At the very edge of human sight
Places we don’t go till in despair
Love is waiting like a golden light

The world in panic, will the virus bite?
Noone ever said this world is fair
At the very edge of human sight

Is there really danger of such might,
Where our hidden fears emerged dark ,bare
Love is fading where’s the sun, the light?

Panic like a virus can ignite
Responses that are worse than germs out there
At the very rim of human sight

Our defences that are usually adroit
Now lie like dead young soldiers unrepaired
Love is fading to a weaker light

The still,small voice is quieter than a bird
The storm is passing by, will it be heard?
At the very edge of human sight
Love is dying,looks like candlelight

In the box again

Pay Father.

You are the penitent so should I pay?

I meant, Pray

I ate my packed lunch at 11am

Your sins are too dull .my child Have you no sins of humour?

What is a mortal sin? The opposite of an immortal sin.

Is that funny?

What is a venial sin?.It is a sin committed by snakes.

Do they choose to have venom?

Do we choose to have sex hormones ?

Do you have a firm purpose of amendment?

When I am elected President,yes

Scruples are a sin.If you did not aspire to be perfect you would not have àny.

God has not died.He has moved house.

My husband has a rubber face

Art by Katherine

My husband has a rubber face,
He’s a member of the human race.
Some men have faces fixed and set;
My husband’s face is not like that.

He imitates our politicians,
Just like Rory Bremner can.
Though he has no wig or hair piece,
He can look like anyone.

Some nights I waken for I'm laughing
While I am quite sound asleep.
I am dreaming of his mobile features,
Contorted to a different shape.

He is skilled at telling jokes.
And he loves a good cartoon.
If I am suffering flu type blueness
He can get me well again.

He has a rather noble visage.
He gets attention he abhors.
In the bar on King’s Cross Station—
I was asked was he a Lord!

He’s a Lord of Fun and Humour.
He’s a Lord at Listening Well.
He’s unique, but so are you,
And all creatures that on earth do dwell

British people comfort yourselves

You won’t have to pay a heating bill when you are dead

The currency in heaven is love not power.

Shops are hot so take a folding chair and sit down to read the paper.

How does Hell stay hot?

Is it fair?

Once you go you can’t come back

So be patient and wise.Go to the library instead

Why not read pornography to get hotter?

It might be free!

Be like a child.Get a skipping rope.

Get some balls and crack your own nuts.Only if you have a cracker

Pretend it’s Nov 5th and have a bonfire.

Not wise if you have no yard or garden.

You can collect wood to burn or why not get rid of your furniture?

Get another cat and let them sleep with you.Mine woke me up milking my hair.


The fearful truth

Yiddish spoken here my love my dear

You must know I’m nearly always here

But human love cannot wipe out all fear

For fantasies of monsters with cruel leers

Simplify the structures of the world

Exonerate the leaders who have failed

Say it’s just the Jews who are to blame

Jesus was a Jew who called us home

Can any State succeed without the whole?

Can human love be bought by force alone?

Force destroys the trust of every soul.

Where is the answer, where the care that molds?

Yiddish was destroyed when noone spoke

In defence of Jews and other folk

For the Yiddish speakers met their death

Evil rose up with neglected breath

We must not read the News nor be distressed

Listen to the humble, then confess

The poetry of love

Mike Flemming copyright

The words don’t matter but the rhythm does
Verbal music gratifies the mind
Nonsense can be poetry and love

The sun is setting , where’s the turtle dove?
Music dances though it’s writ on lines
The words don’t matter but the rhythm does

I like Jabberwocky just because
It makes me learn the value of design
Nonsense can be poetry with love

Looking at the stars we see above
The moon is silver like a silent sigh
The words don’t matter but the meaning does

Now I eat my meal,I miss my dove
I hum and sing as I eat my pork pie
Nonsense can be poetry,my love

Bring the glasses, bring the oldest wine
All must share the music,it’s divine
The words don’t matter but the rhythm does
Nonsense is the poetry of love