Author: Katherine

Poetry writer and author

Shall I my life of evil start

When true love’s gone and doom hangs over head
When life runs like a river to the sea
Then shall I take new lovers to my bed?
And with their carnal touch consoled be?

When my love lies,so breaks my tender heart.
When life seems grey and rocks bestrew my path.
Then, shall I my life of evil start?
And on the world shall I bestow my wrath?

When true love lies and wrecks all loyalty.
When puzzlement makes all my world seem mad.
Then I shall upend causality
And let myself do deeds which make me glad.

For I have love’s sweet child inside my soul
And I shall tend her till at last she’s whole

Frenetic and frantic are Greek

Being frenetic is bad for our minds
As they get wound up  and writhe in  such binds.
So never talk quickly
Or you will get sickly
Be calm and then you will  be kind.

 

Frantic comes from the same root
Which is  Greek  without any  real doubt.
Just think they have gone
But their language lives on.
For  the English took words  plus more loot.

 

When we have been gone  many years
What of ours will the  people revere?
Will it be poetry?
i phones notoriety?
If we’re gone perhaps we do not care?

Definition of frenetic in English

frenetic

Pronunciation: /frəˈnɛtɪk/
ADJECTIVE

Fast and energetic in a rather wild and uncontrolled way:a frenetic pace of activity

More example sentencesSynonyms

Derivatives

 

frenetically

Pronunciation: /frəˈnɛtɪk(ə)li/

ADVERB

 

Example sentences

 

freneticism

NOUN

 

Example sentences

Origin

Late Middle English (in the sense ‘insane’): from Old French frenetique, via Latin from Greekphrenitikos, from phrenitis ‘delirium’, from phrēn ‘mind’. Compare with frantic.

Scent,a dab

Earl Grey Tea
Poetry
Cyclamen
Fountain pen
Dark blue ink
Marble sink.
Pure silk linen
With my man in
Angry neighbours
Social labours.
Must be careful
As they’re there still
Cut down trees?
Angry bees.
No privacy
I can’t see.
Need new glasses.
Evening classes.
Writer’s groups
Poetry Soup.
Vested interest
Not on Pinterest
Where’s my money?
Am I funny?
Miss his worship.
Ate his turnips.
He liked fishes
On the dishes.
I broke the heart mug
On the hearth rug.
Fingers weakened
Bedtime beckoned
Dreamed of Robert
Not of Hubert.
Woke up lazy
Feeling mazy.
Shall I get up?
What’s your set up?
I got washed then
Saw that man,Len.
Went in town
In dressing gown.
I need a cab
And scent, a dab.
Where’s my mate?
In the Tate?
He liked Art
And I was smart.

 

 

Love more Eskimos

 My house is full of insects and
 My house is full of snails.
 I'll never catch the insects
 But the snails have left some trails!
 My house is full of laughter ,
 And my house is full of glee.
 My lover has got bright  green eyes
 For staring down at me.
 Oh,my house is full of soup in tins
 And full of Earl Grey tea.
 We must all drink the very best
 To escalate the economy.
 My house is full of angels,
 Angels full of dust.
 They don't really mind at all,
 But dust them if you must.
 My house is flying in the sky
 Like a leaf caught in a gale.
 I am not sure what I should do
 But it's a fairytale.
 My house is  in Antarctica
 I feel  so enraged.
 It will be very difficult
 For someone who's engaged.
 My boyfriend will not find me here,
 He'll call our wedding off.
 I wonder if my phone will work,
 The weather's getting rough.
 I really don't know what to do
 I think I shall expire.
 don't ask  me if I made this up,
 I hate being called a liar.
 I see the bears are dancing now,
 I see some Eskimos
 I didn't know that they lived down South,
 I'll go  where  they all  go.
 I don't mind life down her at all
 Though it is so very  cold.
 Oh,bloggeurs! that's what it was,
 My duvet had unrolled.
 I want to go to sleep again
 I want to dream of snow
 I want to see more Polar bears
 And love more Eskimos

Sweeten my drink

  He said he was going to write her a letter.
He said he didn’t want to upset her.
But he ran away
And until today
She’s never met anyone better.
He said he loved her blue eyes
He said he loved her till he dies.
He ran off when
He saw her again.
She wants to say her goodbyes.
He told her too many lies.
See how she weeps and she cries.
He promised her Eden,
Now love lies a-bleeding.
Pain has made her both troubled and wise.
He was self-centred  though sweet.
He was a marvel at  rubbing her feet.
He liked her steak puddings,
Followed by  her loving.
You’d think at the least he might tweet
Well they say it is all for the pests.
And surely he was one of the best.
A  catapult of  dried cat food
Would’ve made him even more rude.
Ah,well,dear God,  this life’s a test.

Is love ever wasted d’you think?
Do we learn from it even at the brink?
We ought to collect it
Then we’d inspect it.
And use it to sweeten the drink

To the depths of our own minds

The trees’ roots wind beneath the grass.
Grass so perfect,neatly mown.
In roots entangled,serpents mass
Beneath the fruit trees which now groan.

Another,darker world beneath,
Where the roots  stark homes  do give
To tiny creatures which there seethe,
Where all our darkest shadows live.

From here a serpent  malice took
From our neglect  what we hate.
We see the surface , do  not look
At what lies deeper ,till too late.

 

And so we live, both deaf and blind
To the depths of our own minds

Stan gets bamboozled

https://youtu.be/6S9ecXWCBCc

Stan was standing on a small step ladder washing his windows yet again with a clean blue microfibre and elastane cloth and some windolene he had bought in Tesco’s
I don’t know why I bother,he whispered to Emile, who as usual was watching from the back of the sofa,which he was “milking” gently with his paws.
With all the rain,the outside of the windows was besmirched by leaves and bits of mud.A wiser man might have left it alone but Stan had O.C.D which made him very nervous if he failed to carry out certain tasks… so he made use of it in house chores and baking perfect cakes and buns..and in taking photos of frogs,birds and flowers.Neurosis can be useful sometimes.
All of a sudden he heard clattering footsteps…
Up the garden path walked two women dressed in the latest style of 3/4 length silk cargo trousers with matching blouses, all in a subtle shade of violet.Except for their faces,of course,which were both a light shade of beige; they had Revlon peach  and apricot blusher on their cheeks and Chanel scarlet lipstick…on their lips.They also wore dark blue nail varnish from Rimmel
“Good morning,Stan!” called one of them.
“We are Anne’s cousins from Pittsburgh.She told us to call on you today.”
“Well,I never knew wearing expensive makeup ran in the genes… can there be any other explanation?”Stan cried.
“Anne told us we must wear it all the time in the UK.”
she responded,”even in bed.”
“You seem a bit fast,” he answered,
“I’m not sure I want to go to bed and as you seem like identical twins,which of you should I bed?”
They burst out laughing….oh,dear!
“I was just saying what she told us,not meaning that you need to go to bed with us.In fact, we sleep together at night.”
“As children that would be normal,but don’t you think you should separate now? People might think you are gay!”
“We never worry about stuff like that… and by the way,this is Ruby and I am Rosie.”
“I’ll put on the kettle and make you some coffee,” the dear man said in a kind tone of voice,before he went into the kitchen and swallowed a handful of red and green striped valium tablets.
“I wish the psychiatrist would give me some therapy.I don’t like taking valium but I seem to be having visions again… and I don’t want to get worse..I never heard Anne mention cousins in the USA. I wonder if CBT would help me?”he said to Emile.
“I see visions all the time,” the cat replied in a matter of fact and calm way.
“Do they not make you feel anxious?”Stan called.
“No,I just watch them drift by,” purred Emile.”I enjoy them.”
“I wish these two women would drift off.”responded the weary yet charming old man.
Ruby and Rosie came inside and admired the kitchen where colanders in many colours hung from the wall into which someone had knocked a few dozen nails.
“”Why do you have sixteen colanders?”asked Rosie.
“Why do you think everything has a reason?”Stan replied.
“I can see you studied philosophy,” Ruby cried disconsolately.
“No,I have just read Ray Monk’s Life of Wittgenstein eight times,” he quipped merrily.
“Wow,is it not boring?”
“No.it’s so good it put me off reading lesser books.And I love to understand things,”
Just then Stan tripped on the rug and fell over ,knocking himself out on the edge of the tiled fireplace.
Emile picked up his mobile with its full Qwerty key pad and texted 999.
“Why are you texting?”asked Ruby.
“Well,it difficult to mioaw down a phone and now I have this Blackberry it’s so easy…. why even a mouse could do it.”
“Do you know many mice,Emile?” enquired Ruby wistfully
Rosie slowly made some instant coffee, walking around poor Stan unconscious on the floor…and she and her twin sat down on some white Swedish chairs at the old oak table and drank it, gazing shyly at the huge weigelia blooming outside on the shed.
The front door opened and in ran Dave,the bisexual paramedic.
“Is it you,Emile.Have you lost your hankie again.Are you sad?” he moaned nervously.
“No,it’s Stan… but at least he’s not broken the chair”
Stan came too and looked up…
“Oh, lovely,I feel much better for that nap” he said brightly.
“Don’t you have a bed to sleep in?” said Ruby querulously.
“I like your mean expression,my dear man.”
“Now,look here said Stan,”I’m too old for any monkey business.
Besides,I don’t know if you are real.”
“We just wondered why you slept on the floor.”
“A man has to do what a man has to do,” came the mystifying response.
“Now that Dave is here,he can take one of you and I’ll take the other.”
“Where will you take us”the twins asked delightfully….
“Do you fancy the cinema… they are showing Monsieur Hulot’s Holiday”
“Don’t tell me he’s still on his summer holiday!” riposted Ruby
“Let’s go in the ambulance.I’ll lie on the stretcher” offered Rosie generously..
“I’ll lie by you,”said Dave.” and Emile can drive.Stan and Ruby can lie on the floor.”
Sometimes life seems so simple,it’s rather like a dream controlled………………
Controlled by what,asked Emile,clutching his Blackberry.
But answer came there none…
And that was very odd because.. they’d vanished every one…
To read more,why not take out a subscription?At just £100 a day,it’s value for money…as money no longer has any value.Please believe me…

Emile wants therapy

As the new day dawned,Peter Fried.. that infamous psychoanalyst woke upto find himself in the washing machine yet again.He unwound himself

and crawled out.On the table was a note.
Dear Peter,
I washed up..hope you had a good night in the washing machine.Speak to you soon…Best wishes,Annie.

He moaned loudly at the prospect.Perhaps staying in Hampstead would have been better but he felt an obligation to spread his new therapeutic methods to the less civilized parts of Britain… such as Knittingham.But he had already met the most peculiar people who had caught him on their pan and would soon be eating him for dinner.
He looked out at the street… but there peeering into the window was Emile.
For,God’s sake Emile… why are you back here,he whispered.
I’d like to finish off your curry,Peter.
How kind of you.. please come in.
When Emile came in he jumped onto the couch.
You can’t eat it there,Emile,Peter said politely.
Well.. the truth is..I think I need therapy.Is it very expensive for cats.
I don’t recall anyone having treated a cat before.
This could make you famous,Peter.
Well,why do you think you need therapy?
I am suffering from a severe case of unfulfilled love.
You have problems with your lady cat friend?
No, no… the problem is I am in love with Annie.I dream of her every night.
And what are you doing in the dream?
What would you be doing,Peter..
I’m afraid the analyst must not reveal themselves,the cunning man responded.
And my second and more serious problem is that I am afraid I may be bisexual…I love you now as well as her. Is there any hope that i can return from neurosis to just the normal unhappiness of life?
Well, for a start I’d stop reading Freud..And let me ask Stan whether he is willing to pay for therapy.
Is it very expensive?
I let you use my washing machine free but he must pay for the soap powder.
What, are you going to give me washing machine therapy?
Well,it may be the best for you as the mud you lick from your fur may be affecting your brain.
Any other type of therapy?
Well, we might try Mindfulness or Meta-cognitive therapy.
That sounds very complicated.
Well,apart from that,you can keep busy and avoid coming near me or Annie…it’s the simplest though maybe the hardest cure.
And we all know that,don’t we?

Danger

Celebrity chef, television personality, and businesswoman Clarissa Dickson Wright only wears a bra on special occasions. At her 50th birthday party, she was dancing when she suddenly felt a “terrifying pain in my chest.” She initially thought she was having a heart attack. “The pain got more and more intense. I staggered off and discovered I’d broken my underwired bra.”

What does object mean?

photo1049 3
If I’d known English was so hard I’d have been born in Italy.

Sorry for being alive or dead

 

 

 

I must apologise to the 14 British people who came here today.I am unused to that and cater mainly for what you call foreigners.If that offends you please apologise to me.Now.I apologise for owning all these gloves.I have to match them to my clothes or my mother will be angry.

A thousand apologies deep

I am sorry  for writing a  poem
And for giving you pleasure at home
I really regret
That you weren’t upset.
And sorry for not stealing your comb.

 

I’m sorry my IQ is too high
And if it’s lower than yours I’ll cry
I can’t change it now
But I’m finding out how
I’m reading the Sun.Hi de Hi!

 

And  if it is low I regret
My stupidity at placing a bet
I gambol you see
Whilst a nice  man snaps me.
The odds are all  even when wet.

As to if I am mediocre at  best
I am sorry that I am a pest.
But I want  to be  mean
Statistically  seen.
So sorry I’m too kind to your guests.

 

Before we scheme

How like a monster is my fear of pain
Expanding to fill all my heart and mind;
Swelling as a  fearsome sponge   in rain,
This fear begets  new  feelings more unkind.

For humans being chased by lions fierce,
Fear gives the strength to  dash away.
But when by inner turmoil we are pierced
We cannot run  yet need  not be its prey.

Most strange ,we need to do   what we most fear;
Walk towards the pain with curious calm.
As else we may be maddened like King Lear
With no Cordelia to bring us balm.

To  feel in proper ratio to our   pain.
We need perception,grace and all their gains.

Abject

Definition of abject in English:

 abject
 Adjective
Pronunciation: /ˈabdʒɛkt/

1(Of something bad) experienced or present to the maximum degree:his letter plunged her into abject miseryabject poverty

1.1(Of a situation or condition) extremely unpleasant and degrading:the abject condition of the peasants
2(Of a person or their behaviour) completely without pride or dignity; self-abasing:an abject apology
Derivatives
abjection

Pronunciation: /abˈdʒɛkʃ(ə)n/

NOUN
abjectly

Pronunciation: /ˈabdʒɛktli/

ADVERBabjectness

Pronunciation: /ˈabdʒɛktnəs/

NOUN

 

Example sentences

Origin

Late Middle English (in the sense ‘rejected’): from Latin abjectus, past participle of abicere‘reject’, from ab- ‘away’ + jacere ‘to throw’.

Got bail

 I  got bail  for bagging the dog –   or for bragging about a frog or both.I really wanted to go to jail but the government have got wise to that ruse,Back to the Embankment

I made a back pleat in my skirt but unfortunately the needle had no thread and  so the  people   behind me could see my green knickers.Apparently that’s a crime.I test my own case tomorrow wearing trousers with no zip.Don’t watch that space.

Take a pig or two when you visit   the Middle East and you will have a free holiday in jail.You may  even  get a death sentence like pigs do daily.Do  text us

 Make rot suck

Take the bill between your teeth and shred it.

Take the fake to the blank

Take the guilt off my whinging lad

What, fake a sicky?

Take the upper hand of  your fiance and lick it

Take  the lumbar wedge and your back will thank you

Take with a train of salt

Taken a sack of corn and can’t pray?

The  sqwauk of the Devil passes on demand

Talk  via one’s hat? Is this semitic?

Talk to the  sand.It’s infinite which I am not

Call  it a story and make it up.

There’s no such thing as a free hunch

Tattoo me with prayer

What tawdry laundry have you come from in that grey sheet?You’re a spirit.That’s what they all say.Is there no boiler in hell? What a waste of heat.

How to count infinity by hand

The uncanny is a space which I avoid
I do not wish to meet with spirits  vile.
Though with some men ,it’s true that I have toyed.
I  dropped them all and sane was I the while.

Yet when I met your eyes so dark  and strange
A force more strong than my own pulled me in.
A   premonition that my life would surely change,
Before I knew your double,your dark twin.

In dreams and  in my nightmares he will come
To capture me and take me  to his land.
I do not know what choice to make of man
Nor how to count infinity by hand

The double is an augury of death
Yet in this space uncanny is a path

 

Uncanny

uncanny

adjective

1. weird, strange, mysterious, queer,unearthly, eerie, supernatural, unnatural, spooky(informal), creepy (informal), eldritch (poetic),preternatural I had this uncanny feeling that Alicewas warning me.
2. extraordinary, remarkable, incredible,unusual, fantastic, astonishing, exceptional,astounding, singular, miraculous, unheard-of,prodigious The hero bears an uncanny   resemblance to Kirk Douglas.
Collins Thesaurus of the English Language – Complete and Unabridged 2nd Edition. 2002 © HarperCollins Publishers 1995, 2002

uncanny

adjective

The bee rang

On Richmond’s pill you won’t be ill~
Lots of dove’s with scarlet ribbons.
Where the bee rings, there am I.
Never more shall I see you ,since  you went to live in Looe.
On the boney,boney flanks of Don Rooming.
Oh,you’ll take the Aye vote and I’ll take the No.
Oh for the bling ,for the blong  from above
Appalled in  the April evening.
Along the   lowly mode of Bethlehem
The seams of Carrie’s coat to us.
La haute sur la montagne etait un vieux chalet.So they say
Darn my holes I beseech thee,Oh God.
Where the moth stings ,there am I.
Guiltless as the evening’s are, my vibrator’s gone too far.

[I actually read a book by  a widow who recommended getting one but may be as I am older I am more desirous of affection from  human beings than having a thrill alone.]
Where have all the ours gone?
We’ll   keep going ,the waters flowing ………….. to the rivers of Babylon where we sat down and swept.

 

 

Where have all the cliches gone?

hot-march-days-038

At the end of the day,

it all boils down to
what happens in that moment in time
in that split second
in that atomic participle
I offer you my surds of wisdom,
Don’t delay… you don’t want to be
A moment too soon or too late.
We must listen to our hearts
To find out our gut feelings,
Trust your instincts
And remember,it’s never too early or late,
Or exactly the right moment,
To start saving for a pension.
At the end of the day,
I hope you made your bed
The way you want to lie in it..
Though usually,love needs truth
And lying is an art
unlike survival and love;
Though love is not all you need
but love helps us roll along
gathering a little moss.
Ask not for whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee,
and me too.
But when we sum it all up
We can say,with hand on heart..
we were just following orders
Then the grieving will start.
And if we can’t grieve we won’t be comforted.
That is in the Sermon on the Mound or the  ground of being.
It’s very freeing.And so pray for all of us.
Related articles

“No More Cliches” by Octavio Paz (steph3blog.wordpress.com)
Muse (loveletterstoaghost.wordpress.com)
How Not to Appreciate a Woman With Poetry (sahmataineking.com)
Pick-Up Poetry (memeteria.com)
A Sliver (thetruthbehindtheeyes.wordpress.com)
My Feelings on Poetry and Why I Seldom Read Any: An Explanation of Myself(charlottecuevas.wordpress.com)
King of Art – my random piece of poetry (amorfoiayo.wordpress.com)

Changed perceptions

KODAK Digital Still Camera

When I was growing up as a Christian I was taught about sin,punishment,hell and heaven.
The implication seemed to be that if you found you were inclined to envy or anger or other sins,you could change by will power.Now,may be you can,but often you can’t so you have an extra sin and anxiety that you are a grave sinner.
Now I have been thinking that it may be Perception which matters.If you can change your perception your actions and thoughts will be changed,It’s like changing your perspective or changing your focus,
And about imaginatively exploring what that person who  tempts you to anger,lust,greed,envy, is truly feeling.So you get out of the two person

ME and YOU
It’s like a three person relationship.I can see my views and your views and somehow
then see both differently.I am finding it hard to put into words,If we can change our perception we will change our thoughts and actions

A person is a window

 

 

new windowsA new person whom we get to know can be a window to a different world.For this to function we have to realise that we are all different and we are all of value.
Even within one culture big differences are there between one person and another.
And in London we have people from hundreds of other countries and we British ourselves are multicultural.Some people find this frightening and our ancestors probably only met people from their own village.
But looked at another way,seeing how a friend from another culture views his/her world is enlightening even if only to give a new perspective on our own culture which we may be unaware of.We may see life from a new perspective.These metaphors from Art are very useful.The artist must see as well as  possible and in different ways.So in that sense Art is important not just for pleasure but for living a reasonable life
We may in a metaphorical sense look through this friend’s eyes and see a new world.
Or we may scoff and say how silly and that our culture and our own self are the only ones  of value.Or we may wander on,not really  looking  so not seeing and so miss many chances of enlightenmentAnd enlightenment is the best that a new window can offer us.How full of metaphors our languages are.How poetic.

It was the end

1. Avoid it like the  The Hague
2. Dead as a donor’s nail
3. Mistake the  rigor and the detail for analysis
4. Low, singing  and cute voiced
5. If only wails could talk we’d get better
6. The dot calling the comma black  was the end
7. Think by the side of the foxed
8. She’s sick and grieves still
10. Plenty of fish in the wee,he joked
9. Bat at the end of the day’s  unless you are rolling
11. Every dog has its dismay
12. Like a  bid in a gambling furore I went unnoticed

Feel the nip of the iceberg

Lady love

I love the long ,lean lingering look of her
Legs like twin silver birch trunks
delicately balancing her elegant,exotic body.
Her blue eyed humorous gaze rests on me.
How her inner being vibrates in subtle motion
like an unmowed meadow of poppies does
in a summer wind.
Her smile is the sun on a lawn of pure white daisies
her own self a tall stemmed flower
opening slowly to the sun
revealing her deep,deep cente

So I skinned it which made me feel calmer..

I once had a doctor called Grey;
Of feeling he made a display.
He wept and smiled
Till he had me beguiled.
The next day Dr Grey ran away.

I displayed my displeasure by drama,
Hysterical, I slipped on a banana.
But it was not the right size
And matched not mine eyes
So I skinned  it which made me feel calmer..

In the store was a display  of  bell peppers
Alongside a tub of  red letters.
I read one in brief
As I  pawed lettuce leaves
They’re soporific  and I want to feel Greta.

  • Displays of emotion are banned
    As the  headmaster’s briefs  will soon land.
    For his trousers  fell down
    While he was in town
    Drinking whiskey and beer till half canned.

Displays of the bum aren’t permitted
Even by a man so   bright witted.
So he is getting the sack
Then he can pack
His register of all he’s committed