No,I won’t recover from your loss
People tell me I should not be sad
Everyone must carry their own Cross
So,I won’t recover from your loss
I will pay whatever it will cost
This is partly choice, to love the lost
From my grandad to my husband via my dad
No,I won’t recover from your loss
Oh,people let me sing that I am sad

0nly a damp darkness
shows us winter’s here
only that darkness knowst
the shadows of fear
only the pale low sunlight,
cloudy sky
only the daylight comes
where dead leaves lie
only an invisible life
harbinger of spring
so much good hidden
yet time will bring
only the winter sky
only as clouds go by
dead leaves
keep creatures warm
in the winter storm
March will bring new buds,
As small birds will sing

Get your label, do not go unmarked
Star of David, tattoos on the arm
Would that Jesus sprang out from the dark
With his eyes compassionate yet stark
Get your label, do not go unmarked
Let some demon burn you in the dark
See the angels haunted ,wanting balm
Get your label, do not go unmarked
Star of David, tattoos on the arm

Hair like golden silk and eyes of blue
Valkyrie do your task without alarm
Noone needs to put a mark on you
Even with your penance overdue
Hair like golden silk and eyes of blue
Can one’s present virtue be assumed?
Making contact, eyes that more than charm
Hair like golden silk and eyes of blue
Valkyrie do your task with wasting charm

I am a bit unwell but I tested negative for Covid
Just resting more than usual right now

“Returning these routes to their former glory, and progressing work to reopen even more lines and stations, shows our commitment to levelling up journeys across the country as we build back better from the pandemic.” (Grant Shapps)

Resting in the love of all my friends
I’m soothed like infants in their padded cots
This love is live and rarely does it end
When people really meet the gods descend
Resting in the love of all my friends
Imagining that sunshine will ills mend
Make us grateful for the good we’ve got
Resting in the love of all our friends
We’re soothed when reading words we had forgot

• I can’t love you
  without loving the whole world too.
  I can’t open my heart
  unless everyone can be part.Wait for me.
  I’m not afraid.
  Wait for me.
  I may be delayed.I see you in my mind,
  Smiling, sad and kind.
  I can’t love you
  Unless I love the lost too.Give me your hands
  Outstretched across the world.
  We’re all one
  Love has begun

Signing off a letter with “beast wishes” Katherine
Yours fatefully
Yours sinderely
Ever bores
How nice to hump into you today
How good to be you today
Thanks for your litter.
Your letter was hellcome
Do you chop every Saturday?
I’ve got my insults from the lab today
Hope you are feeling reduced
Thanks for the Credit bard
Take your frog’s crap home in a bag
Noone wears a bat in church now
Lie low,I’m me.

My sister has sent me this

Those evenings the sky turned pink
We were happy, lying in the grass
watching the sun set
arms around each other

Seemed like eternal life had come
Earlier than forecast.
Those weathermen are often wrong!
They need more training

I shall remember you
in that timeless moment
in between two raindrops
in between two tears

Just read the beginning if it’s too much

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/43650/auguries-of-innocence

BY WILLIAM BLAKE



To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower 
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand 
And Eternity in an hour
A Robin Red breast in a Cage
Puts all Heaven in a Rage 
A Dove house filld with Doves & Pigeons
Shudders Hell thr’ all its regions 
A dog starvd at his Masters Gate
Predicts the ruin of the State 
A Horse misusd upon the Road
Calls to Heaven for Human blood 
Each outcry of the hunted Hare
A fibre from the Brain does tear 
A Skylark wounded in the wing 
A Cherubim does cease to sing 
The Game Cock clipd & armd for fight
Does the Rising Sun affright 
Every Wolfs & Lions howl
Raises from Hell a Human Soul 
The wild deer, wandring here & there 
Keeps the Human Soul from Care 
The Lamb misusd breeds Public Strife
And yet forgives the Butchers knife 
The Bat that flits at close of Eve
Has left the Brain that wont Believe
The Owl that calls upon the Night
Speaks the Unbelievers fright
He who shall hurt the little Wren
Shall never be belovd by Men 
He who the Ox to wrath has movd
Shall never be by Woman lovd
The wanton Boy that kills the Fly
Shall feel the Spiders enmity 
He who torments the Chafers Sprite
Weaves a Bower in endless Night 
The Catterpiller on the Leaf
Repeats to thee thy Mothers grief 
Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly 
For the Last Judgment draweth nigh 
He who shall train the Horse to War
Shall never pass the Polar Bar 
The Beggars Dog & Widows Cat 
Feed them & thou wilt grow fat 
The Gnat that sings his Summers Song
Poison gets from Slanders tongue 
The poison of the Snake & Newt
Is the sweat of Envys Foot 
The poison of the Honey Bee
Is the Artists Jealousy
The Princes Robes & Beggars Rags
Are Toadstools on the Misers Bags 
A Truth thats told with bad intent
Beats all the Lies you can invent 
It is right it should be so 
Man was made for Joy & Woe 
And when this we rightly know 
Thro the World we safely go 
Joy & Woe are woven fine 
A Clothing for the soul divine 
Under every grief & pine
Runs a joy with silken twine 
The Babe is more than swadling Bands
Throughout all these Human Lands
Tools were made & Born were hands 
Every Farmer Understands
Every Tear from Every Eye
Becomes a Babe in Eternity 
This is caught by Females bright
And returnd to its own delight 
The Bleat the Bark Bellow & Roar 
Are Waves that Beat on Heavens Shore 
The Babe that weeps the Rod beneath
Writes Revenge in realms of Death 
The Beggars Rags fluttering in Air
Does to Rags the Heavens tear 
The Soldier armd with Sword & Gun 
Palsied strikes the Summers Sun
The poor Mans Farthing is worth more
Than all the Gold on Africs Shore
One Mite wrung from the Labrers hands
Shall buy & sell the Misers Lands 
Or if protected from on high 
Does that whole Nation sell & buy 
He who mocks the Infants Faith
Shall be mockd in Age & Death 
He who shall teach the Child to Doubt
The rotting Grave shall neer get out 
He who respects the Infants faith
Triumphs over Hell & Death 
The Childs Toys & the Old Mans Reasons
Are the Fruits of the Two seasons 
The Questioner who sits so sly 
Shall never know how to Reply 
He who replies to words of Doubt
Doth put the Light of Knowledge out 
The Strongest Poison ever known
Came from Caesars Laurel Crown 
Nought can Deform the Human Race
Like to the Armours iron brace 
When Gold & Gems adorn the Plow
To peaceful Arts shall Envy Bow 
A Riddle or the Crickets Cry
Is to Doubt a fit Reply 
The Emmets Inch & Eagles Mile
Make Lame Philosophy to smile 
He who Doubts from what he sees
Will neer Believe do what you Please 
If the Sun & Moon should Doubt 
Theyd immediately Go out 
To be in a Passion you Good may Do 
But no Good if a Passion is in you 
The Whore & Gambler by the State
Licencd build that Nations Fate 
The Harlots cry from Street to Street 
Shall weave Old Englands winding Sheet 
The Winners Shout the Losers Curse 
Dance before dead Englands Hearse 
Every Night & every Morn
Some to Misery are Born 
Every Morn and every Night
Some are Born to sweet delight 
Some are Born to sweet delight 
Some are Born to Endless Night 
We are led to Believe a Lie
When we see not Thro the Eye
Which was Born in a Night to perish in a Night 
When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light 
God Appears & God is Light
To those poor Souls who dwell in Night 
But does a Human Form Display
To those who Dwell in Realms of day

The results of the experiment = the insults of a compliment
I failed my degree= I sailed nude and free
I hated mechanics—–I ate dinner on it
Panic attack=Pan on a rack
An evil sinner = Noodles for dinner
Do you repent = Who’re you to dissent?
I am a Jew = I love you too
I have got flu- I feel rather blue
Hold my hand cos I need you===Fold the sands as we need Sue
Probably a sign of schizophrenia -Horrible swine in the media
You might enjoy it – you’re right,destroy it
What’s my name= No sighs insane
She ate the meat- she hated her feet
Do you dust every chair? ..you must often swear
What’s a four letter word? Did you ever do surds?
I feel my testosterone rise….He feels his vests alight

· 

Inside my mind I dream of pearls,
Caterpillars,snails with whorls.
I dream contented, all enwrapped;
With reverie and dream I’m lapped.
The inner seas will comfort me,
While gods refine my eyes to see

Oh,sweeter than confectionery
Is my Oxford diction’ry.
The words whirl round then fall to shape
The sentences which my world make.
This furnishing is rich and strange
And magically self arranged.

Oh,sweeter than the love of man
Is reading works of poets long gone;
Feeling deeply their dark tides
.Upon which our boat may glide.
The infinite sea we float upon
Is the same warm sea the ancients swam


Sweeter still is the spring air
And the blossom spreading fair
We’ll drown our selves in grassy fields
To the gods of poetry yield.
We’ll rise again and spring up tall
To grow more rich until we fall.
Then we’re compost for the worms
God enlighten these my poems

Click to access Morecambebaybasins.pdf

.

The group of estuaries that comprise Morecambe Bay form the largest area of intertidal mudflats
and sands in the UK. The four rivers discharging into the bay are the Leven (with Crake) and Kent
(with Bela) in the North, and Lune and Wyre in the East (Figure 1).

In Morecambe they imported golden sands
The Rivers Lune and Kent had stolen theirs
I wonder where it went to, Blackpool grand?
In Morecambe they imported golden sands
Morecambe Bay will suck in any band
Sightseers want to cross this bay, its lands
Danger swallows men on beaches bare
In Morecambe they imported golden sand
The Rivers Lune and Kent had drunk up theirs

When I was a child I became very afraid of sinking sands & also of being eaten by tigers
But it passed

Katherine  August 26, 2017 

Eating in the garden in the rain
Denying what his senses felt and saw
November came and he crept in again

A look  of anguish with a heart so pained
He wished he were beyond the natural law.
Eating in the garden in the rain

Once we   were to weather quite immune
We lived as if our bodies had no flaw
November came and  we ate in again

I heard the blackbird spring its built in tune
Hoping that his misery would thaw
While eating in the house where it can’t  rain

To him the winter dark made very plain
We must eat indoors and find some joy
November comes and  we are home again

Every husband has at least  one flaw
And it ain’t what that old damned butcher saw
Eating in the garden in the rain
Autumn comes and I still vote remain

I saw a snail in Southport on a lawn
I was three,I’d not seen snails before
The lawn was bright, the grass was neatly shorn
I saw a snail in Southport on a lawn
The air was pure, at home we saw no dawn
Only pigeons looking sad, forlorn
No sand, no views, no soft allure,
I saw a snail in Southport on a lawn
I passed a pram and saw a babe new born

The crackling crunch of shell,I killed the dead
They come out in the rain and have no sense
The ones that die do not pass on learned dread
God made tigers and the snails we tread
The crunch of shattered shell,another dead
I would not like to take a snail to bed
Neither would I wish to take offence
The crackling crunch of shell, another’s dead
They come out in the rain enjoy the drench

We were in a boarding house that year
Aye, we saw the Mersey Tunnel grim
New Brighton was no Brighton seen before
Yes, it had a beach but little more
We were in a boarding house that year
I can’t remember food nor men with beer
I had a spate of tantrums, angered Mam
We were in a boarding house quite bare
To fear the Mersey Tunnel wasa sin

After my caring duties were finished,I realised on reflection that I had begun
to behave like my husband did
He was very crticical of radios and several times replaced them seeking the
perfect sound.I spent some months doing the same thing and as I can listen via the TV
I did not need to do it.But now I have readmany books about bereavement I’ve discovered it is common.It’s as if you take the loved person into yourself
I can’t start drinking gin because of medication
Nor can I drive.
Maybe, it’s ironical,I was silently critical of his radio needs and so that is the one I have taken into myself
I had already got 2 cheap mobile phones so that in A & E one would always be working
I then became obsessed with phones however so far I have limited myself
to Motorola [ a budget phone!) I feel quite contented as I use it mainly for reading
e- books and looking up weird information when I lie down feeling ill
Like, what does Lacan’s writing mean ? I don’t know why they use such abstruse
language
I look up recipes for exotic dishes which I do not make
Better than looking at railway timetables, perhaps?
I call my best friend on it & my family.
My vaccination appt came on it
Why should I get an expensive phone?
I don’t want to worry about dropping down the toilet or losing it and like most of my stuff nobody will steal it.Those criminals who got in realised when they saw my old TV that they had made a mistake.
Now I’d like to know how many different phones canI have on one landline?
Purely for scientific reasons of course.

Well, children play!

We feel better playing because it has no purpose,we are doing it for enjoyment

Aldeburgh,Sizewell,Dunwich Heath
The nuclear bomb shall bring eternal peace
Housed between the town and the Reserve
Its blackness is ignored by little birds

If force deters, then we shall all be saved
Or this our world will vanish without trace
Innocently playing on the shore
Children find old marble unrestored

Birds may sense the blackness of our hearts
For, even though unused, the bombs take part
They are here where Britten once composed
And so the sanctuary ends unsaved,destroyed

In between the lover and his rose
A screen electric in the silence glows

When you are far,so far away
The longest night,
The shortest winter day,
will be places where
I might die.
The heart's interior
no-one else
Can view.
When you are lost,
I cannot find
your face...
Its outline on the pillows,
My fingers shaped to trace...
The new design,
the stellar rhyme,
Where have you gone?
You slipped from out my arms.
You slipped away.
Was night or day
Ever cut by such a narrow line?
In your embrace I lay.
You seemed so strong.
Yet,sighing, took the path away.
I can't see where
Is
it
night?
Or is it
day..?
I tried to write
to bring white light,
It's dark, and still.
I long for you to come.
Oh,will we ever quite
Find out our way?
Or is that pure illusion?
As we stagger through
the wandering furrows
in the fields
They shoot us down.
What is this confusion?
The war goes on
The world goes round
The mirror gapes at each new clown.
But in a crack, a seed may grow..
I can't see you,
But yet,it's so.

Mary stood at the bus stop in her chocolate wool winter coat which Stan had always loved.
It hangs so well,he had told her.
The optional imitation fur collar had been removed as she preferred natural garment  made from wool with no ostentation.As a matter of fact she has one of Stan’s woollen vests on under her gold silk top.Her hair fell in light blonde curls around her pensive face and her eyes looked as if she were seeing a dim vision of the Matterhorn in midwinter after drinking a double brandy

Suddenly she realised the bus was there ;she put her card up to the machine before looking for a seat.The bus was rather full so she sat down next to a youth with an i phone hanging from his hand.
Suddenly it rang.His chosen theme was, Please release me, sung by Tom Jones.
Mary smiled as, if she were near Tom Jones she would need no invitation to free him.
The youth began to speak rather louder than normal.

Mary tried not listen but it was impossible.She was too hot as well..Wearing Stan’s vest was a mistake as the bus was overheated.She turned pink like sunrise over ICI in Billingham as the pollution had a beautifying effect.

I’m sorry I wore your vest,she told Stan.
I should have given them away but I was trying to save money on heating.Still I will be home soon.

Where is your microphone, the youth demanded.It must be one of those new tiny ones.
A microphone? Mary said curiously.
Yeah, he cried.I assume your phone is in your pocket.

Actually it’s in a pocket in my knickers,she informed h m in a manner resembling that of a mildly dotty scientist.We used to wear these knickers in the gym at school.

Did you not wear a top? he enquired,his eyes running over her hourglass figure like water falling off High Force in Teesdale in summer storms.

Well.I didn’t have a bra until I got my grant to attend university,she told him sensitively.

Well,that’s news to me,he said.So you had to wear a bra at University? That was before feminism,of course.Did you burn it later?

Certainly not,said Mary.I’d been longing for one but my mother didn’t seem to notice my development which was her way of coping with adolescent girls.
Of course my brothers may have noticed but they were too nervous to tell Mother I needed any support.We were all so shy and afraid.Anyway be quiet now,I want to speak to my husband.
Have you had your phone on all this time? he asked anxiously.
No,I don’t need it to talk to him,she responded
Why,where is he? the youth enquired sardonically.
He’s on my knee,Mary informed him.In this bag.She pointed to her hessian shopping bag.
I have just been to the Coop for him.I ought to have got a cab as he is quite heavy.

Jesus Christ,cried the youth,hastily pressing the bell before leaping off the bus into a small pond that had been created b Hurricane Desmond.He swam away into the cold night.
Well. that shut him up,Mary said to Stan.
Mary,don’t become less gentle and kind,Stan said in her ear.
I can’t be gentle now,she said.It’s a nasty tough world without you to help me and tell me what you think of Jeremy Corbyn.And do I need to have a roast dinner at Xmas or just some toad in the hole?
I am sorry,sweetheart he murmured.Maybe you need assertiveness training.
I’ll just get more aggressive,she replied.Micro-aggressive perhaps
.You’ll need more than micro in this era,he continued.Mary forgot to get off the bus and found herself in the Leisure Centre by the River Lee
What about the river,Stan, she asked?
Would you like me to throw you in?
A policeman standing near by ran over.
Madam, is it suicide or murder, he asked her.
No,it’s a life sentence,she said humorously as she put her hand up her skirt to get her phone.
That’s a silly place to keep your phone he said.Anyway don’t call a cab,I can run you home in my car.Have you got any China tea?I could kill for a hot drink.
I have some lapsang souchong,she told him.Do you fancy that?
I do, called Stan from the bag.
The policeman passed out.
I told you not to get a boyfriend yet,he continued to Mary.
I’ll do whatever I feel like,she said rudely.I could use a comforting arm around me.Stan sobbed quietly
.She said,quickly
Don’t worry.I’ll get Emile to sit on my knee.Goodbye for now.
Goodbye whispered Stan faintly.
Good bye…. goodbye
Goodbye

How my heart sings

Poetry and lovely images

Katherine Fiction,humor

The wheelie bins and Stan’s adventures therein

Stan was in his front garden polishing the wheelie bins with lavender wax polish.
He was not very happy as the garden was only 10 feet by 12. so the huge wheelie bins ruined it.When he got to the third one the lid popped open and out jumped his next door neighbour “Adulterous Annie”.

Hello,Stan” she whispered.”Where’s Mary now ?”
“Why?”Stan muttered into the back of her neck which he licked as he like her salty taste.
“I was thinking,these bins are so big,we could both get inside one.It would make a change!”.
“What a strange idea” he replied philosophically.however age was no bstacle where love was involved, if you catch my drifting between the lines.
Soon Stan and Anne were in the big green recycling bin.Stan being 81 had shrunk somewhat so he took up less space than Annie did.He allowed her to kiss his left eyelid.What a lovely feeling.

Alas, all too soon,as they say, they heard Mary’s bicycle bell.She was getting faster amd faster.As she wheeled her bike up the 30 yard long front path to the porch she heard murmurings and mutters,

She lifted up the green plastic lid and saw the two lovers covered in cuttings from the privet hedge.
“What the bleedin’hell are you doing in there?”she shouted mellifluously.
Well,it’s hard to explain,……………but Stan was wondering about a green funeral” Anne said mischievously.

“Funeral ,my hat!” Mary said coldly.”Get out at once”
“Don’t speak to me like that” Stan beseeched her brazenly.
“Well,it’s a shock to find your husband in the bin with another woman!”
“Wouldn’t it be more of a shock if he was in the bin with a man,or even a sheep?”
“Schmann or Schwommann,sheep,,it’s immaterial.
“Hurry,get out,quickly before the school exit time.what will all the mums think as they go by?”

But poor Stan could not get out,He was stuck.Oh,my,what an odd phrase.
“Have you got your mobile on you?”
“Yes,it’s here in my bag.
“You’d better call 999”
“What a brilliant idea!”
Soon Dave the paramedic arrived and ran into the garden
Mary showed him Stan’s situation.

Ever resourceful ,Dave was not bothered though the NHS budget might be getting cut.
He tied some rope round Stan’s waist and between the three of them and Emile the cat and his friend Elizabeth, they managed to haul Stan out.

Annie stood weeping with shame.Her silvery blue eyeshadow was beginning to run mixed with tears and black water soluble mascara from Chanel of Paris and London. Her new coral lipstick from Clinique was not as non-allergenic as she hope.
Never mind,it gave her lips that bee stung look that many men admire.It reminded Stan of his boyhood days playing near High Force Waterfalls in upper Teesdale….Teesdale ,still an undiscovered and undervalued part of England
,Contact the English Touring Board for more information. Holiday Loans available from Thwaites of Stockton and Darlington at only 1% interest.

Mary gave Annie a large Kleenex tissue,
“Come indoors,honey, and I’ll make you some Ceylon tea.It’s been the most thrilling event of my entire life and I’ve photographed you with my new Nokia camera phone
[Prices available on request from The Catphone Warehouse,Teesside,Northern England,comes in pink and pink and…pink?How I love pink!]
I’m going to send some to the local paper.

Stan staggered upstairs covered in bits of privet ,lettuce and cabbage hearts, and carrot tops,not to mention a few dozen banana skins and a few potato peelings.
What an afternoon.
Please contact the society for the care and protection of vegetables if you wish to make a complaint about this story.}
“That’s the last time I climb into a  green wheelie bin”,he thought.
“Next time we’ll use the cardboard and newspaper wheelie bin” he proclaimed to the mouse in the bathroom
And we’re all envious!

All photos by Katherine

Oh, strong the paintings etched on my stone heart
By your warm hands that held me in the night
There is no virtue for the merely smart
Oh,joyous memories melt my stoney heart
Nothing but our love will more love start
Love is measured but not on a chart
Pray for grace and ask for gifts of light
Oh,rich the shapes embroidered on my heart
By your warm hands that held me in the night