Mary had made a Christmas cake with marzipan but no white sugar icing.Stan was diabetic so she had opted for a middle way.Like some Zen Buddhists.You don’t either cut it completely nor have a 6-inch layer of icing.No, you find a middle way.Like 5 inches of icing!
Mary like almonds so she went for marzipan with her home ground almonds and some sugar.The raw egg part was worrying but so far nobody had died after eating her cake.Still if you are dying, enjoy the cake while you can!
Annie arrived for a cup of coffee.
Wow, that cake is large.You will get fat if you eat it
I am not planning to eat it all myself, Mary said merrily.
In fact, if I could find a way of cutting an infinitesimally small piece I could have one every day forever.
Would the cake not shrink ?asked Annie with a puzzled smile
No, because a real number times an infinitesimal is itself infinitesimal Mary answered.
So it must be zero, Annie decided.
No, said Mary.All of the calculus is based on the idea that they are not zero.Then, at the end, we pretend they are zero and cross them out.It’s like magic or sleight of hand
I thought maths was logic, Annie said in an angry voice, tossing her purple hair over her shoulder.Alas, it was a wig so it fell off and Emile the little cat, bit it!
Gosh, Annie why are you wearing a wig? Mary asked.
I am involved with a Jewish man so he won’t make love unless I wear a wig.
Surely if he is Orthodox he should not sleep with you unless you get married.
We can’t get married, Annie said boldly.
Why not?
He is already married….Annie muttered
Well, that seems wrong.
What, being married?
No having an affair.I know Stan is old.Can’t you find a single man?
Women can’t go running after men.Men enjoy the chase.They despise women who run after them.
Well, can’t you ask them if they are married?
No, it seems too cheeky, Annie smiled.Anyway, in fuzzy logic you are not either married or single.You are married to the extent of some decimal number in between 0 and 1
Some folk are 0.999 married and some are 0.34 married.Others 0.1
But who measures it? God ? It’s not much use.
You have to guess, said Annie.I like Jewish men
How many do you know, Mary asked.
Three, said Annie triumphantly.
You can’t generalise from three, Mary said.
If I test a larger sample I shall never get to find one till I am 99, Annie wept.
Think of the fun, though, Mary said teasingly.And you’d have to travel a lot as many live in the USA, France and other places including Israel.How do you fancy Bibi Netanyahu?He is married actually!
Annie was silent, then burst out: life is not science nor technology.It’s an art like watercolour painting.Why do you call him Bibi? Do you know him?
Not biblically, Mary said humorously.I’ve never even met him.He’s just been in the News more because of Trumpelstiltschein
Does Bibi know Donald is half German?
No, but the Queen is too.
Where does that take us logically?
Off to Boots to buy some expensive makeup and then to have a manicure and tea in a cafe
If only politicians did this life would be much easier and kinder.
And so say all of us!

So why are you eating that layered chocolate icecream,Mary,asked Annie her dear neighbour charmingly attired in a light purple skirt and blue silk top with butterflies embroidered round the neckline and hips covered by a silk dressing gown in light orange
Well, it’s a rather a strange story;it all began when Sainsburys had no slots for delivery
That’s not very interesting,said Annie foolishly
It is to me, Mary muttered plaintively.I wondered if there was anywhere else to get milk and bread delivered as my neighbours were not so keen to get my last prescription
Why, was it for heroin? Annie teased her, her smiling face ruined by a too pale foundation by Hercules of Paris and Dalmatia with crimson lipstick from Boots adorning her wrinkled lips.She looked ready to star in Death in Venice
No it was for cystitis, Mary cried.Anyhow I went on to Deliveroo and they have a store that sells food from Marks and Spencers.Only a limited range, of course
Mary’s oval face flushed with a pink glow and her singular blue eyes flashed like imitation diamonds at sunset in Weston -super-Mare
In contrast she was wearing a heather tweed skirt and jumper of pure new wool
And her green trainers and matching tights
But they had no milk so I continued with them on to Morrisons who again have a small selection
of food and drink
In half an hour they were at the door and all was well
Then one word came to my mind
What was it, Annie asked her nervously, her fingers twisting her newly washed her into ringlets so fast it looked as if she was destroying the roots
Eggs,Eggs! They had no eggs,Mary confided.
Have you none left?
Yes but Emile fell off the window sill onto the work surface and crushed them all
Do you believe it was an accident? Cats have been known to suck eggs,Annie whispered
Wow,I didn’t know that, Emile miaowed furtively
Stay away from my eggs,Mary scolded him.Lay your own.I wish I could
So naturally I went to Deliveroo where the local Coop was selling food
I got eggs,crumpets, marmalade and then I noticed they sold icecream.Chocolate icecream.
You never eat it.Annie told her
But I like it, so I thought,I’ll just get one as it is Easter
Well, the man came to the door and I saw he had a very small bag
I took it and it said, “sorry, we have no eggs so we have sent 6 icecreams”
That is illogical ,said Annie.You can’t bake icecream nor eat it boiled with toast
So then I thought I”ll either fly into a rage or I will eat the icecream
Then tomorrow I will phone them and say, those eggs you sent were off
I have been sick all night.I want a refund
This is not like you,Mary, her friend said.You don’t cheat and tell lies
Not up till now but we have to change.Not just ethically but also
we have to curse and swear
Your fecking eggs were off.
But Annie shouted: they will say
We don’t sell fecking eggs we only have pickled eggs
Then I will shout: pickle off cried Mary
That icecream has made you go crazy,Mary.,Annie informed her
Am I schizophrenic? Mary asked politely
Not yet but Emile might be if you carry on
I’ll make us some lovely PG Tips Tea, that will restore our sanity
And make some for all of us

The freezing gales of life have skinned my heart

Each little knife now stabs me like a sword.

Would that grief now soon from me depart

But feelings last much longer than do words

My heart needs comfort in these icy winds

People hurry past and do not see

Alas to strangers we are most unkind

Impatient friends won’t spend much time with me.

We need words but we need touch and care.

I need to see your face to read your eye

Have pity on me, Lord, for I am bare

Why am I here, why should I plead and cry?

Yet time will pass and I will feel secure

From the  fearsome cruelty  now so near

Guide me through the cruel sea I fear

– I’m reading “Our Needs for Others and Its Roots in Infancy” by Josephine Klein and wanted to share this quote with you.

“For we can be sure that we have the seeds of the goodness and strength we need, hidden and repressed or split-off though they may be. Locked in our memory are traces of the experiences which enabled us to survive. We know that this is so because we have in fact survived. We did not die. At least the minimum goodness was there, and just enough strength, at least. We are already possessed of what we need, if we can but get to it. ‘Oh joy! that in our embers  Is something that doth live,  That nature yet remembers  What was so fugitive! The thought of our past years in me doth breed Perpetual benediction: not indeed”

(William Wordsworth, Ode on Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childho

————–

Photo by my  dear sister Eileen

If only cats could talk I’d be content,
For conversation is my sanity and friend.
I’d marry one as soon as he’d consent

On reflection, would a cat repent
If he  told the police I’d killed ten hens
If only cats could talk I’d be content

Wittgenstein would never comprehend
That cats  and women spoke a common tongue
I’d marry one as soon as he’d consent

Would a cat  be master and demand
To see each bill and say I’d paid it wrong
If only cats could talk I’d be content

He could take my name without dissent
I guess he would not mind it being long
I’d marry one as soon as he’d consent

And I’d prefer his purr to any song
He could sleep  and I could make blancmange
If only cats could talk I’d be content,
I’d marry one as soon as he’d consent

 

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Woke

Archimedes’ pocket calculator in working order
Cleopatra’s nightie [washed and ironed]
Aristotle’s chair with footstool and TV remote
Abraham’s hat [unworn]
Isaac’s laughter [ CD]
Euclid’s ruler [plastic]
Zeno’s hair [combed]
Ten live Greek tortoises with name tags.
Book of Numbers [ In Hebrew]
Fifty limericks and Wordsworth’s hair [1 only

Job’s watch (automatics

Isaac’s belt

Eve’s best apron

Eve’s halogen hob (new,other)

Job’s hanky.

Adam’s apple

Recipes from the Biblem

S

They gave me a small watch on Xmas Day
But with any watch a little child can’t play
I envied both my sisters with new dolls
As on the old settee the dolls were lulled

I stood there uncomprehending and alone
Had I reached unknowing a milestone?
Then my sister lent me one of hers
I broke that little head upon my chair

I was holding her with tenderness
Scarcely breathing in my velvet dress
So I sat down to rock my babe awhile
The horror of her cracking head was vile

Now I play with numbers and with words
And look back sadly at that little girl

Oh,horticultural college, you have charm
To grey old souls your roses are a balm
But if I need a stimulant
To Tottenham Hotspurs I’ll be sent
To see the players break each other’s arms”

O gardens fair ,O trees with bark that gleams
O roses red, your scent awakes our dreams
But if my brain needs livening up
I’ll burn the ordnance survey map
And wander round the garden as I beam

O cafeteria , what a terrace fair
While others eat I chew my straggly hair
But when my sister takes a snap
She makes two frogs sit on my lap
She’s so creative, she has gentle flair

Oh,horticulture is a lovesome art
Which gives us flowers with which to decorate
But once a week
We have a peek
And see old men who’re eating mulberry tarts

Oh,rapidly the summer darts away
So we must enjoy a flower while it’s here
Otherwise ,it’s tea and cake
Which Mary Berry now dictates
The main thing is to love cake without fear

My sister oh my sister do not die

I feel that I still need you in my world

And Rivington we saw the larks upfly

Anglezarke the reservoir still swirled

Fresh water for old Liverpool’s

supply

I cannot go to Rivington alone

Nor Scotchmans Stump to see birds little bones

Once we lit a fire by a stream.

I’d like to go there now my love my queen.

Sturdy and determined she would climb.

Take the bus to Horwich it’s nearby

We saw ripe elderberries full and fine

In the distance Winter Hill stood high

The highest hill about so high austere

I won’t take you there sweet Eileen dear

My sister came when I was two years old
Born into an icy winter cold
Her little face was full of sunny joy
As we played with dolls and our stuffed toys.

We lined up all our dolls in rows by size
The large ones at the back had blinking eyes
We played with an old dog on little wheels
It had no fur but still held great appeal

Dad lifted Eileen and held her very high
My little one, my darling don’t you cry
But all too soon the family turned sad.
Mother was not Mother without Dad

We survive and love and live our best
Life is hard but may we all be blessed

Distracting thoughts harass my heart and mind.

Like gnats that dance on ponds in bright sunshine

In the deeper waters there are fish.

How to tempt them to my little dish?

The gossips have no wisdom, they are fools.

Idle thoughts are idle, they misrule

Do not converse with your own idle thoughts

Wait in peace for wisdom has a heart

Gossip has a function in a street.

Gives us bored old folk sweet meats.

Do not introduce your careless hate.

As ,hidden in the Shadows, Satan waits

Quietly drowning in the rivers deep

The inner guide will help you dream to sleep.

Shedding tears there’s nothing much to say

Everybody dies in their own way

While we’re healthy we can bawl and shout

Serious illness makes us feel afraid

Conscious of the messes we have made

Remember birthdays and the bag of cards

When they’ve died it feels so cruel so hard.

We like to think we’ve got a chance for Grace

We cant know the time of death or place

Our house is for sale it looks so small.

The vestibule has gone there is a hall

I can’t believe the other people dwell

In a place that we lived in so well

We had no inside toilet we felt cold

Menstruation bleeding we were bold

So we look at photographs with care

But still we see no toilet anywhere

The one outside has disappeared from view

Whatever do these people have to do?

Excretion is a nuisance for us all

But go on sweetheart let your sad tears fall

For rears are clean and will not do as harm

Uric acid rarely has much charm

The  white clouds look too real

It makes them seem artificial

The sun is making them glow,nor healthily eitherm

They add a certain ornate beauty to the sky

I wish to know that had not built the extension to their kitche

They don’t even seem to be there now

Why did they bother?

There’s a tiny cloud like a left behind baby

Or a squirrel.

There’s a West wind now and it’s very strong.

I’d like to go outside but I can’t.

My sister is ill. The Impossible death

Now seems imminent

It’s alright for the clouds they have no hearts.

I still have mine but maybe one day it will just give up

Too many dying people around

And the politicians don’t help

I wonder where they find them now

Maybe under an artificial rock at Southport

The lamp posts scream with laughter

I wonder where my mother is but there’s no way to find out

One day I will die as well

That’s all we need to know

The sun burned in the mirror of the loft

The window crimson like  the Scotch Queens hair.

No hallucination,  vision true

I saw the heart of nature red and bare

The violence of the dawn gave me great joy

The world’s not prim and pretty it is fierce

It burns our eyes . It drives away our dreams

If we see such dawn our hearts are seared.

For me the world will end with my own death

But while I am alive I feel its joy

The sun burns up the waste of mind and heart .

While why we are on earth we are its toy.

I saw the sun rise in your window

pane

Such a sunrise may not come again

My sister’s eyes are sea green and deep

Like pools in the Irish sea off the coast off Anglesey.

Moelfre where she swam ,despite the cold,

Like a small seal.Night times I told her stories,

She lay and dreamed them till schooltime

But we grew beyond my storytelling

When adolescence drew us apart.

Years later

As I sat with her child

At my knee,

Weaving stories for her

Around the Russian horse

From the antique shop in Aldeburgh,

I saw my sister leaning towards us,

Her green eyes full of long-lost yearning.

I realised she was still my loving little sister,

From long, so long ago, her green eyes,

In the deep caves of her inner sea ,filled with longing.

I felt she wanted to get back

Into the magic circle

Of the arms of the mother we

No longer had to hold us.

So, I took her inside my heart,

And hold her  there always

Scruples make us focus more and more
We focus more and more on less and less.
We fall into the black dot we have bored.

Excessive zeal is narcissism galore,
As off to that Confessional we rush,
Scruples make us focus more and more

How can we love our sisters when  unsure
Our  guts and bladders squelch in horrid mush
We fall into the blackness off the shore.

Oh, sacred Self, oh Sanctity renewed!
God will worship me, delicious!
Scruples made me narrow-eyed and sure.

By my own will, I thought I could be pure.
A mystic soul  admired by all the toffs
I fell into the black hole of manure.

The sensitive  of mind  find life so rough
That  penance, torture, whipping’s not enough
Scruples made my focus narrow down.
I fell down the black hole , hey, what a clown!

Do not leave us for your lonely grave

Do not leave us here when you are gone

Do not leave my heart in blood to bathe

We need your kindness your work is not done

Do not leave a sister all alone

Do not leave a brother empty sad.

You who share my skin and share my bones

Come back come back live not with the Dead

Here’s your daughter with her newborn babe

Here’s your eldest son oh mother mine

Live again live again oh stay

Do not leave us yet without a sign

The tears run down our faces but too late.

The human world’s not ours to navigate

https://www.psychologytoday.com/gb/blog/the-me-in-we/201811/normopathy-the-abnormal-push-normalcy

This is what we need in the UK now.

A strange and lonely feeling held my heart
Posted on July 29, 2017
A strange and lonely feeling held my heart
Gripping like some pincers made of steel.
From my beloved, I had had to part
The numbness folded round me like a wheel.

Quietness loved, has now turned into threat
Nero-like, I fiddle with my tunes
Pie Jesu’s not made top ten yet!
Larks’ ascents aren’t worth much to a loon.

I phoned a friend, her voice did me no good
It echoed in the chambers of my mind
Where metal walls torment the coursing blood
And escalate these feelings so unkind

Though he l loved has gone for he is dead.
I see his shadow on my artless bed

I didn’t know I’d love you
With both my heart and mind
Every love is different
Each is a special kind

I didn’t know I’d miss you
In quite the way I do.
For we can’t feel emotion
Before its time is due.

Yet all human lovers
Must part and go their ways.
Some may die and fall to dust
Some may go astray.

I didn’t know I’d miss you
With all my tender heart.
But .as we’re made of fragile flesh.
We all must sadly part.

I should be grateful
For being found and known.
I wish you were still sitting here.
And I were not alone.

When we feel so lonely
No-one else will do.
It’s not that I’m just lonely.
I’m lonely, just for you.

https://poets.org/poem/loveliest-trees

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Poems

Find and share the perfect poems.

Loveliest of Trees

A. E. Housman

1859 –

Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough,
And stands about the woodland ride
Wearing white for Eastertide.

Now, of my threescore years and ten,
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a score,
It only leaves me fifty more.

And since to look at things in bloom
Fifty springs are little room,
About the woodlands I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow.

This poem is in the public domain.

It was September, and Dr Rosa Benchez wanted to buy some new clothes for the Autumn Term.Being ignorant of fashion, she did not know that Autumn clothes come into the shops in July.Up to now, she had bought all her clothes in Jumble Sales or Oxfam but she wanted to look more appropriate as she was going to be promoted.
As she entered the new dress shop, the manageress looked up and saw this tall, plump woman with gleaming green eyes coming towards her.Her hair was standing on
end but even so was a bit sparser than the ideal Such a pity she had no African blood.Maybe a perm would help.
And as her skin and hair were both beige, one could hardly tell where the hair was.
Hello, said Rosa.I am looking for a beige trenchcoat.
Oh, no, cried Martha, the manageress.Not beige!
But it is a classic and goes with everything, Rosa murmured knowingly
Sometimes a contrast is a better idea, said Martha, authoritatively
I have one here in deep teal blue.What size are you?
I have no idea, Rosa cried.
I should say an 18 because it’s better to err on the larger side for tall ladies
Why, is it wrong to wear very tight clothing, Rosa asked her nervously?
I suppose if you want to pick up certain types of men it might be ok.
I never pick up men, Rosa admitted humbly They pick me up
Don’t be so pedantic.You know what I mean.Why are you not married?You are very attractive

I was engaged but he ran away. I burned the ring as the jeweller said it was only cheap rubbish.It looked very nice.It fooled me
Well.you might be luckier next time even if only in a better class of ring
I think I am too intelligent and also love Wittgenstein
Won’t he marry you?
He’s dead!
Well, have you not grieved enough?
I only seem to love dead men.I suppose it’s an evasion of real life.
I love Leonard Cohen,said Martha.Let me get some coffee and we can discuss your entire wardrobe.
And so say all of us.

---

Jennifer Warnes and Leonard Cohen

https://youtu.be/gtwUyDPXROQ

Charlie Blogge had gone away to visit his aged parents for a few days down in Cornwall so Rosa Benchez,his fiancee was alone except for her three cats and four houseplants which she had just brought indoors.Though she could have written a bit more in her new book
Linguistics and Peace on Earth.
Can plants feel emotion? she asked her oldest cat, Lucy who was a pretty tortoiseshell
Definitely ,said Lucy.I have known plants to get depressed when in a dark corner.
Oh,dear,said Rosa,it’s the weekend so the surgery is shut.I hope these plants don’t go into a downward spiral in their mood now that the days are shorter.I suppose I could ring 999 if they were desperate.
They won’t allow plants in the hospital,Lucy mewed.
Why not,asked Rosa angrily.That is sheer discrimination.We pay our contributions.
But the plants don’t pay ,do they.Lucy retorted cheerfully.Cats don’t get free healthcare either.
Socialism made a big mistake there, cried Rosa.Since the English prefer animals to people they would have won the Election if they proposed free pet care on the NHS
Imagine, it would have created more jobs as well, she continues academically.And plant care is needed as plants can feel ill at times.
Yes,we can, cried the Peace Lily.I feel ill knowing there is not much peace in the world.
Humans don’t realise they may win a war but the conflict makes their health suffer even if they are too old to fight.And within families ,it is just as bad.
You are so right,Peace,Rosa said thoughtfully.We always assume it is our inner conflicts that make us neurotic or physically ill,but it may be that at the back of our minds we are aware of all the wars, the refugees, the suffering.Outer conflict makes us all sick to some degree.And quarreling relatives and people who can’t apologise.
Do you have any rain water,Peace demanded.I feel thirsty.
Is that enough,Rosa cried.I can make you some weak tea if you like.
Oh,go on then, the plant told her.Give me a teacup full of tea with no sugar. nor milk How about you, she carried on turning to her sister Pax.
OK.Pax told her.Whither thou goest…
She’s Jewish,said Peace to Rosa.Her real name is Ruth.But nobody uses it as Pax is shorter.She won’t grow on the Sabbath,though.
Will you miss talking to the trees in the garden while you are indoors? Rosa asked, before any more Bible references were offered.
Yes,definitely.Can you buy a few tall,male looking plants like bamboo or even grape ivy?
We like a mixture.All living beings like a mixture of friends.
How about human friends or even cats,Rosa said tactlessly
Yes, as long as they talk in soft musical voices.And we don’t like to watch violent films on TV nor to see cats fighting on the sofa.,Peace informed her.Violence hurts our inner core
And so say all of us

https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0167494316302862