How to make butter curl

How to beat eggs.

How to wash the earth off potatoes

How to stew anything

How to grate cheese

How to boil water

How to whip cream.

Hoe to bone kippers

How to make acid remarks

How to make butter curl

How to grate lemon peel

How to slap wet fish.

How to boil bacon.

How to cut bread.

How to carve a joint.

How to break the ice.

How to suck clams.

How to cook books.

How to cook cows’ heels.

How to stuff a mushroom.

How to boil brains.

How to roll your own eyes.

How to blow up your own nose.

How to curl your lip.

How to be hoist by your own petard

How to bully beef.

How to pot beef.

How to poach legally.

How to brew liquor.

How to scramble brains.

Close reading of poetry

img_0292https://owl.purdue.edu/owl/subject_specific_writing/writing_in_literature/poetry_close_reading.html

 

“Introduction

Once somewhat ignored in scholarly circles, close reading of poetry is making something of a comeback. By learning how to close read a poem you can significantly increase both your understanding and enjoyment of the poem. You may also increase your ability to write convincingly about the poem.

The following exercise uses one of William Shakespeare’s sonnets (#116) as an example. This close read process can also be used on many different verse forms. This resource first presents the entire sonnet and then presents a close reading of the poem below. Read the sonnet a few times to get a feel for it and then move down to the close reading.

CXVI

Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments. Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove:

O no! it is an ever-fixed mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wandering bark,

Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.

Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bending sickle’s compass come:

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

Performing the close read

CXVI.

The number indicates the sonnet’s place in a cycle or sequence of sonnets. Although you may examine the poem on its own terms, realize that it is connected to the other poems in the cycle.”

Read more by using the link at the top

We cannot rest

We have roaming souls,they cannot rest
Once they anchored,  now they catch the wind
Flying like a bird seeking a  nest

 

Life  has ideals, love has nothing less
Wounded by the winds we feel thin skinned
We have noble souls, they cannot rest

Do not wonder who of us is best
We are human,we have sometimes sinned
Flying like wild birds and stealing   nests

Is it better if we have confessed?,
Do we  offer pity ,heart and mind?
We have  anguished souls,  can they  take rest?

Love and hate and malice and incest
The grecian gods were human magnified
Flying like the eagles on their quest

 

Do we seek  fame or seek to be unbound
The world’s not linear, it is almost round
Life  has ideals, love  may  not interest
We have  pauper’s souls, they cannot rest

 

 

We live because we’re breathed by sacredness

Before we go to bed we vegetate
No need for teacher but a compost heap.
And as we vegetate, we drift to sleep
While in our dreams our little mind debates

But mostly we’re unknowing in this dark
Where God himself may manifest at will.
His dazzling darkness makes our souls be still
And wait for strikes by living ,glowing spark.

But in the morning ,we come back to strife
Take up our work and suffer every stroke.
From sapling to the oldest,strongest oak
Each must choose again its proper life

Every look we cast at others strikes
Reflects and shows us what we have become
And when there is no movement, we are done
Our mind and heart have chosen what they like.

So in our end we vegetate again
And no more rise to labour in the day
We fertilise the fields passed on our way
We show the end of woman and of man.

A daily round becomes our life and death.
We live because we’re breathed by sacredness

Mothers claim they stimulate,incite

 

I​n ​April  days transcendent is the light
The air is sharp  the wind breathes out  cold sea​
The ​afternoons are longer​, spacious bright

​W​omen fear to go out  it when it’s night
More ​are murdered in the home at tea
In ​April we ​ ask questions, seeking light

​Wearing​ summer dresses ​,​​ girls delight​
​ But ​leggings are the fashion or tight jeans

The ​afternoons are ​glowing​​ ​ with lust bright

 

​ 
Mothers claim they stimulate,incite
Their teenage sons, now sprung like mattress seams
In ​April  who appreciates the light?

Porn is common​, so are leggings tight​
Hormonal heights cast shadows in between
The ​ scruples of the church, the Zeit geist

We  might  see other worlds,  Shakespearean  themes
And pass the summer  drifting in deep dreams
I​n ​April we  reinterpret  the new light
​The ​afternoons  make screens  blind,  readers​ rhyme

Or sheltering  god in the weeds?

I’ve been reading the News
And the book reviews
Drinking more tea as I read
Shall I buy one more book
I should never look
Thinking  of  others in need
Donating to  orphans
Buying  new saucepans
Or sheltering  god in the weeds?
I’ve steam cleaned the kitchen
Till the fleas  started bitching
Now I’ve straightened the steamer’s new lead
I’m late having coffee
An hour or so roughly
The clock changing never appealed
So I must get going
The  morning is cunning
Thinks I have time under heel

The vertical has disappeared

The world is flat , you are not here
There is no wind ,no still small voice
Right dimensions disappear

Dulled by loss,too wan for fear
There is no sin,there is no choice
The world’s a board , you are not there

I plucked no roses  for your bier
There is no God, there is no Christ
 The vertical has disappeared

I do not burn,I  shed no tears
There is no love, there are no wise.
The world is flat , you are not here

Disconnected  from what’s near
Where walks  the lamb,the sacrifice?
All directions disappeared

Dirac’s  God did shake the dice
Salvation cannot  come from priests
The world is flat , you are not here
The wrong side of the world  is fear

 

Britain  puts on its dark comic show

Britain  puts on its own comic show
Demons  now released,cold hatred bites
Hurts our people slowly, with cruel blows

Masochism  and sadism toe to toe
Kindness and good will are put to flight
Britain  puts on its dark comic show

Did the people voting ever know
What we heard were falsehoods ,patent lies
They hurt our people slowly  like cruel blows 

Now we’re humbled yet we cannot go
The show goes on, the sparrows  softly fly
Britain  puts on its iconic show

Hurt your neighbour, hurt yourself  and more
Stir up  rage and   let the people die
We ourselves made  lowly, by such blows 

Where is sense, where is our true ally?
Peace in our time, how the babies cry.
Britain  puts on its  black comic show
Mocks  the  people , shows love the front door

 

 

Stung  to death by liars.

P1000253.JPGThe pun is mightier than  the word
God’s in the heavens,no light for the world
Curiousity thrills  aegrotats
Always  talk of the funny side of rites
He  resented going to Levens
He rose  like the bread when the yeast is made flesh
It’s bad luck to fake mirrors
I beat men like Blair
Riveting knees and wheels
The child’s cry  dies in the wool
You do not do yahoo? Metoo?
The cauldron of mourning
Stung  to death  by liars.
Put your  nest egg forward
Keep butting one lot in front  of  another
Never say, why.
The cottage was pie
An infinitesmal number divided the fishes and loaves.It’s not called for us
When my rhyme comes
Born on Wednesday.Spoke on Friday.Died later.
Marriage is for creeps
I have seen the writing on the ball
Do your least.
I am punch spunk
Why did the bicycle shriek? It lost its spokes
Do you take this person to be your wife? No,   they are my husband.
We lived in a taunted house till our spirits wailed
Why did the whale eat Jonah? God knows.

Oh, exponential growth in love and care

Oh, so chaste and pure, my husband said
As  I took but him into my bed
I didn’t know I could have taken   two
He had wit  but I had  got no clue.

I’ve never heard of weddings with two grooms
Is this legal, what is here presumed?
I would have thought two brides a better deal
They could share their worries and their meals

Am I lacking  brains to miss the clue
That if you marry one, you might take two?
Then for each one another must be  found
So I’d have four,  eight, sixteen  kiss my hand

Oh, exponential growth in love and care
This seems odd, how  could I even share?

No sentences no syntax,just manure

Objections made to folk who get degrees
Without the payment of gigantic fees
Instead they write great books or create Art
Or  give donations  so to reach the charts

Karen Armstrong got one well deserved
The history of God  quite unexpurged
But for anyone to get a Ph.D
Should   their gifst of money published be?

Page 1

I dedicate my thesis now right here
To all the folk I’ve scammed in South Korea
And in remote yet populated lands
I gave them my old laptops contraband

Page 2
My supervisor was the very best
He let me write a thesis with no text
And at my Oral I was onward blessed
When they  thought  I  looked   a litttle vexed

Page 3

So from now on,  refer to me as Doc
I’m ripe with wisdom like that chimney stack
My thesis is unusual I know
No sentences no syntax,just manure

We are stupid

img_0293John Dominic Crossan quotes

 

https://www.goodreads.com/author/quotes/43692.John_Dominic_Crossan

“My point, once again, is not that those ancient people told literal stories and we are now smart enough to take them symbolically, but that they told them symbolically and we are now dumb enough to take them literally.”
― John Dominic Crossan, Who Is Jesus? Answers to Your Questions About the Historical Jesus

When we see the small, oh joyful fate

God lives in the weed outside the  gate
Small and unobtrusive in the  grit
What we notice there   becomes our fate

Who looks down with care to see, relate
To   the  humble  soil, the wise, what’s fit?
God lives in the weed outside the  gate

Dandelions not roses I found late
By  the window ,  moths round lanterns flit
What we notice not decides our fate

Attending to the small ,the delicate
We learn, we see,  how weakness is our writ
God lives in the roots beside the  gate

Trees grow tall but roots are infinite
The artist paints grey shadows under-lit
What we notice not decides our fate

 

The model for the  life class quietly sits
The newer student stutters , is  this it?
God lives in the roots deep by the  gate
When we see the small, oh joyful fate

Any moment captured is a fluke.

Through the cross of gravity and wind
The thinner branches sway in softest  rain
The red leaves of the maple  hang down low
Loose as morals, swift as sudden pain

No leaf or branch is still, the flowers wave
Points of light gleam from the darkest space
The pins of holly glow, protect inmates
Mellow,moving, musical in grace

Ah, see the  tree trunks glowing in strong sun
Maple red and sycamore and larch
Spruced up by  showers that wandered to and fro
Like sheets dried on the line  that flap unstarched

Infinite the leaves of this my book
Any moment captured is a fluke.

 

 

 

 

In  deep now,turn off that light

I’m in deep now,never been this deep before
The world’s hollow like a shell and I’m out its door.
In so deep, the ocean has its own startled floor.
I’m down,down.down.never been so dark , so more

I can’t rightly tell how I got where I am
I think I had an accident,fell over, then I swam.
Sometimes it’s a loss, be times it’s a man.
I guess I only do it cos I know some folk can.

I don’t know if the joy is worth the pain
Would I choose to relive if, I was born again?
The deep joy is the amazing gain.
But the sorrow is  damn sad, let’s admit it plain.

I’m in deep and it’s over my head
What was I thinking of,when I fell  out of that bed?
I look up and  the sea’s so  turquoise like  that mist   is red
When we get good and mad and wish some loon was dead.

At first, it was all just black,black pain
But from the bottom of the  well, I looked up with awed love again.
That’s when I recalled,feelings are deep and sane
Joy is much greater when we’re in the deep,deep zone.

I dunno if I’m  ever comin’ out.
We can’t control it,ain’t that what life’s all about?
I’ll never love with innocence again,nor not feel doubt.
But I’m no teapot and the devil ain’t got my spout.

I’m swimming and the ocean’s so   mysteriously bright
Down here we don’t have no day nor no night
Fish nudge me with  big grins  and teeth white
Sea flowers fondle me and whisper,turn off that light

Composer James MacMillan

rydal2019-3-1https://www.heraldscotland.com/news/17548457.twenty-years-after-scotlands-shame-sir-james-macmillan-on-that-speech-his-60th-birthday-and-his-new-fifth-symphony/?fbclid=IwAR2EtAudQErE2jatz79RS8HSjmlT5gfTKSlcP4_6xFV39yUwewCn5agTGSQ

Extract

 

“He said: “I am very proud about it, I’ve been coming to the Edinburgh Festival since I was a teenage boy. I remember the first time, it was probably 1977, even before I started university, and I saw Mary Queen of Scots by Thea Musgrave, I heard The Rite of Spring, pieces by John Tavener, all these things – I saw [Yehudi] Menuhin play Beethoven.”

La Grand Inconnu is a French term, ‘The Great Unknown’, which is often associated with the Holy Spirit, the composer said.

MacMillan, who is 59 until July, added: “In English it means ‘the great unknown’, but it can mean something completely different. It is for two choirs, and an orchestra, and there are four soloists.

“It is a exploration and reflection on spirit, the Holy Spirit for for example.

“There are texts, I have a little [Saint] John of the Cross in there. But generally it is words, and sounds, that got it going: for example the Hebrew word for breath is ‘ruach’, and the Greek word is ‘pneuma’, and the Latin word is ‘spiritus’, so you can see where I am going with that.”

The second movement is is inspired by words in each language for water, and the final movement ruminates on the words for fire.

He added: “Why the Holy Spirit? Well I suppose its the most mysterious thing about the faith, I suppose.

“All of Christianity is a mystery, I suppose, but the idea of this third person, its the one we cannot really relate to. We can get the Father, and we can get the son, because he was an historical figure, but the Holy Spirit: what is that about? So there is a mystery there that fascinates me.

“Also, I think for secular people, it is what is most fascinating about the Trinity. What is this spirit thing? It is not just the arts world, I think society in general is rediscovering spirituality, the spirit, it means a lot to people, especially in the world of music.

“People talk about music being the most spiritual of the arts: they’re not talking about conventional religion, like me, but they mean something by that, and they use that for the impact music has on their life, which is transformative. So for all those reasons I thought it was a good way to go.””

I was only trying to help you

Rydal2019-3After my  major eye operation I had to lie  on my front for some time, then I had to sit upright all the time, night and day for many weeks
I got  new glasses after 3 months.The op was not a great success.
I tried to go out and after getting off a bus I asked a lady to help me cross the road. I was seeing double
She grabbed my arm roughly and pulled me straight into the road. without warning It was very busy  indeed but she did not wait for a gap.
I managed to pull my arm away and said to her,
Why did you do that?
She replied
I was only trying to help you.
Help  me to Heaven or Hell or the Hospital?

Stan enjoys Purgatory

acer-palmatum-shindeshojo

Mary woke up on Tuesday feeling dazed.She had been dreaming of Arnold,her student boyfriend.so sweet and shy.
I wonder where he is now, she thought.Then she recalled he was in fact a world famous cancer researcher.She hoped he had found a shy sweet partner would it be better if he had found an extraverted jelly kind of wife.
Emile was yowling on the landing despite the large bowl of Superior Cat Food he was standing next to by the bookshelf
I believe that people and animals like not just to eat, but to be fed,Mary thought.Stan used to make the dinner but he always wanted her to serve.

Emile would eat his food after she stroked him.But who would stroke, Mary?This was a hard and topical question because Mary had stopped eating.However, as she was quite large, she could live for a few weeks on water only.So she mused
Mary put on a pair of purple trousers and a lomg lavender coloured top.She gazed into the mirror wondering why three hairdressers had failed to help her style her fair hair.

Now,she recalled Arnold was a Russian Jew by inheritance though he had lived in the USA all his life until taking up research into cancer at the ancient university Mary attended.

If she had married Arnold she could have pretended to be religious,converted and then worn a wig.
Annie came running upstairs.
Whatever are you doing,she yelled.It’s 11 oclock! Her make up was melting despite being Max Doctor’s All Day Creme Mousse
I was wondering if I could find a Jewish man who would marry me, purely legally, just so I could wear a wig.
What a load of tripe,Annie retorted.No wonder you’ve had no breakfast.If the man was religious he could not marry a lapsed Christian. Or an agnostic.
If you want a wig just go online.
You have no imagination,Mary answered,I spend half my time wondering what would happen if I did A,B or C.And what I might wear
And then you do D,Annie joked merrily.Or X.
Where are you going in purple trousers,she continued.You should not wear them at your age.
Do purple trousers have a meaning,asked Mary.I got them in Windsmoor’s sale for £12.
I refrained from buying a jersey jumpsuit as it looked like a burkini and I am a bit nervous now of racists coming into the open.
Very sensible ,Annie told her.I bet the French are jealous because Muslim women and certain Jewish women don’t get skin cancer nearly as often as Christian or agnostic English women.Should we convert?
I don’t think they would like it if it were only to save ourselves from cancer,Mary mused.
True,said Annie,dully

IMG_0042

Mary felt hot so they went into the kitchen and made some tea.Annie was wearing snakeskin pyjamas and black patent shoes.
Do you sleep in those pyjamas,Mary asked?
Oh,no.These are day pyjamas or leisure suits ,Annie smiled.They are comfy.You can get them in the market for £2.
Mary heard a strange noise

.Stan ,her late spouse ,appeared in the kitchen carrying a big leather bag,
Hello,he grinned.I’ve just come to say I have bought a detached house in Ealing.
But you are dead,Mary whispered thoughtlessly
Yes,I am a ghost but I have bought the house via Dave.I paid cash.
Why Ealing,Mary asked suspiciously
I like that song,Neasden and it’s quite near on the North Circular.And Ealing is healing!
So that’s where you’ve been while I have been grieving,Mary said.On the North Circular Road enjoying Willie Rushton’s songs as you drive
And besides, I want to re-marry and get a wig.
Well,you can get the wig,Stan told her handing her £4,000 in cash from his pocket.But don’t get married until I am in heaven
When will that be,the ladies asked.
Dunno,he cried.It’s such fun in Purgatory where the ladies are naughty but not actually evil.
And so say all the men.Ah,men

I hunt the house to find migrating gnats

I tap my fingers on the table top
I can’t keep still and  some days I just hop
I shout coarse words to let off steam  in bed
I wear a mobile phoneme on my head

My eyes roll round the room like  marbles rare
I  levitate as I dye my own hair
I  study linguistics   as I pray
I light the fire with matchsticks every day

I’m losing weight by running up  big bills
I eat my food  and  visit  flour mills
I wash my clothes by  hand and dry them flat
I hunt the house to find  migrating gnats

By bedtime I am glad to  lie down flat
So they awarded me an Aegrotat

Sunday blues

The air feel still and cool and nothing moves
The birds  have disappeared and do not sing.
Life  feels distant, love’s in interlude

As we age  when health  and wit we lose
What new  learnings may our own life  bring?
The air feel still and cool and nothing moves

Are we present to  the life we choose?
Attention must be paid to each small thing
Life  feels distant,  heart feels unrenewed

Like the dough we must be left to rise
The hidden power of yeast the flour shall wring
Minute yet powerful,  how the grains collide

Hidden in the dark ,what myriad eyes
Insects scurry, wasps to nettles cling
Life  feels distant, lovers lost are rued

 

Now  we feel the breath of a small wind
A whispering voice, the holy dove descends
The air feel still and cool and nothing moves
Consoled by  darkness, we await its clues.

In the end, the truth is where love lies.

With foresight, we may see  where  problems lurk
And  root them out before they start to grow
Yet often life’s mysteriously dark
And what we reap is what another sowed.

In hindsight,  this seems obvious and plain.
But some can  pick the  true out with no pain
Yet others choose  their fantasy again
They amble down a cheerful sunny lane.

Though what is real may not be what we wish
Better truth that hurts  than lies  that charm
Reality is not an easy  choice
Yet falsehood will mislead and even harm.

Insight grows with patient watching eyes
In the end, the truth is where love lies.

What did you say?

  • IMG_20190312_132932391

Rigor mortis has set in in  our governent or vice versa.But things must be done pro forma pro bono and pro rata.
After all eros is not meant to stay there and yet love conquers all except Jacob Rees Mogg
Liars love con-fusion and  often  co-habiting makes them worse.
I find  this stuff in-hibiting  but I may be ex-hibiting some narcissistic wound or hole
I must stop,end,finish or else I shall go on ad infinitum till you all get psy-chotic.
What is chotic , anyway?
I see it  should be psych-otic.What is otic? What is er-otic? where is hisotic?

Common Latin words used in English

colosseum italy
Photo by Chait Goli on Pexels.com

https://reference.yourdictionary.com/reference/other-languages/common-latin-words-and-phrases-we-use-in-english.html

Extract

  • Ipso facto: By the fact itself.
    This often misused term denotes when something is true by its very nature, or a direct result of an action. For example, if you didn’t stop your friend from stealing you are ipso facto an accomplice.
  • Mea culpa: Through my own fault.
    This is Latin for “my bad,” a short phrase to accept blame and apologize for something going wrong.
  • Per diem: For each day.
    This phrase is used in legal and accounting business to refer to payment rendered on a daily basis rather than as an annual salary or hourly rate. For example, if a nurse works on a per diem basis, she is paid by the day and does not have a long-term contract.
  • Pro bono: For the good.

Civis and civility, eros and sweet love

Oh,I learned Latin and it’s Greek to me
Amo, amas,amat oh will you soon love tea?
Dryden did translations and  he was very good
Producing splendid verses as a  very  wild poet should
He  tranlated the Aeneid and I have spelled it wrong
Down amid the dunces I am happy  to  belong.

Half the words in English are Latin I  have found
Memento mori, lament glory ,words in which I drown
Mea  culpa, mea culpa,I should have learned by now
Kyrie Eleison is Greek I fear , but how?
Now the Mass in English it  cannot still evoke
The feelings and the spiritual , they both went up in smoke

Civis and civility, eros and sweet love
Will we stay in Pardise wth the holy dove?
Yet we don’t learn Hebrew to recite the Psalms
We don’t  need electric lights to  do a lot of harm
Annulled by  eerie marriage, void and  overspent
I have crossed out history and I didn’t find dissent

Act yourself

huttonroof2017-1

Who did gooseberries fool?
Why do strawberries jam?
Do eggs lie on toast?
She fried her own eggs daily
She even made her own bread
We had grapefruits bigger than the grapes.
Why do sheets change?
Do pillows  have good cases in law?
Why  get married when you can go to prison?
Why have a man when you could  love a cat freely
Why marry a wo/man when you can go fishing?
Just relax and act naturally
My therapist is  dead but I’ve never mentioned it