The silence, underneath the silence, comes

Collage by Katherine

A silence rich with love and filledl with joy;
The silence after waking at the dawn,
May be both  anchor and a steady buoy 

Yet often we don’t know what we seek for:
The latest dress, the perfect English lawn?
We forget this marvellous essence, full of joy

We murder by ignoring  love’s own core
We do not see the buds which are new born.
We want an anchor yet we want our toys.

What is most arresting is the awe
We feel when we survive deep grief again
Find  silence rich with love and full of joy

Out of Nature, its Creator calls
Taking in her arms what caused us pain.
Being both an anchor and a buoy.

The silence underneath the silence calms,
Stills our breathing with reviving balm
Perfect silence rich with love and  joy
Shall be our an anchor and shall be our buoy.

When I went out

I sometimes do go out it is a treat
Your number was witheld on my smartphone
I thought that it was spam,I did not speak
Now it’s like we’re vultures on a bone

I’d been with a widow who went mad
Threatening to hang herself again
Or gas herself like poor old Sylvia did
I know too well the anguish and the pain

When I came in I found my ansafone
Full of messages you left that afternoon
You thought that I was loth to hear your moans
Immediately would not have been too soon

You answered saying that you wished to die
The pain you have was too much to be borne
I understand your expression was no lie
The agony that comes before the dawn

But now you don’t believe that I went out
Of my ill intentions you don’t doubt
You think that I was feeling full of scorn
Taking sadists’ pleasure from you torn

I know we all want help with our deep pain
Making threats too often is insane

Humiliate, the meaning


Definition of humiliate

transitive verbto reduce (someone) to a lower position in one’s own eyes or others’ eyes to make (someone) ashamed or embarrassed MORTIFYhoped they wouldn’t humiliate themselves in their next gameaccused her of humil

My Lancashire accident

 May 7, 2019


Eeh, it were right crackin’ at school t’day
Wot wur thi sayin’ this time?
Thi said wi can do Greek next year
Ye’re not doin’ Greek
Why not,our Mam
Ye can’t even spek English
Why,  am I not canny enough?
No, we don’t spek English eether
Well, ye shud a thought eh that before y’ad me
Ye mean only  people with BBC eksents can bear childern?
Well, we reckoned if we learnt English we’d lose our desire
F’wat, Mam
F’ that! Ye know… It, ye get what ah mean
No,Mam.Can ye not spell it our a bit more?
Spell it out, t’dad would tan me hide!
Still he must a dunnit,Mam
I dunno, it wer dark.Mebbe it wer the cat, ah thought
Surely the cat’s not mi  dad, is  he?
It weren’t this cat, it wer another called Billy.
Well, how come ah’m human?
You think ye’re human, but  am telling ye,ye got  t’cat’s eyes
Just his eyes? How abaht his whiskers
Don’t be so daft, our Kath,Ye’ve got his hair
But only on my head so far.Willa bi changin’ into a cat as ah mature?
Wi’ll have te wait and see.Put ‘t kettle on.We need some tea.
Why, what difference will that make now.I’m a cat,I’m a cat…. oh, what’ll  ‘et nuns say  ‘et Convent when ah tellum?
You keep away from ‘et Convent~
Why, our Mam?
Do as I tell you.Never confide in a nun
Well,Ah shan’t let ‘et cat fettle me.Ah’m not that daft
Well, yi can’t do Greek and that’s final
Kyrie Eleison,Kyrie Eleison
Wot’s that?
Oh, nothin’ at all
Christie Horizon
For God’s sake speak English!

Our Mam

Why did Dad die,our Mam? Did God need ‘im, Mam? What for?
Oh,be quiet our Kathryn an’ stop blatherin’ an’ ‘arpin’ on at mi like that…Am tired mekkin’ ye dinner an’ tea an’ our Annie’s comin’ too
Will we have petato cakes?
Y’ll have nowt if ye keep on yappin’
.But, mam,I like talkin’. Why don’t you like it, mam?
Curiousity killed et cat.
No,mam it was you.You sent for’t man from Vernon Street and ‘ad the cat took
Now, stop tellin’ lies and do the washin’ up.
Am not tellin’ lies…A saw it
Ye’r a very naughty girl.. I’ll slap ye if ye don’t shut ye trap now
.Oh,Mam, don’t ‘it me.
Well,shurrup then.. do as yer told.. be a good girl.
Awlright,Mam.Shall A wash up fe ye?
That’s right, yer a gud girl really.
Just behave yerself and keep quiet.Ye nearly grown up now.A’ll show ye ‘ow to knit socks soon.. yr 9 now aren’t ye?
I am,mam.Am a big girl
An’ ye brain’s too big…. go and mop the steps now and put the white stone on… it’ll be the toilet next.Clean it before Mi Dad comes
He thinks it were a waste a money.
Well,I love it,Mam.I hated looking down the other one.
So that’s where you were!

And alcohol will make me sin

Oh,doctor I am in a flap
I cannot turn this childproof cap
I cannot take my medicine
So I shall toss it in the bin

The beta blockers make me down
I am in a study brown.
The mini aspirins make me bruise
And my mind is quite confused.

The ibuprofen hurt my heart
Yet without one I cannot start.
The thyroxine has no effect
So now I feel my life is dreck.

The codeine fails to make me high
I’m not addicted, though I try.
I’ll have to take a shot of gin
And alcohol will make me sin

. I’ll go to parties in a dress
That makes men’s hormones more or less.
I’ll take a big one home with me,
And give him poison in his tea.

And when I am in jail at last
I’ll feel remorse for all my past.
For as I suffer dreadful pain
God has hit me yet again.

It’s not enough that I go blind
And suffer terrors in my mind
Not enough that lovers cruel
Give me stick instead of jewels.

Or maybe life does not make sense
Especially when we feel too tense.
Maybe random are my days
and my life has gone astray.

I think that I shall buy a cat
And love it tenderly and chat.
But if my cat gives me a scratch..
I’ll light its tail up with a match.

All the world must me obey
Else I’ll be enraged all day.
I want my own way all the time.
Other people must conform.

I am here and full of ills
What do you think of these blue pills?
If they take away my heart
That at least will be a start.

Then they can remove my brain
To help me with this damned pain.
Why not kill me right away
Then I’ll be from pain astray?


God designed our organs very well
Bu if we touched them we would go to Hell
Unless we married in a Catholic Church
God would beat us with a Silver Birch
The Bishop said that Tampons were a sin
No longer were we virginal within
We must not let a man know when we bled
We burned the towels before we went to bed
Yet Hitler was a Catholic like BoJo
What Carrie did then, noone else can know
Excommunication was a threat
Underneath the arches there’s no debt
God is watching everything I do
Ask him where I left my other shoe
What a shame he can’t talk to us folk
Still we have the Bible, pas the Coke.


When Moses climbed the mountain
And he got to the top,
God was waiting for him,
He didn’t say a lot.
He said, Take my commandments
They are written on this stone,
I have only fifty,
Or was it fifty one?
Moses was very worried
~about the human race.
Fifty one commandments
Would meet with strong distaste.
So he told God his troubles
And God thought long and hard.
He came back with the commandments
Written on a card.
How many have you got there?
Moses politely said?
I’ve got it down to ten, said God.
His eyes were very red.
So Moses took the postcard
And put it on his pad.
He said I’d better get back down.
Oh, and thank you Dad!
When Moses got to earth
He called his people near.
He produced his i Pad.
Look what I’ve got here!
I saw God on the mountain.
He gave me a few rules.
They’re easy to remember.
We are not moral fools.
How many of these rules
Has God given to you?
I got it down to ten.
Let’s see how we can do.
Ten is far too many,
Some of the people cried.
We don’t want these rules.
We hate to feel we’re tied.
But all games have their rules.
They’re what define the game.
If we had utter chaos
This loss would be a shame.
As pictures have their frames,
And lessons have strict times.
We need some good constructions,
Like poems need their rhymes.
So all his people heard him.
And they agreed to try.
They lived as best they could
Until they came to die.
But one part of this story
We will never know–
What were all those commandments
That Moses did not show?
And why did God give in
To Moses’ bargain plea?
Do not ask for Moses,
We don’t know where he be

The 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.

Signs may be omens

Photo by Nina Uhlu00edkovu00e1 on

1 Do not stop your car to read this sign.
2. If you can’t read this sign get your eyes tested~unless you are illiterate
3 This sign is not here till further notice
4.This sign is here but don’t look at it
5.This sign was paid for with your council tax
6 This sign is not an omen.Evil is already here
7 Criminals reading this sign, please call the police
8 There are no signs till the other side if Hardknott Pass.Good luck
9 Please do not touch this sign unless it is in braille
10.If you can’t read this sign, phone 999.
11 Don’t read this unless there is a traffic jam
12 Signs washed daily by hand.Do not report as garbage
13 Thank you for respecting our signs.
14 Please do not fall off the pavement

Musing about apples

The apples fly like petals in a gale.
The trees rock and I fear the trunks may break.
The weather in these months has been debauched.
I muse here on what’s Nature and what’s Fate.
An apple tree can live for many years.
Each summer brings the white complicit bloom.
Yet sometimes comes a hurricane that tears
And ends this green and gracious life too soon.
We,like trees, are wantonly destroyed.
Winds sweep in from strange and foreign seas.
The shock may bring us down whilst we still fruit.
Yet mourners one day all of us shall be.
Whilst we live, let’s open hard, closed hearts.
So in anger or in hate we shall not part

The keyhole is too small

   Sometimes I had my eye too close to the keyhole.  
  Pulled there by some force like gravity.  
  I was gazing with a sharp but narrow focus
    into what I thought was the real. 
   But the precision of my gaze
    left out the surroundings,
the other doors and rooms 
   that  I might have inhabited.
  As he came to me and opened his arms with no rancour,
so my eyes opened wider
I took in the new wide vision   
and left my crouched and aching position
    no longer attached like a magnet to your force,
    He was there with his sea eyes. 
   He knew the human condition 
   And how to inhabit a  conversation.
    Of course he’d had his wounds
but never failed to feel    for himself and others.
    In the night he went through in his mind’s eye
the faces  of his friends;holding them ,
like he’d once held fragile rose buds
    when we were married,
    and asked silently for grace.
    The keyhole no longer seemed important
   I suppose narrowing the focus can keep out knowledge of pain
..    But the pain is atill there; 
   I have always loved the word “Acknowledge.”   
And now I use it. I acknowledge this pain

Joy will return one day

Some days are sad and blue
And then we feel lonely too;
Or we cause rifts.

Some days are doldrum days.
Some days are like bad plays.
Not such a gift.

Most days have joyful parts.
Most days we lift our hearts.
They pass all too swift.

Some days love speaks to me.
Some days I feel so free.
I love my craft.

Life is a patterned weave.
Love helps us when we grieve.
Love is a raft.

See how the sun comes back.
See how light fills the gaps..
Some days we laugh.

Weep now and I’ll weep with you.
I have known sorrow too.
Yet sorrow will pass.

Joy is not far away.
Joy will return one day….
Life’s art and craft

Space to be alone

My presence gave him space to be alone
He concentrated on the world I could not see
Dying is an art if we’re not stones

We may marry but we do not own
Every spirit must feel it is free
My presence gave him space to be alone

At the end God makes his own Self known
His Word hangs like a Light upon a tree
Dying is an art if we’re not stones

I sat there in silence,overthrown
There is no need for money nor a fee
My presence gave him space to be alone

And as for the hereafter, that’s unknown
As is the port when ships cross a new sea
Dying is an art if we’re not stones

No need to pray or make a heartfelt plea
Sitting by his side,I let him be
My presence gave him space to be alone
Dying is for humans, not for stones

Who opened up the inner eye to me

Is what I make  original and new?
Can  Imagination   rise and fly for me
To   recreate the glory   this child knew?

Who lit the candle flame that brought me view?
Who opened up my inner eye to see?
Is what I make  original and new?

We birth into a culture others grew
We´ŕe part of all,  responsible and  free: ./unsure of this line
Oh,   recreate that glory children knew

We make music with our voices too
The ram ś horn  or the string/ed lute make plea
Is what we make  original and new?

The charcoal on the paper is a clue
I sail  with wonder on my  inner sea
Oh,  recreate the glory children  knew

Oh,God , oh eye,  have mercy upon me
Oh God, the voice, the hand , the touch, save me:             I l
Is what I make  of worth and pattern new?
To create , to live , must  we know Calvary?

Noah dug a grave

Eton broke up on July the Third
Theyŕe selling pieces set by William Byrd
Put one in the garden, that looks posh
Maybe we need a bottle of whitewash

State schools finish nearly 3 weeks on
Who has got the nuclear waste and bomb?
Do you want your child to be well taught?
Should we have to pay when we have naught?

The Forest of the Amazon is done
All good things will end and we´ĺl be gone
Wisdom has been left out of our thoughts
Certain things are never sold or bought

Now we see the Eton Club are safe
Jesus wept and Noah dug a grave