Author: Katherine

Poetry writer and author

I am a nun

1.You say I have £2,000,000  owing to me .Thank you but I have joined the Carmelites.

2 I am entitled to a new boiler free from the Government? I am dying so send it to  the Chancellor with my best.

3 I have been in a car accident and am entitled to £3,00,000,000? Please send it to
The Samaritans.You may need them.

4. My best friend is stranded in Barcelona? I have got another one,thanks.

5. You want to speak to my husband? Shoot yourself.Leave a note.

6.You like my voice and feel I must be very attractive? I am a computer,how are you and who?

7.You think I am very beautiful.So phones have eyes now?

8.You are my husband?Which one?

9.You ate my husband ?Good luck.He has thick skin.

10. You are lost in Los Angeles?So are we all

Answering machine

Answering

Sorry I can’t take your call.

a694a-beige
I have broken my ear.
My head came off.
My   tongue is too dry.
My  lips are sealed.
I’ve lost my eyes in bed.
I’m no longer able to speak English
I broke  both hands and my tongue is sore.
I am dead.
My husband won’t let me take calls here
I am  getting rid of my landline/mobile/phone.
I have lost the ability to talk.
I don’t like you
I have got paranoia
I only like a few people and you’re not one.
I have itchy hands
I feel too tired to listen to most of you

Letter endings

Illegibly yours
Typically sours
Ringing your pen tonight
Bureaucratically yours HM Tax
Partially yours
Whenever,yours maybe
Answer me ,write now
Please un-dig me.I am alive,your husband
United in hate
Ambiguously
Unmentionably yours
Devilishly concluding
Be my  witch forever
Keep going the other way
Don’t reply to me
As never
Fondlingly
Endearingly
Lovelessly
Sweetly yours
Why not give me a second dance?
Is it never over?

Do thoughts precede words? Puzzling about thoughts

Photo1240 2
When we are with a child before she learns to speak,we see she nevertheless is ils thinking.Some people such as Wilfred Bion put forward the idea that wild thoughts are there like wild animals,seeking a mind that will think them
Related articles

Thoughtfulness:Some reflections

 

 The definition

Merriam-Webster Logo

Full Definition of thoughtful

  1. 1a :  absorbed in thought :  meditativeb :  characterized by careful reasoned thinking <a thoughtfulessay>

  2. 2a :  having thoughts :  heedful <became thoughtful about religion>b :  given to or chosen or made with heedful anticipation of the needs and wants of others <a kind and thoughtful frien

Examples of thoughtful in a sentence

  1. She looked at me with a thoughtful expression.

  2. He looked thoughtful for a moment.

  3. Her husband is always thoughtful.

  4. That’s very thoughtful of you.

13th Century:first known use of this word

2fb5e-6378673_f260
My ReflectionI became embroiled in “thinking” but I am more interested in thoughtfulness.To me this is connected to reflection and care.To be a thoughtful person I need to be involved with society.A thinker may remain aloof… and if you are a ruminator or a brooder this will detach you from the world of others too.So there’s a paradox  here about thinking and thought.

The other problem with thinking using logic and reasoning is the question of the premises you use.If they are not sensible,if they are wrong, if they are poor then thinking is entirely vain.And also by a careful choice of  premises or assumptions almost anything can be “proved”

Syllogisms can be useful but really what do they tell you except something you most likely already know

Related articles

Thinking Critically and Make a Better Argument (lovellliulu521.wordpress.com)

Do thoughts precede words? Puzzling about thoughts(complexnumberblog.wordpress.com)

Stupid? Or smart?(Repost) – Tyler Lee (talonsphilosophy.wordpress.com)

My first reflections of “Start with Why” (rlpearson67.wordpress.com)

Reflection (ncpol.wordpress.com)

Defending Ruminating (giovannarumination.wordpress.com)

Have you ever heard of ‘ruminating thoughts’? (gaynspunk.wordpress.com)

Symbolic immortality: Death anxiety increases creativity if you can leave a legacy(psypost.org)

Are you reflecting or ruminating? (candlecoaching.wordpress.com)

The top deck of the bus

IMG_0015 (2).JPG

The bus is late and I’m
Thinking of what you wrote,
trying to understand, but
I’ve never met you,so
I have nothing but written words
Which,however beautiful,may not give
enough for me to truly imagine
the depths of your heart.
My legs hurt and I have a stick
But I don’t like it.I can’t accept
my own infirmity,my troubles,
my pains,my disagreements,my mistakes.
Rain falls over me and drips down the lens
in my spectacles,as if the world is weeping
the tears I can’t shed.
If I cried now,standing at the bus stop,
for all the years of pain
no-one would know,they’d
think it was just
raindrops running down my cheeks.
The bus comes,but it’s half term…
The shops are too crowded,I can’t
Stand in queues…imagine how most of you
say it’s boring.Well,I’d love to do it
but I’ve decided the pain is greater
then the rewards.
The bus driver stops at a place where
the pavement has been lowered to allow
the owner of this house to drive
their car into the front garden
so they won’t need to buy
a resident’s parking permit.
It makes it a harder task to descend
from the bus and I hope he won’t
start while I’m still getting down.
In the coffee bar are exhibits from
a local museum,and I think,one day
my cane and my watch from Argos,
my shopping bag with a picture of Monet-
such vulgarity…..
they may be in a museum too…
along with my door keys
my bike lock and my spectacles
and will somebody try to conjure me up
in their imagination.
Someone who used to like Topology
Knitting,writing and holding hands with lovers
on the top deck of the bus
crossing central London without noticing
anything except their reflections in the eyes
of the other.
Light bounces to and fro.
My mind shuts down, the words
packed away in boxes,till there’s only
you and me and a few elementary particles
trying to recreate the world
with the big bang
that will end it all.

Right off the shelf

IMG_0022

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My mother was a lady of skilful wealth
She used to shop in Harrod’s,right from the shelf
She stole China tea as it’s good for the health

Mother hada  fondness for pottery from Delft.

She liked to study  both the stars and moon

So many dark nights were spent in gloom
Yet for her husband it was a boon
As her presence spread a feeling of deepest doom.

 

She ran away one day  with cunning stealth

Society blamed her  lack of sense of self
She’d met a young man whom she called Ralph

Who gave her many children of whom I’m the twelfth.

So, remember, the moral of my tale is this

Love the neighbours,then choose one
He’ll give you  some daughters and a son

Now my verse is absolutely done

You affect mine eyes

Sometimes I am more

or less

the same

person

as yesterday

if dreams

paradoxical

insights

sing my soul

awake

somehow

it’s now

and you are here

in this garden

I hear your melody

on the southerly wind

singing gently

you affect my eyes

with

dew,like

the rain on

my dark red

roses

whispers.

The Haily Mail

I’m writing a column on morals in the Haily Mail
Is that Catholic?
It certainly caters for all.
So what do you know about morals?
There’s usually a moral in a story so maybe I’ll do it metaphorically.
Quicker to come straight out with it.
That’s once you know what it is
Well,by now you ought to.
There,see, you assume that being old means we have developed some morals or at least ideas about them.
So the old are more moral?
It depends if knowing is enough.
In fact it’s not,is it?
Can we be virtuous by exercising our will?
Or  our  won’t?
I don’t think so except in a negative way.By avoiding places or people who lead you into sin
That’s not as simple as it appears.
Why not?
Because in our human fashion we believe priests,vicars,rabbis or Popes are good people.So we mix with them freely.Yet is that not the disguise that Satan would adopt?
Yes, one might be better off mixing with prostitutes and thieves as at least you know what they might offer you.
Well sex workers are not immoral.
Because in our system some women can’t earn enough?
Some high class tarts might  enjoy it being taken to the best clubs,theatres and so on. I’m merely recallin an old Morse story.But the other  ones must be afraid and might be in pain.
Thieves might break the law but that may not be a sin.
That’s a relief,I just stole a breath!
Only God knows whether a bad tempered old codger who kicks the dog is sinful or merely being too wise to kick his wife.
And what is legal may be a sin.Like dodging tax when we are all suffering from the cuts to the NHS.
Everything is upside down.The low and the petty criminals may be quite holy and the priests and rabbis may be wicked,at least a good many may be
Yes, it’s wise to be on your guard with those who frequently mention their religion,God, the Bible, and so on.For the good do their works in secret.And no not boast of it.After all,what are their motives?
I’ve had a few knocks from the religious here on the Web but the lowly have  never harmed me.And I hope I’ve not harmed them.
Amen

Sin,the wrong one

Leggings

He’s writing the definitive book on sin.
Do people want to hear any more about sin?
Any more? I’ve heard very little recently.And which people?
The Word has vanished!
You read the wrong newspaper.
Can a newspaper be wrong in itself,intrinsically wrong?
Can a newspsper be a Sin?
Well,there’s one called the Sun!
Why don’t they just call it The Big Sin and have done with it?
You should write to Rupert.
Who’s Rupert?
You know him,Murdoch!
Now Iris Murdoch,she was a right one.
Well,she certainly wrote a few!And bedded more than a few
A few too many,in my view.
Too many for whom?
My,you talk posh don’t you?
Should it be,you talk poshly?
Me!I’m as common as ,as ,as as,aas,..muck!
Do stop,you’ll fall down a crack in the pavement soon and then where will you be?
I’ll be in Australia with Rupert!
Suppose you came out in New Zealand?
Well,it would be a change. I’m tired of England.
You never mentioned it before.
I didn’t want to upset you.
Well,I’m not so keen myself.
You sound like a knife!
Do you mean,a wife?
No, a knife…with a blade.
Yes, it does look well made.
Shall we buy one?
But do we really need it?
Do we really need anything?
Get a move on,you’re not at college now you know.
Who’re you?
My name is Wisdom.
I’m so sorry.
Why are you sorry?

It’s hard to be called Wisdom when you are a complete idiot.
Well,better a complete idiot than a sharp tongued wasp!
Do you mind!
Not at all.Better an idiot than a mutton dressed as lamb.
Are you a vegetarian?
I do eat the odd vegetables.
And who eats the even ones?
They all go to the supermarket.
So that’s how it works.You are so clever.
Well,I’m an economist.
I believe in economy for all.
I prefer comics myself.
No,they are called graphic novels now.
A bit like those Rupert books we had as children.
I wish Rupert Murdoch was called something else.
I’m sure he will be in tomorrow’s papers.
I mean,it defiles the memory of Rupert the teddy bear.
I learned to read from those.
A pity.
Why?
If you couldn’t read,think of all the other things you could do.
Like writing?
If you coudn’t read ,it would seem to follow that you couldn’t write.
Yet there are people who can read but not write?
Yes,it’s all to do with Venn diagrams and symmetry.
Venn is a weird name.
Yes,pity he wasn’t called Diagram.
I thought he was called,Venn Diagram.
All I know is that diaphragms were a form of birth control.
I was puzzled by that because we all have diaphragms, yet some of us have no control of any kind.
If your diaphragm doesn’t move you can’t breathe so you can’t procreate.
No,you’d be dead!
A very strange form of birth control.
Maybe you just faint and you husband can have his way with you.
But would you want sex with someone unconscious?
It’s another case of a-symmetry.. a man can have relations with a faint woman but if the man faints that’s the end of it.
How about carrots?
What for?
Can they faint?
No,but they make a nice flan.
Fancy that!
I do fancy it actually.
What is it?
It’s a big carrot!
How superb.It seems a shame to eat it.
Well, would like to worship it?
Not today.
Well,it won’t last forever.
In that case I’ll stick with God:
I’ll stick with Thee
Fast falls the chill of night
Semd me an angel,I need something bright.
I have no fear,with Thee I’ll be alright.
Why not give in and have electric lights.
You are very odd.
Well,it makes a change…
Not with you,you’ve always been odd.
So,in a way I’m not odd.
You are right!
Odd. is’t it?
And yet even simultaneously.
It seems almost like quantum theory.
Those were the days.
From Schoenberg to Schrodinger: cats for all.
Enberg to Dinger.
You could call the cat Dinger.
What a good idea.
Mioaw.

I carried him alone

(0 minutes ago)
 
So you are gone  who once declared your love
Alas  for phantasm conjured in your mind
For onto me you brought down from above
A torment bitter and   your words unkind.
Used to  friendship from within your books
You did not understand that I was real
Irritation grew as  fierce  you looked;
You threw your poisoned  arrows  at my heel.
What once you loved then you began to hate
If not perfect then intolerable I must be
And then you cursed me with this  sorry fate
Our child was born and him you’d never see.
Illegitimate and born in desert grey.
I carried him alone from death’s dark rays

May my grieving

Afflicted by the honour of your death
Both grief and privilege to attend you there
Afflicted by  emotions,short of breath
I weep for now I sadly miss your care.

Responsible for taking you  to death
And freely letting go of my desires
Tears like a very sheet  my face impressed.
After  He extinguished your fires.

Now with my older loves you dwell elsewhere
And  I , now suffering, linger in my lair.
Will you send me comfort  so I bear
The burden of  our grief without despair

For as in winter worms toil in the earth
Msy my grieving bring me to spring’s birth

Grief defined:burden

ɡriːf/
noun
noun: grief
  1. 1.
    intense sorrow, especially caused by someone’s death.
    “she was overcome with grief”
    antonyms: joy
    • an instance or cause of intense sorrow.
      plural noun: griefs
      “time heals griefs and quarrels”
  2. 2.
    informal
    trouble or annoyance.
    “the police gave us constant grief at the match”
Origin
Middle English: from Old French grief, from grever ‘to burden’ (see grieve1).
 

The Widow’s Lament In Springtime

The Widow’s Lament In Springtime – Poem by William Carlos Williams

Sorrow is my own yard
where the new grass
flames as it has flamed
often before but not
with the cold fire
that closes round me this year.
Thirtyfive years
I lived with my husband.
The plumtree is white today
with masses of flowers.
Masses of flowers
load the cherry branches
and color some bushes
yellow and some red
but the grief in my heart
is stronger than they
for though they were my joy
formerly, today I notice them
and turn away forgetting.
Today my son told me
that in the meadows,
at the edge of the heavy woods
in the distance, he saw
trees of white flowers.
I feel that I would like
to go there
and fall into those flowers
and sink into the marsh near them.

When thou hast stripped my heart

When thou hast stripped my   heart  of all its skin
And left me to the wolves  to be consumed
Shall I ask what was my mortal sin,
And hast thou never thought I was redeemed?

The pains I suffer I am loth to take
For I have thrashed been in thy machines
And no more can my little heart now break;
As fragmented it giveth forth its screams.

Yet should I be unwilling to accept?
Is it not the case that thou  made me?
So  shall I sin if I thy will reject,
Not knowing how to live and how to be?

The mystery of suffering is too dark
When shall I see thy living golden spark?

 

Like a blade of grass

 

Already it’s the middle of the month.

That is usually when I think of you
Walking by the river,the path green
With moss and small grass blades.
Is that your shadow across the window?
I still expect you though you’re long gone.
Damply trudging through the meadow,
Hand in hand we never noticed the cold,
Though my fingers were painful with chilblains.
I don’t see you any more,nor the chilblains.
Would I walk on knives for you
Like the girl in the fairytale,No.
But almost anything else.
Sand runs through my fingers,
I’m a human timer,though not for eggs,
But for love,my time is running out.
Though even in a moment one can receive love
In the smile of a stranger.
Why should love not be short
Like a grass blade?
Or tiny like a grain of sand?
Dante only saw Beatrice once,
But it sustained his life for ever.
That’s worth dwelling on

Flaws in positive psychology

A Psychoanalytic Examination of Positive Psychology examines its theoretical and clinical flaws. — Inside Out Journal Inside Out – Exploring the Life of the Mind

A Psychoanalytic Examination of Positive Psychology examines its theoretical and clinical flaws. — Inside Out Journal Inside Out – Exploring the Life of the Mind

The dear one we clasp

 

The new doctor is called Donald Bluck…
And odd name but he had good luck.
He might be called Schitz,
Or even Blitz.
He’s definitely not called Doctor F*ck.

I was 22 years old and one day,
When first I heard a young lady say:
what is that word
Lady Chatterley heard?
D H Lawrence didn’t use shades of grey.

What is the long term effect
Of admitting such words without tact?
Now they mean naught
So that someone ought
To invent a word hard to inspect.

A word like a small darting fish,
Not confined to a big round glass dish.
In the ocean of life
Not all words are nice…
Nor is life itself quite what we wish.

Words may take flight from our grasp;
Act like Cleopatra’s sharp asp.
Words kill or give life
Pattern chaos and strife….
Or give love to the dear one we clasp.

My senses are my lovers long-

 

A map’s a guide to find a world

Knitted by angels  and unfurled.

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.

What is the Average Retirement Income in the UK?

 

The average retirement income in 2014 was £15,800 but unlike earned incomes which have remained steady or increased slightly in the past few years average retirement incomes have been declining. For example it is 11 per cent down on 2009’s £17,779 and 15% down on 2008’s £18,663. This worrying trend is likely to continue as occupation pension schemes close, annuity rates go lower and the squeeze continues on disposable incomes, which means that most people have less money to save for their future.

The state pension will account for 35 per cent of average retirement income for those planning to retire in 2014, but one in seven people will retire without a pension, and women are nearly three times more likely than men to be entirely reliant upon the state pension, because they made no provisions of their own.

(Statistics source: Prudential)

He went deaf in one eye at 57

?He was a blight on  poor eyes.
Are you a parasite on pores and eyes?
This is  a site for sore flies.
This   writing and sure tries teachers swerves,
How many pleas make us dread men?
Can you cook an octopus’s tail?
Can you afford to tweet?
Is anyone following you on Bumbook? If so,wear a saddle.
What horses are best for scholars?
My pleas swell on  twelve beers.
If I am white then  you are wrong.
How many  goads must a man   be pricked by?

My cat with flat feet

I once had a cat with flat feet.

which in addition loved to bleat. like a sheep.

The vet offered therapy

but I just laughed merrily…

Alas then my cat learned how to Tweet!

He got mentioned on the BBC news.

Journalists were keen to know his views

He smoked a cigar

He called me,Mama.

He loved to help me polish church pews.

Later on he desired to worship in a Church.

I sympathise but didn’t know which

Was the best to receive cats,

Rats,mice and bats…

And how would the sermons be pitched?

Did Jesus come to earth to save cats?

Should women spend a fortune on hats?

I think far too much..

I guess it’s my crutch.

Did Jesus desire to save the gnats?

Email me if you know at

overthinkersanonymous.kate@gurglemail.com

brighterthanthou@godwit.com

iamabook@reading.pan

Or at Purrfectlady@mewing.com

“We’re all in this together spirit”

Morale of the workers is lowered
by tales of accountants and lawyers
triumphantly finding new ways
of helping the affluentia
to evade the normal tax payments.
Morale is crucial to any nation
undergoing a crisis.Recall the
“We’re all in this together spirit”
of the war years.But now,it’s disheartening
for the 50% living on less than the median wage
of about £25,000 per annum
let alone those just above it
to read the stories of “Grey areas”
“Offshore accounts”,”Charities” set up
from which they take just a “low” wage.

To come through a crisis
We need to feel we are all working
And living together.And we need to acknowledge
Very many people work full time
And are still in poverty..still needing
Housing Benefit..so we are subsidising the firms
which employ them on low wages like this.
Yes,the poor children do feel the cold,
They do indeed feel hunger.just like you and me.
And they do worry about parents whose hope
Is to win the Lottery.
Those children feel emotions just like all children.

Alienated now,we’ll not have too many chances
To grab them before they take to drugs..
Or worse,prostitution.

We are all in the same boat
But some are taking up more of it
And we want to know why.

 

In the gaps

  Sunday again;
Hailstones rush sideways,
striking the windows
with small fierce blows.
In the gaps between
two white butterflies zig zag
like motorized wild flowers;
One colour,two forms. I see now
two aspects of Nature:
hard,destructive,stern;
frail and delicate.
Both are coloured the same white.
Hard to tell sometimes which we are seeing
But we can all distinguish between a gentle touch
and a bitter blow.
As the day dips into night my heart falls too.
In these dreams I look for the lost
in the snowy steppes and the ices of the heart.
A white petal falls.
Cherry trees bloom again
Russia in love.

The dog it was that died

Still here

Copy of Self in draeing,Kathryn 2Oliver Goldsmith, “An Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog” (1766)

Good people all, of every sort,
Give ear unto my song;
And if you find it wondrous short,
It cannot hold you long.

In Islington there was a man,
Of whom the world might say
That still a godly race he ran,
Whene’er he went to pray.

A kind and gentle heart he had,
To comfort friends and foes;
The naked every day he clad,
When he put on his clothes.

And in that town a dog was found,
As many dogs there be,
Both mongrel, puppy, whelp and hound,
And curs of low degree.

This dog and man at first were friends;
But when a pique began,
The dog, to gain some private ends,
Went mad and bit the man.

Around from all the neighbouring streets
The wondering neighbours ran,
And swore the dog had lost his wits,
To bite so good a man.

The wound it seemed both sore and sad
To every Christian eye;
And while they swore the dog was mad,
They swore the man would die.

But soon a wonder came to light,
That showed the rogues they lied:
The man recovered of the bite,
The dog it was that died.

Rhapsodic,lengthy,terse.

We’re told it helps to write thoughts down;
Express our grief  somehow;
And if our  feelings are intense,
These words  from deep springs flow.

A sonnet or terza rima
A ballad or free verse.
We have a choice of many forms
Rhapsodic,lengthy,terse.

A practised poet may be blessed
Or so the lay-folk feel
But gifts come with a price to pay:
Experience must be real.

She wrote down all  her grief and woe
By symbols dignified.
The poems received an awed review.
The poet it was who died.