Trees are deeply rooted,trees can’t walk They don’t sleep nor do they stay awake Trees can’t sin because they cannot talk Trees are deeply rooted,trees can’t walk Can’t exclaim when they espy a hawk Trees will bend and so they do not break Trees are deeply rooted,trees can’t walk They don’t sleep nor do they stay awake
Searching in this city I may find you Then you will desire to come back home In my savaged heart I feel this true Seeking in this city I may find you I’m searching all the places that we knew From Greenwich up to Amersham I roam There is nowhere in this city I can find you I grieve for you will never come back home
I sang this to my husband when he was dying.I did not consciously know he was dying My mouth opened by itself and I began singing ,unwittingly giving a performance to all the other people in A & E When I was little my dad sang it to me when he put me to bed. I seem to have inherited his habit of humming or singing a great deal….
Baggage handlers at Berlin’s new airport have reported receiving electric shocks from scanners in yet another problem to befall the troubled project, which is widely seen as an engineering catastrophe. From the Guardian Newspaper
If you’re feeling real depressed again Get free treatment down here in Berlin Put your arm into the scanner, not your bag The shock will cure you with a short time lag If it’s not enough, you must sneak back Stick your other arm in for a shock It’s a bit like vaccination, some need two Yet only one is needed for the flu In Germany the home of engineers This scanning error reduced grown men to tears If you can’t afford to hack Berlin Put your finger in a socket to begin The shock is scary, it will make you run Exercise like this sure beats a gym If you are unlucky you may die Then you’ll see the stars up in the sky If it’s not your time come back to us I fear you’ll need a cab, there is no bus
People often think feelings come from the heart but sometimes i feels as if they come from my bones especially the bones in my arms
I miss the full shared silence with you here I miss you as I watch a film alone Now I am just me ,God must me steer I miss the full, calm silence with you here The peace of love, the loneliness of fear The anguish that arises from my bones I miss the full, deep silence with you here I miss you as I lie in bed alone
I miss the car rides into Essex towns I miss the burning stubble in the fields Yet I must rise again,I will not drown I miss the coloured houses in the towns I miss your glances as Love settled down Where the harvest, where the ripened yield? I miss the car. the journeys, hamlets, towns I miss the burning stubble in the fields
I miss the joy of learning who you were I miss the warmth of being loved and held I cannot now complain you are not here I miss the joy of finding what you were Of learning what you knew of Art and fear Now the golden ring has been unwound I miss the joy of feeling who you were I miss the peace of being loved and held
I miss the hand that used to hold my hand I miss the eyes that used to comfort me The needs of love don’t feel like a demand I miss the hand that caressed my held hand I miss your love and miss you as a friend. When you gazed , your eyes lit what you’d see. I miss the hand that used to warm my hand I miss the eyes that used to smile at me.
I miss your arms around me in the dark I miss the early morning, thoughts unspoke On Purbeck Hills; the Easter singing lark I miss your arms around me in the park Poole Harbour’s beauty is a living spark Sharing silent glances as we walked I miss your arms around me in the dark I miss the mornings, though we rarely spoke
Silent sharing ; company in love. With strangers, we must manufacture talk. To be silent ;the domed sky above To be silent ; spaciousness of love. With strangers, how their talk can jolt and shove I held your hand and stroked it when we walked Silent caring; symphony of love. Not strangers blindly snatching in the dark.
Hannah Arendt, an émigré from Nazi Germany.“The result of a consistent and total substitution of lies for factual truth,” Arendt wrote in her classic volume The Origins of Totalitarianism, “is not that the lie will now be accepted as truth and truth be defamed as a lie, but that the sense by which we take our bearings in the real world—and the category of truth versus falsehood is among the mental means to this end—is being destroyed.”
I remember you so well for those eight years The nights you sang love’s lullabies to me I was fearful of the footstep on the stairs
You held me as we paddled in the sea Maybe Blackpool,maybe Morecambe too You told me stories as I sat upon your knee I have some good memories, too few Where are all those days we played outdoors? Who knows if these memories are true? In East Lancs and in West Lancs rain will pour Once you wrapped me in your coat, but then Mam was angry when we reached the door
She told you, you were foolish for a man Why should men be wise, should anyone? That was when your illnesses began
You let me lie beside you in your bed I’d had my tonsils out and felt unwell I talked but don’t remember what you said I didn’t know the meaning of pure hell I guess I learned that when death you befell Come back,Daddy,missing you too well I’m still your little girl, your smiling belle
What woud happen here if Boris Johnston’s followers rioted,burst into Westminster ,some armed and five people died? I think he’d be in a police cell waiting for his trial Surely inciting people known to be unstable/crazy to do what these Americans did is also guilty of a crime- depriving someone of their life. What will happen in the next week?
May the hordes not stress you May the cord pull for you Hail Mary, show your face My guardian angel is quite a sight To more horror and misdeeds, make all not prey Be, just for today.| Be just, for today It’s Art in heaven Well, bless the frail. Our heart should need no pay
To develop bad taste or at least to tolerate it To stop telling children Micky Mouse is twee. To comb my hair more than twice a week To stop thinking men are like women before disaster comes down To decide where to keep the Radio Times To stop drinking Twinings Breaakfast Tea in the afternoon To make the bed before 11.30 pm To decide what things one does not need beginning with smart watches,matching cutlery and washing one’s clothes very frequently [ what is that?] To laugh at pain
Bands of rhyme will be crossing the UK tomorrow.. streams of poetry will bring rain in the eyes. Season’s Tweetings to Sinners if all repent Shadow of silence are folding over like an envelope. The spice of wife..pepper. Hop around the roses It’s best to saunter nowadays. When inside out, a cat can still scratch.. with its reversible catclaws.Try one tonight.Just unzip the cat and it will spring into the heir…to the throne or is it the air all round Until the end of all rhymes I’ll be loving you Time feels all wounds…and fills holes Maps of the iceberg have melted.. Two hearts that beat as none ever did. I wait for the lime to be ripe then it will be a lemon. If you have a man,wash him weekly in a tin bath…don’t blame me if you get drawn in…..mate in the bath … saves washing the sheets.
Language has different rules.A language can be looked at as a game with rules.But the rules vary,That’s why perfect translation is impossible.Many different perceptions are linked into the vocabulary of each language.And the rules for combination are unique to each. Like dancing…each society used to have its own form of dance though here it’s died out.Irish and Scottish dancing still exist and are very similar.People entertained themselves by singing their unique songs and dancing together… and playing their own instruments.. violin,tin whistle,piano… Sometimes you make a friend from another culture.Sometimes you hurt them because your singing and dancing may have seemed similar and then one of you took a step which was not part of any dance the other one knew…. so feelings are hurt or the mind is puzzled.Unless you have very deep trust You may think they are wanting to hurt you.But it maybe you were doing the foxtrot and they began to waltz, feeling it would be lovely to waltz with you. Then they tread on your toes,you slap their face and it’s the end of a good friendship.But thinking of it as a confusion of dances may give the event a different meaning which ascribes no blame,just confusion natural in such a case
Now I’m feeling kind of numb on this January day The darkness came down sudden and I feel it’s here to stay Shall I make some tea and pretend that you are here I’m naked like the wood underneath that swish veneer. I’m feeling kinda nothin’ now the melancholy’s gone Should I be doing something that will give me, like, some fun? The silence is not threatening, but neither is it good Did you ever wish that you weren’t made of flesh and blood? I’m feeling so damned stupid for falling on my back My shoulder was in agony and there’s whiplash in my neck The doctor, he injected me, but he said it’s down to luck He may have missed the mark, he says,I wish I’d said,oh feck Apparently the elderly are not in much demand I heard a sorta whisper as my head went in the sand We must keep the silence or we’ll frighten off the young They don’t seem to notice but the cat will lick my hand
I didn’t know how old I was till the clock flew off the wall Isn’t it uncanny what you see before the Fall?
Deep in the cold hard soil worms dwell Yet I did hear the sparrows sing today They sounded very happy, truth to tell Deep below in horrid soil worms dwell And in the Irish Sea the rollers swell Here nervous people watch the USA Deep in their cold truth we numbly dwell Yet I have heard the sparrows sing today
Who am i The one who writes? The confluence of streams Of DNA and lies Breed evil in many hearts People Bust into the Capitol Shots were fired Let’s keep streaming Out to sea. I may not exist But I have a view I don’t like these actions Nor mobs who would kill The world in turmoil watches Democracy is clear Hitler didn’t have TV cameras It must matter. But see Jesus No exemptions The weak Get it
Postmodern poetics respond to the condition of the world. In an age of instant telecommunications and metropolitan life, the postmodern serial and procedural forms attempt to accommodate the overwhelming diversity of messages and the lapse of a grand order that is replaced by an arbitrary personal order.
A. In postmodern poetics, there is a paradigmatic shift from the idea that language is transparent to the disclosure of its physicality, its intimacy, its obdurate persistence, and its paradoxical fragility. (M 43)
The reader’s position is contingent upon the poem and the poem¡¦s existence hinges upon the reader and the varieties of knowledge the reader brings to the poem¡KThe adequation of thing and sign has lapsed with the realization of the arbitrary condition of language. (M 43)
A. Contemporary poetry:
1. Contemporary poetry positions its perspectives from a persona (who is often autobiographic) within a defined narrative structure. 2. Contemporary poetry avoids self-criticism and establishes itself as a singled unified voice. (M 48)
B. Postmodern poetry:
1. Postmodernist poetics suggests an ongoing reinterpretation of the self in the context of others. It specifically investigates the ethical-or self-critical capacity of language and its relationship to identity. (M 46)2. The critique of the privileged and entitled ¡§I¡¨ is central to postmodern poetics. While not a wholesale endorsement of many theoretic claims to he death of the author or the abandonment of intention, postmodern poetry nonetheless insists on a re-visioning of the authorial voice and its reception. (M 46)