https://www.newyorker.com/books/page-turner/the-letters-of-sylvia-plath-and-the-transformation-of-a-poets-voice

The little laptop is our Bible now

The scriptures are our blogs,the forums too.

The inquisition haunts on left and right.

Lord have mercy, give none second sight

Books are banned and messages retrieved

The neo nazis shout, the woke perceive

Banks are told,they must support free speech.

Nigel Garage bathesvon Dover beach

Hitler wants a blackboard,he will write

To all the world, as Satan’s taken fright.

The king has got a pay rise auntie’s billed

Satan strives once mote, the sin is will.

The academics writing books are sad

The students cannot read, the church is glad.

Can you trust your neighbours to be good?

Here is Jesus with a piece of wood

When I was 28 my husband bought me a tin of lavender wax polish for my birthday.I do love lavender
After 45 years of marriage I found he liked me mainly because of my beauty. Of course I’d never really thought I was beautiful

When I was recovering from a serious operation ,he said,
You are not very house proud, are you? I could hardly walk
When he was near death he slept a lot in an armchair by my side.One afternoon he woke up and said in a very loud voice:
You’ve got a brilliant personality.
Then he went to sleep again.
When we were first married we were out in the country.We were in a lane with steep grassy banks so we lay down at the top and rolled down!
He rarely noticed if I went to the hairdresser until I had my hair cut very very short.He was annoyed because when it was long he liked to brush it in the evening.He could have tickled me with a feather duster instead but he refused.I didn’t have a feather duster but I am sure I could have bought one.
He used to bring me a cup of tea in bed until he could hardly walk.
After I had an eye operation I had no glasses for 6 months and for 3 months I had gas in my right eye so it was blind.We were in the car, approaching a junction and he said,Which way do I turn? I said,talk about the blind leading the blind
Just after that a friend rang up and said she was very upset she had to wear glasses.How horrible .I couldn’t see. even with glasses.It made me learn how self centered we are

Afghanistan, Iraq,Iran
Can “Democracy” be “forced” on them
Somalia,Yemen,Pakistan

The war on “others”, rights of Man
The grief of infants, war goes on
Afghanistan, Iraq, Iran

Made in Britain, torture ,gun
Electric, fearsome,profit, spin
Somalia,Libya,Pakistan

Europe, Jesus ,Vatican
Where does Revolution win?
Afghanistan, Iraq, Iran

Egypt,Palestine,Jordan
Old Man River,death and Sin
Libya,Yemen,Pakistan

From five or six or maybe ten
The Arts of War, the nuclear ban
Afghanistan, Iraq, Iran
Somalia,Yemen,Pakistan

The Bible as remembered when drunk

The still small choice
Samsung and Delilah
If only Eve had not bought an iPhone from apple
Yahoo punished Adam severely
Was Asus the son of God too?
God said, why are you here, you liar?
Elijah invented Intel,computers and chips. but not pizza
G-d on trial in Google Dock
I’ll be judge and I’ll be jury,said cunning old Fury
I have seen the Light on Google Drive
The Cloud of Unknowing is not a good place to save your poetry on.
He filed me under “wonder” on One Drive
One Drive,One G-d, One World
Where is Ogle Drive?
Yeshua did many lyricals.He was Leonard Cohen,we have found
Go over to Rome and be saved into the Angelic Host
He did raise my spirits but he didn’t say how manyxThe Bible as remembered when drunk

The still small choice
Samsung and Delilah
If only Eve had not bought an iPhone
Yahoo punished Adam severely
Was Asus the son of God too?
God said, why are you here, you liar?
Elijah invented Intel,computers and chips. but not pizza
G-d on trial in Google Dock
I’ll be judge and I’ll be jury,said cunning old Fury
I have seen the Light on Google Drive
The Cloud of Unknowing is not a good place to save your poetry on.
He filed me under “wonder” on One Drive
One Drive,One G-d, One World
Where is Ogle Drive?
Yeshua did many lyricals.He was Leonard Cohen,we have found
Go over to Rome and be saved into the Angelic Host
He did raise my spirits but he didn’t say how manyThe Bible as remembered when drunk

The still small choice
Samsung and Delilah
If only Eve had not bought an iPhone
Yahoo punished Adam severely
Was Asus the son of God too?
God said, why are you here, you liar?
Elijah invented Intel,computers and chips. but not pizza
G-d on trial in Google Dock
I’ll be judge and I’ll be jury,said cunning old Fury
I have seen the Light on Google Drive
The Cloud of Unknowing is not a good place to save your poetry on.
He filed me under “wonder” on One Drive
One Drive,One G-d, One World
Where is Ogle Drive?
Yeshua did many lyricals.He was Leonard Cohen,we have found
Go over to Rome and be saved into the Angelic Host
He did raise my spirits but he didn’t say how many

Katherine  March 7, 2017 

The world is exists but I just wish to flee
The flowers come into bud but I can’t see.
The birds have built their new   small nests again
Birds forget, but memory feeds our pain.

When I get trapped inside this mud black silt
I forget the tools my mind has lately  built
Again it feels eternal and unkind
The sorrowing  fills the endless realms of mind.

The mind  helps us to mediate and muse
We need it to give weight to different views
But   inwardness can  build up dangerous walls
We lose ourselves in shadow  and may fall.

The life within us will rise up again
If  we  can accept our mental pain.

What the hell,a villanelle!
It looks too hard for such as me
Still I will write ,yes,I write well

I have a story I can tell
It’s from the English who love tea
What a hell,oh villanelle

I saw a man with a sea shell
I asked him for a pod of pea
I write well.yeah super Nell

I often wonder if I smell
As I drink so much  greenish tea
What’s s to tell ,my villanelle?

But worry makes life into hell
And it’s bad for those who see
I write well,but who can tell?

I must take much charity
If you ask, what is your fee?
What the hell oh villanelle
I write well but   life is hell.

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/articles/74593/in-good-form

“A well-turned line, a sparkling rhyme: craft is essential to the art of poetry, writes Poetry editor Christian Wiman in the October 2012 issue. He explains:

Why do you think craft matters? Do well-crafted poems hit you harder and remain with you longer, as Wiman suggests? Why might poems devoid of craft seem disrespectful—perhaps because they demand our time without rewarding us with pleasure, insight, or staying power?

The most recent issue of Poetry provides plenty of fodder for such questions. It offers several poems in received forms, such as Joshua Mehigan’s sonnet “The Professor” and Elizabeth Seydel Morgan’s villanelle “September 2011.” And it features invented forms as well. Take Marie Ponsot’s “Private and Profane,” reprinted from a 1957 issue:”

https://www.mindtools.com/a80eurq/how-to-manage-defensive-people

My doctor is God
Why can’t he heal you then?

God is my doctor
Where did he train?

The doctor wants a urine sample
I hope it’s a random one

The doctor wants to take my temperature
Where to?

The doctor says it’s a systemic infection
Can’t he install a new system in you ?

He wants me to take it easy
Fake it.

He talks in paragraphs
No, you idiot, parables!

My doctor is very odd
Get even with him somehow

Are numbers very odd?
Yes, the odd ones are even odder than the even ones

Are doctors real?
Yes, if you think they are.

In a cotton dress by Morecambe Bay
On Arnside’s little beach below the Knott
I stand where sea and sand on my feet play

My feet enjoy the water, ripples,rays
I remember this, the waters fret
In a cotton dress in Morecambe Bay

We see the Barrow Train, the River flows
Feel the pebbles slippery,cool and wet
I stand where sea and sand on my feet play

As the sun sank, Grange and Cartmel glowed
The Priory’s ruins paid all beauty’s debt
I love my dress, in sun, in Morecambe Bay

My bony feet look thin, the water sways
I wish I could dissolve, skin holds me back
I stand where sea and sand on my feet play

Moments of great beauty guard the track
We may forget the sea shells splintered wrack.
In a cotton dress my mother made
I loved where sea and sand on my feet played

Mary stood at the bus stop in her chocolate wool winter coat which Stan had always loved very much.
It hangs so well, he had told her.
The optional imitation fur collar had been removed as she preferred natural garments made from wool with no ostentation.As a matter of fact, she has one of Stan’s woollen vests on under her gold silk top.Her hair fell in light blonde curls around her pensive face and her eyes looked as if she were seeing a mysterious vision of the Matterhorn in midwinter while on heroin.
Suddenly she realised the bus was there and she put her card up to the machine before looking for a seat.The bus was rather full so she sat down next to a youth with an i phone hanging from his hand.Suddenly it rang.His chosen theme was,
Please release me, sung by Tom Jones.
Mary smiled as, if she were near Tom Jones she would need no invitation to free him.The youth began to speak rather louder than normal.
Mary tried not listen but it was impossible.She was too hot as well.Wearing Stan’s vest was a mistake as the bus was overheated.She turned pink like a sunrise over ICI in Billingham for, perceive it or not, the pollution had a beautifying effect.
I’m sorry I wore your vest, she told Stan.
I should have given them away but I was trying to save money on heating.Still, I will be home soon.Oh,for some fresh tea.
Where’s your microphone, the youth demanded in a light voice?It must be one of those new tiny ones, I guess
A microphone? Mary said curiously.
Yeah, he cried.I assume your phone is in your pocket.
Actually, it’s in a pocket in my knickers, she informed him in a manner resembling that of a mildly dotty scientist.We used to wear these knickers in the gym at school.
Did you not wear a top? he enquired, his eyes running over her hourglass figure like pure rainwater water falling off High Force in Teesdale. in a summer storm.
Well.I didn’t have a bra until I got my grant to attend university,she told him sensitively.
Well, that’s news to me,he said.
So you had to wear a bra at University? That was before feminism,of course.Did you burn it later?
Certainly not, said Mary.I’d been longing for one but my mother didn’t seem to notice my development which was her way of coping with adolescent girls.Of course others may have noticed but they were too nervous to tell Mother I needed any support.We were all so shy and afraid.Anyway be quiet now, I want to speak to my husband.
Have you had your phone on all this time? he asked anxiously, worried about her bill.
No, I don’t need it to talk to him, she responded.
Why, where is he? the youth enquired sardonically.
He’s on my knee, Mary informed him.In this bag.She pointed to her hessian shopping bag.
I have just been to the Coop for him.I ought to have got a cab as he is quite heavy.
Jesus Christ, cried the youth, hastily pressing the bell before leaping off the bus into a small pond that had been created b Hurricane Desmond.He swam away into the cold night.
Well. that shut him up, Mary said to Stan.
Mary, don’t become less gentle and kind, Stan said in her ear.
I can’t be gentle now, she said.It’s a nasty tough world without you to help me and tell me what you think of Jeremy Corbyn.And do I need to have a roast dinner at Xmas or just some toad in the hole?
I am sorry, sweetheart he murmured.Maybe you need assertiveness training.
I’ll just get more aggressive, she replied.Micro-aggressive perhaps.
You’ll need more than micro in this era, he continued.Mary forgot to get off the bus and found herself in the Leisure Centre by the River Tranter
What about the river, Stan, she asked.
Would you like me to throw you in
.A policeman standing nearby ran over.
Madam is it suicide or murder, he asked her awkwardly.
No, it’s a life sentence, she said humorously as she put her hand up her skirt to get her phone.
That’s a silly place to keep your phone he said.
Anyway don’t call a cab, I can run you home in my car.Have you got any China tea?
I could kill for a hot drink.
I have some lapsang souchong, she told him.Do you fancy that?
I do ,called Stan from the bag.The policeman passed out.
I told you not to get a boyfriend yet, Stan continued to Mary.
I’ll do whatever I feel like, she said rudely.I could use a comforting arm around me.
Stan sobbed as only a holy soul can.
She said, quickly
Don’t worry.I’ll get Emile to sit on my knee.Goodbye, for now, darling.
Goodbye whispered Stan faintly.
Good bye…. goodbye….good bye…….

Stan was in his front garden polishing the wheelie bins with lavender wax polish.
He was not very happy as the garden was only 10 feet by 12. so the huge wheelie bins ruined it.When he got to the third one the lid popped open and out jumped his next door neighbour “Adulterous Annie”.
Hello, Stan” she whispered.”Where’s Mary now ?”
“Why?” Stan muttered into the back of her neck which he licked as he like her salty taste.
“I was thinking, these bins are so big, we could both get inside one.It would make a change1!”.
”What a strange idea” he replied philosophically.however , age was no obstacle where love was involved. if you catch my drift.
Soon Stan and Anne were in the big green recycling bin.Stan being 81 had shrunk somewhat so he took up less space than Annie did.He allowed her to kiss his left eyelid.What a lovely feeling.
Alas, all too soon, as they say, they heard Mary’s bicycle bell.She was getting faster and faster.As she wheeled her bike up the 30-yard long front path to the porch she heard murmurings and mutters,
She lifted up the green plastic lid and saw the two lovers covered in cuttings from the privet hedge.
“What the bleedin’ hell are you doing in there?” she shouted mellifluously.
Well , it’s hard to explain,……………but Stan was wondering about a green funeral” Anne said mischievously.
“Funeral , my hat!” Mary said coldly.”Get out at once”
“Don’t speak to me like that” Stan beseeched her brazenly.
“Well ,it’s a shock to find your husband in the bin with another woman!”
“Wouldn’t it be more of a shock if he was in the bin with a man, or even a sheep?”
“Schmann or Schwommann, sheep,it’s immaterial.
“Hurry, get out, quickly before the school exit time.what will all the mums think as they go by?”
But poor Stan could not get out.He was stuck.Oh ,my! what an odd phrase.
“Have you got your mobile on you?”
“Yes, it’s here in my bag.
“You’d better call 999”
“What a brilliant idea!”
Soon, Dave, the paramedic arrived.
Mary showed him Stan’s situation.
Ever resourceful,Dave was not bothered though the NHS budget might be getting cut.
He tied some rope around Stan’s waist and between the three of them and Emile the cat and his friend Elizabeth, they managed to haul the poor man out.
Annie stood weeping with shame.Her silvery blue eyeshadow was beginning to run mixed with tears and black water soluble mascara from Chanel of Paris and London.
Her new coral lipstick from Clinique was not as non-allergenic as she hoped.Never mind, it gave her lips that bee stung look that many men admire.It reminded Stan of his boyhood days playing near High Force Waterfalls in upper Teesdale….
Teesdale ,still an undiscovered and undervalued part of England.
Contact the English Touring Board for more information. Holiday Loans available from Thwaites of Stockton and Darlington at only 1% interest.
Mary gave Annie a large Kleenex tissue,
”Come indoors,honey, and I’ll make you some Ceylon tea.It’s been the most thrilling event of my entire life and I’ve photographed you with my new Nokia camera phone
[Prices available on request from The Cat-phone Warehouse,Teesside ,Northern England, comes in pink and pink and…pink?How I love pink!]
I’m going to send some to the local paper.
Stan staggered upstairs covered in bits of privet ,lettuce and cabbage hearts, and carrot tops ,not to mention a few dozen banana skins and potato peelings.
What an afternoon.[Please contact the society for the care and protection of vegetables if you wish to make a complaint about this story.}
“That’s the last time I climb into a wheelie bin”, he thunked
“Next time we’ll use the cardboard and newspaper wheelie bin” he proclaimed to Emile.
Well, there;s no fool like an old fool,Emile miaowed
And so say all of us

Ah,brother I don’t want you to lie still

No blood to circulate,no thoughts,no will

No help,no humour.jokes no

sharp true eye

From our old shared pram,to live, to die.

I used to do your homework

late at night

Abstract thought to you was no delight.

You wondered over X and y and z

Preferred the shapes of Nature in your head.

I shall retain the memories of the good

You who taught me speech and hate and love

https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2021/aug/01/not-all-narcissists-are-grandiose-the-vulnerable-type-can-be-just-as-dangerous?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other

You can’t get away from it!

https://storymaps.arcgis.com/stories/c109194526314c848413ad778d903992?fbclid=IwAR2sZnP5Ro6AQ7irqjdQWPjH7AcEGCxVts5Z8hRmik1u3rYPbyZmgSehRj8

At the edge of reverie and dream
In the dusk or dawn, the edge of life
We catch sight of images sublime

The fantasies, the daydreams, how they seem
Elusive yet eternal in their strife
At the edge of reverie and dream

Are they wishes we’re too scared to claim
Part of our own self, defensive, shy!
We catch sight of images maligned.

Prophecies of futures not yet seen
They tell a truth as they flow swiftly by
At the edge of reverie and dream

Life at these dusk times is slow and green
Aversive to the tempo of new times
We catch sight of images that stream

Can a writer catch this theme in rhymes;
Write it down in short and telling lines?
At the edge of reverie and dream
We fish up pictures from this image stream

Two sparrows cost only a penny, but not even one of them can die without your Father’s knowing it. 30 God even knows how many hairs are on your head. 31 So don’t be afraid. You are worth much more than many sparrows.

https://www.biblestudytools.com › …

Matthew 10:30-3

O

In my dreams I travel deep and low
Into the happy world of long ago
The jacket on the chair that smelled of smoke
The funny tales, he sang, he laughed, he spoke

So faint the memory yet ,strong are its remains
Security and love in our domain
The brushes and the stipplers all stood by
For noone told his tools that he would die.

On his shoulders, like a queen I rode
So safe and happy on the path he trod.
His voice was clear and he could whistle too
In those days men were used to do

And love shone from him on my mother dear
She laughed and made us cakes for Sunday tea
What tragedy to leave his children five
But in that distant space he is alive

The fire as red as any glowing rose
We were dressed so well in home made clothes
Too happy, needing no words to relate
Our sense of being in this generous space

I can’t get back to them I cannot swim
The passages too wet, the light so dim
Yet I feel it in my body faint and clear
Death is not the end of those so dear.

Deep inside our minds , ancestors live
And to out hearts a depth and breadth they give
Yet missing him,I hover near the place
Where I might dive into his lost embrace

The table where we banged our little heads
The chairs so close together like a bed
The teapot always full, the sugar bowl
The fire, the kettle , pussy cat and coal

The fireplace had its oven nice and warm
Looking at red coals made me feel calm
The children seem to play in that far space
And all around is love and on and on I gaze

My sister came to see me today.She said she’d forgotten the password for starting the car,so we gave it a few kicks and it started albeit reluctantly.I said,

You should have left the key in the ignition.So  she said,

You’re out of date.

Do you mean out on a date,I queried anxiously,

We can’t get married ,she said

Why not,said I, what harm would it do?After all  lesbians can marry,

But we’re not lesbians,she muttered.

Well, that is true,I riposted.What do you suggest?

Why should I suggest anything,she replied curtly.

Alright be like that,I said,I only came for the icecream anyway.

Sometimes I feel I am going mad.But mainly I know I was born like this and there’s not much I can do except go with the flow,if you get the drift.The race might not go to the swift after all but to the slow,

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.
Why?
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
Ah
Amen

Poor Annie had fallen out of the apple tree where she saw Emile chewing some smoked haddock stolen from her basket.

Emile looked down from the highest branch

Are you alright he mewed.

I don’t know she muttered.I am in shock.

I’d better ring 999 and get Dave.

Without waiting he ran down the apple tree into the hall.

He phoned 999 and soon the ambulance will arrive.

Where will Annie be taken?

Who will look after her?

And where is Mary her best friend

Will she get better?

Find out in the next chapter if you pay £50 to The Red Cross by the time the next part is written.

Can’t wait

Chapter 2. Was their voice too loud?

Chapter 3. Are other people real or mere servants of your fantasies?

What to wear when you are dumb

.A new book by your favourite author

https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2023/jul/17/dissociative-amnesia-trauma-brain-fog-memory-loss?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other

https://phys.org/news/2018-09-people-dont-smartphones-social-media.html

https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/ddfee0be-191e-11eb-8493-5b46eb56a071?shareToken=9abb04bdbb7c1af9f457fa55c79ce145