Author: Katherine

Poetry writer and author

From the skies of heaven falls one black star

A choice is not a choice when both are marred.
A name that shrieks, a face consumed by rage
From  the skies of heaven falls one   black star

Who flung down  the invalid Mastercard?
Whose hand stirred to open a flawed page?
Whose will be the bodies burned and charred?

Welcome, to the bored, is a new war
Like Nero burning Rome, life but a  stage.
Though, with Macbeth, perhaps Shakespeare went too far.

Sweeten riots and smoke a  large  cigar.
Let the shops burn down, oh,more damage!
Do we care now who the villains are?

Let the houses fall,  blow up the cars.
Let the world see how the West is crazed.
Light the torch apocalyptic  with despair

Tell them that “Christ lovers” are deranged
Jesus spoke of peace not hate savage.
A choice is not a choice when both are marred.
Even cloudless skies hide evil stars

Slant sun

With winter frost, the sun beguiles our eyes
Making diamonds gleam to engage hearts.
In slant sun, the patterns solemnise.
With eternal frost, the sun makes sharp our eyes
Makes us look when we might compromise.
To be in focus, broad enough yet sharp.
This winter lost, a card disturbed the wise.
Whose drawn weapons gleam; who evil starts?

The Wild Swans at Coole

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William Butler Yeats (1919)

The trees are in their autumn beauty,
The woodland paths are dry,
Under the October twilight the water
Mirrors a still sky;
Upon the brimming water among the stones
Are nine-and-fifty swans.

The nineteenth autumn has come upon me
Since I first made my count;
I saw, before I had well finished,
All suddenly mount
And scatter wheeling in great broken rings
Upon their clamorous wings.

I have looked upon those brilliant creatures,
And now my heart is sore.
All’s changed since I, hearing at twilight,
The first time on this shore,
The bell-beat of their wings above my head,
Trod with a lighter tread.

Unwearied still, lover by lover,
They paddle in the cold
Companionable streams or climb the air;
Their hearts have not grown old;
Passion or conquest, wander where they will,
Attend upon them still.

But now they drift on the still water,
Mysterious, beautiful;
Among what rushes will they build,
By what lake’s edge or pool
Delight men’s eyes when I awake some day
To find they have flown away

Mainly struggling

narcissus2017-1-1About the journey, what to say,
That the infinite task was finite,
That what seemed impossible is almost done?
Mainly struggling with interior problems
Projected onto this heap of clothes and books
Maybe I took the wrong path, made a detour I didn’t need.
Maybe the struggle itself made me strong enough.
Now I sit weary, with a mug of tea by my side.
A channel opened and I was able to receive your gifts.
Now it’s not dark but a grey cloud is hanging low.
It feels like spring again

Why did they not tell us?

Playing on the high wires of space-time
Holding time back for an instant then diving
Into the unmapped depths  and deeps
Pulling space here and there
Why did they not tell us, music has its own geometry
Like  on the Spanish guitar , one second is not the same as  another
One holds back then runs, another steps out and waits.
It’s the mild tension and music in our bones that makes us sing and dance.
And they try to capture this on graph paper, oh so neat!
Maybe that is just to stop us falling off the edge of the world
As we gyrate.And is this not what the birds say in their whirling?
As we trudged home from school was it not this we  longed for?

To use the strength of anger to create

True love or hate, not sentimental gush
Are feelings that can energise and warm.
The words on birthday cards seem much too sweet
No rushing  love ; no hatred or hot fear,

To use the strength of anger to create
A book or child if we are blessed with mate.
Far better this than killing for release
Which cuts away the simple growth of peace.

Sentiment is cruel and perverse.
Claims to love but its brief is too terse.
Under sugared words we find dark rage
So hesitate before we turn the page

Hit the ball of life with all your strength.
For our  life is not measured by  its length

Carnation,orchid ,daffodil and rose.

How softly sweetly,gently flowers pose

Carnation,orchid ,daffodil and rose.
Their intricate petals form a shield
Yet bees with striped force shall make them yield.
Appearances, both natural and contrived,
Mixed with the wiles of human nature thrive.
As, knowing not, we pluck the apple rare
And bite its flesh,with teeth we have to bare.
We too deceive the innocent who pass
Not seeing watchers hid behind the glass.
The windows break,the deep earth quakes;
Seized is the maiden ,he  her virtue takes.
Beneath the surface,force and fierceness thrive.
What fearsome, burning God enjoys our lives?

Mo Farah Facebook entry

On 1st January this year, Her Majesty The Queen made me a Knight of the Realm. On 27th January, President Donald Trump seems to have made me an alien.

I am a British citizen who has lived in America for the past six years – working hard, contributing to society, paying my taxes and bringing up our four children in the place they now call home. Now, me and many others like me are being told that we may not be welcome. It’s deeply troubling that I will have to tell my children that Daddy might not be able to come home – to explain why the President has introduced a policy that comes from a place of ignorance and prejudice.

I was welcomed into Britain from Somalia at eight years old and given the chance to succeed and realise my dreams. I have been proud to represent my country, win medals for the British people and receive the greatest honour of a knighthood. My story is an example of what can happen when you follow polices of compassion and understanding, not hate and isolation.

Force unwithstood

 

A  wonderful word is coercion.
On it ,I cast no aspersions.
But to coerce is not good,
Force unwithstood
Never grew much but nasturtiums.

 

Sometimes our will is a force,
But virtue can’t come just by choice.
Like a flower from a seed
Our virtues we breed
As we listen for that still,little voice.

In school, we were given an impression
That knowledge implies good decisions;
So we learned   virtues and vice
The wrong and  the  nice
The existence of hell as a prison.

 

Believing that terror is a good,
They frightened us with their cold blood
In the Confessional we shivered;
And the wood round us quivered
They’d have tortured us more if they could.

So this education itself was a vice.
The nuns and the priests hit us twice
Once in the class
And again during Mass
Where we wondered if the Wafer was Christ.

And having this question in mind
Was a sin of a serious kind
We sinned against Faith
That delicate Wraith
So no personal truths could we find

I have found God in the depths
Where with kindness he surrounds those who’ve wept
But he makes no demands
As his Love understands
To the paths of our own truths we’ve kept

I see that Satan’s lighting his cigar

Where were we when God fled from the world?
Where was Jesus Christ., the only son?
Where were we ,when fearsome words were hurled?
Don’t blame  refugees, for Christ was one

 

Where was truth before Election day?
Where was heart when  Donald Trump came in?
An Empire blinded to its own decay
A President heard raving from day one.

 

Ok ,you hate the Clintonesque elites…..
But who has jumped cross this dangerous gap?
Things done from resentment  are not sweet
And truth will hit us all with  dangerous slap

 

We cannot go back now, we’ve come too far
 I see that  Satan’s lighting his cigar

 

 

 

Cor blimey

There were two left shoes and both were black
I could not wear either on my right foot.
So I went upstairs and moved my stuff!
I found their partners soon enough.
But, where did I put the two left shoes?
Oh, cor lummy, it’s bad news!
I can’t go out and I can’t go in.
I’m sitting outside in the wheelie bin.
I think I’ll  leave these right ones there
Then I’ll see the others rolling down the stairs!
My shoes are unfaithful I declare.
They refuse to settle and be a pair.
The left ones scheme and the right ones run.
Ain’t real life such glorious fun?

Doubt

doubt
daʊt/
noun
noun: doubt; plural noun: doubts
  1. 1.
    a feeling of uncertainty or lack of conviction.
    “some doubt has been cast upon the authenticity of this account”
    synonyms: uncertainty, lack of certainty, unsureness, indecision, hesitation, hesitancy, dubiousness, suspicion, confusion;More
    antonyms: certainty, conviction, confidence, trust
verb
verb: doubt; 3rd person present: doubts; past tense: doubted; past participle: doubted; gerund or present participle: doubting
  1. 1.
    feel uncertain about.
    “I doubt my ability to do the job”
    • question the truth or fact of (something).
      “who can doubt the value and necessity of these services?”
      synonyms: think something unlikely, have (one’s) doubts about, question, query, be dubious, lack conviction, have reservations about

      “I doubt whether he will come”
      antonyms: be confident
    • disbelieve or lack faith in (someone).
      “I have no reason to doubt him”
      synonyms: disbelieve, distrust, mistrust, suspect, lack confidence in, have doubts about, be suspicious of, have suspicions about, have misgivings about, feel uneasy about, feel apprehensive about, call into question, cast doubt on, query, question, challenge, dispute, have reservations about;

      archaicmisdoubt
      “they did not doubt my story”
      antonyms: trust
    • feel uncertain, especially about one’s religious beliefs.
      synonyms: be undecided, have doubts, be irresolute, be hesitant, be tentative, be ambivalent, be divided, be doubtful, be unsure, be uncertain, be in two minds, hesitate, shilly-shally, waver, falter, vacillate, dither, demur;

      informalsit on the fence
      “stop doubting and believe more firmly!”
      antonyms: believe
  2. 2.
    archaic
    fear; be afraid.
    “I doubt not any ones contradicting this Journal”
Origin
Middle English: from Old French doute (noun), douter (verb), from Latin dubitare ‘hesitate’, from dubius ‘doubtful’ (see dubious).

Why is free verse so popular?

 

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https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/text/free-verse-poets-glossary

 

“Free verse is a form of nonmetrical writing that takes pleasure in a various and emergent verbal music. “As regarding rhythm,” Ezra Pound writes in “A Retrospect” (1918): “to compose in the sequence of the musical phrase, not in sequence of a metronome.” Free verse is often inspired by the cadence—the natural rhythm, the inner tune—of spoken language. It pos­sesses visual form and uses the graphic line to differentiate itself from prose. “The words are more poised than in prose,” Louis MacNeice states in Modern Poetry (1938); “they are not only, like the words in typical prose, contributory to the total effect, but are to be attended to, in passing, for their own sake.” The dream of free verse: an originary verbal music for every poem. Jorge Luis Borges explains: “Beyond its rhythm, the typographical appearance of free verse informs the reader that what lies in store for him is not informa­tion or reasoning but emotion.””

The rebellion of the “vulgar”

ecg-of-the-world

My most vulgar piece of art.Must try harder

Some of us thought that despite his attending the most prestigious university in the universe and having much wealth there was something vulgar about Trump which would not be appropriate for a President
However,after aeons of being put down, the common people have got fed up and they want a President who is like themselves even if he is a caricature of himself and according to those who know him there is not much under that mask

I saw him being interviewed a few minutes ago.He was still  going on about the crowd at Inauguration being the biggest ever, pointing to large photos on his wall.This shows insecurity to me.Some of us hide it.Few show it so openly.
I thin it may be dangerous.

Vulgar?

  • two-of-us-moredoodlingvulgar

Someone who’s vulgar has bad taste, and could also be called unrefined or unsophisticated. Your snobby neighbor might mutter about your family’s vulgar taste if you paint your house with rainbow stripes.

From the Latin vulgus, meaning “the common people,” vulgar is an adjective that can describe anything from the sexually explicit to the merely ugly and crass. Many people believe that there’s an important difference between things that are sexually frank and things that are vulgar. “Erotica” can be beautiful and even highbrow, while “pornography” is crude and vulgar. My friend Arnie loves the lights and glamour of Times Square, while Cintra finds all the bright-colored, corporate logos to be vulgar.

1

adj of or associated with the great masses of people

“a vulgar and objectionable person”
Synonyms:
common, plebeian, unwashed
lowborn

of humble birth or origins

adj being or characteristic of or appropriate to everyday language

“the vulgar tongue of the masses”
“the technical and vulgar names for an animal species”
Synonyms:
common, vernacular
informal

used of spoken and written language

adj lacking refinement or cultivation or taste

“appealing to the vulgar taste for violence”
“the vulgar display of the newly rich”
Synonyms:
coarse, common, rough-cut, uncouth
unrefined

(used of persons and their behavior) not refined; uncouth

adj conspicuously and tastelessly indecent

“a vulgar gesture”
“full of language so vulgar it should have been edited”
Synonyms:
crude, earthy, gross
indecent

offensive to good taste especially in sexual matters

Her body bends

Her grief so palpable, it seems to speak
Her  vocal chords once  soft are stiff and pained
Her face  so hurt, her body taut yet  weak
Her grief so palpable, ah, please, please  speak
Ill-tempered men have   pleasured in her shrieks
Yet  when such   grief ‘s  been   tempered and refined
The  vocal cords might be   enjoyed again
Her grief so palpable , why  don’t we speak?
Her body  bends, we should have taken pains

I offer up my words to you

  • nz_paradiseshelduck
  • Living life in all its fierceness,
    Birth and death and joy and pain
    We struggle on our unknown journey,
    Sometimes lost and found again.

    We are indeed like lambs to slaughter
    Death will be our final goal.
    But while we live, let us live bravely.
    Let us not destroy our souls.

    Climbing in the hills and moorlands
    In the heather, children play.
    The sun half blinds me with its light
    Yet ,still I see the given way.

    I received a call to climb.
    These hills are my essential home.
    My vocation is to dwell here
    While in the silence, mind may roam.

    Noise in cities is destructive.
    Though nature’s fierce, it’s also true.
    Struggling on life’s craggy slopes
    I offer up my words to you.

Elan brutal

dscn0020

She was sweeter than money till she met him
He has plenty of elan brutal.
Where are the borders of prayer?
By whose Messiah was love preserved?
Toujours re-bless.
Dies prayer
A la printemps de l’annee je suis flosse.
A quicksand is no place to gather moss.
He said,Oh,No! Raaaa.
A passim a day keeps the Word at bay
He is bluish and almost unconscionable.
Je m’appelle la diva derider.
I think I aren’t.
Is he a psychowrath?
I write with a pin on my arm.
I love to watch bones knitting
Quelle est l’heure de la torte?
C’est le mort diable.Scriabin.
Tortelier,mon amour.
How the hell he spells so well noone can tell.
Roman’s nose I love beside the bally car
I think my destiny was to greet this occupation … a la quartz

I point Rilke

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I point Rilke

1 log

2 oz cornflowers

2oz cock and bull

2 oz struggle

1 teasp coughing louder

 1 drop of Manilla

 

Farm the milk in a low hat

Beat the egg with a stork then beat in the withered ingredients.

Pour in some of the hot silk and beat till soothed

Put it all into the hat with the other silk and cook stirring until the mixture chickens.

Pour it into a serving wish or a fowl.Get into the  fridge when you are cold.

Enough for 4/6 aidings

Emile’s diary:why do humans have lips?

Emile’s musings

I’m sitting under the coffee table.By rights I should be given some cafe au lait in a traditional French style wide cup with a silver brim plus a matching saucer.I am shocked that Stan has never asked me to partake.I need a coffee break..it’s hard work spying all day!Why are humans so unaware?
I heard Anne talking on her mobile while Stan was looking for the graph paper.She must be talking to another woman…. she said she’s just bought some Revlon primer lotion to put under her light beige mousse foundation.Ye Gods, it sounds as if she’s painting the wall.She was moaning she can’t afford Lancome any more.Mousse foundation..that sounds tasty! She wants some heather coloured lipstick but she couldn’t find any.She’s put a new one on anyway and Stan came in to give his opinion:
Congratulations, Anne.You have found some lipstick that’s exactly the same colour as your own lips.She was mortified.I could see tears in her eyes but luckily she had her waterproof mascara and purple eyeshadow on.
Well, it makes me glad to be a cat…we have no need for skin products
and we have no lips as such.Why do humans have lips?
Is it mainly for kissing?
And perfume………we like the natural odours but I’ve never seen Stan go up and sniff Anne’s nether regions…though I admit I took a sniff and she smells very intriguing… probably some musk she’s bought.
I envy Stan in a way.Because I’d like to kiss Anne but my lips are too small….I could lick hers with my little raspy tongue!
Maybe if she falls asleep I’ll have a go.I love that woman so.
A cat may look at a king, but can he lick a lady’s lips?
Well, must go and take a walk around my territory and sniff out who’s about….face primer.What next.Paint stripper? What a waste of time and money.I could be chasing dandelion clocks round the garden”

Signify: what is the meaning?

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signify
ˈsɪɡnɪfʌɪ/
verb
verb: signify; 3rd person present: signifies; past tense: signified; past participle: signified; gerund or present participle: signifying
  1. 1.
    be an indication of.
    “this decision signified a fundamental change in their priorities”
    synonyms: be evidence of, be a sign of, mark, signal, mean, spell, add up to, amount to, denote, be symptomatic of, be a symptom of, reveal, manifest, designate; More
    • be a symbol of; have as meaning.
      “the church used this image to signify the Holy Trinity”
      synonyms: mean, denote, designate, represent, symbolise, stand for, correspond to, be equivalent to, imply;

      literary betoken
      “the symbol of an egg signifies life”
    • (of a person) indicate or declare (a feeling or intention).
      “signify your agreement by signing the letter below”
      synonyms: express, indicate, show, communicate, intimate; More
      antonyms: withhold, keep secret
    • be of importance.
      “the locked door doesn’t necessarily signify”
      synonyms: mean anything/something, be of importance, be of consequence, be important, be significant, be of significance, carry weight, be of account, count, matter, be relevant;

      informal cut any ice
      “the locked door doesn’t necessarily signify”
  2. 2.
    US informal
    (among black Americans) exchange boasts or insults as a game or ritual.
    “I wasn’t signifying at her”
Origin
Middle English: from Old French signifier, from Latin significare ‘indicate, portend’, from signum ‘token’.

Count: the many meanings

Recount: the meanings

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recount1
rɪˈkaʊnt/
verb
verb: recount; 3rd person present: recounts; past tense: recounted; past participle: recounted; gerund or present participle: recounting
  1. 1.
    tell someone about something; give an account of an event or experience.
    “I recounted the tale to Steve”
    synonyms: tell, relate, narrate, give an account of, describe, portray, depict, paint, unfold, set forth, present, report, outline, delineate, retail, recite, repeat, rehearse, relay, convey, communicate, impart;
noun
noun: recount; plural noun: recounts
  1. 1.
    an act or instance of giving an account of an event or experience.
Origin
late Middle English: from Old Northern French reconter ‘tell again’, based on Old French counter (see count1).
recount2
verb
verb: recount; 3rd person present: recounts; past tense: recounted; past participle: recounted; gerund or present participle: recounting
riːˈkaʊnt/
  1. 1.
    count again.
    “the children arrange and rearrange the objects in a set and recount them each time”
noun
noun: recount; plural noun: recounts
ˈriːkaʊnt/
  1. 1.
    an act of counting something again, especially votes in an election.
    “a three-vote Conservative win after seven recounts”

The heart releases; to its grace we yield

What shall I do , the  widow asked her friend.
I feel this knife inside my heart again.
What  can I do to make my sorrow end
What can I do to stop the bloody  pain?

Do nothing, the  sweet friend  gently advised
Your task is  to  accept   your own despair
The wisdom in your mind will work, she sighed.
Your body hurts and for such  pain we  care.

Sit here and  count the daisies  in the lawn
No need to talk nor even think  nor will.
As in this peaceful sitting for  a day
Your mind will  rest and hope and trust may call.

Receptive to the shivering, daisied  fields,
The heart releases; to  its  grace  we yield

What is acrimony?

You are the hoover of my soul.

My heart was in my mouth [so I had to  suck it all day; gave my thumb a rest]
My heart sank  to the bottom of the pond
I fell head over heels in love with a cat.[That’s why I had no children as inter-species marriage is not yet allowed but soon it will be here]
I could not swallow his excuse as my mouth was full of chocolate buttons I had torn off my uniform..well they looked like chocolate
That is hard to digest.[So may I please spit it out?]
I spat him out [but he came back as he was on an elastic rope]

I was wondering if new phrases come into existence now and I don’t recall any.Is it because we are no longer so involved in creating our language or because there are experts in academia who study it.At one time ordinary people made buildings etc and must have developed skills in geometry etc from a practical point of view.And it was they who invented writing and numbers etc , not people in Universities who do not create but analayse and criticise and study signs and connections.
So has the rise of experts made us stupider than people were in the past?Is it poets who invent new idioms?

My eyes nearly leaped out of my head when he passed by…
Luckily I had put superglue down the sides of them at breakfast time.
My hands grasped the nettle and I almost threw the flowers at his head.Then he said:You are the hoover of my soul.
Walls have fears, you know.
A rolling brick gathers no floss.
I patted him on the wreck and we parted with no acrimony and no real money either.What is acrimony?
I’m a pharisee and ‘i’m ok.Jewish by right and a whirling prayer.
I can’t live without hue or colour
Tint me this day,oh Lord.
Does God sell salt on the internet.He has a Lot.Sorry Lot’s wife.