed and saved


I bowed my head in assent to this good
The crucified, the lost, have understood


The immigrant we missed

A greater Britain cannot now exist
Boris is the immigrant we missed
Why not invite all his family?
Turkey is not the safest place to be

Europe is our enemy again
We have no Empire,God save our young men
If we wound or harrass France or Greece
Germany will follow where they lead

Britons have few manners and no sense
We are all too angry and too tense
The poor are full of shame, the rich are dense
Tax the rich & lower the Council’s rents

Boris are you here or have you gone?
Your Dad is French, this fiddling is foregone

Praise these creatures in the grime

I wrote this when I was starting out and I noticed I was drawn to images of worms and beetles and life in the darkness under us.I was not aware of that when I began to write

Winter weather, frost, dark sky,
See white geese and silver stars.
Two cooing doves with collars red,
Are watching out for seeded bread.

From the sun, low in the sky,
Light falls slantwise to my eyes.
Trees bud, though invisibly,
Nothing that our eyes can see.

Bulbs shoot up from dark cold soil
Where worms and beetles quietly toil.
We take for granted air and sky,
Love the birds we see fly by.

But who can love the worms and slugs
And those creatures we call bugs?
So in our dark cold winter time,
Praise these creatures in the grime.

Without these worms, our crops would die.
No cornfields for us to lie,
Amidst the poppies’   wild red  blooms.
So we forget all winter’s gloom
.

Praise the snails and bees and ants
For these and spiders, let’s give thanks.
As the lightness needs the dark,
From darkness come life-giving sparks.

Enrich darkness with our gifts.
Look not always to the swift.
Slow and patient like these worms,
Nature’s lowness is my theme

In the end we step with shuttered eyes

Katherine villanelle  

In the dark street with its glaring lights
Deserted pavements, cars that multiply
I see two of everything in sight

Twenty dogs two owls that fly by night
Two black cats  with amber eyes run by
In the dark street with its glaring lights

As I walk I sing  to cats’ delight
I sing Joan of Arc,I wonder why
I see two of everything in sight

The song takes seven minutes,or it might
If I sang like Leonard ,  if I sighed
In the dark street with its glaring lights

No-one can detect my wandering sight
Yet now and then I wail or emit cries
I see  more than you do with insight

These little deaths mount up as our time flies
In  the end we step with shuttered eyes
In the dark street with its errant lights
I see two of everything in sig

Intersection

The intersection of disease and age
The spot which is a signpost is seen clear
Some fall down and others are enraged
Where is the writing, where the dreaded page?
The intersection of disease and age
Passed by those who’re otherwise engaged
With friends and with creation to treat fear
Why, these intersections are the rage!
The place which was a signpost is now dear


I can only comment in a verse

I can only comment in a verse
A villanelle for virtue,my defence
I don’t know what you mean for you are terse

Love or hate,I don’t  know what is worse
Is this life  a very spiteful  test?
I can only comment in a verse

In my bag I have a purple purse

Money is so dirty it’s a pest
I don’t know what you mean when you are terse


When we marry, we won’t be the first
We need a godly priest for I confess
I can only comment in a verse

Do not pay my bill which I detest

At our party let us all be blessed
I don’t know what you want when you are terse

I am in a struggle, can you guess?
I am well endowed with happiness
A villanelle for virtue is the best
I don’t know what you mean you are so terse

Without your love.

Katherine villanelle  July 28, 2017 [editd]

Without your love, I’m nobody I know.
Our inter-self, dismembered,  broke apart
Give me courage on the journey slow

In good times , we lose our self in flow
To be self-conscious lets shame rule the heart
Without your love, I’m nobody I know.

Do we have no self when partners die?
Bewildered, can I find the way to start?
Give me courage on the journey slow

Where is the path where I discover hope
The way to mend a self,  holed by grief’s darts?
Without your gaze, I’m nobody, I know

Like a ship   strikes rocks deep down below
I risk getting killed without new charts
Give me courage on the journey slow

Will I know myself in inner space?
Who will now console me, gone your grace?
Without your love, I’m nobody, I know.
Give me courage in the darkest low

Threatening phone call

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

This morning my mobile rang coming from Bradford [fake] phone nr
A man with a threatening voice told me he was from HM Customs
and if I didn’t press number 1 onmy phone I’d be in prison by next week
He has an English accent but obviously doesn’t know about how long it takes
to go to court etc
Even though I knew it was spam, it was unnerving

The first line

The first line is the hardest to compose
The mind flies here and there like a wild bird
Or settles down, enjoys a little doze
The first line is the hardest to compose
Breaking the blank page my fears arose
Until with my own ears the music’s heard
The first line is the hardest to compose
The mind flies here and there like a wild bird

Nor rain to flood

Katherine   May 30, 2018

A mood of stillness like a quiet dove
A lack of wind, vast silence gives repose
Symbolises blessings from above.

My trees mature now form a holy grove
The sorrow ruling me has been deposed
To give me stillness with the nesting dove

In such moods, there’s space to think, compose.
To learn the ways of energy and love
Symbolised by blessings from above.

In the crowded Mall, the shoppers shove
The special mood of peace  I fear eludes
We lose the sense of silence and the dove

In public life, we quarrel and oppose
We lose the way to  our fine treasure trove
We lose the symbols and the deep repose.

Give me your hand without its heavy glove
As we caress,   we  value human love.
A mood so stilled, oh, fluttering of the dove
No wind to destroy peace nor rain to flood

Corona,diabetes etc



I read a sad story yesterday written by a woman whose father died after waiting 4.5 hours
for an ambulance & he had covid 19
She mentioned that the first time he was in hospital they said his blood sugar was too low.She replied, that was impossible as he was taking all his diabetes medication correctly
This shows how little people know about diabetes
Diabetics have too much sugar in their blood.The medication removes some of this sugar
but it can reduce it too much.Then you can faint, fall etc
The tablets do not cure they try to control
My husband had this and had many falls some serious when he fainted onto the War Memorial
and injured his brain, broke his nose & cheekbone and damaged his eye
also left a large pool of blood which my neighbours saw coming back from work
I studied diabetes and possible various treatments
On the other hand my brother had it & after the best diet ,he was no longer
classified as diabetic.
If you are on such meds,carry a few sweets and if you feel faint suck one chew one
Then, as soon as you can, eat a sandwich with protein
If you go out for the day take a sandwhich as you can’t miss a meal
You’d better not believe just me.Look it up and find out for yourself



piece of delicious cheesecake on plate

Don’t leave the tip that kills , nor money gnaw

The sky is yellowy pink but tinged with grey
The sun is gone and we feel stark dismay
We can’t meet friends in person any more
Only shout as we stand by the door

I think the source of Covid  is just cash
Money laundered less, the notes unwashed
The coins are black as coal in devil’s  claws
Don’t leave  the tip that kills , nor money gnaw

I used to suck a shilling while I worked
I  tapped my  fingers  where it would not hurt
But now the sight of pounds makes   me feel sick
Never use old notes nor lovers lick 

Throw your money into a black hole
You may starve but this will save your soul

East Anglia dreaming

Blythburgh, Holy Trinity Church - History, Travel, and accommodation  information

Today is yellow ochre,tinged with grey
Not much contrast from the soft silk sky
No birds nor any brightness, light won’t play

The ones who act so manic are not gay
If there is no truth, there are no lies
Today is yellow ochre, languid, grey

In the sun on Sutton Bank we lay
My acts outcry, my grief I shall defy
No birds nor any life. the light n’t play

Who is born a hunter.who the prey?
The lion has lost the unicorn nearby
Today is yellow ochre, damped to grey

I think of brexit, oh the blush,shame
The spirits flatten;rise up,do not die
No birds nor any life, the light won’t play

I wonder what the loss is or the gain
I wish we were in Suffolk by the Bly
Today is yellow ochre, soon to grey
No birds, no life ,I’m anguished, would you stay?