Author: Katherine

Poetry writer and author

How can  a fake virus make men cry?

Fake news,  fake life, fake thought,fake love,fake bug
How  can we know what is a genuine lie?
And I cannot greet you with a hug

Be sure to boil some bleach in every mug
Pour dettol on your head before you fly
Fake news,  fake life,fake love,fake songs,fake bug

Should we tell the children we’ve lost God
New creators seem  in short supply
And I cannot greet all with a hug 

As he drily coughs, peach Don feels  odd
How can  a fake virus make men cry?
Fake news,  fake life,fake love,fake  cries.fake bug

Fighting in the aisles will do us good
Mass may not be said  though  priests may sigh
And  they cannot see God when they would

Self  isolated, God hears babies cry
He withdraws his favours saunters  by
Fake news,  fake life,fake love,fake other bugs
Would a polar bear safe to hug?

 

 

 

I wonder who you are and feel for you

So many people read on WordPress blogs
Many write their own  words down as well
From different countries  all across the world
What the effect is nobody can tell

But  is  it  so  surprising that  all words
Written with a true and thoughtful heart
Can bind together  those of us who care
And  so from cruel Wars we may depart

From Vietnam and China  from Finland
From Maryland,Brasilia,Peru
From   Rome, from Jordan and from Palestine
I wonder who you are ,I care  for you

The mystery is the goodness  we can share
Yet always there’s a darkness in the air

 

Living in our daymares out of bed

Clematis-armandii-2020

Thanks to Mike for allowing us to meditate on  his images which aid the hearts of the suffering and add to the joy of life for all who gaze upon them

More dangerous than our weapons are our minds
The fantasied revenge will do no good
Some kill a neighbour even  when they’re kind

I never thought that I’d ring 999
But why wait  until I lose my only head?
More dangerous than our weapons are our minds

We have  eyes to see  yet we are blind
Living in our daymares out of bed
Some kill a neighbour even  when they’re kind

Though people starve, are tortured all the time
I must not be so  passive in this bog
More dangerous than our weapons are our minds,

Instead of fighting fantasies, let’s write
Slowly choosing words,combined for good
Though humans  torment   friends  and their own kind

Onto Jews we  cast  our shadowed bad
Then we killed our souls to shed their blood
Why were fascists not made into swine?
Where is the precious water and the wine?

I think what others  have suffered when I feel self pity

 

Your face is map enough for me

Your face is map enough for me

Your gaze,your smile,your frown,your glee.

And if I want to know the rest

The shape your posture’s made is best

For kowing what your life is now.

A look,a gesture, this  will show.

Till all you are is then disclosed

And I am in your arms enrobed.

Love vanishes when analysed,

And thinking too’ by Love’s despise
Choose the means to fit the end
And then I'll be what you intend

Flower of true joy

Hepatica-okesabayashi-2020 (1)How  profligate the world of flowers and  buds
Glory of material, of design
Soon they disappear and all is lost
Except the seeds that flowers leave behind

Do tbey enjoy their little life on earth?
Even one  fine hour is of   great worth

Take your mind off

If you live near a psychopath
And can’t run
Then it will take your mind
Off the coronavirus

And if you have a UTI
You will want to die
Don’t kill him  yet

Strange how a bodily pain
Feels like torture
Like houses  had faces
And pictures of the  three bears
Hung in your lounge
Suddenly when you were five
Turned into a bridge with  three arches
Over a river

We truly believe
Then it  goes.
The eyes are windows
The mouth is a door
There never was  nose
At least we never  heard it sneeze
It  didn’t cough
Sometimes the chimney set on fire
But girls didn’t put it out

To be a truth but not The Truth

The grey and damp clouds seem like my insides
More truly how I feel and how I dream
The kidneys squeeze the abscess   of my  life

A feel of water,wisdom truth and lies
The holy spirit from the mountain  streams
The grey and damp clouds look like my insides

Post modern narratives each strive
To be a truth but not The Truth,it seems
While  kidneys sieve the poison from my life

Now there are no husbands, are there wives?
In bitterness the different groups each scheme
The grey and damp clouds ,Britain’s own insides

I try love once and then I try  it twice
I am very generous, what,I’m mean?
My kidneys sieve the poison from my life

What are atoms, what indeed are genes?
What are photons,where’s your mother been?
The grey pink of the  clouds  seems to deride
The  struggling kidneys  feel I am with knives

 

 “Day  shall come again”

When red sun  drops and  cooling night  rolls in
Darkness masks both danger and our vision
Ancient minds fear   day won’t come again

Courage for the  delicate   seems thin
We  wrestle  with  our horrid indecision
When  sun  drops deep and  night  rolls  softly in

But now , new stricken by   a dread of sin
Who shall doubt  the soul’s   derision?
Our  ancient minds fear   day won’t come again

When  we sleep we’re entertained within
Dark dreams squander  sweet   illusion
When  deep sun  drops and   gentle night  rolls in

In reverie we’re loved  our hearts widen
Then  fancy turns to full communion
While ancient minds fear   day won’t come again

And so  it was that our own life began
When sperm leaped up in  proud confusion.
When  deep sun  dropped and  a   new night  rolled in
When  ancient  hearts cried  “Day  shall come again“

Fear of illness

The wasted years  of  our uncivil war
Continue as we fight for toilet rolls
All too soon will come the blood and gore
The bulls escape,we trained no matadors

Tins of soup and packets of  dried meat
Fly from shelves  to baskets as we queue
Fear has grasped  our throats  with its deceit
The faces of the old are  turning blue

Still there is a palace on the hill
A forest where the princes ride  each day
Doused by rumour,fear  that watchers kill
What worth is there in  turning now to prayer?

Stupid and corrupt  we miss our lives
Our children cry,  our  heartfelt anguish writhes

gods for sale

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAThree for the price of one.
Unengraved
Invisible in the day time
Invisible all night
Special offer.Don’t mess about,
Buy now and save millions>Cheaper and better than indulgences
Let  god be with you where ever you are.
Feeling  bad..  our gods are unbreakable even if an electron bomb falls off the shelf

Bombs for sale in strings  if needed
Buy now,sell to Putin
Don’t waste money on  toilet paper.Use our little atom bombs on your bum.Kills all germs known or unknown
Save on funeral costs.Blow up the  world today
Don’t want coronavirus? We collect for a small fee.
Bored?Take a higher degree in quantum mechanics.PAYG

Bad grammer

img_20200308_121807723

 

NHS ADVICE

“You should also cough and sneeze into tissues  before binning them”

There was I, just throwing clean ones into the garbage

MY ADVICE

No toilet paper?

Cut the newspaper into squares, make a hole through one corner.Thread onto string and hang on a hook near the lav

How about those books you  hate?

Three Gods and my mind

img_20200303_194959687

Leonard Cohen in my computer.I love his profile

Since  the Christians’ God has three male parts, is he a trans-sexual? Or  is at least one of them
Though if  one were female he could have reproduced with himself as it were
However we would not see his children then.By having a human mother Jesus was visible to all who lived in Nazareth or Galilee.Though no photos have been seen
As Jesus was a man, it seems God might be human after all.And has not existed since before time began

I think I’d better stop before I offend everybody
I thought God was here before we were but I’m only a mathematician so what do I know?

The bus smiled

My sister took this photo in Europe.Holland I believe.

I was at  walking to the bus stop and hoping he would see me as I can’t run.When the bus got near me the driver put on the indicator light.It’s only a little bus but I felt it was  like person sending me a message

“Poetry has always been able to cope with uncertainties”

skippe8

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/features/articles/detail/92189

 

“Poets are seekers and questioners. They explore the unknown and help to give it shape. The insights and wisdom in the following poems below are hard-won; more often, it is simply the naming of the fear—personal, spiritual, or political—that offers solace, reminding us that people are connected by our worries and doubts as well as our joys. By resisting closure and easy answers and sounding out the darkness, these poems remind us that poetry has always been able to cope with uncertainties, ambiguities, and shades of gray.”

My mouth negates my speach

The abscess  then the lump of ironstone
Who is living in me with such scorn?
My mouth negates my speach, the  dual form

The latest self is struggling with the worms
Will this goddess ever be reborn?
The abscess  then the lump of ironstone

Am I, myself reduced to  scattered bones?
I must pray, I hear the harp and horn
My mouth negates my speach, the  dual tones

In the distance, ancient seas still moan
While I am here alone and unadorned
The abscess  bursts, the yellow pus is foam

A seabird sits in silence on a  cone
An image of the loss, a love forlorn
My mouth negates my speach, the  dual tones

Oh, for love’s restraint, life’s overdrawn
The tiger’s teeth, its eye,  its cruel claws
What is worse, to die or  live through storms?
My mouth negates my   mind,I  am a  stone

 

The sea sings wild

I like this one

 

Posted on September 21, 2019by 

 

 

acer-palmatum-shindeshojoT

The red leaves in the sunshine seem to smile
A pale blue sky, a silver aeroplane
I’m happy,I am warm, in your arms coiled

I  have no heater but the kettle  boiled
I made us coffee   then my  parcel  came
My face in the small mirror  had a smile

My love is deep, you never were on trial
If we quarrel, we both share the blame
I’m happy,I am warm, in your arms coiled

Our sorrow is, we have not made a child
Jesus cursed the fig tree in its shame
Yet red leaves in the sunshine seem to smile

Sorrow need not  madden nor make  bold
We do not know the purpose  nor the game
I’m happy,I am warm now as I toil

We need old fashioned virtues like restraint
We don’t see the whole  as life we paint
The red leaves in the sunshine seem to smile
I’m happy,I am warm, the sea sings  wild

Where God’s in hell

The sadness of the television world
Where actors have no character to share
Where all is flat and perfect but unreal
Where God’s in Hell,  and yet it is concealed

The sadness of a toddler with a phone
Eyes near focussed like he is alone
Where he can see a Zoo in Montreal
Or hear hyenas  as they  make their calls

The sadness as we toss out ancient books
And never teach our children  how to cook
The imaged food is perfect in   young eyes
But when we live on that I think  we die

The sadness  when our neighbours  have blind eyes
The sadness as our culture slowly dies

As á smile

Why God made me alluring I don’t know
To cut my vanity he bent my toes
Not far from climbing trees, my feet were hands
Confined to shoes, a bunion  made them bend

Thus I’m half evolved,my mind is sharp
My body is still monkey in its parts
Of course I have no fur so I must dress
Am I  proof that Darwin was remiss?

For how can head evolve but feet  do not
In the embryo  or in a cot?
I am neither beast nor am I man
My face may tempt  my toes are also ran

Nothing is as perfect as a smile
An ugly face   can swiftly   men beguile

I get drunk without a single drink

I did not  know my mind was strong a sin
My wickedness was choosing to be thin
My ringlets  seemed  far wilder than cats’ screams
The torture and the vividness of dreams

I picked up books and read them in an hour
How could I guess  the wreckage of men’s power?
I made pastry, I baked cakes of wheat
To honour God , my father, the elite.

In my pram I gave the neighbours shocks
Electric was my verbal skill and luck
They asked me how to vote and who should win
I sucked my dummy as my thoughts all ran

 I  sit and listen by the kitchen sink
For I get drunk without a single drink

Over burned spaghetti and red wine

God has made men suffer making me
As beautiful as morning by the sea
Because I’m only interested in maths
I have long since left the garden path

I never look in mirrors  or deep ponds
Narcissus eat your heart out in ferns’ fronds
I  never used to wonder how I looked
When my eyes were glued on a textbook

What irony that men would love me so
I   thought myopia  would  make them shy
I thought they’d like to talk  of Wittgenstein
Over burned spaghetti and  red wine

But now I’ve learned how beautiful I looked
Lying on the sofa with a book
Alas it is too late for any more
I see the edge of Heaven by the door

God  may seem ironic, it’s a test
I may kiss you once if you insist

Before we have the words

The childish jealousy, the painful heart
The remnants of a past that live within
Which make my  skin  feel pain, that make it smart

Measured feelings  appear   on  noone’s chart
We hide our knowledge of our own dark sin
The childish jealousy, the painful heart

It  comes too fast, takes too long to depart
Before we have the words, can thought  begin?
Unthought knowledge,wordless,  makes skin smart

Can action makes us better deal with thought?
What protection helps the smarting skin,
The childish jealousy, the painful heart?

Can virtue, unlike love, be sold and bought?
Turn the phones off. numb the brain-made din
Unwanted knowledge peeves the soul and heart

Like the dangerous wall that cut Berlin
We defend ourselves,  don’t   let life in
The childish jealousy, the hating heart
Make my  very self  feel pain.I want no part

 

Meet your curse

How to manage your boss
How to damage your boss
How to savage your boss
How to banish your boss
How to seek for work
How to leak your worth
How to streak and worse
How to meet  your curse
How to beat  the curse
How to  bleat and shirk
How to write poetry and verse
How to import  forty whores
How to  survive jail and more
How to revive your faith when sore
How to stop selling slaves at the door
How to write a life sentence
How   to fight Evil and its allure
How to live well and be pure
How to  fib and sell cures
How to tell lies and  far more
How to differentiate the truth of calculus from quantu, mechanics
How to integrate panic
How to disintegrate with good manners
How to shorten your nerves [ my nerves are twice the normal size]
How to knit coats for bad nerves
Unnerving for swimmers in  life’s sea
Knit yourself well
Cat is my name, what the hell?

The story of the shoe laces

Edgeworthia-chrysanthaWhat a day.All I wanted was some black shoe laces.I need to have some kind of fastening and I have some black patent brogues.
Can your feet lose weight when the rest of you doesn’t?
I took out the laces and wore the shoes without  any but now they flop about.Ask me where I  haveput the laces.I have no idea… have I got ADD or am I  just not very wise?
I decided being a bit off colour I’d take a cab.The cab was  £5.The shoe laces were £4 for 2 pairs.No doubt I’ll lose one soon
Of course I needed coffee and an iced bakewell tart I guess it was £4
That seems £13…. just because I needed the shoe laces.Moreover some of my other shoes are now too wide.Why have my feet   shrunk while my body is the same size
Will my hands shrink soon?
Then to economise I wanted the bus.I just missed it and then entered a posh hair dressers
Yes,madam?
May I use your WC? It hurts me to walk all the way  to the Mall?
Of course
When I came out the next bus was due.It was 17 minutes so one was missing
And when your knees hurt those plastic seats are hell.I mean it
So.I’ll throw those shoes out…… if I can find them!
Yesterday I staggered onto the road.I haven’t  drunk alcohol since 1987
Apparently I screamed ,help me.What next?I was only getting down the kerb which is hard when you have no depth vision
An angel will come down and take me to heaven.I won’t need Visions there
Was that my life?

 

After him

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 convers

I suck upon this lump

I suck upon this lump, this errant growth
As if it were a sweet or tooth unbroke
It cannot be removed  but will it die
Ot getting spiteful ,will it multiply?

I suck on it though never on my thumb
Being deprived  by mouth will make me dumb
It’s cheaper than a cigarette or sweet
Next I’ll be a cannibal,my meat,

I suck it hoping I can make it die
And then the world will feel much less awry
I want back my own mouth as a clear space
Not this horrid monster of disgrace

Yet how divert my self from its own thoughts
Feeling toothless, humour can’t be bought

Little hands

Ten thousand words, a million diagrams
Noone can know others nor themselves
Nor the errant ways, the  wavering spans

Flee the fluttering of a diaphragm
Blind  the eyes and ears to all this wealth
Ten million days, a  thousand diamonds

Fifty million cells in a doll’s pram
Life is  touch and go and needs our stealth
Not the errant ways, the  wavering  plans

No matter how I speak I can’t command
The instant  of his death,his plangent depths
Ten thousand gasps,  the weight  about a gram

God below, with worms he understands
He needs no words, no pictures, nor  new hells
The trains to Auschwitz,  had no waving   hands

By  Dunwich Beach we hear submerged church  bells
Golden angels   fly  from one, Cromwell
Ten  mighty words show less than one diagram
See the watery   childrens’ little hands