I´ḿ swimming underwater and I can see strange fish Many coloured, eyes that pierce, they may be dangerous Yet I must concentrate on swimming to get to where I wish
Sharks have hidden behind whales.keeping still and stiff I´ḿ afraid to ask for help, or even make a fuss I´ḿ swimming underwater and I can see strange fish
Many are alluring except for teeth that gnash They wriggle like a dancing girl,enough to make men blush Yet I must concentrate on swimming to get to where I wish
Why have I no little phone. waterproof and tough? The fish are getting closer, as yet there is no crush I´ḿ swimming underwater and I can see weird fish
From the corner of my eye,I see but I don´t rush Dont begin to talk to them, they can´t speak our English I must concentrate on swimming yet life down here is lush
I am tempted to go with them, is it hell or bliss? I have no desire for them,they swallow, they don´t kiss I´ḿ swimming under water surrounded by weird fish Yet I must concentrate on swimming to get to where I wish
Mary was sweeping the floor with her new Shark cordless electric carpet sweeper just replaced by Lakeland Plastics, that store beloved of British women.Emile was watching her from the lid of the old gramophone where he sat surveying the sitting room. Leave that spider alone,he called to Mary Why? she asked kindly,are you planning a date with it? No,it’s a good thing to keep them as they may catch flies and other nasty things. Mary turned and gazed at Emile.She was wearing some blue Tencel jeans and a bright pink top with embroidery round the neck.Her thoughtful face w as covered in Radiant Glow foundation as her friend Annie was trying to make her look more attractive to men.Which men was a puzzle as Mary liked to spend time alone or going out with her female colleagues to search for books on Dirac’s owl,Schrodinger’s cat or Godel’s ants. Her male colleagues were mainly very conceited or shy like the rabbits brought up in the cliffs at Lyme Regis. However Annie wanted Mary to marry again, as she saw her own vocation in life as being a mistress to a bright and intelligent retired man whose wife worked full time or was in the Library studying the Babylonian number system or other esoteric topics .So she could help Mary and herself at the same time. Shall we have a party,she chuckled to Mary as she came in through the ever unlocked back door. What sort of party,Mary asked nervously. I want you to meet some men,Annie reminded her. I believe that like bombs falling on London in WW2,that if a man has your number on him he will find you,Mary teased. Maybe your phone number,Annie retorted.Why don’t you get a spare mobile and I can put some posters with that number on the trees down the side roads saying you are looking for a new partner. I thought I had made it clear that as some Orthodox Jews believe that Zion will only come when God wants it to do,so a man will turn up when it is God’s will. That’s a bit much.Do you think you are God’s chosen person? Is God interested in finding you a new husband? Annie shouted. Well,it may seem strange to you ,but even seeming trivia like me being married to some new man can have deep consequences for the whole world… a bit like the butterfly’s wings If I am happy it spreads around me and makes others happier too.Or if God wishes me to write a book and I need a man to cook for me then one will turn up,Mary responded in her low and musical Tyneside accent. On the other hand, God may wish me to lead a contemplative life,she carried on. Annie was puzzled.Why do you think God has all these plans for you,she enquired. It’s not just me,said Mary.It’s everybody but that does lead into difficulties as we look at the world around us.Does God want all. these refugees to drown or for Britain to stay in the EU or leave and please Florencio Tonson? It reminded the women of their convent school classes where they had studied a simplified version of the writings of Aquinas and his proofs of the existence of God. It was this book which had given Mary her first doubts about religion and, being somewhat dim in the tact department. she had shared her misgivings with the headmistress, who was not happy to be questioned even in front of mere school girls. Emile,she cried,I wish I were a cat.My schooldays were so terrible It’s your own fault, said Annie.I just pretended to believe it and kept quiet by fantasising about my new lingerie and how my boyfriend would like it How remarkable it is that girls and boys can be so different in their personalities and ways of coping with puberty. It was like a prison,Mary said.Still it made later life seem happier.
How did you afford new underwear so often,she asked Annie I wore my mother’s! this dear friend informed her. My mother didn’t have that sort of underwear,Mary told her.And see how something seemingly so trivial can affect one’s personal development so much.Still I was fed and allowed to study and play the piano and do my homework to the sound of Horace Wagner and Richard Straussbumt. Did it help you to concentrate,Annie asked in a puzzled way. No, it allowed my brother to dominate me and otherwise he might have hit me or knocked over the folding table where I kept my exercise books ,and pen ready to write essays on Twelfth Night and the periodic table. Annie burst out laughing.Sorry,Mary,I am not laughing because you were bullied but it just sounded as if tables had periods,the way you said it. Imagine how hard it was dealing with all that in a tiny house with the loo in the back yard.It was taboo so had to be concealed.When we went to Dublin for 2 weeks my three sisters and I all had our periods and we brought back all the blood stained cloths in our suitcases.Luckily the customs man did not look inside. Was there nobody who could have burned them for you? The landlady never mentioned it so neither did we. No wonder I am so peculiar. Well,I like you,said Annie.You are so kind and sympathetic and good to talk to.And you are always coming up with new ideas and interesting books. I suppose we complement each other.Mary said shyly.Maybe we should get married and forget about men. Annie’s eyes opened wide. I think I’d better ring 999.she screamed. And so say all of us.Don’t wait
Mary had had coffee with Annie ;now she was eying a snake print pencil skirt in her local department store.Am I a temptress wearing snake skin as it reminds men of Eden and Adam’s sin? Curious how sex was a sin being as that’s how God had made them like that.He must be very naughty himself,she thought We could have had some other form of reproduction,she told herself.But as we are lazy it would have to be fun. Come here,Annie, she called.What do you think of this skirt? No.Mary,it won’t look right on you.You still have an unnatural innocence and simplicity.I think seersucker or gingham dresses in pure cotton are your type of thing.You must be yourself so that a man will not mistake you for a woman of a certain type. I don’t think they have any gingham,Mary replied calmly.If only I had not been so afraid of that sewing machine,I could make my own.And if a man did that it would be intriguing. Oh,you would not have hsd the time with your job and the house and Stan, Annie advised her.How about some nice linen shorts? Shorts! Are you crackers?My knees and thighs are private. Well.Annie said,I am afraid you skirt is transparent like Princess Diana’s. Thank God I have 2 pairs of knickers on,Mary chuckled. I’ve always been bad at checking my clothes.Last week I went to see Vi and my shoes were on the wrong feet.Another time my soles began to disintegrate… a bit like the EU.Stan liked me to wear lovely clothes like blue tights. Just blue tights?Annie said suspiciously. Don’t be so pedantic,Mary grinned.I wore a blue dress too and a red cardigan .It’s not for you to ask what I wore in bed.Maybe I wore Laura Ashley mabe I wore a woollen vest Don’t read Ted Hughes letters.And Sylvia Plath’s journals are even worse.You need some humour and fun.Well do read them but not all day You can say that again,said Mary.I don’t want Ted Hughes and he’s dead anyway When does that stop a determined woman? We shall never know
I thought my stomach was rumbling but it was a dying wasp on my thigh I felt my nose was running but the mask kept it on My mouth was watering so I picked up a dry orchid and spat on the soil My teeth chattered so much I couldn’t hear the slander at the dinner table My throat was dryer than the Sinai desert in July At the same time acid ran up my oesophogus.Not far enough What is a biting wit? I had dandruff until I went bald.Was it correlation or causation? Can one give the hot shoulder to anyone? I can’t kick you in the teeth till I have a knee replacement. No worries My dentist committed suicide.It’s the death penalty with no comeback I had so much wind I caused a storm in Biscay
Emile woke Mary up at 7am.It was a Sunday in late October, grey and damp though the sun was still not too low Go away, she told him.The clock has changed.It’s not 8 am yet.I have to wash my hair as well.Get the Observer out of the basket for me. I can’t read. the dear animal replied.And why don’t you rebel and stick to Summer Time? I know Stan wanted to send you to Eton but we couldn’t afford it.Yet you understand days and calenders, Mary joked merrily. She got up and found her fleece dressing gown; it was conker brown covered in coloured spots.She went downstairs and gave Emile a Whitby kipper.Then she made some tea and took it upstairs so she could drink it while she came round from her dreams Suddenly Annie ran into her bedroom wearing a long black vinyl coat and red knee-high boots You never locked the back door, she howled like a lost leopard which has had no food for weeks I don’t suppose anyone wants my old TV as it is only 19 inches.And my Chromebook is not something worth re-selling.I do have a new coat. How about Ray Monk’s life of Wittgenstein, Annie asked her defiantly, her apricot lips pouting childishly as the Riemann of Paris lipstick glittered uncannily like an imaginary number in a dream of Godel. The people who might enjoy reading it are by virtue of that , not the sort to steal or buy it on the black market. That is very racist, Annie told her.You should say:the beige market! Then nobody would know what I meant, Mary said lovingly Anyway, do you want to come to Marks with me? They have some beautiful coats in I’d like a pink wool coat, said Mary thoughtfully Quite right ,said Annie.Bring back feminine colours Actually, gay men might like pink coats, she continued.But if they go on the bus they might get dirty.Come to think of it, so will women’s coats They will have to buy pink puffa jackets and we can wash them at 30 deg.Mary whispered Using a special detergent, Annie asked? I have never seen a detergent for washing gay men.I don’t think they will fit into the washing machine.On the other hand, you are small so you will fit in Shall I get undressed first, Annie asked furtively. Yes, I’ll try to put you on a short wash for 15 minutes but it is your choice.Maybe a bath would be safer? No problem, said Annie intellectually.Are you having one with me? You’d better be careful, Mary ad-libbed.It might be sexual harassment. Well, I am not gay , said Annie. You never know till you try, Mary giggled ,like a child behind the school canteen Why, we might become gender fluid and then who knows? And so say all of us Miaow
I must change my name, it is too long Even folk from Yorkshire get it wrong As for those techniciians far away My long name is very hard to say
I could take the action via law Or marry someone with a name like Shaw Smith is overused when we don’t ride Lord would be ok, can we abide?
I’m tired of being asked to spell it out It hurts the listener who knows not its roots Banks and braes are well known to the Scots Thwaite is an old Norse word . what the heck
We must be invaders who burst in Killing Celts and Saxons, is that sin?
The bones, the shape, the structure all are one On that form , we hang our little words. Destroy the shape and all my poem is gone
The structure gives us something to lean on To aid creation , to make meaning shared The bones, the shape, the structure all are one
Inflexibility is death, not fun We fly upon the breezes as do birds Negate that fact and all real life is gone
Vulnerable to pain and hunter’s gun We must not live as if all change is barred The life, the shape, the structure come to one
Here and there we drop a hint or pun Into the patient hand we drop wild cards Negate that deed and all real life is gone
Whose the heart by metal strips destroyed? What will be the outcome what the buoy? The bones, the shape, the structure all are one Destroy the shape and all my poem is gone
Our girls at school are harassed every day See the boys with photographs at play The camera on the phone gives aid to crime Are the girls, so innocent ,to blame?
Hidden in this maze, there are bad deeds Girls ,persuaded by their fears, concede Are the ones unphotographed despised? Are the news reports a bag of lies?
No longer are young girls allowed to play They scrutinise their bodies every day Their photographs embellished and diplayed Who objects to Ninety Shades of Grey?
Protect your privacy by powerful acts Everyone must show the other tact
I think I’ll watch the BBC Safe enough while Stan cooks tea What is this, a guide to sex Enough to put one off at best After Fifty Shades of Grey I knelt on the floor to pray God protect the Innocent From an author with mind bent Yet she is now a millionaire Withdraw the Whip, and do not stare The BBC, is this bizarre? I think the country’s gone too far Where’s the mystery, where the joy As with our donkey’s ears we toyed What’s erotic nowadays With orifices almost bare? With breasts swelled by silicone They have no fear they’ll be alone Cut and slice, compare,contrast Down comes Gabriel to blast Why waste money, why be bossed I’ll hurl my body into frost I do hope there is no Test Sometimes keeping mum is best I don’t want girls to be assessed Oh.Lord God, a bloody mess Yet, it was cruel in my youth We’d be in Hell with burning hooves Pan the God with feet of goat Dissociate and feel remote Once admired and then cast out Even I have had my doubts Buying,selling,wanting more Keep sex sacred at our core For there we pass to heaven’s door Let me in ,I’ll say no more. But love is true and love is wise Keep your dignity and thrive
Yet the Llght wound round my broken parts Golden in its sympathy,its heart I became a person once again Willing to live on despite the pain
When we break up, we can be repaired Trusting still the darkness and despair
I was cracking into pieces with my woes Falling into dust and unfelt prose Men would walk upon me ,crush me down Throw me in the river Ouse to drown
Without my skin I felt the fearsome grief Then my nerves were gnawed by toothed beasts Falling in haphazard ways,disowned Flying on the gale like bird unknown
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
The nun said I looked stupid, she was right I grew blonde curls and cultivated spite I did not speak grammatically in class My accent was as broad as a nun’s ass
I mastered sarcasm,humour but not tact And I showed a face without affect I never spoke to teachers, just read books Now and then I gave staff hostile looks
We could not leave the room at any time So I bled on the chair,I nearly died The Bishop said that tampons were a sin And noone ever showed us the way in
The head was angry when I told the truth God’s existence does not need a proof God was here before our native tongues Don’t say we are right when we feel wrong
What anger I encountered when I solved A problem that the teacher had got wrong I should have learned my lessons as I grew The ones I learned then are both old and new
I cannot help the dissonance I showed Big blue eyes but mind like metal blows I frightened all the boys away for years Feminism is easy for bad girls
Does it matter if you are too smart Seeing round the corners of the heart? Keep it to yourself that you are weird You are now the alien men feared
Now I am so old my looks don’t count My mind is wild but that I can surmount
My heart is soft like butter left in sun. Much more heat and it will melt and run Oh, why do we have feelings,why engage When friendship turns into such heat and rage?
I do not wish to live remote and stern As if I am so perfect I can’t learn Pain too deep can mortify the flesh Turn us into robots fit for trash
All I need is an enormous fridge Which will make me harder than sweet fudge I’ll go inside and pray for peace each day If I freeze to death,I shall not say.
Oh, be of merry heart,my friends and foes When love comes in, a little hate will go
Lost in wondrous, gentle reverie I put my Toe into his mug of tea I knew I should have nests of tables near Or diagrams to show me how to veer
I know not why I loved this merry man If I can do it, anybody can With patience and the virtues we were taught I threw my hook and it was he I caught
Do you think the Holy Ghost is here? If that’s so, we’ve nothing much to fear Since the Lockdown on March 23rd Myy face has had a rash, is that absurd?
I cooked some bacon and I fried an egg I might have ventured into frying bread Mother used to leave it in the pan Bits of bacon, bread; God was a man
We could not chew the Host as it was Christ I sucked it and it tasted rather nice Now they share the wine and kiss of peace Then all can go home for last Sunday’s grease
I liked to sing “The Panting Heart of Rome” It sounds like a sex maniac on a roll Guardian angels do nor read the News It is so liberal, they can’t cancel Views
Anyway the lungs cause us to pant Especially when our pants are full of ants
Turn back, live again, he asked of me Do not wander in the darkness anymore One slip,one move might give death victory
We are each connected to that tree The sunlit top, the roots hid in earth’s floor Come back, live again, he asked of me
While we live, we’ll live with dignity Not scrabbling for the gold in blood and gore One more lie will give sin victory
The kindness of the golden light was clear And left sweet feelings in my heart’s deep core Come back, live your life, he then soothed me
Do not wonder now why you are here We’re here to live and living shall restore What our suffering self has found so dear
I had never seen the Light before Only Christ the Tyger with his roar Come back, live through pain, he asked of me Your first step will give love victory
His absence left an empty open cut Where was my blood that should have made a crust? The weeping wound must heal from bottom up The healing force is life and others’ love Those who touch us gently without lust His absence still an empty open cut Slowly cells harmonious in this rut Do their work and live as all things must The weeping wound can heal from bottom up Meanwhile my immunity has guts Keeping off bacteria and dust In his absence. now a hollow slit Tears fly horizontal,eyes are shut Time goes slow and heavy weights oppress The weeping wound shall heal if I have grit Bring me wild flowers from the Clevelands plucked Give me nectar where the wild bees suck His presence was a comfort,laughter-lit The wound heals, oh, the love will never stop
I wrote this after I had an operation on my arm.After the stitches were removed I went to bed.When I awoke there was a big open slit in my arm.It did heal after several weeks
Language is selective like a sieve The juice of life leaks out when we use words Unspoken are the gestures that we give
Blinded by those words we conjure with Unnoticed is the body which is stirred Language is selective like a sieve
We read more book to tell us how to live Yet happier are the lilies and the birds Unspoken are the gestures others give
See the plummy voiced and how they shove Walking in their pride, by power prepared Language is selective like a sieve
Through the holes runs out the juice of love While those who’re poor in words are ripe with care Unnoticed are the gestures many give
In deep silence hear what prophets heard The Fiery Bush hums music as it burns Language is selective like a sieve How appropriate are the gestures that we give?
How my heart sings 