I wonder how I’d feel from day to day If I knew not prime numbers and their play If I’d never heard of “e” and “pi” And still believed that God lived in the sky Even though I’ve not done maths for years I fall into brown studies next to squares Ellipses please me with their enclosed space Sequential numbers tilt my mind to grace. Calculus is nonsense in its way Where nothing re-appears to our dismay It comes and goes like waves do on the beach Where men would stand up on a box to preach. Ah,shall I never know my other life Where to the grace of words I would be wife?
Author: Katherine
Poetry writer and author
Gravity
Oh, do not let the sun fall in despair
As desolation haunts our souls today
Leaving us in darkness cold and bare
Can’t some God or other make life fair?
I bet they’re angry , we no longer pray
Oh, do not let the sun fall in despair
There is no father, mother anywhere
No priest to bless the house , its ghosts to lay
Leaving us in darkness cold and bare
I fear the sun is heavier than air;
Though what is Mass, some form of ecstasy?
Oh, do not let the sun fall in despair
Who holds up the pillars, who would dare
While scholars smile at such complexity?
All their minds are focused on the rare
The broken altars crack, whoever cares?
The Church has never been what Jesus saw
Oh, do not let our hearts fall to despair
Living in such darkness cold and bare
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The future is still fiction, if it’s there.
This is a terza rima
The little leaves are red brown in the sun
The branches turned out shapes are full of joy
Little glitters play on leaves for fun
Eden was not totally destroyed
We return there in these glances rare
As nature and our friendships we enjoy
Living now, we never should defer
The sights, the dreams we harbour every day
The future is still fiction, if it’s there.
The maple does not ask the quetion, why?
Seek meaning for its life and its affairs
Like it we must now live before we die
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Weapons of Lass Destruction
Compulsive Flirting Disorder Symphony
Theresa May Losing Certain Election Imitation Syndrome for Triangle and Drum
Underflirting and/or under talking Syndrome Quarte for piano and oboe
” Underwired Bra Accident Disorder” a new play by Miguel Strain
Shapewear Excessive Itch Disorder: latest writings of the nouveau cliches
Side Zip Trouser Stress Incontinence and its effect on schizophrenic cats
Lack of Public Conveniences Obsessive Anxiety Syndrome set to be played on a harp
Side Zip Trouser Lumbago Dances
Fear of Wearing Skirts Syndrome:Ballet Trouseau
Fear of Knicker Elastic Phobia and Rondeau in G minor
Fear of Wire coming out of Bra in Public : Concerto for three wire strung violas and gutted cello by Lady Katepotatos Ph.D [Clotsford and Lambridge]
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It couldn’t be done
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44314/it-couldnt-be-done
It Couldn’t Be Done
Somebody said that it couldn’t be done
But he with a chuckle replied
That “maybe it couldn’t,” but he would be one
Who wouldn’t say so till he’d tried.
So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin
On his face. If he worried he hid it.
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
That couldn’t be done, and he did it!
Somebody scoffed: “Oh, you’ll never do that;
At least no one ever has done it;”
But he took off his coat and he took off his hat
And the first thing we knew he’d begun it.
With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin,
Without any doubting or quiddit,
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
That couldn’t be done, and he did it.
There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done,
There are thousands to prophesy failure,
There are thousands to point out to you one by one,
The dangers that wait to assail you.
But just buckle in with a bit of a grin,
Just take off your coat and go to it;
Just start in to sing as you tackle the thing
That “cannot be done,” and you’ll do it.
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The silent visions of the deepest nights
The secrets of the numbers are in sight
Patience and perception bring us near
The silent visions of the dreamsweet nights
Is there yet a growing sense of light
As we tiptoe through the maze in doubt and fear?
The secrets of the numbers are in sight
Yet overthinking , blindness, causes blight
The rose corrupted worms into ideas
The silent visions of the deepest nights
The panic fear, the sudden stormy flight
As into blackest woods the driver steers
The secrets of the numbers are alright
Missed out again, shall we make change or fight?
The guides unnumbered, different ways will veer
The awkward visions of the dreaming night
Give up your self,oh,care no more what’s here
In the depths his mighty words are spears
The secrets of the numbers have no site
Nor silent visions in the haunted night.
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Unelected Minister, Prime liar.
Some thinner branches tremble with desire
Reaching out beyond the shrub’s wide shape
The sun has drawn them up with its great fire
Yet, without learning, there is no Messiah.
No support exists, they sulk and drape
The thinner branches trembling with desire
To greatness and to height they had aspired
Now will they turn out sullen as they mope?
The sun has drawn them up with its great fire
Like the politicians who conspire
The European failure stole our hopes
Though little Hitlers tremble with desire
Unelected Minister, Prime liar.
Will he ever cross the final tape?
The sun has drawn Men up with its great fire.
As the West evolved through crime and rape
We were thought Enlightened in our scope
We loved the Inquisition, loved the fires
The gods have punished us and never tire.
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The phones are smarter than we are ourselves
I like to go out in the country to see lambs gambling in the meadows as the horses are racing all day.
I told a lie once.I said, I will when I get married.
I must make a will, so I am told.From what?
The sausages are rolling the pastry. They are just like pins.
I don’t know what language cows speak.Moo,moo.Metoo# I blame the paypal bulls,
The cats are at it now MioawMiaow2#.How did they l earn about unacceptable behaviour when they don’t even speak English or read the Telegraph?
Apparently our soles are black and desperately need someone who can dye for them
I believe in salvation as long as I can pick who gets it.Do you get that?
I’d prefer an immobile phone but who makes them?
Smartphones implies we are stupid,How did they know?
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The universal suffrage of the dark
Nothingness has caught me by the throat Tossed me to the innards of its prayer Joan of Arc unhorsed in a nightmare Burgundy makes offers for her coat When we’re real and know the here and now Do we entertain our thoughts and dare To let perception grow in all its flair Lamenting foreign insights we won’t know From the mountain, I see Windermere I see Coniston and Morecambe Bay I see sheep and flat green fields arrayed The shadows of the hills , the dread, the fear Where can we be now on this our March? The moon, the sky , the aluminium arc The universal suffrage of the dark The rights of strangers, the Triumphal Arch
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The best of our goodwill ‘s already wrecked
Heil , O Johnson liar and right wing crook
I wonder what they’ll write about you next
As you dictate to us,will we be hooked?
The Germans knew their leader wrote a book
You may send out vitriol by text.
Heil , O Johnson, liar and right wing crook
You do not care, you lie as we onlook
You play Big Brother wearing Hitler’s vest
When you dictate to us,will we be hooked?
Have you come to power just by a fluke?
We hope the coming weeks will prove a test
Heil , O Johnson ,liar and right wing crook
Whatever words you say, they will be cooked
You rich men plunder, in the sinking West
When you dictate to us, will we be hooked?
You play upon the panic and unrest
The best of our goodwill ‘s already wrecked
Heil , O Caesar Johnson liar and crook
As you smiled and cheated. we just looked
\
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The brave Nazis round up their victims
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Warsaw_Ghetto_Uprising
January revolt
On 18 January 1943, the Germans began their second deportation of the Jews, which led to the first instance of armed insurgency within the ghetto. While Jewish families hid in their so-called “bunkers”, fighters of the ŻZW, joined by elements of the ŻOB, resisted, engaging the Germans in direct clashes.[19] Though the ŻZW and ŻOB suffered heavy losses (including some of their leaders), the Germans also took casualties, and the deportation was halted within a few days. Only 5,000 Jews were removed, instead of the 8,000 planned by Globocnik. Hundreds of people in the Warsaw Ghetto were ready to fight, adults and children, sparsely armed with handguns, gasoline bottles, and a few other weapons that had been smuggled into the ghetto by resistance fighters.[1] Most of the Jewish fighters did not view their actions as an effective measure by which to save themselves, but rather as a battle for the honour of the Jewish people, and a protest against the world’s silence.[15]
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Why drawing is important when we learn art
Click the link for more
Why Having a Dedicated Drawing Practice Is Key for All Artists
EXTRACT
Drawing liberates us from the fear of wasting materials or failing. It can be playful and lighthearted. Even doodles count!
Drawing is crystallized seeing. It is the doorway to understanding form through light. If we draw representationally, we simply capture light and shadow. If we draw abstractly, we work on building an assortment of marks.
Having a drawing practice connects our eyes with our hands. Often, we need to get the mind out of that loop. The mind likes to tell us things such as, “I can’t paint hands,” often hijacking our creativity.
In Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain, author Betty Edwards offers an activity for overcoming this cognitive trap in a lesson involving drawing from a photograph. She encourages readers to flip the photo upside down to better see the shapes and their relationships to each other. This way, the forms are seen as just shapes, instead of a hand, arm, etc.
I highly recommend that you enroll in a drawing class, no matter how proficient you think you are. I take a drawing class every year or two. It realigns me, and makes me a better artist. To that end, below are two quick and easy ways to enhance your drawing practice.
Drawing Practice | Activity 1
Sit in front of a mirror every day for 30 minutes and do a self-portrait using compressed charcoal and a large newsprint pad. Start with several quick one- to two-minute drawings of your face as a warm-up, and then progress to a 20-minute detailed self-portrait.
Assess your image as a collection of shapes. Notice how the shapes change when you move. Look for different proportions within your image, and identify the negative spaces. Hold the charcoal at a low angle to the paper, almost drawing on the side of the charcoal.
Self-portraits offer us the gift of connecting with ourselves and checking in with our emotional state. Life can be so full, busy and distracting that we can lose touch wit the person staring back at us.
Drawing Practice | Activity 2
Using charcoal or a 6B charcoal pencil, explore alternate forms of mark making:
>> Draw, holding a pencil in your non-dominant hand.
>> Jab the charcoal onto the paper as if you’re a woodpecker.
>> Explore drawing with firm pressure and with very light pressure, changing a continuous line on the page from dark to light.
>> Make repeating loops until the whole page is a field of marks and overlapping shapes.
>> Cover the paper in charcoal, then use an eraser as you would a pencil, creating marks and lines by erasing.
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What poetry changes by Eric Pankey
https://poems.com/features/what-sparks-poetry/eric-pankey-on-what-poetry-changes/
EXTRACT
In a 1987 interview that appeared in the Partisan Review, the Polish poet Zbigniew Herbert said, “It is vanity to think that one can influence the course of history by writing poetry. It is not the barometer that changes the weather.” With that metaphor, we are asked to see poetry as a gauge, a measure, a tool, a way of understanding the nature of phenomenon. When I say poetry changed the way I see the world I mean it taught me to be attentive, to be curious, to be empathic, to understand both the power and danger of language itself. It is a lens that allows one to see the microscopic and a distant star nursery. The poem, “Five Men,” gives us an insight into the minds of those about to be killed as well as insight into the minds of those leveling their guns as executioners. The poet wonders in “dead earnest” what poetry might offer in the face of horror and trauma. What does it offer? What might it offer?
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How can we explain?
The sky is cloudless, coral after rain
A mad outburst as sudden as a rage
The sun is trembling as it slowly fades
Our people too are troubled and in pain
Where ever shall we find a trusted sage?
The sky is cloudless coral after rain
Each side holds the other in disdain
No conversation. nobody’s engaged
The sun is trembling as it slowly fades
The suicidal kingdom’s past remains.
The Empire a delusion of the age
The sky is cloudless, coral, after rain
The erudite have no words to explain
What produced the elemental change
The sun is shaking as it slowly fade
Fearing loss we gather on the stage
There is no doubt the leaders are deranged~
The sky is cloudless, coral after rain
The sun is watching as we slowly fade
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The existential crisis of mathematics
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My apology so far has been declined
I shall post my sins upon the Web
Sinners may be cheered by reading mine
I have killed a mouse, how very bad
I have been annoyed but now I’m sad
My sins are written underneath the lines
I shall post my sins upon the Web
If I get too scrupulous it’s mad
I’ll be committed or at least be fined
I have killed a fly, am I a cad?
I stood on my cat’s foot and hurt his pad
My apology so far has been declined
I shall post my sins upon the Web
Original and new, my sins filled sheds
As I seek to find how sin’s defined
I have killed a spider with black blood
No wonder that my sins are all now crimes
One joined up with others, how malign!
I shall post my sins upon the Web
I have killed a mouse, how very bad
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He has taken umbrage at my words
He has taken umbrage at my words
He does not trust my love, now I feel sad
Sentenced me to death, oh ,how absurd
Would he feel so bad were I a bird?
Oh, stone the crows .He must feel I am bad
He has taken umbrage at my words
Is what I said or wrote what he has heard?
His rage is more than anger, he seems mad
He sentenced me to death, oh ,how absurd
Still ,from my writing I am not deterred
In a way, I have been feeling glad
He has taken umbrage at my words
Though, a conversation I’d prefer
He must be very sensitive, by blood
He sentenced me to death, this life’s absurd
I shall not retaliate , throw mud
That might bring uncivil war on us
He has taken umbrage at my words
He is sulking still, oh ,how absurd
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Umbrage-what is it?
umbrage
/ˈʌmbrɪdʒ/
noun
noun: umbrage
-
1.offence or annoyance.“she took umbrage at his remarks”
synonyms: take offence, be offended, take exception, bridle, take something personally, be aggrieved, be affronted, take something amiss, be upset, be annoyed, be angry, be indignant, get one’s hackles up, be put out, be insulted, be hurt, be wounded, be piqued, be resentful, be disgruntled, get/go into a huff, get huffy; More -
2.ARCHAICshade or shadow, especially as cast by trees.
Origin
late Middle English (in umbrage (sense 2)): from Old French, from Latin umbra ‘shadow’. An early sense was ‘shadowy outline’, giving rise to ‘ground for suspicion’, whence the current notion of ‘offence’.
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Don’t love as if your map is reality
A map's a guide to find a world
Knitted by angels,plain or pearled,
And though you need a map as guide,
Keep your own eyes open wide.
I spent a year caught in a map
Until I found a big enough gap
I crawled out through this exit slit,
So here I am,like some half wit.
Words can act like heroin,
You live so high ,where I have been.
But onto earth I gladly fall.
The air, the sun, the rain is all.
My senses are my lovers long-
My ears,my eyes,my skin my tongue.
The winds caress my naked flesh,
To dwell on earth is all I wish.
I'll live with mice and birds and plants,
I'll share my food with miscreants
I'll keep my words inside a tin;
And only, now and then,go in.
I'll live with cats and spiders three.
And like a wild flower grow quite free.
I' ll give my words to those who hear,
And eventually I'll disappear
Earth to earth then ash to ash
When soaked with rain I shall disperse.
My atoms wing like butterflies,
And to the Flower I'll fly,disguised.
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Night comes on
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Jesus never wished to be adored.
Image by Katherine
We spent 10 years a -wandering Southport Beach
You may wonder how but I don’t teach
I went to Sinai just to have a look
Now it is in Egypt . bless my boots
The Bedouin people have not found a home
In the deserts of my heart, they roam
I washed my dishes in some water cold
They are greasy but I’m going blind
Would you vote for leaving Asia next?
Brexit has put patience to the test
Are we in New Zealand’s trading zone?
We could cut the cord and be reborn
I read the Times and leave a comment too
To be quite clear I asked them , is I you?
The Bread that is so sacred feeds the poor
Jesus never wished to be adored.
I saw a beggar lying on the ground
I gave him my down coat, was that unsound?
I thought I’d go out on the River Thames
But then I went to Kew to make amends
Did God wish to convert the Jews by force?
I hope he will be filled with bald remorse
The Inquisition, torture and then death
Jesus would be shattered by this mess
Don’t we pay the Hebrews for their Scrolls?
They told the stories , made the Bible whole.
All of Europe forced to go to Mass
Those unwilling, burn them up like grass
I hated sermons for men gave no clue
How to do in practice what they knew
I made some salad green and ate it all
The slugs and snails are looking up appalled
English grammar is no use to me
I want to go to Norway and catch flu
I made a rule :it is a sin to pee
Like sex and drugs and eating from my shoe
Why not work out what we’re made to do?
Making babies may be the real clue
Getting mystic, lying on the lawn
Is that a cat that bit me on the arm?
I fear my cat has grown her claws yards long
If she liked my boyfriend, she’d grow fangs
When in Israel do not speak in code
They invented it to please the Lord
Do you long fo marmalade in bed?
The duvet’s bitter orange matching bread
My husband phones when I’m asleep
I can’t pick it up, so it is cheap
Wandering in the Estuary of the Ribble
Stand on Sinking Sand and play the fiddle
If Britain travels like the great Titanic
Boris Johnson will sell us our own Panic
If you see a Polar bear at night
Take a photo followed by swift flight
I’d like to phone my husband but he ‘s gone
Get BT to lay a line for one.
I don’t believe in mourning over-long
I’ll soon be dead myself and feel the prongs
Grief is free for all of us on Earth
It hurts like Hell and makes the World seem cursed
Good night my little cat and my tame snails
I’m off soon to New Zealand with my tales
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Dance me to the end of love
After learning as a child about the orchestra at Auschwitz, many years later this emerged
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We prefer to do or be wrong than to be unpopular,mostly
Extract
As you will learn, the latest evidence coming out of social science is clear: Humans value being good members of their tribes much more than they value being correct, so much so that we will choose to be wrong if it keeps us in good standing with our peers.
Once an issue becomes politicized, it leaves the realm of evidence-based reasoning and enters the realm of tribal signaling. It’s always been a challenge to progress, but the power of modern media and modern social media has allowed humans to signal their tribal loyalties on a scale that has never, ever been possible, and this one thing might just be what is driving our intense, modern polarization problem.
Compromise and agreement on policies and laws and decisions and judgments and notions of what is and is not true will naturally become more and more difficult as our ability to signal to others to which tribes we belong increases. In this episode, we learn why this is true, and what we can do about it.
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G-d likes Tablets, washed in the Red Sea
The impaired keyboard likes my voice I’ m told
I wonder if I ‘ll write an elegy.
It cannot see, but yet it is not cold
It’s not disabled, keys look bright as gold
Maybe this will write a poem for me
The impaired keyboard likes my voice I’ m told
As long ago the prophets had foretold
G-d likes Tablets, washed in the Red Sea
t cannot see, so is the water cold?
I like on grassy slopes to lie and roll
Would a Tablet suit my malady
The impaired keyboard likes my voice, you know
The keyboard fits my phone plugged in the wall
Is there no more help or remedy?
I cannot see, but yet I am not cold
I want a hybrid child born out of me
The keyboard will fill in as family
The impaired keyboard likes my voice I’ m told
We cannot see, but neither are we cold
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How I feel about UK politics
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Richard Zimler reading his book
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Richard Zimler
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We stand upon the ruins unredeemed.
There are many sights I have not seen
Whether in the sunshine or by night
The Tudor walls, the priest’s hole, ancient dreams
The church once held us, what does absence mean?
We do not see the candles or the lights
There are many sights we have not seen
We stand upon the ruins unredeemed.
Averted human eyes can find no signs
The Tudor walls, the bolthole, ancient dreams
We feel alone, no meeting yet convened
As if we are divided by straight lines
There are many sights we have not seen
Like runners in a race appear so keen
Our pride makes up pretences for our lives
The Tudor walls, the priest’s hole, ancient dreams
As we submit to sleep we find designs
Patterns in the world of poetry ,rhymes
There are visions I have not yet seen
The Tudor walls, the floating clouds , our times
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Speech
“Speech that recognisess the existence of the other and caresses them with its musical sounds
Not speech fired out like bullets
How my heart speaks 