We think we are unique, special and deserving of happiness, but we are terrified of being alone. We declare that personal freedom and autonomy is both a right and good, but we think anyone who exercises that freedom autonomously is ‘sad, mad or bad’. Or all three at once. https://www.goodreads.com Sara Maitland Quotes – Goodreads

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!

https://dalspace.library.dal.ca/bitstream/handle/10222/63097/dalrev_vol61_iss1_pp39_51.pdf?sequence=1

“When we look into Keats’s expressions of conflict between
imagination and reality we can see the roots of this conflict in the
problem of identity. Keats wrote about the sunset, the sparrow, the
mythological figure as if he had lost his identity in the object. He
experienced these identifications sometimes with a sense of discovery
and sometimes with fear or irritability. Eventually, Keats began to see
that his identity would not be maddened by his imagination and could
be strengthened by it. He realized, in other words, “that a not inconsiderable increase in psychical efficiency” can result “from a disposition
which in itself is perilous.” In-the four years we know Keats as a letter
writer and a poet, we can see the development of his capacity for
retaining a sense of identity even when seized by powerful or seductive
visions. This is the development–the turning of a weakness into a
strength, both as artist and as man-that accounts for many apparent
contradictions in Keats’s thought. The language of negative capability
has been difficult because it suggests a puzzling oxymoron- a negative
and a positive. The figure presents two aspects of a dual process, the
first part of which, in its partial renunciation of control, can be felt as a
negative, while the second, or alternating, state recreates and is felt as a
capability. The creative process in some of its operations posed
dangers for Keats’!; identity. But by the spring of 1819, the period of the
great odes, there appears a new strength in the second aspect of
negative capabilily imagination”

A needle, pen or life itself have points

To sew, to write, to beautify or haunt.

.Our hands and minds, creative in intent

Give our lives their point, their way. their bent..

The long hands of the clock to numbers guide The fingers on the the gun this life deride.

The hand of fate without our will can point

The demons in the dream may rudely taunt.

Our lips may tighten when we are enraged

When others in our lives direct our page

Our words are stuck, we cannot let them out

So we never learn the truth ” about” Fingers pull the trigger,use the switch ..

The world destroyed in pointless rhetoric

Stan’s new laptop computer with Windows 8.1 seemed very good but he had discovered that “superfish “was installed on Lenovo computers for a few months and it is adware with a malicious aspect getting a false trusted certificate into the registry.So Mary had read. What a pest when this happens. to stupid young or old folk.Mary was about to fix it manually, but first she went the hairdresser, a new and gentle Turkish lady.When Mary went she always said just take a little off the ends but the hairdressers usually took no notice…possibly because they knew she was often daydreaming and musing and unaware of recent trends So today she came out with a bob long at the sides and short at the back.She had noticed this on other women around the town so she was now on trend for once though Stan her over virile and naughty spouse would probably hate it as he liked her wild look.Even though she nevr wore the thick makeup and turquoise eyeliner of her friend Annie. What is that big white dressing in your cleavage,madam, the manager asked Mary courteously Oh,it’s where they accidentally sprayed frozen nitrogen over an open wound she said.The doctor was a bit drunk I think but can you blame them when they are so poorly paid? How can they afford brandy then,he asked curiously.Or is it white spirit or some chemical? I have no idea said Mary.We never learned that at Yoxford.Differential equations,yes.People,no So emotional intelligence was not taught? he enquired tactlessly. yet thoughtfully How could such narrow minded scholars teach that,Mary replied pensively.They have none.Or not much.Well.they could download it from the web.A self teaching aid.There’s a creative notion,she told herself.. But why do we have to learn it @Mary continued quietly.Is it not part of our natural development like learning to speak? Even Wittgenstein did not speak till he was four and he was never happy but is it normal to be happy when the world is so de-sacralised and bankers steal from the poor and men make whores from young immigrant women who have no idea where to get help.What type of man wishes to have sex with poor, terrified girls? Are people really depressed now or are they seeing a horrible reality in their world; where military solutions are sought for impossible situations…. fascinating though awful but I must dash home now as my thin old husband needs me to feed him and he is so sweet..goodbye for today.She rushed out without paying but they all knew who she was, When Mary opened the front door of her detached bijou residential red brick home she heard Emile the little cat sobbing under the bureau in the entrance hall. I thought superfish were real fish and I wanted to eat them for my dinner,he told her artfully between sobs Would you like some sardines in olive oil;it might make your fur shine and impress your lady friend,Ariel…..7 Yes,please,Emile mewed.Yum,yum.love Ariel.Love you,Mary, What next for this resilient,beautiful and highly unemotionally intelligent lady, we may wonder …. a new boyfriend or two or proof that God must exist but only as a transcendental number…so one can really count on him at times of danger even though as a decimal he was non repeating and endlessly changing,just like a woman one might say.Though women are very various and not all the same.That’s where the Trinity comes in handy.What would we do without it….. may God bless us and drag us out of the mire of sin we are stuck in.Amen. Share this:

Walking on the long white shore with you

The perfect sands, the sky and sea so blue The rippling waves made patterns on our shoes Oh,come back,sweetheart ,I can’t bear your loss

The church at Old Hunstanton has a pond

Ducks and geese were waiting for more food

The silence was enormous, like the sky

Interrupted by a wild bird’s cry

At Brancaster we nearly met our deaths

Cut off by a wave behind our backs Young and green ,we knew no panic then

But now I feel it as I walk alone Without my anchor I may float away

A little speck of dust in that wide bay

Hello Mary. what are you doing today? There stood a vision dressed in a teal jumpsuit
it was Annie, Stan’s  mistress,[ when he was alive.] Quite what her status as a former mistress can be is unknown,but she remained on friendly terms with Mary ;she  had helped Mary a good deal while she was grieving,mainly by being present yet undemanding not to mention making frequent cups of tea and putting out the washing

 I’m going to stay with the Pope in Rome ,Mary cried out from her pink armchair

 Are you being sarcastic, ironic, or have you gone mad? Annie  replied politely

Well I was trying to be sarcastic but I am not very good at it yet I hope to improve as time goes by because research shows being sarcastic improves your creativity

But can you be sure which part of your life will become more creative, Annie ask her thoughtfully with a little grin

 For example you might become more creative in the way you trying to attract  men

 Well that would not be difficult, said Mary ,as I do nothing to try to attract  them at the moment and on the other hand it could be rather time-consuming

 Would it improve my ability to write in a creative manner or to be more creative in what I cook?

 I have no idea Annie  told her. the only problem is is that if you practice on me it might affect our friendship

 You are far too  childish, Mary told her. Is that sarcastic?

 Tell me, the ex mistress of your ancient husband!

 What do you mean ancient, he was only 23!

 23 what? said Annie

Are we being sarcastic?

  Well if we can’t  know the answer then we are not being sarcastic because I am sure we would realise if we were

 I am glad you  can express yourself in such a brief manner

 What have briefs got to do with it?

 I just found a bag full of dry ones and I have been folding them  and  putting them into the drawer

 Do you mean knickers?

 Yes, I do, but I couldn’t remember the name

 You’re pulling my leg

 No I’m not. I’m nowhere near your leg

 Don’t tell me that you are not familiar with the expression meaning “you are joking”

 Why do you assume I am not familiar with anything?

 I am giving you the benefit of the  doubt

 Doubt is a very dangerous State of Mind

 Shall I wear the pink knickers or the blue ones I spend  all morning trying to decide so it is best not to doubt anything but to believe that what you do must be correct and everybody else is wrong

 That’s alright as long as you’re not stealing people’s husbands

 If they can be stolen so easily  what does that tell us about the state of the marriage?
Nothing nothing at all, men are so easily beguiled that is in the best of marriages they’re not be enough to keep them faithful  for ever

 Don’t be so horrible
I was trying to be sarcastic
Should it not come naturally  like  loving?

 What kind of  loving do you mean?
If you mean physical loving it doesn’t always come naturally to  human beings’

.many couples go for help in having a baby and the doctor discovers they didn’t realise what sex was

 They thought by sleeping in the same bed, the wife will get pregnant

 It seems very hard to believe but compared to thinking about Donald Trump

 and his lies, it is nothing

Shall I put the kettle on,  said Mary

 That is sarcastic Annie said  because you know that I always put it on when I am here
it is more like dropping hints  Mary cried
All these things are very hard for scientists. You don’t solve mathematical problems by dropping a hint nor does anyone drop hints  to you whereas  in interpersonal relationships it is very important to be able to drop hints and to be able to take hints when they’re dropped in front of you
Mathematics and physics much easier than everyday life because they contain no sarcasm no irony and no hints whatsoever
I wonder if Wittgenstein would agree with you.

 As he is dead we cannot know but I am almost sure he would agree

 I was just being sarcastic,that’s all!

 It seems like that Mary and Annie are going to have to spend much longer  practicing sarcasm before they were able to go outside and be sarcastic to neighbours or Friends

 well Emile’s view is that he will not accept sarcasm from anybody

 He will bite the hand that feeds him if necessary because he knows that Mary will forgive him when he apologizes

 
On the other hand it would be easier if  he didn’t bite  anyone And God might be angry  with Emile  for being a trying animal to live with

God, does he enjoy sarcasm?

Noone has asked before!

I think he is beyond language altogether

And so say all of us

https://theconversation.com/the-problem-with-mindfulness-115648?utm_medium=article_native_share&utm_source=theconversation.com

https://www.bbc.co.uk/bitesize/articles/zb4tbdm#zfc63qt

https://www.reddit.com/r/Poetry/s/YTgnlIatwu

Today I’m mainly thinking about saving money and I’ve already managed to save some  myself by changing my phone tariff.

My living room faces is North northwest and it’s very cold right now

I have got severe osteo arthritis I have also got rheumatoid arthritis so I can’t move about a lot

I hate it when the air changes to autumn coldness It’s essential to wear socks or stockings. When the weather is really cold wool is the best thing.

And you need to wear at least one more layer of clothing. Even when it’s not a problem to pay for heating it just seemed wasteful to have it on in September in some rooms but sometimes that has to happen and if you’re short of money what else can you do?

Sometimes lightweight fine merino wool sweaters are  good

Covering up your neck and throat is very important especially when you go outside in cold weather. If that area of your body gets cold you are more likely to have a heart attack especially if you already have angina.

Inside the house it also helps. Maybe a lightweight scarf for something around your throat makes a big difference

Now many people wear fleece instead of wool

It’s hard to find pure wool sweaters in places that used to sell them very frequently like marks and Spencers.

And the cost is very high

If you are going to visit somebody their house may be very hot so you have to think about these things nowadays

Cardigans or fleece jackets are good. Partly because you can take them off without causing offense to anybody

It’s what women going to the menopause learn that is wearing  fine layers  idbetter than one very thick layer because you can’t take that off easily and you may very well cause some surprise if you’ve got nothing underneath it or if you’re wearing a zebra striped bra which is a little bit too small for you but you like it anyway

That brings us onto underwear. It’s difficult to find woolen underwear but there is thermal underwear which ones you he ave bought it should last for quite a while

But should you waste your money on zebra striped bras or something else leopard skin print knickers question mark well that very much depends on your lifestyle

If you have a partner who is turned on by you wearing that sort of underwear then maybe you should buy it but if not whatever your fantasies are do you actually need to actually wear it in reality rather than just fantasizing about it?

That’s a difficult question to answer.

But it might be more economical just to wear beige or black underwear especially maybe more sensible if you’re likely to have to whip your clothes off with a hot flush or a panic attack.

I once went to college wearing some red corduro trousers and the zip broke while I was giving a lecture on some boring mathematical topic like pascals triangle

And I was wearing white underwear which is not the best sort but my lecture was so interesting that the students’ eyes remain on my face and nobody looks at anything else.

We had some very nice students

If you want to wear zebra striped trousers I would recommend wearing zebra striped underwear as well or making sure the trousers have elastic waist and not a zip

I’m not sure if you can save money by wearing the zebra striped trousers it depends where you can buy them from. If you have a market that sells them for ten pounds each then that probably is quite cheap although there won’t be very warm but then you could afford to have two pairs of them

This is one of the secrets of warmth.. wearing more than one of the garment

Or it will make more sense to wear some cheap black leggings underneath your trousers.

If you don’t plan to give a lecture on Pascal triangle then I think you will be ok wearing any kind of trousers

Since then I have an aversion to red trousers. And I forgotten what a triangle is not to mention the ellipse and the parabola and the other beautiful geometric forms that we used to study

But my students did very well they were very hard-working kind people

So in other words use your imagination

It’s worth spending money on certain things like wool

Making  our own jumpers is not economical. Wool is very expensive and also unless you like knitting with very fine wool you’re going to produce sweaters which most people find too hot when they have Central Heating. But if you don’t have it knit one for yourself and it will last you for a long time

Knitting is an activity which can bring about peace of mind similar to what you get when you do meditation and you also get a product

I believe it’s caused by the rhythmic movements and the rhythm of the pattern itself for example Shetland layers might be a pattern of horseshoes on the sound and I have done that and I it’s it’s a wonderful thing to do.

So you can combine benefits from knitting meditation and producing something beautiful as long as you are that you or someone else will actually wear it or that you can sell it because all I’m writing about today is saving money reall whether it’s short term or long term

If you have a friend who lives near you you could save a bit of money by having them to lunch once a week and then the following week the reverse because it will save money on heating and also it might so a little bit on cooking

What’s a pity we can’t live on grass and leaves but there we are m

I have lost my shadow, I’m not real

The sun may shine but  I am in the dark.

My eyes are full of tears, but I can’t feel

I eat alone and so it’s not a meal

When I walk my feet don’t leave a mark

I have lost my shadow I’m not real.

I think I know the game but not the deal.

I see no neighbours yet their dogs still bark

My eyes are full of tears but I can’t feel

My mind runs on like clockwork, I can’t heal.

If I climb a hill there is no lark

I have lost my shadow I’m not real.

I tried to hold your  hand, it shook like eels

My eyes are rich with tears but I can’t feel

My father used to hit me there’s no mark

I loved him and he died, my heart’s a shark

I have lost my shadow I’m not real

My eyes are full of tears but I can’t feel

There was an old lady from Britain
Whose love focussed on her cat’s kitten.
She gave it warm milk
Wrapped it in silk.
And now she is knitting four mittens.

Is that literary?

LITERARY LIMERICK?

A philosopher  is a person who thinks
While she washes up at the sink.
She turns over her mind
And lets it unwind…..
She writes all her thoughts down in ink.

CAN YOU TELL LIES?

Some people can’t fantasise
I wonder if they can tell lies?
Reveries  suits  me…
I day dream at tea.
Maybe my friends are  all dangerous spies?

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/categories/anger

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2026/oct/20/gilgamesh-by-simon-armitage-review-an-ancient-epic-is-brilliantly-translated-for-our-times?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other

Artificial light destroys the night

The stars cannot compete with such a sight

And God himself is just a candle light

The still small voice is drowned by mobile phones.

No one hears the lonely as they moan

And who can hear the voice of heart and bone ?

The titans in their towers of evil scream

Louder than the voice of God in dreams.

And here we are afraid of their new schemes.

We send our little messages each day

Maybe we should all kneel down and pray

Dreaming of new wars, can children play?

Give us back the night lit up by stars.

From our human roots we step too far

A villanelle is like a cable knit
The lines repeated twist ,make strong ,make warm
My mind is held by pattern as I sit

How can we find a subject that is fit
To spend our time to make this unique form?
A villanelle is like a cable knit

1 and 3 repeat while 2 rhymes with
1 and 3 make strong the cabled arm
My mind is held by pattern as I sit

For few escape the glimpsed abyss
Patterns,repetitions, keep us calm
A villanelle is like a holy knit

Who hurts whom and why did Judas kiss?
King David knew the darkness ,wrote his psalms
My mind flows with the patterns as I sit

From life and death and injured pride we learn
That noone who repents will suffer blame
A villanelle from chosen words is knit
My mind dwells in the pattern and the wit.

My husband was so funny when imitating other people’s faces that once I woke myself up laughing at his performance in a dream So at least I’ll get more sleep now he’s gone and I can cry all day He used to bring me tea in the morning.Now I get more exercise having to do it myself He once bought me lavender furniture polish for my birthday. I’ve never been given that by anyone else.Such imagination. Before he died, he was asleep near me.He woke up and said You’re not very house proud,are you? I’d only had major plastic surgery on my face for cancer 2 days before he collapsed,  and I had got advanced arthritis and lost the sight of one eye. [ maybe under the bed] Still it showed he was still of sound mind. How many dying men would say that to their wife? It did make me wonder why on earth he married me. I shall never know now.

 

 

http://www.orwell.ru/library/essays/politics/english/e_polit

 

 

“MEANINGLESS WORDS. In certain kinds of writing, particularly in art criticism and literary criticism, it is normal to come across long passages which are almost completely lacking in meaning(2). Words like romantic, plastic, values, human, dead, sentimental, natural, vitality, as used in art criticism, are strictly meaningless, in the sense that they not only do not point to any discoverable object, but are hardly ever expected to do so by the reader. When one critic writes, ‘The outstanding feature of Mr. X’s work is its living quality’, while another writes, ‘The immediately striking thing about Mr. X’s work is its peculiar deadness’, the reader accepts this as a simple difference opinion. If words like black and white were involved, instead of the jargon words dead and living, he would see at once that language was being used in an improper way. Many political words are similarly abused. The word Fascism has now no meaning except in so far as it signifies ‘something not desirable’. The words democracy, socialism, freedom, patriotic, realistic, justice have each of them several different meanings which cannot be reconciled with one another. In the case of a word like democracy, not only is there no agreed definition, but the attempt to make one is resisted from all sides. It is almost universally felt that when we call a country democratic we are praising it: consequently the defenders of every kind of regime claim that it is a democracy, and fear that they might have to stop using that word if it were tied down to any one meaning. Words of this kind are often used in a consciously dishonest way. That is, the person who uses them has his own private definition, but allows his hearer to think he means something quite different. Statements like Marshal Petain was a true patriot, The Soviet press is the freest in the world, The Catholic Church is opposed to persecution, are almost always made with intent to deceive. Other words used in variable meanings, in most cases more or less dishonestly, are: class, totalitarian, science, progressive, reactionary, bourgeois, equality.

Now that I have made this catalogue of swindles and perversions, let me give another example of the kind of writing that they lead to. This time it must of its nature be an imaginary one. I am going to translate a passage of good English into modern English of the worst sort. Here is a well-known verse from Ecclesiastes:

I returned and saw under the sun, that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favour to men of skill; but time and chance happeneth to them all.

Here it is in modern English:

Objective considerations of contemporary phenomena compel the conclusion that success or failure in competitive activities exhibits no tendency to be commensurate with innate capacity, but that a considerable element of the unpredictable must invariably be taken into account.

This is a parody, but not a very gross one. Exhibit (3) above, for instance, contains several patches of the same kind of English. It will be seen that I have not made a full translation. The beginning and ending of the sentence follow the original meaning fairly closely, but in the middle the concrete illustrations — race, battle, bread — dissolve into the vague phrases ‘success or failure in competitive activities’. This had to be so, because no modern writer of the kind I am discussing — no one capable of using phrases like ‘objective considerations of contemporary phenomena’ — would ever tabulate his thoughts in that precise and detailed way. The whole tendency of modern prose is away from concreteness. Now analyze these two sentences a little more closely. The first contains forty-nine words but only sixty syllables, and all its words are those of everyday life. The second contains thirty-eight words of ninety syllables: eighteen of those words are from Latin roots, and one from Greek. The first sentence contains six vivid images, and only one phrase (‘time and chance’) that could be called vague. The second contains not a single fresh, arresting phrase, and in spite of its ninety syllables it gives only a shortened version of the meaning contained in the first. Yet without a doubt it is the second kind of sentence that is gaining ground in modern English. I do not want to exaggerate. This kind of writing is not yet universal, and outcrops of simplicity will occur here and there in the worst-written page. Still, if you or I were told to write a few lines on the uncertainty of human fortunes, we should probably come much nearer to my imaginary sentence than to the one from Ecclesiastes.

As I have tried to show, modern writing at its worst does not consist in picking out words for the sake of their meaning and inventing images in order to make the meaning clearer. It consists in gumming together long strips of words which have already been set in order by someone else, and making the results presentable by sheer humbug. The attraction of this way of writing is that it is easy. It is easier — even quicker, once you have the habit — to say In my opinion it is not an unjustifiable assumption that than to say I think. If you use ready-made phrases, you not only don’t have to hunt about for the words; you also don’t have to bother with the rhythms of your sentences since these phrases are generally so arranged as to be more or less euphonious. When you are composing in a hurry — when you are dictating to a stenographer, for instance, or making a public speech — it is natural to fall into a pretentious, Latinized style. Tags like a consideration which we should do well to bear in mind or a conclusion to which all of us would readily assent will save many a sentence from coming down with a bump. By using stale metaphors, similes, and idioms, you save much mental effort, at the cost of leaving your meaning vague, not only for your reader but for yourself. This is the significance of mixed metaphors. The sole aim of a metaphor is to call up a visual image. When these images clash — as in The Fascist octopus has sung its swan song, the jackboot is thrown into the melting pot — it can be taken as certain that the writer is not seeing a mental image of the objects he is naming; in other words he is not really thinking. Look again at the examples I gave at the beginning of this essay. Professor Laski (1) uses five negatives in fifty three words. One of these is superfluous, making nonsense of the whole passage, and in addition there is the slip — alien for akin — making further nonsense, and several avoidable pieces of clumsiness which increase the general vagueness. Professor Hogben (2) plays ducks and drakes with a battery which is able to write prescriptions, and, while disapproving of the everyday phrase put up with, is unwilling to look egregiousup in the dictionary and see what it means; (3), if one takes an uncharitable attitude towards it, is simply meaningless: probably one could work out its intended meaning by reading the whole of the article in which it occurs. In (4), the writer knows more or less what he wants to say, but an accumulation of stale phrases chokes him like tea leaves blocking a sink. In (5), words and meaning have almost parted company. People who write in this manner usually have a general emotional meaning — they dislike one thing and want to express solidarity with another — but they are not interested in the detail of what they are saying. A scrupulous writer, in every sentence that he writes, will ask himself at least four questions, thus: What am I trying to say? What words will express it? What image or idiom will make it clearer? Is this image fresh enough to have an effect? And he will probably ask himself two more: Could I put it more shortly? Have I said anything that is avoidably ugly? But you are not obliged to go to all this trouble. You can shirk it by simply throwing your mind open and letting the ready-made phrases come crowding in. The will construct your sentences for you — even think your thoughts for you, to a certain extent — and at need they will perform the important service of partially concealing your meaning even from yourself. It is at this point that the special connection between politics and the debasement of language becomes clear.”

The gravity of loss brought me to earth
Beneath the rotting leaves, I lay with worms.
I wondered if I were of any worth

No more to be enchanted by love’s mirth,
I  with unnamed particles was turned.
The weight of loss bears down the heart to earth.

The weight of  love has readied us for birth
The fragments moulded with the love that burns.
I learned we need  not wonder  over  worth

My sorrow brought no guilt nor fear of wrath
I am both  sharp eyed eagle ,twisted worm.
In my little grave, I  loved the earth.

Like the adder, shocked into rebirth.
I from silent underworld had learned
Not to judge my soul nor think of worth.

I shall not  fear the flames of hell that burn.
When blackness is accepted, may one learn?
The weight of loss breaks down the soul to earth
With dusty shredded leaves, we then converse

I see you in my minds eye, golden light

Unexpected, warm and tender friend

.

I’d like to see you now, give me the sight

You don’t come on demand until the end.

We should not ask for what can never be

You are always here but we seem blind

Believing only in that which we  can see

In calculations logic, reasoning mind

I wonder how I saw you that dark night

In the sunless darkness of despair

In those deep black times we see the light

Glowing screens destroy our darkness fair

So now I  see not God but Instagram

Is Jesus Christ on tik tok with his lamb?

.

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2026/aug/09/the-guardian-view-on-the-two-cultures-bridge-the-divide-starting-with-a-levels?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other

As we lay together in the night
Open to the other and their gaze
We saw the spirit and its loving light

Now I dwell alone and out of sight
I miss  my other and his different ways
Did we rest together in the night?

Where’s the spirit,  I’m alone distraught?
Who can be the other to my face?
We saw the spirit, now I’ve lost its light.

God is  not a fish that can be caught
May contemplation  help  to loss erase
Did we dream together in the night?

Grace  to find one’s path as comes midnight
Dies irae, requiem  sauvage.
We saw the spirit and its loving light

What is night and where are my own days?
Can I  endure its  piercing  mental pain
As I lie alone at  dead of night
Send the spirit, enfold me in   light

Snow clouds hang like canopies forlorn,
Tinged with grey from lack of proper care,
While from the Channel sing the dread foghorns

Sailors in the night long for new dawn
Fear boats of refugees may still sail there
Snow clouds hang like canopies well torn

A dinghy holds the Saviour lately born
There is no space on earth safe from great fear
From the Channel sigh the families drowned

From maternal space, Jesu is torn
His father holds his arms around those dear
Snow clouds hang, are lacy wings no more

The hearts of British ” natives” have turned sour
Into Jesu’s side we thrust our spears
Tune the channel.Requiems need scores

All lives now, and all of time is here
Do not mistake the song of silent choirs.
Snow clouds hang like canopies forlorn,
While in the Channel, stuttering are the horn

Gently dancing in the sun Wildflowers grow; they bloom, are gone.

With no thoughts,they have no cares;

Yet their lives are gentle prayers. May I walk in such a way

That I am alive to this day.

So I see with widening view, And joy and sorrows embrace too.

Then my time will come like yours… And of us nothing shall endure..

As to the earth our bodies go,

All are one;it shall be so

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2022/sep/23/hilary-mantel-magic-metaphor-life?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other