Town centre 

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/57615/logic-56d23b4c891a9

Scattered pools of rainwater gleam on the dark paving stones

The road disappears under an arch

A family approach smiling : conversation occurs

The dog jumps with delight

By the river, a cat hides looking for water rats on the bank

The terraced houses by the water look contented and prosperous

The third one has new curtains.

A man walks by seeming nervous, nothing to do on Sunday.

Turning the other way I see the huge tree by the large end house

Then a sharp turn on to the bridge

Small bridges here remind me of Thames bridges

These are secret hidden and beautiful like little treasures.

Here comes someone on a bicycle better step back.

Now we walk towards the pub with another bridge in front

But I forgot, you are not here. The last time I drank grapefruit juice.

I have not had any since then.

Last night I dreamed I was in the garden with a big hedge on my right

The shrubs were leafless and as I pressed my ear against them I could hear laughter and I knew that it was you.

The secret garden that we never enter

Then you cried hello hello. You sounded merry

That was a small heaven

And always the river flows down the contour lines as it was designed.

And the people change but everything is still the same

Norman MacCaig at 80: None a Stranger: http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b00w003d via @bbciplayer

Oh either, sighed the river liar or ling fields of curly and of bye,

That tell the told and right the wry; And though they yield, the toad runs by

To its sandy, dried alloy

The hallowed siege by water pulley

The clean and unsheathed bread knife dally Shambled on her daughter’s lily Round about a dot

Pillows whiten, aspirins shiver. The sun-famed showers broke a willy.

In the stream that runneth weather By the island in the river

Flowing down the Com and dot

Four gay wails, and four gay hours

Underlook a spice of dowers,

And the silent isle implored

The Lady of NottNott Underneath the bearded charlie, The reaper, reaping slate and silver,

Fears her ever wanting cheery, Like an angel, ringing early,

O’er the cells of Camelot.

Beguiles the leaves in furrows hairy,

Beneath the loon, the reaper teary Listening whispers, ‘ ‘Tis our Mary, Lady of NottNott’

The little isle is all entailed

With hose-pants, overtly tail’d

With roses: by the barge unhail’d The shallop flitteth silken sail’d,

Skimming down to What is Nott

A pearl garland signs her screed: She leaneth on a velvet bead,

Pull loyally unapparelled,

The Lady of Whats Hott..

No time hath she to court a nerd: By charmed fib she seized her bird

A purse is on her, if she’ll gray

Her leaving, oversight or pay, To sulk more down on Whatt is Knott She knows not what the hearse may be;

Therefore she leaveth stealthily, Therefore no other bear, hath she, The Lady of TopKnott

She lives with little boys who play.

With her daughter, running here,

The cheap cell tinkles in her ear. Before her sings a mirror clear, Reflecting hours in CamAlot.

And as in the internet she whirls, 

She sees the surly pillage hurled,

And the wed oaks of driven earls Passed to cloud from NottAlott. Sometimes a ship of damsels glad, An abbot on an ambling dog, Sometimes a curly shepherd bad, Or long-hair’d rage in crimson bled, Goes by  tower’d Cameuplot:

And sometimes thro’ the mirror blue

The night comes guiding two by two:

She hath no cool old knight it’s true,

The Bath of old Shalott.

But in her web she still delights

Sees the mirror’s magic bytes,

For often thro’ the silent fights A funeral plumed with traffic lights And loose it came to Blamelot: Or when the moon was overheard Came two young lovers lately wired;

‘I am half sick, to shadows wed

The Lady lost her Plot

I’ve not got dementia but my spelling and grammar may I feel like that because I have to dictate it because my vision is not good and my hands are painful hands. I can only

do it on my phone now

This morning I spent a long time filling in a questionnaire from a major London Hospital where I’m going to have surgery.

There were nine pages beginning with assessing your heart health.

Each page that up to 9 questions on it so there are quite a lot. I had to ring the British heart Foundation to get some information

About halfway through came the brain and the nervous system

And one of the questions was

Do you have dementia?

How on earth would you have got to that point when it’s involved answering about 30 questions about other organs of your body?

Would it not make more sense to ask patience on page one whether they’ve got dementia?

They also s want us to list all medication. If you have dementia that will probably be very difficult and most likely some of it will be wrong with any of us because we’re all challenged by cognitive decline boredom impatience and rage. We didn’t live all these years to have the world in the current situation where mad men can start wars on a whim.

It would be so much quicker to do it in person with a doctor or a nurse. I realised thats ambiguous.

I don’t think Donald Trump would take the advice of a doctor or nurse about starting a war

Why is everything being done by remote means when the pandemic is over?

Don’t they realise that it’s much harder to cope with illness and surgery when you never see the doctors and you won’t see the surgeon as you will be unconscious. Well that’s the intention anyway.

I’m really looking forward to being unconscious as I’ve been on this track since September 2025 and it was March 2026 before I got a CT scan.

Because of the illness I am very exhausted most of the time it’s not a lot of fun.

And there must be thousands of people like me all over the country.

I told them at the beginning

Just take the damn thing out.

I feel very sorry for my kidney but it’s causing me a lot of trouble and unfortunately I can’t take it out myself.

How to look and be Bringlish

If you go to a friend’s for supper, never take a bottle of water or wine.

Never turn water into wine and never get shrunk even if he is a psychoanalyst

Wash your clothes but don’t iron them
Go out in only a T shirt and jeans at night in winter.
Go to A and E as much as you can except when you have acute coronary syndrome or sepsis
Old grey /beige anoraks look good on most “English” people
Never wear a red hat.They might think you are Father Christmas
Wear skirts that show your thighs off or leggings that show everything off.Saves men buying soft porn.But do not charge.
Do wear crop tops and low rise jeans especially in winter.
Jeans with rips are perfect for old ladies.Rip them yourself.
[Teach Yourself How to Rend your Garments £4.99 my e book’]
Wear thick padded down coats in the summer.
Never wear a summer dress unless you are a man
Never wear petticoats and other lingerie unless you are a man
Wear a T shirt saying: Anti-Semitic, moi? while touring Oxford looking for pubs
Wear a T shirt saying: Belgians, go back to Congo..
Wear a T shirt saying: Take that French Leave now
Wear a T shirt saying: No sprechen Sie Deutsch/Believe me.Nein.Ten,When?
Wear a T shirt saying: I feel Rubbish/I feel your pane/I just feel you.
Wear a T shirt that says :I Luv money/I have an oyster card/I have no bike to get on.
Wear a T shirt saying: I want leave to commit crime/I want Remain to leave./I want leave to Remain.
Wear a T shirt that says: Educated in Burton, can’t spell
Wear a T shirt saying: Och aye, President Rump!
Make sure your hair is exposed— both head and pubic.
I don’t understand either but they keep saying, where are you from?
I say, here. But somehow they don’t believe me.Yet.
I am getting my T shirt tomorrow.It says: I’m a Viking and I don’t care.What’s your problem?

Near illiterate, they watch TV
Not Nigella not the BBC
They ask the educated to sink down
Come Dancing ,Benny Hill. the maddened clown

No more does learning merit due respect
Nor do they treat the erudite with tact
They do not wish to study or discuss
So any leader vicious wins the toss

Does it matter much if sights are lowered?
They felt shame at school and were ignored
They do not think they’ll benefit from books
But watch the behaviour of an errant Duke

The lack of cash,the shame, the rage, the crash
No surprise some vote for sociopaths

I find I just can’t get to the bottom of you however hard I try.

Did I get  my message?

Let me ask myself.
Oh.apparently I’m not in right now.

Telephones, don’t you just  hate them especially the ones where they can see you?
I won’t call you Back or Front

.I can’t see you.

Don’t cry for me,I’m guaranteed to last for ages,

I tell you.
It’s conceptual poetry.

Free at the point of a knife….

the best is good enough for you… so keep looking.
And you will find her  everywhere or anywhere.

Women,don’t you just love them?
So sweet,so kind, so  nearly human.

Not tough enough for some
But God knows her mysterious ways.
Her wonders cause reform.

My heart is crushed like petals on the road
When spring winds blow and cars speed by like shot
The weight of caring is too hard to hold
Yet such a pastime seems to be my lot.

When buds appear I dread the frost of sin
When leaves uncurl ,I bear my breathless dream
I was not always of this mind so grim
Neither did I ponder complex schemes.

Shall I descend to ploys and plots of doom;
Wreak revenge on those who trouble me?
No,I ‘ll not give home to conquering gloom
I’ll sit it out and find what good’s for me.

My heart is crushed but I shall live again
Far from the habitat of wolf-like man.

The sun is far away and we feel low~
Like ducks that dive into the watery depths
Freezing rain has not the feel of snow

No more do living waters seem to flow
And when we kiss there’s frost upon our lips
If sun is far away , what’s our bed for?

Despair can get us in its undertow
And from our happy time we’re may be ripped
Freezing rain has not the charm of snow

Best to feed wild birds and live snail- slow
Sorrow is the parent of joy’s scripts
The sun is far away , oh deep, oh low~

But yet beneath the soil new life will grow
As the parents quarrel souls still wait
Freezing rain has not the charm of snow

Unthought babies wait for signals glow
Swiftly to the womb the souls migrate
The sun is far away and we are low

Like a tide with hidden under rips
The sea of life will take us where love’s trapped
The sun is far away ,but why feel low~?
Freezing rain will cease and life will flow

My wife has left me for an adverb.
I don’t know which one it is!
Is it slowly,quickly, nearly?
Life should not be like a quiz.

She told me that she “nearly” loved me,
When “dearly” was what I had hoped.
Life is full of lost illusions…
How do deserted people cope?

I think I should have kept it secret,
For now I sit and sadly grieve.
Do you think my wife is cruel?
What a strange excuse to leave!

Would she leave me for a pronoun?
Would she leave for a full stop?
Would I leave you for a quote mark?
Would I fall into a dot?

Come back,darling for I love you.
I have learned I must take care.
I will go for grammar lessons.
I am sure I can learn flair!

We can write a poem together,
You can choose the topic,dear.
I will hold my pen and write for
They say true love drives out fear.

Did I fear her? Did I love her?
Was she worthy of my heart?
Did she dislike my hairy nostrils?
Was that why we had to part?

Come back Mary,come back Mavis.
Come back Sunny, come back Sue
Without my wife I feel quite lonely.
What is a poor man to do?

I admit I was unfaithful.
God made men to procreate.
Yet I loved my wife the best…
And how I loved her homemade cake

No need to search in foreign parts

Find foreign places in the heart

By grief we’re thrown  off usual roads

Do not desert us from your hold

We have no maps, we fear our friends

Into the suffering we descend.

Our children once sat at our knee

Now the parent they must be.

Some groan and rage for their own loss

Through wild places all must cross

Some may fall and be helped up

As we share the bitter cup

We must drink it to the dregs

As we walk on ancient legs.

Do not shun us when we grieve.

Our maps are ripped yet we must leave

We face again the unknown heart

Of which we only know a part

No package holiday, no deal

We’re on our own how raw we feel.

Though every single human heart

With grief and pain will surely smart

Would you wish to be a stone?

If you have love then you will moan

In the desert grey I walked alone

I was great with child, my heart a stone.

Betrayed by love, who can we trust again?

0 God protect us from the wiles of Man

The pains of birth are easy to detect.

The grief and  sorrow made my womb contract

Here there is a doctor dressed in black

He has no face, no courtesy no tact

My baby dies, the father is a lack

The doctor throws my baby on a pile

Babies, children killed without a trial.

Hitler’s still around disguised, I’m cold.

Evil runs the world, so mad so bold

I know I too will die unless I leave

Postpartum grief so rarely will deceive

But when I gaze upon his holy face

My baby smiles and waits for my embrace.

Even here in hell there is some good

In the muck and dust of human blood

I do not know where I can walk from here

I walk into the darkness with him near.

Sad and lonely, yet I must go on

I must not fail until my life is done

Avocado stare with prophecy and police caution
Melon and brain salad. Fresh brains daily
Carrot and Squeak soup. Sorry we have no screams today
Battered beans all aching on fresh moans
Casserole of jam with funny broken bones .
Salmon and duck eggs in steam chamber

Cheese sauce on white mice and immigrant children. (None black yet.)
Fishcakes and celery hearts with bullet holes. Very Pretti
Vegetarian man just shot with pearl barley and foreign spices
Hot spiced police with pasta laws
Chilli thief and barmaid
Seven pear trees with roasted root canals
Icecream and sausage jelly on custard pond. Bloody Sunday

Shoulder,breast very Renee Good and sweet lamb toast with bloody butter

Crazed marauders with ginger cat, well bred. Recently shot with stolen handgun

And why not have a drink of a special coffee

Mau mau brew with apartheid screams

No torture is allowed in the coffee shop please go outside first.

short-eared durham owl
meditating over the dale’s edge,
shadows the fields and folds
in elegant diurnal flight.
on wind-side,careful sight,
may swoop to prey
and away.

your yellow broad-eyed look,
at once both sharp and distant,
holds me.
oh,silence,
oh,wind on green,
oh,earth,
sky.

immense your held vision,
sphere without center,
pied geometer of flight,
oh, swift descent and ascent.
trees bunched by dry stone wall
call heart home

Whirling in the winter wind, dead leaves
Dry and brown and broken ever more
Send their substance to the souls bereaved

People pray and yet do not believe
Christ was born and angels him adored
On the winter wind float dying leaves

By our spirits may we be deceived,
Even in the heart’s quiet hidden core,
Sharing presence with all us bereaved?

Look into the sun and fire perceive
Power destroys the lives of all its whores
On the wind float lingering, burned out leaves

For men of power think God  can be deceived
Yet even kings will die despite their force
To lie in marble graves, of love bereaved

Wrapped in cloths of linen, cream and coarse
With no coffin, Jesus high is borne
With the wind, with ashes , with dead leaves,
The photons of his love light hearts bereaved

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

So faint the memory, strong are its remains
Security and love in our domain
The brushes and the stipplers all stood by
For no-one 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 smiled 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 dear 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 hot 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

https://www.ecoticias.com/en/psychology-suggests-that-the-loneliest-people-in-life-are-not-usually-the-outcasts-but-rather-those-kind-competent-and-always-available-individuals-whom-everyone-values-but-whom-almost-no-one-call/30813/

 in summer times when sun do shine

I’m happy on my own

I gaze up through red maple leaves

All transparent in the sun.

But when winter comes I’m lonely

Sitting here beside my fire.

So I want a  winter lover

To keep my spirits higher.

Oh,my winter love come to me

And I’ll gaze deep into your eyes

The light that shines in there

Is so much warmer than my fire.

We’ll go through wintry woodlands,

Where elegance lies bare.

The branches struck by sun

Now feel the frosty grasp of air.

I’ll love you all the winter time.

I’ll love you  in the dark.

I’d like to rest within your arms,

And have a peaceful talk

When summer comes I’ll disappear

To roam across the dales

I’ll sleep on heather moorlands

And send you loving mail.

I can’t be tied in summertime

I must be roaming free.

But ,if you accept this  need of mine,

To you I’ll faithful be.

• Tagged
• freedom
• humor
• light verse

I’m thinking of moving to the cloud.

Is that why you want assisted dying?

I can die without any assistance

Are you thinking about suicide?

No it’s just my Google account is overflowing

I don’t understand how they can put all your emails onto a cloud in the sky and then charge you so much a month.

Well it’s not a real cloud they put your information onto.

In that case why do they call it a cloud?

It must be a euphemism

Is that like a euphonium?

No, one is a musical instrument and the other is using a word that sounds less unpleasant than the one you really want to say.

Can you give me an example?

Yes when you drop a brick on your foot and shout

Drat.

What is the real word that you want to say?

Well nobody knows actually but we didn’t like to admit it before.

What is f*** hiding,?

Damn!

That’s a bit rude. I was only asking a question.

No, I mean that’s what they mean when they say fuck

I think  I prefer damn actually.

Why do you keep saying actually at the end of every sentence.

I had better not tell you what I really want to say.

Fuck!

Damn

Stop showing off

I’m not showing anything.

Ignorance may be bliss sometimes but not when you’re being interviewed for an Oxford scholarship

What are you talking about I’ve never even been to Oxford.

That’s why you want the scholarship isn’t it?

You mean if I get the scholarship I have got actually to go to Oxford and live there!

Yes they don’t do Zoom.

What sort of out of date institution is that? I want to go to somewhere new and up-to-date.

What about the university of the West of England?

It sounds interesting but I think they’re trying to hide something by not specifically naming the town or city where it is because the West of  England is a very big place

That’s definitely a thought.

Maybe Battersea college of technology?

Yes that sounds more up to date. They will have the latest computers and everything you can imagine.

Well I hope it’s not quite everything I can imagine.

Are you having those nightmares again?

In a very real sense, I am

The whole point of nightmares is they are not real

But they feel really when you’re having them. How do you know that you’ll always waken up?

Well I can’t answer that question because there’s no way of proving it.

So far in my life I have always wakened up from my nightmares. If I don’t it will be very unpleasant.

Rumination is very bad for you.

And yet they said the best things in life are free.

They  are just pulling your leg.

So that’s what’s causing the arthritis

How do you tell when somebody is being ironic?

It’s an instinct.

Are we born then knowing what irony is?

No but you’re born knowing how to do the ironing  if you are woman.

See you’re ironic already

Could it be sarcasm,?

Similarities but sarcasm is more malevolent than irony which is perhaps on the humorous spectrum

I really think you should go to Oxford you are so intelligent and you can talk so well.

Do I have the right accent?

Well if you are successful they will all imitate your accent

And if you are not successful you will have to imitate theirs

Or what about idiom?  I think I’ve had enough for one night.

It sounds like a sleeping tablet.

Does that have a screen ?

No only inside your head

Well at least it’s free.

Everything has its price

And so say all of us

Posted on May 17, 2019
Should we write in form to make a shape
Or let our minds run free, associate?
Such tangled webs within the mind are draped

Oh, to run as free as antelopes
But from sharp tigers noone will escape
Can we control , disarm within a shape?

Love’s enacted falsely , making rape
Inside our hearts shall we recover hope?
Such tangled webs the curtained mind creates

Round the marbled minds we half dazed traipse
Wherever we go hunting, we’re too late
Can we control our fear within a shape?

Collapsing faith cracks , can we concentrate
Or from the deal , do we dissociate?
Such tangled webs of mind make ripe our hate

Now sex compels but will can’t procreate
Can kindness smile and friendship instigate?
Should we write in form when we love shape?
Our mingled maps of mind might alter fate

Mary sat in her dining room listening to Sir Michael Atiyah on the Today programme where he was talking about very advanced Group Theory .Many years ago she had known this great man, though he had scarcely noticed her despite her big blue eyes and skinny legs displayed beneath her home made mini-dress.That was very fortunate as she was there as a tutor not as a tart.

Why her mother had supplied her with such mini dresses, she had often wondered, Going online, she saw a sale on at Welvi, the store for larger ladies.There was an orange culotte jumpsuit made of polyester for £10

Look at this, she called to her friend Annie.A real bargain in my view.

Well, said Annie, suppose you were in the country climbing a hill and you needed to have a wee. I never thought of that, Mary said shyly. Moreover polyester is too clammy for summer and not warm enough for winter, besides it looks transparent.I don’t think Stan would like it.

Well, he’s not here now, said Mary sadly.And transparent plastic trousers are in fashion.Do you wear plastic knickers underneath? No, you’d have to wear a jewelled thong, said Annie.I bet that would make men look at you.

Well, not your face… I’ve never worn a thong.Do they hurt, asked Mary politely.

Yes, I’ve got one on now, said Annie nervously.It’s really hurting me.I’d better ring 999 and ask Dave the paramedic to advise me.

Hi called Dave as he got out of the ambulance, what is wrong today? Annie is in pain from a thong, Mary cried .

Where is it , Dave asked gently Where do you think, Annie shouted?

She lifted up her chambray skirt and showed him her pink lace knicker substitute. Can you take it off, he asked tenderly?

I have run out of clean knickers, she informed him scientifically.

Well in the past women wore cotton petticoats but no knickers.It was more healthy.But with short thin skirts if you fell over all the world would see your mound of Venus

That’s an exaggeration, Annie said.All the world is not looking at me

Ah, but someone could have a video camera and you might be on the News.You’d better go to Marks and buy some more proper knickers. Now, shall I make you a cup of tea?The NHS is here to care for you. Lovely, cried Mary.

Annie go upstairs and take a pair my knickers then put that thong in the laundry basket.I will wash it for you and you can hang it in your bathroom to give an impression of your taste to visitors.

On the other hand, men would be disappointed to see you really wore cotton high waisted pants and not a sort of mini star spangled banner. 

All right, said Annie but Stan would have liked them. 

I like them, mewed Emile.I love you, Annie.I wish I were a man, I would go to bed with you right now.I have got a French letter from Soraya.She’s been in Paris and wrote to me on real paper.

Wow, a cat using the subjunctive and reading French letters said Mary.That is a surprise. 

I don’téven know what  a subjunctive is, screamed Annie rudely And so say all of us.

Before we go to bed we vegetate
No need for teacher but a compost heap.
And as we vegetate, we drift to sleep
While in our dreams our little mind debates

But mostly we’re unknowing in this dark
Where God himself may manifest at will.
His dazzling darkness makes our souls be still
And wait for strikes by living ,glowing spark.

But in the morning ,we come back to strife
Take up our work and suffer every stroke.
From sapling to the oldest,strongest oak
Each must choose again its proper life

Every look we cast at others strikes
Reflects and shows us what we have become
And when there is no movement, we are done
Our mind and heart have chosen what they like.

So in our end we vegetate again
And no more rise to labour in the day
We fertilise the fields passed on our way
We show the end of woman and of man.

A daily round becomes our life and death.
We live because we’re breathed by sacredness.

When he in whom you trusted turns malign
Yet does not tell you why this might be so
Just sends you hate mail, crosses boundary lines
This is both a trauma and a blow

Shall I lose myself in thoughtless sin
Devote myself to flesh and lovers wild?
I shall not run to where revenge may win
Nor burn my throat with boiling, putrid bile

Humanity turns backwards does not rush
Returns the evil with a strong, good wish
When God reveals himself, a burning bush
The flames will purify, the heat will kiss

Retaliation may feel very sweet
But hate rebounds and eats us, as is meet

Let me paint my house with color soft.

Still as snowflakes lying in a drift

Let me paint my house in colours mute

That lovers die I cannot now dispute.

As stark as ghosts are in an empty lift.

The end of life is startling, it is swift.

Death came here and touched his unkissed lips

I am lonely as the lights go out.

I am frightened I won’t know the route

Now my heart is bleeding it is ripped

Lie beside me lover in the moss

Paint my face with colours still and soft

I see you in the mist and I am lost.

What we pay is more than any cost.