The police car outside

As Mary

ate her topside with green peas,she gazed out of the front window where a police car was parked.They had gone to speak to her neighbours.Her neighbours had 23
dogs and a dead cat .all in the back garden for recreation and making holes in fences or other places
When Mary had come home from the delightful dentist she had been attacked by 5 of the dogs on her own patio
who were bored with their own garden so has made a hole in the fence as was their wont.
She sat silentky her mind brooding about animals,and their force, as she ate the last roast potato and wondered if she had a pudding
Suddenly a cold wind seemed to blow across the room as Annie her delightful neighbour
had run in without closing the back door firmly
Hello dear.Put the kettle on for me, Mary ordered Annie
I am sorry,Annie said,I have lost weight but even so the kettle won’t fit me
Why do you take things so literally,Mary asked?
I am trying to be funny, Annie muttered indecisively, her blood red lipstick melting down her chin and dripping onto the floor
Good grief, what a mess,Mary said.Hang on, your lips are bleeding
I keep biting them,Annie revealed.
To stop myself screaming at those people with the dogs.What will you do?
Her mascara from Mix Vector in dark brown began to melt and created streaks across her rose beige moisturising foundation from Bess of Arden
Are you crying,Mary asked curiously
I must be.I have tears in my eyes.I am over-identifing with your feelings.
Empathy has its limits,Mary said sweetly>I phoned the police and they came here
They were amazed he has 23 dogs.They have gone to see him.
How can they afford to feed so many dogs?
Oh,I feel faint,ring 999
In ran Dave the bisexual, transvestment paramedic all dressed in tartan
Why are the police here, he asked anxiously
It’s about the dogs attacking Mary.
Shall I make some nice strong tea,Dave asked wisely
Good idea, said Annie
How is Emile taking this?
I’ve sent him to my sister’s for a break,But I miss him
Goodness me, what a terrible time you are having
They all went into the lounge and sat down on the grey high backed armchairs
Here is the tea,Dave cried as he put the tray down on a low table.Don’t let it go cold~
Shall I give them some cake, he asked Mary?
Why not, she answered.See what you can find
It is very hard if neighbours attack you,Why, I’ve even read about murders at times like this,Dave cried.
Let’s see how it goes,Mary said quietly.They are not fools
I hope you are right,Dave said wisely
Rolling Stones never get mopped
Evert cloud has a silver lining~
When glum ,keep mum

How writing poetry was compared to Perseus killing the Medusa Gorgon



When thy song is shield and mirror

To the fair snake-curlèd Pain,

Where thou dar’st affront her terror

That on her thou may’st attain Perséan conquest

Francis Thompson wrote those lines.. se below

I am interested in these lines from the poem below…. When thy song is shield and mirror To the fair snake-curlèd Pain, Where thou dar’st affront her terror That on her thou may’st attain Perséan conquest; I think the meaning is that by expressing what is in us creatively in poetry or other forms we can overcome what we are afraid of not by attacking and killing it but indirectly in the manner of Perseus who killed the Medusa Gorgon by locating her and seeing her reflected in the mirror of his shield.Others had been turned to stone by her gaze. Expression is the mirror/shield Read about Perseus below This is where I got the poem……… a good website re which I say go visit. Nicholson & Lee, eds. The Oxford Book of English Mystical Verse. 1917. 240. From ‘The Mistress of Vision’ By Francis Thompson (1859–1907) WHERE is the land of Luthany, Where is the tract of Elenore? I am bound therefor. ‘Pierce thy heart to find the key; With thee take 5 Only what none else would keep; Learn to dream when thou dost wake, Learn to wake when thou dost sleep. Learn to water joy with tears, Learn from fears to vanquish fears; 10 To hope, for thou dar’st not despair, Exult, for that thou dar’st not grieve; Plough thou the rock until it bear; Know, for thou else couldst not believe; Lose, that the lost thou may’st receive; 15 Die, for none other way canst live. When earth and heaven lay down their veil, And that apocalypse turns thee pale; When thy seeing blindeth thee To what thy fellow-mortals see; 20 When their sight to thee is sightless; Their living, death; their light, most lightless; Search no more— Pass the gates of Luthany, tread the region Elenore.’ Where is the land of Luthany, 25 And where the region Elenore? I do faint therefor. ‘When to the new eyes of thee All things by immortal power, Near or far, 30 Hiddenly To each other linkèd are, That thou canst not stir a flower Without troubling of a star; When thy song is shield and mirror 35 To the fair snake-curlèd Pain, Where thou dar’st affront her terror That on her thou may’st attain Perséan conquest; seek no more, O seek no more! 40 Pass the gates of Luthany, tread the region Elenore.

Stan has a perplexing day


[Image by my sister]

Stan was standing on a small step ladder washing his windows yet again with a clean blue microfibre and elastane cloth and some windolene he had bought in Tesco’s
I don’t know why I bother,he whispered to Emile, who as usual was watching from the back of the sofa,which he was “milking” gently with his paws.
With all the rain,the outside of the windows was besmirched by leaves and bits of mud.A  wiser man  might have left it alone but Stan had O.C.D which made him very nervous if he failed to carry out certain tasks… so he made use of it in house chores and baking perfect cakes and buns..and in taking  photos of frogs,birds and flowers.Neurosis can be useful sometimes.
All of a sudden he heard clattering footsteps…
Up the garden path walked two women dressed in the latest style of 3/4 length silk cargo trousers with matching blouses, all in a subtle shade of violet.Except for their faces,of course,which were both a light shade of beige and they had Revlon peach blusher on their cheeks with Chanel scarlet lipstick…on their lips.They also wore dark blue nail varnish from Rimmel
“Good morning,Stan!” called one of them.”We are Annie’s ‘s cousins from Pittsburgh.She told us to call on you today.”
“Well,I never knew wearing expensive makeup ran in the genes… can there be any other explanation?”Stan asked stupidly.
“Annie told us we must wear it all the time in the UK.” she responded,”even in bed.”
“You seem a bit fast,” he answered,
“I’m not sure I want to go to bed and as you seem like identical twins,which of you should I bed?”
They burst out laughing….oh,what a strange  noise that seemed to this sweet old man
“I was just saying what she told us,not meaning that you need to go to bed with us.In fact, we sleep together at night.”
“As children that would be normal,but don’t you think you should separate now?People might think you are gay!”
“We never worry about stuff like that… and by the way,this is Ruby and I am Rosie.”
“I’ll put on the kettle and make you some coffee,” the dear and anxious  man said in a kind tone of voice,before he went into the kitchen and swallowed a handful of red and green striped valium tablets.
“I wish the psychiatrist would give me some therapy.I don’t like taking valium but I seem to be having visions again… and I don’t want to get worse..I never heard Annie mention cousins in the USA. I wonder if CBT would help me?” he said to Emile.
“I see visions all the time,” the cat replied in a matter of fact and calm way.
“Do they not make you feel anxious?”Stan called.
“No,I just watch them drift by,” purred Emile.”I enjoy them.”
“I wish these two women would drift off.”responded the weary yet charming  Stan.

Ruby and Rosie came inside and admired the kitchen where colanders in many colours hung from the wall into which someone had knocked a few dozen nails.
“”Why do you have sixteen colanders?”asked Rosie.
“Why do you think everything has a reason?”Stan replied.
“I can see you studied philosophy,” Ruby cried disconsolately as she loved an argument
“No,I have just read Ray Monk’s Life of Wittgenstein eight times,” he quipped merrily.
“Wow,is it not boring?” they murmured softly like two doves in spring time
“’s so good it put me off reading lesser books.And I love to understand things,”
Just then Stan tripped on the rug and fell over. unconscious.
.Emile picked up his mobile with its full Qwerty key pad and texted 999.
“Why are you texting?”asked Ruby.
“Well,it difficult to mioaw down a phone and now I have this Blackberry it’s so easy…. why even a mouse could do it.”
“Do you know many mice,Emile?” enquired Ruby wistfully as she felt very lonely at times
Rosie slowly made some instant coffee, walking around poor Stan ,unconscious on the floor…and she and her twin sat down on some white Swedish chairs at the old oak table and drank it,gazing shyly at the huge weigelia blooming outside in the shed.
The front door opened and in ran Dave,the bisexual paramedic.
“Is it you,Emile.Have you lost your hankie again.Are you sad?” he moaned nervously.
“No,it’s Stan… but at least he’s not broken the chair”
Stan came too and looked up. at Dave.
“Oh, lovely,I feel much better for that nap” he said brightly as he was such a positive person..
“Don’t you have a bed to sleep in?” said Ruby querulously.”I like your mean expression,my dear man.”
“Now,look here said Stan,”I’m too old for any monkey business. Besides,I don’t know if you are real.”
“We just wondered why you slept on the floor.”
“A man has to do what a man has to do,” came the mystifying response.
“Now that Dave is here,he can take one of you and I’ll take the other.”
“Where will you take us”the twins asked delightedly.
“Do you fancy the cinema… they are showing Monsieur Hulot’s Holiday”
“Don’t tell me he’s still on his summer holiday!” riposted Ruby
“Let’s go in the ambulance.I’ll lie on the stretcher” offered Rosie generously..
“I’ll lie by you,”said Dave.” and Emile can drive.Stan and Ruby can lie on the floor.”
Sometimes life seems so simple,it’s rather like a dream controlled..
Controlled by what,asked Emile,clutching his Blackberry.
But answer came there none…
And that was very odd because.. they’d vanished every one…
To read more,why not take out a subscription?At just £100 a day,it’s value for money…as money no longer has any value!

Was it wasted?

Where has all my love  gone to
All the love I poured on you
Where has all the love gone to
Was it all, was it all wasted?

The actions and the calls of love
Disappear  like flying doves
Is there meaning I can’t give
Was it all, was it all wasted?

Pouring fragrance on his feet
Money wasted, it might seem
Signs and symbols darkly gleam
Nothing  ever is, nothing ever is wasted

We all live in faith our love
Where it comes from, how it does
We live in faith , like hand in glove
Pour  the love  and let it rove
Excess and glorious as above
For it’s made to be,made to be wasted

Why writing when older may be easier

I feel as older people we may be less worried about what others say or think.But the main reason writing poetry could be easier is we have a bigger vocabulary if we have read interesting books and poetry throughout our lives.I do not know before I have written a poem quite what I am going to say.But the structure provides a limiting frame.Then the first sentence determines much of what can follow.But what can follow also depends on what is inside our own head and also on conversations we have had, things we noticed when out for a walk.These may enter us like the air does, without effort or will.So should the poems we read and the novels and the other books we love.Even Euclid might come in handy… a bit of logic does no harm and geometric shapes can be symbols for more than mathematics, where they are more likely signs in fact [ My mistake!]

Love gives the soul her appetite.

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

The oxymoron class

There is a sentence often spoke
In jest or repartee:
“See how the cookie crumbles,mate.
Why don’t you have more tea?”

But my cookies don’t crumble
They bend in multi-ways.
Why here are some I made for you
Only yesterday.

You want to know why cookies bend?
Well,mine are made from rubber.
They look impressive on the plate…
As good as any other.

But when you pick one up to start
And press it in your hands
It does not crumble,but just falls
Into a thousand rubber bands.

The guests suffer embarrassment
As they gaze down in dismay.
But the children and the dogs and cats
are happy as they play.

I gave my lover,one cookie
I gave him three or four
But he was never satisfied
Until I gave him more.

Then when I met him later on
He seemed to be in pain…
And claims his doctor told him off
For eating food again.

So now I’m having lessons
In how to bake real fakes.
It’s called the Oxymoron Class
And you should see our cakes.

I made one,I made two,
I made fifty four.
But now the freezer’s full right up
So I can’t make no more.

I want some crumbly cookies,
But mother doesn’t know.
She has gone to heaven above…
Oh,how I miss her dough!

BVD Can Cause Anxiety –,image%E2%80%94%20despite%20having%20two%20eyes.


How does BVD lead to anxiety?

In severe cases of BVD, symptoms like dizziness may be so intense that a panic attack can be triggered just by walking outside.

This is especially true for those who don’t know they have BVD — the unexplained dizziness and disorientation only exacerbate their anxiety. 

Anxiety from BVD can even cause agoraphobia, a fear of leaving the home. Visually-busy environments, such as a grocery store or mall, can cause sensory overload and lead to panic attacks.

When BVD leads to reduced attention….

Stan and the Brillo pad

Yes, my husband is a changed man since he died
I have dreamed of him so frequently he hides
One night we knelt down on the kitchen floor
With brillo pads in hand we scrubbed the door

Then we cleaned the oven for two hours
Death has given him such odd new powers
He never speaks nor asks me what to do
Thank the Lord our fireplace has no flue

I see more of him now that he is dead
For every night these dreams live in my head
He does not go to work nor write more books
He goes to Ealing and he wants to cook

Should I buy some ground in the church yard?
I have his ashes standing by the lard
In the fridge the suet waits for me
To make an apple dumpling for our tea

Oh, yes he likes to know what I shall eat
He starved to death,his heart was far too weak
But yet he likes to see me eat and sleep
And have a little cat next to my feet

So far I do not love another man
I shall become pan-sexual if I can
For then I need not worry who to please
I hate to lose myself but like to tease

Should my husband see me in the bed
With another pillow and a head
He might feel unwanted and be sad!
Yet he left me and now I’m feeling mad

Why clean the oven, clean the kitchen sink?
Why change the plugs and make the cat drink ink?
Why have breakfast, why eat bread and jam?
Why cook bacon in the frying pan?

Why go to bed when I shall have to rise?
Why get up when I shall later lie?
Why get washed when dirt comes back again?
Why wash my hair and use a fountain pen?

I wonder why the floor is full of mud
And whether nature gave me enough blood.
Life is so precarious use it well
Before all hear the tolling of the knell

%d bloggers like this: