Author: Katherine

I like art, poetry,history, literature,cooking,doing nothing to music.And conversation

The problems of mother & daughter



My mother used to call naughty children ,little Turks
And now I know Boris Johnson I see why, though he is not little

She said she was in the Doldrums but never revealed the address
Any guidance

She said she wished she was dead many times
Did she want me to kill her or was she tormenting me or both

[ please write on both sides of the paper at once]

She never said she loved me but three babies in three years was tough.I could not suck her milk easily so I was at risk and she never felt able to forgive me.
I was s thin the students thought I was younger than them.I wore children’s blouses at 25 and got half fare on the bus [ not deliberately]
At last I have put weight on and they tell me I am at risk again.
It’s my thyroid gland.
I thought my doctor was strangling me when he stood behind me and put his hands round my throat after checking my lungs
I assumed he was feeling the gland.Don’t you think he should have told me? Though killing me in the Surgery was not really an option.He is a very quiet man.

The one ram’s horn

Xmas lights induce a feeling sweet
Memories of the love inside our home
Little children safe drift into sleep

I never knew that other mothers wept
The smell of baking,cards and keeping warm
Xmas lights induce a feeling sweet


My errant brothers did their best to tease
Burned my golden hair as if to warn
Joan of Arc rocked restless in her sleep

When the lights are off nobody sees
The moment when the Saviour child is born
Xmas lights induce my feelings deep

Holy are the beggars in the street
Waiting, hear the sheep bells, the ram’s horn
Little children dream this as they sleep

Midwinter low, and slow the sun, the dawn
The veil between the worlds must not be torn
Xmas lights , oh stars that deck the night
Little children smiling draw us tight

Before we were dead

Before the referendum
Before I rang 999
When I didn’t know how near the end you were

Before Nigel Farage
Jo Cox
The lies of Michael Gove
Before Boris Johnson’s genes left Turkey

Before Leonard Cohen sang,save the last waltz for me
Before I heard Suzanne
Before you haemmoraged the bathroom into wine
Before you consecrated the bread
Before you were dead

Before by a journalist we were led
Before children said,fuck everything
Before Cohen died
Dylan got the Nobel Prize

Before aspirations were merely for another shag and a new denim hat
Before marriage was for licking each others’ groins
What poems fell dead
And the snow fled
Before the hatred of slow reading came and glued itself to our minds
Then we had the hottest September
In December
And the ice cap floated down the globe
Observed by toads

When you were still alive
And the lawn was unmowed


Bisociation

I

t’s similar to a pun

Photo by Pok Rie on Pexels.com

When will you put the kettle on?
I’m not going dancing in a kettle,mother.

How do you feel today?
The same as yesterday, with my fingers

Are you coming home?
No, I’m going

Are you good at typing?
While in the class, yes.

What is in your pocket?
It can’t speak

Did you find any shells?
Clearly not, or I would not be here

My grandfather was a miner
Coal or land?

My parents died.Where are they?
They waved before drowning

Do you like riding horses?
I’ve never met one

What time is dinner?
What space?

I am too sensitive they say.I laughed at griefs

Why do people generalise?
Ask yourself!

Why are others so stupid?
They think the same way

Am I worthy of salvation
If you are,you don’t need it

Not the words we read

Do not rush about when under stress
You may fall and bang your tender head
With agitation caused by business

Rather than do more, we must do less
Do it slowly till it’s time for bed
Do not rush about when under stress

Do not ruminate nor second guess
Grace is blocked,imagination led
By agitation caused by business

Slowness leads some space, so slowness bless
In tune with nature, not the words we read
Do not rush about when under stress

If you are a hare,keep from excess
If a tortoise,you’ll end up ahead
No agitation caused by business

The lilies of the field by grace are fed
And so our hearts are when our burden’s shed
Do not rush about when under stress
With agitation causing grief to living flash

At a time of division, wise words from Nelson Mandela — My Life as an Artist (2)

“I am fundamentally an optimist.   Whether that comes from nature or nurture, I cannot say.   Part of being an optimist is keeping one’s head pointed towards the sun, one’s feet moving forward.     There were many moments when my faith in humanity was surely tested, but I would not and could not […]

At a time of division, wise words from Nelson Mandela — My Life as an Artist (2)

Most sensuous, most tangled with love’s grace

Could it be despair  that held me tight

in the wintry evening and the night

I could not see a way to  carry on

Everything  was wrong and I was done

I saw great blackness all around myself

I could not be restored, I had no health

I   had reached the end of seeking aid

God alone  knew all the coins were paid

  Inexplicable, the  golden light

That made a sweet shawl round me on that night

Impressing me with kindness and goodwill

Holding me until I had had my fill

Most sensuous, most tangled with love’s  grace

Surrounding me,  protecting my lost face

As if the arms of love were something real

That anyone  who knew this  must reveal

Only when we reach the very end

May the force of love on  us descend

i

 

May the force of love on  us descend

I hated once but that is not an end

I meant to write a poem of revenge
To hurt the one who shot out glacial words
I knew how to begin but how to end?

Through the Oxford. my sharp eyes had lunged
My vile emotions then were further stirred
I meant to write a poem of revenge

First he wooed me , showed his cultured friends
Sweet the words and soft the voice I heard
I knew how to begin but how to end?

Would retaliation my heart rend?
Down the vultures rushed ,carnivorous birds
As he wooed me with the words he wrung

My arm was disengaged by unseen hand
I could not write, impossible cruel words
I meant to write a poem of revenge

Lady of Macbeth, who’d wash in blood
When evil can be overcome by good?
I meant to write a poem of revenge
I hated once but Good controlled my hand

If you laugh for an hour use your elbow

Doctor,I think I have got dire beasties.
I’m not a vet.

Is laughter infectious?
Yes, self isolate immediately

Can you take a joke?
It depends where I am going
You can’t take it with you.
I’ll have to send it on my horse.

Have you made a will?
Yes, he’s 46 this year

I don’t know how you got a degree.
I bought one like everybody else

You are a very special person
Thank you.
You are the least intelligent person I know
And how many do you know?
One.
Is that a tautology?
Don’t ask me,i’m stupider than thou.
Who is Thou?
No, how art thou.
Why bring Art into it?
Is it bad?
What,art?
Plato thought so
But he’s dead

Misery swamps fearful British

Photo by Mati Mango on Pexels.com

I am happy to be in the one third of Britains who are not depressed by Lockdown.I’m depressed by politics and the men who seem to be unsuitable as leaders
Are we afraid of the unknown, afraid we can’t have foreign holidays or jusr fed up with summer being spoiled?
Afraid of Trump winning.. that would depress God.
I think working people have the right to be afraid, especially people on low wages already
Who would have thought that we voted democratically ‘ahahahaha to leave the EU
with a little help from Russia yet we are distressed we can’t holiday in Spain or Greece
Why don’t people join up the dots? We can never have it all….. make your own fun and joy
Can you see?
Can you hear?
Can you walk?
Have you got a family who care and some friends?
Do you own a car?
Why not take up new interests.Lots of YouTube videos are lessons in Art,sewing, philosophy etc
And if you have a good job please help charities like the Samaritans who need money if 2/3 of us are depressed

Attachment to our views

https://www.theatlantic.com/family/archive/2020/10/reading-too-much-political-news-bad-happiness/616651/

This requires that we honestly examine our attachments. What are yours? Money, power, pleasure, prestige? Dig deeper: Just maybe, they are your opinions. The Buddha himself named this attachment and its terrible effects more than 2,400 years ago in the Aṭṭhakavagga Sutta, when he is believed to have said, “Those attached to perception and views roam the world offending people.” More recently, the Vietnamese Buddhist sage Thích Nhất Hạnh wrote in his book Being Peace, “Humankind suffers very much from attachment to views.”

As the election season heats up, many Americans are attached to their opinions—especially their political ones—as if they were their life’s savings; they obsess over their beliefs like lonely misers, and lash out angrily when they are threatened. This is the source of much suffering, for the politically obsessed and everyone else.

MORE STORIES

The journey may be long,the end is sweet.


The pathways to the heart are made with love.
And those who truly seek will  never lose.
As virtue and her graces smile above
We see the hills ahead,the rocky views.

With willingness to cross the seas of mud,
To venture into tangled briar-filled woods.
Our soul within shows us the highest good,
For trees that looked quite dead are now in bud.

With flowers springing up  between our toes
Encouragement is ,with relief ,received
And as we smell the fragrance of the rose,
At last we know our hearts were not deceived.

For Virgil, fortune favours those with steadfast feet.
The journey may be long,the end is sweet.

“Fortune favours the brave”is attributed to Pascal,Montaigne and Virgil

.

Deja who…..I know you but not your name

Deja mew…. the cat’s upset already
Deja new…. a logical impossibility
Deja you….I met you before
Deja true… an axiom
Deja due……..your payment is late
Deja slew… he was dead before I shot him, sir.
Deja new…second hand
Deja blue….. inborn sadness
Deja vile….original sin
Deja bile————-I had indigestion earlier
Deja smile……I won’t laugh again
Deja flew……I love you no more/I have gone
Deja dew—————-will it drop off?
Deja who…..I know you but not your name
Deja new………old
Deja phew….. that was hard

Never aid a fool

As hidebound as a leather chair-

As thoughtless as a broom;

He is more stuck  than is despair

Which hovers round his room

Hurt by  bullies in his school.

He made protective rules.

Never go out  with a girl

Never aid a fool.

Never vote in case you err

Never wear red  socks.

Be angry that life’s  so unfair

Live inside a box.

Always say your prayers at night#

Never read in bed

And never ever think about

What  you might do instead.

His menu was so regular,

From  change he gained no pleasure

He cut his meat up with  an axe

To make it hard to measure.

He counted every step he took

And every time he  wheezed.

He wrote it in his diary

And this act made him sneeze.

He was allergic to the air;

Allergic to the sun;

At least the tickle in his throat,

Made him laugh in fun.

He had a job with a big bank

He always wore a suit

Till one day his colleague said

That only plants had roots.

The implication seemed to be

He was in stasis glued.

He always wore the same old clothes

And ate the same old food.

Could he help himself and how?

Could he be softer skinned?

He dreamed he climbed up a great cliff

Despite  the gale and wind.

And so he  left the bank and moved

To work in a coal mine.

He crawled along the tunnels black

And measured them with twine

.

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It’s not fleas!



Does nitrofurantoin make you itch?
What are the symptoms of an allergic reaction to Macrobid?Signs of an allergic reaction, like rash; hives; itching; red, swollen, blistered, or peeling skin with or without fever; wheezing; tightness in the chest or throat; trouble breathing, swallowing, or talking; unusual hoarseness; or swelling of the mouth, face, lips, tongue, or throat.7 Mar 2020

Photo by Kelvin Valerio on Pexels.com

Have you seen this cat?

Anaphylaxis and other geometries

https://youtu.be/_bCPl-e9rag

Where are you,dear? the husband cried in vain
Anaphylaxis is not a maiden’s name
Files don’t carry axes nor are axes filed
I’ve had just one attack but it was quite mild

The risks of drugs, the cure that kills or maims
The cursed allergy, its deathly fame
The perils of the life of solitude
As Baez sings and Dylan’s voice intrudes

The fear that whispers through the widow’s ear
Never shall another lover disappear
The paradox of double negative
The logic of the heart,Pascal will give

The heavy doze, the silent home and place
Noone sees the tears, the shame, the face