Why we Envy

I envy shy black people because they can blush secretly

And I envy Chinese people because they don’t go yellow when they feel sick

I envy Jewish people because they enjoy arguments.Yes that is too general a statement but don’t let’s argue about it. Unless you are Jesus Christ. Did Jesus

argue? Get the Bibles out.

I envy philosophers because they know what distinguishes an argument from a quarrel

I don’t want to be a Catholic because they believe in hell. Can you still go to hell even if you don’t believe in it

Why does nobody mention limbo anymore?

Why do I have to ask questions when other people know by intuition?

Why were red Indians called red Indians?

Why do they keep avoiding me?

I didn’t answer your email because I was feeling sick.

I didn’t reply because however badly I behave you always forgive me

I didn’t answer your email because I have avoidant attachment.

I didn’t answer because I was feeling depressed and now I feel even more depressed

I didn’t arrange to meet you you because I didn’t feel like having a shower

I didn’t meet you because I have run out of deodorant. For myself not for you.

I didn’t give you any support because you are a very tough person sovyou can manage without it.

I didn’t meet you because my hair needs washing and I couldn’t be bothered to do it.

I didn’t meet you because I am very shy and I blush

Then lose them in the maelstrom of the day

I thought see

sorrow,grief and wailing dole.

Everything I break brings thoughts of you
And when I write, I wonder what you’d think
No-one else will criticise my work
And into the quicksands I seem to sink

I burned ten pans and broke a dozen plates
I even broke a vase in the cafe
I think of phrases subtle,erudite
Then lose them in the maelstrom of the day

I will learn to live with broken heart
As humans are not born with such spare parts

Life is  lonely in the city here

Life is  lonely in the city here
We left our birthplace seeking  work that paid
So many folk, yet nobody is near.

The mass of crowds  brings on a paranoia
While buildings once thought beautiful decay
Life is   alien in the city here

From the doorways ugly faces leer
Like evil children,  tortured by dismay
Many people,  nobody who’s near.

The birds don’t sing  yet I can hear them jeer
Then fly in circles in a fierce display
Life is alien in the city here.

My eye is dry, it lacks a single tear
As I become near static with despair
Many people,  nobody who’s near.

Why can’t I be merry, if not gay?
Why do thoughts so savage my heart flay
Life is  lonely in the city here
So many folk, so few  will come near

My little wood

So my copse has ripened to a wood
How many living creatures dwell within?
The shades of green, the sunshine, and the Good

Once we had three apple trees,a glut
Today, too old to fruit, they stand there still
My copse has turned into a little wood

Neighbours hint that I get my trees cut
Yet these leaves of green make my heart full
The shades of green, the sun the wind ,the gods

Once we read there was a total Flood
Now we have the bush fires and their will
Still, my copse has turned into a wood

Trees have their green sap where we have blood
They will never wound, will never kill
The shades of green, the sun the wind ,the gods

Just like Eve and Adam we may sin
The maple waves away my mental pain
My copse has turned into my private wood
The shades of green, the long path.Come, my Love.

How the famous died

Hawfinch_Northmoor_2018-1

Picasso: Got bored by a bull.
Elizabeth 1st:Died owing to not breathing any more
Monet:went dotty and fell into a deep bed of poppy seeds
Cezanne:Ate the wrong apple.
Mary Queen of Scots: lost her head.
Henry Moore:Got trapped in the Underground.
Michaelangelo:Fell of his ladder.
Manet:got confused with Monet and fell off his chair.
Kierkegaard:Trembled too much.
Bertrand Russell:Got stuck in a layer cake.
The White Queen:went grey and died of depression.
Pascal:His heart had too many reasons.
Descartes:He just stopped thinking one day.
Plato:The cave entrance got blocked by spammers .
Socrates:He tried to dial Ogg thrice and the phone box caved in.
Wittgenstein:Became too late for his own good
The Siren:replaced by a foghorn and died of boredom and rage
Salome:Her head fell into the washing up bowl
Delilah: was strangled by Samson’s hair.

The ladder

I fear  to stand up  tall on this new earth
One hand is on the ground,  my back is bent
Shivering fear, excitement, what’s  this birth?

I climbed , like Wittgenstein, a ladder’s worth
Then threw the ladder down   as my assent
I fear  to stand up  tall on this new earth

Far away, so far, the time of mirth
For sometime a lover I was lent
Shivering fear, excitement, what’s  this birth?

I wonder can I walk ,this step the first
 Love may die and who shall then repent?
I fear  to stand up  tall on this new earth

I see myself in black, the window’s bust
A man climbs out  uncut by accident
Shivering wonder, what allures  such birth?

I see in my mind’s eye  the incident
I  learn to balance  gravity with  sense
I desire  to stand on this new earth
Shivering, wonder, is it birth or curse?

Gypsies

I have a caravan but have no site

I have a home, but no house to my name.

I have four children they can’t go to school

I taught them well, our rulers have no rules

I used to make my bread I have no fuel

I have no butter and the milk is stale

Can I get them shoes to keep them warm?

Barefoot kids will surely come to harm

In Norfolk we ate samphire not roast beef

We had no English breakfast, that’s for thieves

We went to Wales and bought some bara brith

We found the Catholic church and went to Mass

Jesus Christ was all the food we had

We are gypsies but we are not bad

New ideas about breathing

https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/87ff619a-95a2-11ed-a130-baced48eb788?shareToken=89ff0628f5357bf117beae92aaf69ab3

Some evidence suggests that sensory nerves in and around the chest respond to the expansion of our lungs when we breathe and synchronise with brainwaves that help us to relax. But how slow to go? Most adults breathe normally at a rate of 12-16 breaths per minute, but researchers have suggested slowing to a frequency of around six exhalations per minute for restorative benefits.

Dave runs in chased by a cat

As Mary got ready to go out,she realised she had not combed her hair.Where were the 24 combs she had bought from Amazon?Not in her delightful red and purple shoulder bag.She pondered over what to d0
1 Use the clothes brush
2.Try a nailbrush
3 Use her toothbrush
4.Look on the floor
5.Look in all the drawers in the house
In the end she decided to pour some water over her head, put on some oil , then push her hair into the direction she wanted
She put on her red dress with a pattern of little books all over, a favourite of Stan, her late husband.Her shoes were peach coloured in homage to some artist who liked clashing colours.He was not good as an artist except for this ability to find the worst possible colours to put together.So he is known as Ned the Red and Purple
Suddenly the doorbell rang like a burglar alarm on heat.She opened the door and Dave the paramedic ran in
What’s wrong,Dave, she asked
I am being chased by a  big Siamese cat,he replied.
I can’t see  any cats, she said in  a kindly tone.Never mind,let me make you some coffee
Before she could close the door a big and lovely  cat ran in
Who are you,Mary asked him?
I am called Jeb, he told her.I like that man in the dress  so I want to ask him to adopt me.
OK said Dave.My cat died and I’ve  been too sad to  get another one.Are you  able to sleep  by me in bed
Definitely, said Jeb.It hs been my life time desire
All three sat down in the small but delightful  orange and lime kitchen watching Emile climb a tree.
I haven’t seen you lately,Dave said gently to Mary
No,I went to the hairdresser and my hair is so short it looks as if I am having chemotherapy.Still it was nice to be cossetted and it won’t need  much arranging  or blow-drying.
I suppose you could let the back grow before the winter,Dave told her
Yes, at least my head is cooler for the summer.It was hot when I went there so I assumed that would  carry on.But now it is colder.
How about wearing a hat?
Yes,I’ll ask Annie about that as she knows more about clothes than I ever shall
The phone rang startling Jeb who had been living in a field
Hello, this is Sister Mayflower from the bereavement group.
Hello,Sister.How are you?
I am worried because the other women were so unwelcoming.I have taken it over recently and recognise they are a closed group and it is 20 years since most of them were bereaved so they don’t want anyone to distress them by actually feeling sad.
Don’t worry about me.I only came because Annie my neighbour saw an advert for it and I did it to please her.
I see ,said Sr Mayflower.You can come to the Convent if you like.Just say Mayflower.
Thank you very much.Bye , bye, said Mary
Who was that, a nun? said Dave.Don’t tell me.I can guess,Several patients we’ve had have been there and were disappointed.They should call it tea and chat  except they don’t want any one new to join even in that.Odd as it is a Church based on the teachings of Jesus.Love one another.
Loving others may be harder than it sound,Mary mused dreamily
i feel much better , she said.I am playing the piano every day.I met 3 friends  for coffee and then went to the bookshop.I love sitting there looking at new books.And it’s nice not to have to cook every night
Mary got up ;oh dear, her trousers fell down
Good grief,Dave cried.You  have lost weight  and you are wearing red knickers!What next?
Yes, said Mary.Don’t you like them?
I am unsure.Shall I get some?
Just get 1 pair and see how you feel.I got mine in the Market.Otherwise Marks do purple and green ones,Mary murmured
Imagine all the old folk wondering around the  town might be wearing purple and green knickers. said Dave.It must make  washing hard as you can’t put them in the 60 degree wash.
I never thought of that, cried Mary, her blue mascara running down her face.
I’ve  read some women wear a  pair once and then throw them out
Well, they could cut them up and use them as dusters,Dave  mused.
Why not just buy dusters and wear white or beige knickers? Life is hard enought without worrying about such trivia
My mascara is melting because my eyes keep watering.
Go and sit by the potted plants and let it fall on them,Dave said scientifically
Don’t be ridiculous, she said unknowingly.

I think it is hayfever or the pollution in town.The traffic was like a plague of giant  houseflies on wheels.All stuck still.
Well flies don’t keep still,Dave said.If they did we would kill them
I guess   there’s an accident ” on the motorway so they send  the cars down here.I wish they had kept the railways open as the roads are frightening with those big lorries with cars on the back.I used to be afraid one might fall off on us,Mary remininisced, when Stan drove me to the coast
The door opened and in dashed Annie from next door.She wore a dark wine track suit with a pale pink T shirt matching her lipstick from Yves de Beauvoir  McMorris of Paris and Wigan.
Hi Dave she said.I love that dress,Is it from Marks?
Yes, he answered.I like these cotton maxi dresses  in hot weather.
I can understand that ,she whispered.Trousers  are hot and if you wash  them they need ironing.People forget we sweat more in the heat
That’s fortunate,Mary said.Otherwise we would die
And so cry all of us except Jeb.Jeb never cries

Which of us desires to dress for war?

Katherinepoetryreflectionssonnet June 27, 2017 

My polyester trench coat  looks real swell
But inside it, I feel as hot as hell.
And when the storm hit, I found out
It is no raincoat, I have no more doubts.

Which of us desires to dress for war
This is what the trench coat was made for.
British soldiers  on the battlefields
Died in mud locked trenches for what yield?

Do we want to know the Middle East
Was divided by the conquerors at their feast
France and Britain split the old Empire
We see from that the rise of Herr Hitler.

The war to end all wars is on stage yet.
Go hang these trench coats  round the scapegoat’s neck

The ship of refugees that nobody wanted

https://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-27373131

On 13 May 1939, more than 900 Jews fled Germany aboard a luxury cruise liner, the SS St Louis. They hoped to reach Cuba and then travel to the US – but were turned away in Havana and forced to return to Europe, where more than 250 were killed by the Nazis.

“It was really something to be going on a luxury liner,” says Gisela Feldman. “We didn’t really know where we were heading, or how we would cope when we got there.”

At the age of 90, Feldman still clearly remembers the raw and mixed emotions she felt as a 15-year-old girl boarding the St Louis at Hamburg docks with her mother and younger sister.

“I was always aware of how anxious my mother looked, embarking on such a long journey, on her own with two teenage daughters,” she says.

In the years following the rise to power of Hitler’s Nazi party, ordinary Jewish families like Feldman’s had been left in no doubt about the increasing dangers they were facing.

Should we tell everybody how we feel?

https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/5553ea3e-959f-11ed-a130-baced48eb788?shareToken=7b6c1ea7f5cebdce47cf6d09f654856e

Boundaries are the limits or rules we each establish to protect ourselves. We should not be venting all our feelings to all people — promiscuous honesty, telling everyone everything, doesn’t help any of us. Recognising that boundaries enable us to take different versions of ourselves to different environments, like work, friends and family, is important for all of our mental health. When we indiscriminately express unfiltered feelings, we can disturb those around us, and not receive the empathic response we need. Human beings are wired to look for danger, and emotions are contagious. Our threat system can be pinged by the other, putting our brain into “code red” — fight, flight, freeze — heightening our sense of anxiety and conflict. When we are in a heightened state our capacity to think deeply and respond sensitively goes offline. It is an evolutionary survival mechanism and the source of most aggression.

Like an unmoored boat

Like an unmoored boat whose anchor’s lost

By any passing storm I’m cruelly tossed.

I have no destination have no guide

I have no set of rules to be applied

Like a little bird whose nest has gone

I have no strength my life is nearly done

As alien birds have filled the local trees

Sadness fills my heart like a disease.

Like a blind man walking all alone

I cannot use a map, oh, useless phone.

I don’t know where I am how can I start?

I do not like this darkness of the heart

I have no common sense I have no sight

Touch me with your hand on this dark night

Joan Didion: Why I Write ‹ Literary Hub

https://lithub.com/joan-didion-why-i-write/#:~:text=%22I%20write%20entirely%20to%20find,see%20and%20what%20it%20means.%22&text=In%20many%20ways%2C%20writing%20is,aggressive%2C%20even%20a%20hostile%20act.

January in England

On the Malvern hills white snowdrops bloom

A cherished life but over all too soon

The grass is frosted, gives our shoes a smack

Looking West we’ll see the mountains Black.

The weather rolls and rotates like a clown.

As I walk, I am my favourite tunes

I want to run away with half a moon.

Not a human Voice to spoil the track.

No percussion,with its lively clack

Maybe there’s a witch but where’s the broom?

One way we see Wales, its Celtic sounds.

Where the Anglo-Saxons ran to ground

Behind us, Saxons’ cider we don’t lack

Enchanted orchards,Newton is in luck

The soft breezed air makes Elgar seem profound

Abandoned verbs are turning into nouns

Just watch a single leaf as it unfurls

What kind of camera shows the changing light
Upon the yellow blossom as it waves?
The wind has dropped ,the breeze is here, but slight
And on the flowers I in languor gaze

The red leaves of the acers now unfurl-
Two side by side but different in their glow.
The light accentuates  them as they curl
Gives them time to unwind  and be slow.

Without the breeze the colour  varies less.
It’s flatter, less like Monet, yet still bright.
And as a grey cloud  sags across the West
It puts my dreams of colour into flight.

Yearn not for special tools to catch the world.
Just watch a single leaf as it unfurls

Don Paterson: ‘Poetry often involves obsessive personalities’

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2023/jan/07/don-paterson-poetry-often-involves-obsessive-personalities-toy-fights?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other

O

Poetry is unlike other art forms because you can’t really do it for a living. It seems more a helpless disposition. I always think poetry may be one corner of a larger syndrome. It often involves obsessive and addictive personalities – and mental illness. Most poets can’t drive a car and the ones who do drive shouldn’t.

Mary and the pink coat

Photo by Andre David Manjon Escobar on Pexels.com

Emile woke  Mary up at 7am.It was a  Sunday in  late October, grey and damp though the sun was still not  too low in the sky
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,please.
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  sorrowfully
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