Now the writing pen runs out of ink

i hope the artist’s brush can help us think.

Typing takes the personal away

Our letters can no longer life convey

I imagined I saw flowers like flakes of snow

On my dead viburnum hanging low

It’s sweet pinkness gave me great delight.

It’s absence is a wound to this small heart.

The sun  took down the grey cloaks  from the  sky.
Those clouds deprived  us of her brilliant light
This light will please my spirit and my eye

The  branches of the  trees gleam from on high
And on the shrubs the leaves shine  in my sight
The sun dismissed the grey cloaks of the  sky.

Nature, though deceptive, cannot lie.
She ,like us, swings from  the dark to bright
Her light has pleased my spirit and my eye.

An artist paints, her picture poetry.
Through her work, the hidden world delights
For sun dismissed the grey clouds from the  sky.

A sculptor plays with  marble  till it  cries
The truth we need to feel and then to write
Creation   raises spirits and   our eyes.

Yet even in the darkness,poets write
Maybe  like the past, by candle light
The sun   has dried the  grey clouds in the  sky.
New light  caresses  spirits prone to sigh.

My tears were running where they never walked.

My voice was singing long before I talked

My heart was broken yet it was no plate.

I met my husband long before our date

I confessed my sins while in the womb.

I shall do the same when in the tomb

I confess I killed a dandelion

If not so it weren’t for lack of trying.

I abused a buttercup last year

I filled it full of tea and not of tears

The daisy has complained I hurt her tongue.

I never knew she had one was I wrong?

N

The metal gleams with gold like tiny sun

Telling us pure light can overcome

I find they have put me on statins.

This follows a regular pattern.

Aspirin thins our blood

Good we’re not wood

I would rather learn Carving than Latin

I wanted to relearn my Latin

There was a table and chair that I sat in

I remembered the endings

Without understanding

So I’m no imbecile, I’m a cretin

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I found this on my old blog.I did not write it

R

“A world view quite similar to Nazism, Fascism was a pagan religion with worship of the state….main arguments…..

Like postmodernism, fascism promoted the view that reality is a social construct and that all cultures determine their own values. Vieth wrote: most people do not realise the tenets of postmodernism have been tried before in a political system, cultural determinism… The rejection of the transcendent, the rejection of Reason and the revolutionary critique of the existing order are tenets not only of postmodernism but also of fascism.”s

As

Without standing back we have no perspective.

Signs and symbols guide the route.

Love gives the soul her appetite.

Though the night is black and starless,

The inner guide is never careless.

The notes are struck,the tune is played,

Plain melodies are overlaid.

In this chant and benediction,

Healing comes for desolation.

Though the passage way is narrow,

This road is the one to follow.

Struggling through the mud and mire,

We see,in darkness, tongues of fire.

The sacred centre of our life

Is never found without some strife.

Just then, the dark and light combine.

To create a symbol for the mind

If I could choose I’d be a plumber.

I like water to run in the summer.

But I can’t see very well

But please do not tell

I don’t like it when young people jabber

A student of classics loved Latin.

His head had a space where it sat in

But the hole in his head

Got filled up with lead.

Now he prefers being a cretin

There was a young lady from Barnet

Who kept all her cash in a hairnet.

But moths made holes larger

She lost her phone charger

So she imagined a note and then forged it

I am coming to visit you as my mother in law is is here.

I can come tomorrow but at 10 pm.Leave the window open.A night visit will perk you up.How are your stitches healing?

I would have come but my nails need cutting

I dyed my hair and it’s green.

Will it bother you? I will mow it now.

I have to buy some tobacco.Will the hospital shop have it?

The tree moves gently like a waiting ear

Trees don’t fight and so the have no fear

They cannot run away, they must be strong

Fear no evil for the day is long

Abstract trees don’t give us such repose.

The geometry of real is flawed as strong gales blow.

So it is with those we choose to love

The features form a whole,below,above

He emits very mobile groans

He has mobile features but he never rings.A total waste of time

What is a mobile hairdresser?

What is mobile hair ?

Has my hair been stolen by a mobile trainee ?

Why or why not was Rome the centre of Britain in 1276,?

I would come to see you Sunday since you broke your leg but I want to go to Mass.

I will pray for you instead

Dear God

If you cure my illness I will go to Church on Sundays for ever

As if God needs people to go to Church.

If God  did not prevent the Holocaust why would he stop your car from crashing?

Dear God

If I pass the pharmacy shall I buy you some gripe water?

I could put it into the holy water font 

Then a still small voice whispered to me

Stop talking and listen

Crikey

Neither use nor ornament

I’ve no gold nor silk vestments

My mind is empty like the sky.

Yet I’d rather live than die

Like a ballet dancer tired of life

The tree hangs gently,it must be revived