Where Have All the Neurotics Gone? – The New York Times



Managing Anxiety and Stress

Stay balanced in the face of stress and anxiety with our collection of tools and advice.

Managing Anxiety and Stress

Stay balanced in the face of stress and anxiety with our collection of tools and advice.

The human right to have a holiday

You can’t keep us confined another day
It’s a human right to have a holiday
We read the Daily Telegraph and moan
With hearts so hard they’d break the strongest stone

The holiday must be in somewhere hot
Hells teeth,I need passport, what damned rot
I won’t get Covid,I shall Covid spread
Till all the men I sleep with fall down dead

It’s a human right to make love in a bed
With strangers from the beach, while I’m unwed
But I don’t pay my staff a living wage
If they ask I fly into a rage

It’s well known that poor children don’t shoes need
And if we cut them they will hardly bleed
All they need is Blackpool for a day
Eating pork pies,chips with lemonade

What we need are rights from ethics gained
The right to care for others who’re in pain
The right to help the old folk get some food
The right to help the sick who sadly brood

I see Lord Jesus bathe on Gaza beach
Do they sell icecream and bags of crisps?
God himself has gone on a long Cruise
I know it’s true, it was on GB News

It was on Facebook only yesterday
Humans have forgotten how to pray

When true love’s gone


When true love's gone and doom hangs over head
When life runs like a river to the sea
Then shall I take new lovers to my bed
And with their carnal touch consoled be?

When  lovers lie and break my woman's heart.
When life seems grey and rocks bestrew my path.
Then, shall I my life of evil start
And on the world shall I bestow my wrath?

When my love lies and wrecked all loyalty.
When puzzlement makes all the world seem mad.
Then I shall upend causality
And let myself do deeds which make me glad.

I have the fruits of love within my heart.

Sorrow will not tear me into parts

Sestina – Sestina Poem by Elizabeth Bishop



September rain falls on the house.
In the failing light, the old grandmother
sits in the kitchen with the child
beside the Little Marvel Stove,
reading the jokes from the almanac,
laughing and talking to hide her tears.

She thinks that her equinoctial tears
and the rain that beats on the roof of the house
were both foretold by the almanac,
but only known to a grandmother.
The iron kettle sings on the stove.
She cuts some bread and says to the child,

It’s time for tea now; but the child
is watching the teakettle’s small hard tears

Please click the link to read the rest of the poem


Sestina | Poetry Foundation


A complex French verse form, usually unrhymed, consisting of six stanzas of six lines each and a three-line envoy. The end words of the first stanza are repeated in a different order as end words in each of the subsequent five stanzas; the closing envoy contains all six words, two per line, placed in the middle and at the end of the three lines. The patterns of word repetition are as follows, with each number representing the final word of a line, and each row of numbers representing a stanza: