“Don’t always look at the past,” he says, with sudden firmness. “Look at the present. Where you see a plant flowering, that should be enough.” Halo must raise more money if it is to complete its work at Qasr al-Yahud next year. It’s his conviction that this will be forthcoming. These green shoots must be watered and He, or someone, will provide.””
The ducks swim in the gaps between the ice
Cold blooded , yet kept warm by fluffy down
The river looks uncertain in this light
The sky hangs like a curtain of snow white
The sun, precocious, shines and then it frowns
The ducks swim in the gaps between the ice
Ah, think of Morecambe Bay in sunshine bright
Across the sea the Pikes stand out so proud
My river looks uncertain in this light
Britain’s mountains fierce attract like vice
Like alcohol or sex or low cut gown
Unknowing ducks swim on despite thick ice
Thanks to God for hearing and for sight
The mystery is the Love which was disowned
My river looks so cold as comes twilight
Here is Bethlehem, the little town
Where Christ was born and grew to be cut down
The ducks swim by, the swans walk on the ice
Look up and see the geese in Advent flight
My husband wanted to be the eternal pest so he died
Near restful daughters they laid him
God bless our Hopes
Is sex wrong for me after death [ mine]?
Ask Him!
Requiex Cat in Parquet
The Word is my effort
What do you mean, you live in a tent.That’s my frock!
I just spent an hour moving books off my bed.I wondered where all those Nicholas Freelings had gone>It’s been a miracle I managed to get in myself.
![IMG_2274_filtered [1024x768]](https://words-cat.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/12/img_2274_filtered-1024x768.jpg?w=1100)
The end is nigh, the beggar cried
Come give me all you have
For if you keep it., I shall die
And we touch God through love
The night will fall.God help us all
Give all excess away
The sirens scream as Satan calls
He’s been with us all day
Will we rise, as advertised
Don’t leave us in such doubt
Saatchi brothers will surprise
Give all the art they bought
Will Jesus come and with love stun
Or is it just a myth?
The baby’s parents on the run
So who needs Xmas gifts?
All’s awry . love might die
But will it rise again?
Angels golden paint the sky
And mortals sing. Amen
If I were a beast I would soon die
Limping,aching,wandering and lone
God has taken from me my own eye
And I suffer for I cannot lie
Even though you cut me to the bone
If I were a beast I would soon die
If I were a bird I could not fly
Soon I would be fodder for the crow
God has taken from me my own eye
The kindness,human love still holds me high
Never am I trodden on when low
If I were a beast I would soon die
Yet when I waken I may feel awry
With no man to whom kisses I might blow
God has taken from me just one eye
Life is lived best when we take it slow
Like a river wandering as it flows
If I were a beast I would soon die
God has taken from me my own eye
https://www.nhs.uk/conditions/stress-anxiety-depression/give-for-mental-wellbeing/
Giving to others and co-operating with them can stimulate the reward areas in the brain, creating positive feelings.
Helping and working with others can also give us a sense of purpose and feelings of self-worth.
Giving our time to others in a constructive way helps us strengthen our relationships and build new ones.
Relationships with others also help mental wellbeing.
Giving can take lots of different forms, from small everyday acts to larger commitments.
Today, you could:
The concert will begin in minutes now
Just in time to find a seat somewhere
I’m in a taxi and the driver’s new
He’s from Persia; I don’t have a clue
It’s dark and rainy, neon lights sall glare
The concert will begin in minutes now
We see several churches .what to do?
In this situation, shall we pray?
I’m in a taxi and the driver’s new
I wish that ,like an angel ,I could fly
I would shock if flying I were bare
The concert will begin in minutes now
Oh, we see an All Saints sign nearby
Do I need an escort, he does care.
I’m in a taxi and the driver’s new
I enter into candle lit dark air
The performers stand in silence as lights flare
The concert will begin when I sit down
Safe from the black night and nodding clouds
Tonight I have been to the first event since my husband died.I got there late, in a cab driven by a Persian/Iranian student.I can see poorly in the dark.We went to a place I did not´ know and neither did he.He would not let me out till he knew I was ok.I had decided not to go but suddenly changed my mind as three people were meant to come and they
cancelled
I walked inside and nearly fell down or died it was so beautiful; the lights were out,candles lit, three people stood like the corners of a sacred triangle, on the stage.There was no sound ,just light and silence.
As I sat down I felt it was like arriving in paradise.Then they began the music and the words dropped like stones would into a lily pond leaving patterns on the surface of the water which join together into a larger one, unsuspected ,never seen before.New Birth
A performance both liturgical and spare
Candle light in darkness,ancient ,new
Illuminated shadows of despair
Enter in the ones who loss can bear
Do not cross them out, nor make them skew
The performance,ah liturgical , ah spare
From the dazzling depths comes our new year
When will be the last of my own few?
lluminate and fear not bleak despair
We do not let the fear of feelings bare
Abbreviate the pleasure , lose the clue.
A performance mute, liturgical and spare
Candles in the darkness, how so fair?
Dark and light combine, Da Vinci drew
Eliminate excesses of despair
In the little crib the light was blue
Another, holier world is here and now
A performance both liturgical and spare
Illuminated shadows of despair
He said he wanted a battery for his hen!I thought it was clockwork.
The coast of England has been so battered by the ocean it is leaving for a Shelter
.Is it one of those at Blackpool on the Prom?
You guessed!
A battery operated food whisk was unknown in Tudor times.This info is brought to you by Raatchi and Paatchi.Don’t ask why.
Why not?
He’s been watching the TV all day.What does he think it is going to do? Mate with my laptop or apply for citizenship? Go out for a ramble? Emigrate? Shout, oh Exit!
I am cooking my sinner tonight.I reckon I should throw him in the fire.
To think Joan of Arc was only 19 when she was killed…. and I’ve lived here for 48 years.
I’d love a dead duck tonight
We don’t cook live ones
Do you curry them?
They are too small to carry me.
Suppose all the ducks in London got together and caught Doris Swanson
Why?
They’d cook her for tea.
Is she transgender
Yes, he is!
Make him deliver a joke or otherwise the post
The letters boxed
Did they knock him out?
How does one tell?
He would lie on the ground and not move.
Shall I shoot him?
Why?
He moved!
Why does the one I want not love me too?
The order of this world does not console
Why does the one I want give me the blues?
God and Nature don’t leave me a clue
Why do we think God still has a role?
Why does the one I love not love me too?
He makes me feel like mental Asian flu
Viruses killed Grandad , Daddy’s cold.
Why does the one I love give me the blues?
I opened up my mouth and said,it’s you
You are more than thoughtless, came my growl
Why does the one I love not love me too?
He said,I do not hate you but it’s true
I don’t know who I am, that fairy, tale
Why does the one I love give me no clues?
If you hate me I shall go to Hell
They used to say that Satan told good tales
Why does the one I hate. not hate me too?
Why does the one my heart loves make me blue?
Elena,a baby wrapped in woollen clothes.
On the last train,Warsaw to Moscow,
[ change Niegoreloje.]
1939.Father,mother,brother
You passed through the Arctic Wastes of life.
Still as if travelling on a train
To an impossibly far destination.
As you left the German Army crashed into Poland
Lost,your aunts
Your cousins.
Your culture.
How does God select the damned?
You had your own baby,here in England,
Not lost like all those others.
Your father died by his own hand,
The hand of history;
The fingers twitching,
Not sure where to point.
Then settling into frozen grief
A sculpture only your mother saw.
You saw too,Elena.
You always saw,though you can’t remember;
The long journey, your mother’s breast,
Your father’s silence.
Only the dead know that silence.
Only the dead weep
With the rocks and stones .
And the ice in each eye
Fell like snow down your cheeks
As you held your own infant.
Warsaw to Moscow,
Moscow to Jerusalem.
Always journeying
Looking for what they can never find:
The home they left behind
The presence of the dead
Lying in gaunt heaps
Like rubbish
Your aunts, Elena.
Your cousins.
You never knew them.
But there’s a hole in your mind
Through which the Polish wind forever blows
Mary was reading a very interesting blog called London postcode by postcode They had reached London N9 and she had got rather bogged down there even though she had not fallen into the Marshes around the River Lea where once the Danes had sailed as Invaders. They would find it very hard to invade us now as the River Lea seems to have shrunk
So lyrical, there are parks and green space,s dirt and mud. Wright’s flour Mill in Ponders End and possibly a lot of illegal immigrants eating Canada geese according to folk myth and racist’ ideas.Canada goose do tend to breed rather excessively and anyway, why are they here in Britain without visas
Mary discovered that her favourite poets John Keats had been apprenticed to a doctor in Edmonton and here is the house where he stayed.There is also a house where Charles and Mary Lamb lived for many years; they are buried in the church graveyard nearby.The church is 15th century and is rather beautiful. there was a hero from World War II who lives in one of these quiet streets in a white painted suburban house.
His name was Charles Coward and he managed to rescue 400 Jewish prisoners from Auschwitz ;his name is on a memorial in Israel. there’s even a film about him with Dirk Bogarde it is called “The password is courage”
in this quiet little Street he lived for many years until he died at the age of 71
We never know who might have been living in our street or the next street. people who had done a very courageous things but had never boasted about them
Mary was so busy trying to read this blog and put away the groceries from Morrisons not to mention other household tasks that the day seemed to go by very quickly
How alluring Mary was looking in her pale turquoise and grey wool skirt topped by a turquoise roll neck top from Lands End and with that a rather shrunken jumper in cream with brown dots on it whether it was an accident or deliberate we will never know.On her elegant slim legs she wore some warm black tights and cream shoes
Mary was dressed up like this at home yet went out on Saturday evening wearing an old motheaten jumpe to meet some of the wealthy and members of our parish ;what’s the total mystery is this:did Mary want to look poor and downtrodden or was she was trying to signal her unavailability to be the wife of any men at the meeting only Mary knows. As a matter of fact even Mary doesn’t know. this is why life is so hard because we don’t know how our own motivations
Mary has spent several hours looking for a SIM card for a mobile phone which she never used and did not need and yet could not stop looking for it; however during this process she found that her gnt spray for Atypical Angina was 6 months out of date. so she had to ring the surgery and speak to the doctor Who quickly emailed the note to the pharmacist telling them that this was an emergency that Mary must have the spray as soon as possible or she might have a heart attack .Why Mary might even die like Jesus Christ, not for the same reasons as Jesus Christ and he was probably too young to have got this migraine of the heart as the most poetic language might name it
Mary herself had never known that she had it until one morning she had a terrible pain in her chest and was unable to speak.then she was whizzed off to the hospital to have all sorts of tests and her heart was totally alright except for this symptom which stops the blood from flowing into the heart
Mary went into the kitchen and took some things out of the washing machine wondering where God meant us to dry our washing in winter
When human beings were first created they did not need to wear clothes because they lived in the Garden of Eden surrounded by fruit trees and flowers. it was only after they fell into sin by eating a tomato that they became aware that they were naked and decided to knit themselves jumpers and trousers
Did you know it can be a long time before we learn to knit or, as needles had not yet been invented [come to that neither had wool]. Of course they did not have polyester or nylon or plastic. they did not have gas central heating. yes they were very happy bearing their beautiful family and eventually killing each other when they were not busy procreating .So the world has continued right up till now .We still knit jumpers and sometimes we kill other people because they do not worship the same God that we worship nor do they have as much money as we do. and whatever they have so others will try to take it away.Just like our own Empire of the Done
Mary concluded there has never been any peaceful time in human history and those who try to be too humble or too good or too kind will be the first ones to be slaughtered. Virtue may not always be its own reward .
if only we were descended from the apes, not the chimpanzees everything could be totally different but what is the point of that kind of thinking?
Mary brooded philosophically while washing the kitchen floor where she has spilt single cream. Mary very rarely eats cream and already she has wasted half of the Carton.
Emile came in: Mother why did you not let me lick the cream from the floor?
You might get food poisoning she cried happily you can have some of the cream from the carton on a saucer for your tea. is that good ?
Well said Emile I suppose there’s nothing else now since you have washed the floor but you know that we prefer to eat things from the floor .Cats don’t have China and cutlery
Neither did Adam and Eve Mary screamed softly
Mother ,control yourself anybody would think that you were a chimpanzee, Emile winked at her!
And they’d be right Mary thought to herself I am a chimpanzee
and so are all of us humans beings
I apologise for the errors in this document I am using speech to typing on Google Documents I have tried to edit it but I may have missed some mistakes.It reads as if I need lessons for people whose first language is no tEnglish
![IMG_2273_filtered [1024x768]](https://i0.wp.com/words-cat.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/12/img_2273_filtered-1024x768.jpg?w=1096&h=1461&ssl=1 "IMG_2273_filtered [1024x768]")
Hell at home
Have you got a job yet?
I’ve got paranoid schizophrenia?
Is that a job?
It’s a way of life
But what do you live on?
The earth
You don’t sound mad to me
Why what does mad sound like?
You are so clever
Yeah, that’s why I got schizophrenia.I can see through it all,
And it’s even hard to spell
Yes panic attacks are for the illiterati
Schizophrenia is a deficiency disease
What, like anaemia?
Yes, thyroiditis can make one go bonkers.
We don’t use that word much
Anyway, boron is good for the mind
Do you mean boring?
Don’t bore into my mind please
But I might get bored
Or gored
Is there a bull in the house?
Only a pot one
Well, do the cows like that?
It’s hard to know.
A pot bull can’t make them pregnant
Maybe a wild bull came in the night
What and made fifty hens pregnant?
Do you mean cows?
I’ve never been to the Isle of Wight
It’s not too late
Will they let us in?
Well, we are British
But are they?
I never thought of that.They must be.They speak English and like boats
So do the refugees
A good point
They might be more English than the English
Well, as we are a mixture it is possible
Do I have more genes than you?
We can’t see them
So how do scientists find out all those things?
Rats
I say, that’s rude
No, they study rats
They must have schizophrenia
But are they paranoid?
They will be after the do the experiments
Why do they do it?
It’s all pretermined by God
He must be stupid.
Or cunning
Is he going to send a flood
He already has.. the media.
Where is the Ark?
We need a prophet.
I know , aye Noah
There’s just the two of us
The click and the clack of the shoes of us
Let us into the Ark
If it’s not double parked
The mind’s door swings, a sentence will emerge
What a friend has told me, what we felt.
Writing beckons, fingers feel the urge
Will it make me feel I’m on the edge
Falling off the track, dragged by its spell?
The mind’s door swings, a sentence will emerge
The bleaker ones I feel inclined to dodge
But they are stronger, fresh from mind’s deep wells
Writing beckons, fingers feel the urge
Writing is not for the disengaged
We do not choose the story we must tell
The mind’s door swings, a sentence will emerge
In dark times the inner mind’s enraged
And anger judders through each little cell
Writing beckons, fingers feel the urge
Who was writing when the Romans fell?
Who was writing in our later hells?
The mind’s door swings, the sentenced deaths occur
Evil runs while goodness is interred
From the blog above: 2 photos related to
https://londonpostcodewalks.wordpress.com/tag/charles-lamb/
“From 1945 until 1976, this was the home of a man called Charles Clarke (1905-1976) who was known for being a rescuer of Prisoners from Auschwitz.
According to a local newspaper report dated 21 July 2009 (http://www.enfieldindependent.co.uk/news/4504150.Edmonton_soldier_Charles_Coward_may_finally_be_recognised_by_British_Government/) he was nicknamed the Count of Auschwitz for rescuing 400 Jews from the Nazi concentration camp. He was a sergeant major in the British army and used his position as a Red Cross liaison officer in charge of escorting Jews to the gas chambers to bribe guards with food and smuggle healthy prisoners out. He also sent coded messages back to the British authorities detailing the numbers of Jews arriving at the camps and the moves of the German military, and was a prosecution witness at the Nuremberg Trials.
And this was the modest house he settled in after the war. The blue plaque was put up in 2003 according to the English heritage site.”
When the black cat hit the kitchen door She was frightened I would be annoyed I don't know where she comes from, what allures A cat so rare she can't play with tomboys
I bought her catnip mice and jellied eels She sniffed around the eels with her fine nose She circled well, as if she were on wheels I wish she'd stay all night and warm my toes She seems afraid but hard frost brought her in We have a cat flap where she comes and goes She seems to feel existence is a sin As if she has received too many blows Be kind to all the cats that live with you For otherwise they brew tea in your shoe
https://literarydevices.net/half-rhyme/
Half rhyme is one of the major poetic devices. It is also called an “imperfect rhyme,” “slant rhyme,” “near rhyme,” or “oblique rhyme.” It can be defined as a rhyme in which the stressed syllables of ending consonants match, however the preceding vowel sounds do not match.
For instance, in words such as “shape” and “keep” the consonance is very strong. The final consonant sounds remain similar, but the ending vowel sounds are different in half rhyme. Similar to these two words “moon” and “run,” and in the words “hold” and “bald,” the ending consonant sounds are similar, whereas vowel sounds are different.
It is generally used to give an inharmonious feeling in a rhyme scheme. Poets can bring variations in their choice of words by using half rhymes. It is also known as an imperfect, near, off, or sprung rhyme. Half rhyme is exclusively used as a poetic device
in the warm ocean we frolic in the sea of love, our bodies turning and turning around an invisible centre. skin touches skin gently like rose petals touch. how do we speak except by gestures of the heart? how do we know except by loving touch? The sea, infinite sea. trusting the depths giving ourselves away with hands reaching to touch again and again Our medium is fluid, no boundaries ,no edges, washed here and there, we paint our love into being our fingers the brush, our skin the canvas. such impressions we make. such laughter creating
Too old for cold,I stand, now ,against the hedge,
Watching the snowflakes in the glare of neon street lights.
Darkness has come early,and I think of country uplands and huddled sheep.
On Salisbury Plain,shepherds watched their flocks
Just as in Bethlehem two thousand years before,
And then,exactly when?
“Between the wars”,it stopped. Now we know there is no “Between the wars”.
And who decided
To cull the sheep and shepherds and the space for kindness ?
Now that same Plain still exists,but banned
And closed to human-kind,
For bombs ,not wombs
Nor for birth of lamb ,nor gypsy child ,nor Saviour
Where would He go today
We are broke , we can’t afford an oven.
What did they do with the ovens after Auschwitz..
give them to Charity or sell them to another evil Fascist country to pay for the re homing of the survivors ?
They were refused entry to the UK or USA .
Then we complained when they decided to flee to the Holy Land.
I bet Jesus wept all night.
Unless he was not a survivor
That made me blink.
Forgive us,O Lord.
Why?
Through the barbed wire fence, I saw a stream
Water washing down to river wide
A field of daisies and wild grasses green
Inside my pulsing heart, the blood did plead
That history and myth could take a ride
Through the barbed wire fence, I saw a stream
Lack of hope conspires to kill our dreams
And memories that lie can be no guide
To fields of daisies and wild grasses green
The silver birches light with sun’s soft beams
In their way, they are discreet disguise.
Through the barbed wire fence, I saw a stream
About the cruelty of human deeds
The library made is shattered and demeaned
Still fields of daisies hold wild grasses green
Few can bear to enter and to read
What the minds of sufferers could mean
Through the barbed wire fence, they saw a stream
While Icarus was falling, unperceived
Farmers tilled their meadows, blithe, deceived
Through the barbed wire fence, we saw a stream
The field of daisies and wild grasses screamed
Silver birches grew near Auschwitz at least in a film I saw
I’m happy on my own
I gaze up through red maple leaves
All transparent in the sun.
But when winter comes I’m lonely
Sitting here beside my fire.
So I want a winter lover
To keep my spirits higher.
Oh,my winter love come to me
And I’ll gaze deep into your eyes
The light that shines in there
Is so much warmer than my fire.
We’ll go through wintry woodlands,
Where elegance lies bare.
The branches struck by sun
Now feel the frosty grasp of air.
I’ll love you all the winter time.
I’ll love you in the dark.
I’d like to rest within your arms,
And have a peaceful talk
When summer comes I’ll disappear
To roam across the dales
I’ll sleep on heather moorlands
And send you loving mail.
I can’t be tied in summertime
I must be roaming free.
But ,if you accept this need of mine,
To you I’ll faithful be.
http://www.poetseers.org/themes/poems-about-truth/index.htm
Tell all the Truth but tell it slant –
Success in Circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth’s superb surprise
As Lightning to the Children eased
With explanation kind
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind –
~
The Truth — is stirless –
Other force — may be presumed to move –
This — then — is best for confidence –
When oldest Cedars swerve –
And Oaks untwist their fists –
And Mountains — feeble — lean –
How excellent a Body, that
Stands without a Bone –
How vigorous a Force
That holds without a Prop –
Truth stays Herself — and every man
That trusts Her — boldly up –
” I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. This is why right, temporarily defeated, is stronger than evil triumphant.”
– Martin Luther King
* He who permits himself to tell a lie once, finds it much easier to do it a second and third time, till at length it becomes habitual; he tells lies without attending to it, and truths without the world’s believing him. This falshood of tongue leads to that of the heart, and in time depraves all its good dispositions.
– Letter to Peter Carr (August 19, 1785)
– Thomas Jefferson
Invest in bricks and mortar and barbed wire
Fences, wood or metal and good tools
Walls and fences keep us from the mire
Splitting off the people we can’t fire
Will banishing the Other make us fools?
Invest in bricks and mortar and barbed wire
Is he crazy; is he a mere liar
What he knows we do not learn at school
Walls and fences keep us from the mire
Will he burn when he is on his pyre?
Is he mortal,can he ever rule
With guns and bricks and mortar and barbed wire?
Is he someone children might admire?
Or his he like a thread from a dropped spool?
Walls and fences speak like did Town Criers
Well, in the old days some folk lived on gruel
Burned their fences,suffered drug withdrawal
Invest in bricks and mortar and barbed wire
Walls and fences hide our bleak despair
They say will bring more safety to the world.
But one wonders what is their desired intent?
As we watch the roll of images uncurl.
As Paris is much closer than the Middle East
We fear that we too might be struck, attacked.
This shows us humans are yet narcissistic beasts.
We narrow gaze to Europeans’ lacks.
Ironic thoughts of Armistice appear.
How France and Britain punished Ottoman.
No vision of a future hell was feared.
An Empire to be looted;oil rich lands.
Now our world has shrunk and history repeats:
It’s folly to ignore our real defeat.
How my heart speaks 