Inside my heart, this sacred place
Where freely mingle truth and grace
Where friends and enemies alike
Are viewed as equals for love’s sake

Inhabited by deeper self
In touch with  soul that in me dwells
I leave  my failures  gladly here
I will not live in morbid fear

I don’t insult the force divine
By pride in any good that’s mine
For willpower cannot birth virtue
But  can  attend to the eye’s  view

By trusting in   the vast unknown
We turn attention from the known.
Our eyes relax and  gaze without
To  bring proportion  to our doubts

Trust, itself. will widen gaze
And enable us to find our ways.
With terror, fear or loss of pride
Constriction comes to human eyes.

Perception is the highest good
By what we see, we choose our road.
The blind rush like the swine to hell
In patient, watchfulness let’s dwell.

He has done  with me, his earthly woman now
Gone away as dust motes dance in air.
I must live, I wonder where and how

To the fiercer visions, my eye goes
All is snatched while we  seem mute and  bare
He has done  with me, his earthly woman now

What is this killing Nature, it does cow
The mighty King, the princess blue-eyed, fair
I must live, I wonder when and how

Life is  may  be the flood plain and the flow
Emperors are killed by   those who dare
Who has gone from me, a widow now?

The Ouse drops from the Pennines and it grows
Until it  drowns the earth,  the Minster’s prayers
Must I   stay  on grievous tears afloat?

Oblivious to the people and the stares
Oblivious to  this   sleep and its nightmares
He did  for me, his earthly  female spouse
I  could not swim, my heart  sank from the blow

Near my destination my mind swerves
The object of my  passion’s hard to catch
In a fast car   bending roads to   curves

Do we ever  overcome our love?
Do we think the next one  is our match?
Near my destination my mind swerves

I am thinking of the words I heard
When the door was left upon the latch
Shall my car  grind roads into deep curves?

With the passion my  heart  leaps and heaves
The Sacred Heart was mentioned , a faux pas
Near my  start and  end ,my mind  will swerve

The tarmac heats as if it wants to leave
The rubber on the tyres  screams at last
In a fast car   bending roads to   curves

We mix up the future and the past
The future is not written nor surpassed
Near my destination my mind swerves
In its fast car   bending roads to   curves

Sitting in the garden with no thoughts
Empty minded,listening to the birds
Ideas rise up like fishes to be caught

Activity and purpose may be taught
Not silence and deep listening  beyond words
Sitting in the garden with no thoughts

Creative moments  cannot yet be bought
We think upon the  conversations heard
Ideas rise up like fishes to be caught

The mind is best when muscles are not taut
Then the  creatures wild may be allured
Sitting in the garden with  these thoughts

What  arrives is rarely what we sought
Pain and feelings darker may occur
Ideas rise up like fishes to be caught

Relaxation  makes the  visions blurred
This is not the end of the affair
Sitting in the garden with my  thoughts
Ideas rise up and dance and then are caught.

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2015/feb/06/jacqueline-wilson-interview

“It is strange,” says Wilson as she gets up to leave, “that sometimes people assume the worst of children if they come from poor families. I remember being astonished when I took my daughter to a party given by her schoolfriend’s parents. They lived in a lovely, big house very near the block of council flats where I grew up. The mother was very friendly to me, and said how pleased she was that our daughters were friends because obviously she could have nothing to do with ‘those dreadful scary rough children from the council flats’. I didn’t want to embarrass her by saying that I had once been one of those very children.”

https://www.biography.com/writer/john-keats

“It has been an old comparison for our urging on – the Beehive; however, it seems to me that we should rather be the flower than the Bee – for it is a false notion that more is gained by receiving more than giving – no, the receiver and the giver are equal in their benefits. The flower, I doubt not, receives a fair guerdon from the Bee – its leaves blush deeper in the next spring – and who shall say between man and woman which is the most delighted”

http://www.john-keats.com/briefe/190218.htm

Extract  from  a Keats’ letter

When Man has arrived at a certain ripeness in intellect any one grand and spiritual passage serves him as a starting-post towards all ‘the two-and-thirty Palaces.’ How happy is such a voyage of concentration, what delicious diligent Indolence! …Nor will this sparing touch of noble Books be any irreverence to their Writers – for perhaps the honors paid by Man to Man are trifles in comparison to the Benefit done by great works to the ‘spirit and pulse of good’ by their mere passive existence. Memory should not be called Knowledge – Many have original minds who do not think it – they are led away by Custom. Now it appears to me that almost any Man may like the spider spin from his own inwards his own airy Citadel – the points of leaves and twigs on thich the spider begins her work are few, and she fills the air with a beautiful ciruitin

Why is Pythagorus’s theorem not mentioned in the Bible?
Was Homer acquainted with grief?
What pen  did St Paul use?
Why did the Jews not discover Logic? It was all Greek to them.
Mythos is the Hebrew Way.
Futility is British now.
They used Word 365 to write  the stories down, no doubt.
Microsoft  wrote the Bible? I can’t believe it! Did Jesus know?
Well, what will Google write?
We await Revelations
Facebook is waiting to show the Apocalypse the door,Now!
Spelled wring again
I’ll wring your neck in a minute.No hands!

At midnight I was tidying my room
Oh,not feeling tired, can’t sleep in tune
But in the morning I feel  tired as hell
After sixty sinners burned  pell mell!

My room looked even worse than I believed
I fell sideways,  then I was relieved
My head cracked on the mirror on the wall
Was it for this   that God endured the Fall?

I thought the wardrobe door was my  way out
It would not open even with a clout
Where’s my husband with his  soothing touch?
I lost him once so I’m  not very rich.

Noone  here to listen as I sob
Nothing like a  kiss on Lyme’s old Cobb
Noone to be happy if I laugh
None to phone the doctor  when I cough

I fear to go upstairs in case I dream
I’m giving birth  too  early with  no screens

What meaning has a buttercup in flower?
So many  trodden down in meadows green
How  shall we  sanctify each little hour?

The celandine ‘s no warrior full of power
Underneath my apple tree they bloom
What meaning has  the life of any flower?

Their very being brings grace, disgusts the dour
They live so wisely  while by sun consumed
Melodious is their  soul song for an hour

We saw the princess  followed from her tower
Was her life superior in its doom?
What meaning has  the life of any , even flowers?

Diana hunted,  shot,  her image ours
She consumed herself ,was her own food
Her funeral -leaded coffin we endured

If we are intent we hear  life’s tunes
Standing on  cracked paths, with stiff  old brooms
What meaning has a buttercup in flower?
Do not  demand meaning, it’s no cure.

https://www.etymonline.com/word/chagrin

chagrin (n.)

What is the binomial theorem?
Would you mind speaking English, Miss?

What is an isosceles triangle?
I will not even go there. Are you crazy?

What is Aleph null?
Do you mean who is aleph null? Sounds like an immigrant from Israel
 without money.Except we don't get any.

But Israel is not in  financial trouble, why would they want come here when we are in a mess?
They want to know how the other 99.9% live
Sounds like God to me.
Sounds like God, looks like God.Is God.
Is that a proof?
Ask God
QED

What  or who is Aleph null ?
The brother of Aleph One!

What is Aleph?
Do not you know, sir? It is Hebrew.
And Epsilon also for you
This is Greek.
This shows that we are all one
But which one?
Aleph, of course,
Do you mean Ralph? Beowolf?
Gamma of it.
Ooh, what a classy accent.
No more personal comments, thanks.
It does not bother me
Well, you do not mind the worry but I do.

Aujourd'hui, nous étudions la topologie
Ça doit être bref.
Et le caoutchouc
Ooh, vous êtes impoli, n'êtes-vous pas
Regardez, ce n'est pas un jeu de mots croisés
Non, mais vous êtes. Vous obtenez la croix et nous avons
Qu'en est-il des mots?
Juste bourdonnement aujourd'hui.

Maintenant, nous allons apprendre sur les nombres transcendantaux
Vous pouvez parler mais nous ne pouvons pas apprendre
Pourquoi, est-il interdit?
Non, nous sommes juste épais
Eh bien, mon QI n'a que 65 ans et pourtant j'ai un diplôme de maths
D'où?
Vous ne pouvez pas les acheter.
C'est ce qu'ils disent tous
Je suis un crétin, vous êtes un crétin, ils sont des crétins
Et nous?
Tu es un imbécile.

Pourquoi avez-vous cette lettre dans votre main?
C'est un refernce de mon tuteur. "Ce garçon est tellement stupide qu'il ne peut même pas épeler Feck et il n'a jamais entendu parler de Sodome et Gomorrhe.
Eh bien E n'est pas U
Sont-ils les jumeaux sur la rue Coronation
Pour l'amour de Dieu, lisez la Bible.
Sera-t-il heureux?
Non, mais ça t'arrêtera de parler autant.

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?

,

After eating several   oranges my mother in law gave birth to her son in the kitchen in the terraced house near the centre of an industrial town.He was 8 weeks early.She and her husband had been to the seaside for  the day.No doubt the train journey could have jolted her insides.
Years later he and I walked down that long beach at Easter time.If she had not gone into labour so soon, I would not be here in this house in a big city.I wouldnot have this blog!

Giving Birth

His mother was a fan of the orange
Preceded by large bowls of porridge
Scott’s Quaker oats
Old fishing boats
Giving birth to a  child  needs great courage

She made lovely bread with brown flour
And  drank  her tea hot by the door
She roasted  and  steamed
As she did in his dreams
92  years  exact to the hour

Do  we have ” best by” dates on our birth certificates?

Do politicians  have ” use by” dates after which we throw them out? Why or why not?

Do we ever throw ourselves away for the wrong reason?

Why do we say, she threw him over? Over what?

I think someone might buy me but as what? Explain

Why is irrational a critical word?

Are we metaphors?

Am I as bright as a button though my IQ is 65?

Thanks for calling to tell me I am owed insurance  money after that bus ran over me in Uxbridge Road.However,I   have died since.

Thanks for asking me what I think of your  telephone service.I
prefer Westminster Cathedral.

Thanks for  saying I have a beautiful voice.However you may not realise I am 87 and  no longer date strange men  or indeed any men or other human beings like women

Thanks for the offer of  three pairs  of shoes for the price of two.I have 50 pairs of shoes now so I must turn down your offer or buy a new home.

Thanks for sending me the Sun.If the Guardian is not there I’d prefer nothing at all to come or if  you are desperate  for money send The Times

Thanks but the LRB is too much for me already.It gives me a certain je ne sais  pas or qua or da da  as I walk into the Turkish Cafe for my coffee.
It keeps men at bay.And women too.I am a loner now

Please stop writing to me.I don’t speak Russian.I don’t even know if it is Russian.And I do not want to  be  your wife.Or a spy.

Cor blimey.Are tower blocks a sign of lack of confidence in highly trained men about all their erections? A form of uncertainty masquerading as boastfulness.Recall Donald Trump’s hands [not for  very long]
Why is our skyline tormented by these gherkins, pickles, onions and garden gnomes?
Where are the Cathedrals of yesteryear? It is a sign of our lack of confidence in Eros and the Sacred.Now they are on fire and it’s a warning.Wood burns.
We need a new paradigm which may be a revolution
.A cathedral has both male and female aspects.Does the Gherkin?
A gherkin is not real food.Like HP sauce it is an addition men demand for slapping onto their well-cooked meals.Do you think the French use HP sauce on their croissants?On their steak au Poivre?
Je m’appelle Catherine.Je desire l’ineffable  toujours tristesse.Or in Britain,mistress.
Je n’aime pas  un homme qui demands  HP GP TCP Tea TT TV. Pourquoi
Et je ne suis pas deus ex machina.
Mein mutter ist immer Zank
I  don’t only speak Afrikaans myself but  also I  can find a translator  soon
Quelle Therese May est un  Carmelite manque?
St Therese et un Hebrew.
You could have blocked my down with a hoover
Carmelites use Judaic spiritual  exercises  except it’s a secret.So don’t pass it on.

https://www.merriam-webster.com/news-trend-watch/barr-report-also-does-not-exonerate-trump-20190324

Extract

The dark wood gleams I see my shadow
And the furniture looks beautiful that way
The keys evoke affection, they let me in
My hands, long and slim touch the ivory
The way kittens do, afraid of their own din
I should be dusting
The vacuum cleaner upstairs sounds like a   mad crowd
Mother too impatient to enjoy the housework game
She’ll be in a bad temper
I should be peeling potatoes
I am alone in this room
Geraniums flower in the window
Outside there are boxes in the palisading
With other flowers,violets,daisies
Noone else has flowers like this in this street
I touch a key tentatively,look at the music
It all comes together like water off a steep hill
Descends into a river
I am playing, at last
I should be carrying in the coal
I should have black hands  like Mother
I play

Sitting at the piano, what reflections
Pull my eyes from looking at the score
As  if  the  unseen critics  were objecting

Noone else is here to be afflicted
I have even closed the open door
Sitting at the piano, now reflecting

I play with both  my hands  consenting
To work together now and furthermore
No  rude critics  made their fine objections

Happiness of children unaccepted
Achievement of this kind is just a bore
I’m sitting at the piano, now reflecting

Life in nuclear families resenting
Attacks by one, malicious in its lore
Imagined critics  made  me feel  dejection

The eyes, the  hands, the mind,  the heart adore
The way the notes  on paper sound, allure.
Sitting at the piano, what reflections
The critics  hear and see with wide attention