Dizzy
Author: Katherine
Poetry writer and author
Satan goes on holiday
Stan had met Satan in his mirror many times by now..And it was obvious the poor devil was terribly depressed.He said he was no longer needed as humans were more wicked than he ever was.Stan wondered how to help.
He went into the bedroom and looked into the mirror.At first he thought it was empty but the he saw Satan asleep curled into a ball.
Hi there,he called.Satan woke up.
Hi Stan.
Stan said
I’ve got an idea.How would you like a drive to Sheringham?
I dunno,I feel too depressed.
I think you need a change said Stan.He picked uip Mary’s solid gold powder compact and opened it.What a lovely scent,he murmured,closing his eyes and remembering all the times Mary had taken it out to put on more lipstick or powder her nose when theyw ere younger,.
Now,see here.I have mirror here.If you can get behind this,I’ll put you in my pocket and Emile will sit by me in the car.
Without a pause Satan leaped into the gold compact and Stan could see him in the mirror.He popped it into his front pocket until he realised the devil could not see out.
He opened it and placed it in his pocket but with the mirror sticking out.
They drove off in Stan’s old Triumph Herald with perhaps a few angels looking on.
Sat Nav,said Satan… is that how to find me…?
No.it’s satellite navigation.It gives me a route to the seaside.
Bloody waste of money…what is wrong with a road Atlas.
It’s all progress.Stan told him.
Or might it be something more serious?
All of a sudden a police car came by and asked Stan to stop.
Why are you sending signals with that mirror,the police officer enquired..I’m sorry,said Stan.I didn’t realise.You must admit it look suspicious.Are you a spy?A spy!That’s ridiculous.I am just an old English man.
You have an odd accent,the policeman remarked.
It’s Geordie,said Stan.
Forget Geordie.It’s you I want,
To be continued
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“To See a World…”
This is like Hamlet… full of quotations.In other words much of it has passed into common language
William Blake
“To See a World…”
(Fragments from “Auguries of Innocence”
To see a World in a Grain of Sand And a Heaven in a Wild Flower, Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour. A Robin Redbreast in a Cage Puts all Heaven in a Rage. A dove house fill’d with doves and pigeons Shudders Hell thro’ all its regions. A Dog starv’d at his Master’s Gate Predicts the ruin of the State. A Horse misus’d upon the Road Calls to Heaven for Human blood. Each outcry of the hunted Hare A fiber from the Brain does tear. He who shall train the Horse to War Shall never pass the Polar Bar. The Beggar’s Dog and Widow’s Cat, Feed them and thou wilt grow fat. The Gnat that sings his Summer song Poison gets from Slander’s tongue. The poison of the Snake and Newt Is the sweat of Envy’s Foot. A truth that’s told with bad intent Beats all the Lies you can invent. It is right it should be so; Man was made for Joy and Woe; And when this we rightly know Thro’ the World we safely go. Every Night and every Morn Some to Misery are Born. Every Morn and every Night Some are Born to sweet delight. Some are Born to sweet delight, Some are Born to Endless Night.
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You are gone
In the sunlit bare twigs
brown and golden
like my hair
blackbirds make a flurry
wings stuttering as they hover.
.Here in the spring garden
I feel your presence
You are just behind me
But if I turn
You are gone
You never speak
Except
through the whispering branches
and the nodding bluebells
Old honesty heads agree
As the seeds are glimpsed
through the papery dead heads
Wonder if they will ever fall to earth
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Rules for impatient inpatients
No mobile groans are allowed in this hospital.Please faint on the bed only.Or if pushed,faint onto the nurse’s station.
No lipstick to be worn at night by spirits
.
Do not attack the doctor.He is only a pest here.
Pills must be swallowed when you drink your own water.
Do not undress in this cubicle.Undress outside before entry.Leave your clothes in the bin for people to steal on demand (X ray unit]
Kindly tell us your name before we drug you.
If afraid please report to the nurse in rhyming verse
.
If no night nurse is available please die after 8 am.
If you must have sex in the ward, please do not scream or moan as the other patients may be jealous.
If you have no relations please ask the doctor to oblige when he finishes his rounds.
If you feel weak,do not use your Kindle Fire on the bed
After a heart attack do not resume sex until you get home unless you had the heart attack here in which case please feel free to continue either or both..
Sex is a form of exercise but also can create chaos in public.Try walking instead with or
without a partner.
If borderline kindly make your mind up whether you love or hate the pest doctor
If we have to freeze your nuts off, we will do so with levity.
If you have no bosom,you are probably a man.Wards are now mixed so there is no.
problem apart from a shortage of braziers.
If you have any loose nuts,please leave them in the hands of a female nurse prior to surgery.
Cover all your parts before the Royals visit.
Please leave me all your money before you leave the ward when about to pass over
Sex changes by an operation or sometimes naturally.
Are you bored in bed?Get out and walk up and down the corridor to annoy the visitors.
Kindly do not drum your fingers all day.Use a drumstick.
If you have erosive dermatitis, please dry carefully.
If you have an egg please donate now.Fertility counts.
Owing to a world shortage of egg cups,we now use mugs to eat from and saucers for our tea.
Do you have any further problems?Please weigh your words before you start
None of the staff understand the government…so please do not mention David Cameron if you wish to go home on one piece.
Pies are sold in the conservatory.We do not know why.
In fact we know hardly anything but don’t worry,we’ll treat you barbarically anyway.
Be a stoic and keep still.We all die one day.Or night.
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Stan in hell
-
Stan was standing on the patio when a sudden downpour drenched him all over.
This is like a monsoon,he murmured to Emile who was also getting very wet.
A head appeared over the fence.
I’m awfully sorry,old boy.A pipe has burst in Annie’s loft.
Wow,I don’t believe it.You are Stan Brown.It must be 50 years since I saw you as a student… you were hopeless at logic then
Stan was hiding his surprise at seeing Rudolf Hairnet,his former tutor at an ancient foundation of learning and sin, in the garden of Annie,Stan’s beloved once more [now he has swept out his sacred space and put a bolt on the door.]
Why not pop in Rudolf,he said.I’ll leave the door open and go upstairs to change my clothes.Be with you in a moment.
Stan went upstairs and removed his clothes.His body was now as thin as when he reached his full height of 6 ft 6 inches but alas it had less muscle and more fat..He gazed into his wife’s mirror.
To his surprise he saw Satan looking out.Although he knew this was possible for sinful Catholics he had never met Satan before.
How do you get behind the mirror,he asked gently.
God only knows,said Satan morosely.
Why not ask him? Stan offered.
I’m too proud,the poor devil replied in a bleak voice.
Well,we all have our pride,Stan told him,though no doubt yours is the biggest size in the universe.
Yes,indeed,Satan answered.
Are you here for any special purpose,Stan enquired.
Yes,your home seems more intriguing than most and I like to watch you in bed with that flame haired woman.
I see,said Stan,You are a voyeur.
That’s one way of describing me,Satan said,no woman will come to bed with me so I am trapped here behind every mirror in the world.I can see it all but never take part.
You must be very lonely,said Stan
Yes,the dark spirit muttered.I am.
Are there no she-devils about who might oblige you?
I don’t seem to fancy them so much.They are all as bad a me,I want kindness and tenderness not just lust.After all,one might satisfy that with a vibrator… we have them in hell you know!Free as well.
Why,you are beginning to sound almost human,Stan told him.That’s what we want too.If only you would apologise to God I am sure he would forgive you and let you come into the real world of others instead of being trapped in there
Stan heard a noise.He turned round displaying his bony frame and his organs to Rudolf.
Are you ok?I was worried that the drenching had knocked you off balance.I have put your kettle on the fire to make you a hot drink and phoned 999 for aid.
But we don’t have a fire,Stan responded anxiously.
Well,you do now said Rudolf,so let’s enjoy the flames while we can.
To whom were you talking in there?
I was on my mobile,said Stan defensively.
But where was it?You had nothing on ?
On second thoughts,please don’t tell me.I’ve heard some strange stories but arsing about with a why,hi phone is not one I wish to dwell on.
That’s logicians for you.No interest in the wilder shores of life ,Stan told himself as he went downstairs and joined Rudolf in a good cup of tea with sugar and biscuits
And that is what I need to recover from writing down this very odd tall story…
And so does Dave the poor young paramedicKindly refrain from reblogging or re- tweeting as amusement often offends.Please read with baited breath.You may catch something.
Do not email you comments to me at :kitswits@hellsangels..co.uk
nor at :cleverlady@hotmail.hell.com
Thank you for obeying me.You will ge rewarded in Devonn.
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Mary is worrried:tales from the UK
On Saturday afternoon after luncb ,or midday dinner as we said up north before winning places in posh universities which stole our native language, Mary began to feel very nervous, as she was going to the hospital with Stan on Monday for his next appointment with Dr.Range Rover.
Mary was puzzled.She felt almost happy last week about seeing this kind hearted and gracious well dressed female doctor.However she had been shunted sideways onto a male doctor who was almost totally silent.. so much so that he seemed to absorb Mary’s questions into his sponge of a brain without feeling the need to respond.
Why do I feel so apprehensive this week? Mary asked her dear black cat Emile.
After all.I was happy to see her or to even have a biopsy last weekend.Why have I changed in my feelings so much in a week?
Does it matter? purred Emile.
Maybe your mood is affected by something else.. like fatigue or housework or the ravages of age… [he was well read]
We don’t always know why we feel a certain way but I feel it’s good if we are willing to accept these negative moods.Even I have my moods when the fish you get me is not the right sort and you don’t give me my cat’s handkerchief neatly ironed.
You are so wise,Emile,especially as,being a cat,you never have to endure these interviews with consultants in horrible outpatients clinics.So you must have a wonderful empathy for humans
This lady doctor tomorrow is exciting me,cried Emile loudly.May I come with you inside your Grace Kelly handbag.
What’s wrong with my shopping bag? Good grammar,by the way..
Well,she wil be surprised if you take a heavy shopping bag even if it has a Mondrian design on it… she may get suspicious.. even paranoid.If I am in your handbag she will not realise.
Not unless you miaow,mused Mary benignly as she smiled down at him her singular eyes gleaming like the headlamps on a Roller.
I like to know the reason for things,she continued somewhat frantically.I think therefore I might be eventually.I am not yet,for sure.
Does everything have a reason,shouted Stan querulously from the hall…
Well ,it does,but it might be beyond human understanding like the Burning Bush..
We can only perceive what our language permits unless we are poets,mystics or artists and even then it’s tough to venture into the unknown,unthought or unknowable..
languages develop in societies and learning your language embeds you in many cultural assumptions without you realising it.You think it’s reality when it is just one perspective.
How true,screeched Annie their neighbour from outside the open patio door.
She stopped there in her teal velour tracksuit with pink bra peeping and with unusually orange lipstick and toning turquoise eyeshadow and on her feet were striped trainers with red lights on which might give men the wrong idea about this pure and rich lady
You seem to be overthinking,she said to Mary.Are you sickening with the heat?It’s like loving too much, which may be co-dependency.
That’s a very silly pc word,said Stan rudely.We are all dependent but men can hide it until their wives run away with the milkman and they get a shock not knowing how much they’d miss her changing the sheets and buying their underpants and socks.And ironing their hankies
Surely that’s not the main reason a man might miss his wife,cried Mary as she carried in the tea tray with a big white insulated teapot.
Well,you can go on the web and find a virtual sex partner or even buy a dummy woman. but it’s tough to find a devoted woman who knows what you need to function.
Why don’t you buy your own underwear and use tissues?,asked Emile
Well,Emile,I put out the rubbish and wash the heavy Le Creuset pot.I see to the car and bikes.I paint the fence and even bake cakes.
Mary washes the clothes and changes the sheets unless she has an idea to write down.She kindly does all the worrying for both of us and I remain calm like a lighthouse.We complement each other ideally.. and we love each other and a few others as well..without giving away our secrets
That’s one waay of describing it,thought Mary without commenting out loud
Anyway,I am still wondering why I feel nervous about Dr Range Rover….
If you accepted the nervusness it might ease,said Annie wisely in her highly pitched voice like a car siren going off at night
Just then the doorbell rang.It was Dave the bisexual transvestite paramedic.
Emile phoned 999 saying Mary was having kittens, he said rapidly.This really must stop;inter species sex is not allowed here like most sexual activity
He was speaking metaphorically or is it metonymically,Stan groaned.
Now you are here go and make us a fresh pot of tea and admire my new tea caddy.I bought it for Mary last week in that new ironmonger’s shop in town.
At your service,sir,Dave said politely,his flowered dress waving in the breeze.
Do you know anything about Dr Range Rover,Dave? Annie murmured
What is her reputation etc
Some people like her, Dave said,Usually men.she’s not so good with women..
Well it’s too late to change thought Mary so I shall have to willingly endure the agony of meeting her again as I cannot leave Stan on his own with her…
why who knows what might happen? She might become his mistress as he likes several nowadays. despite nearly being too thin to live…
God only knows, a little voice said.
Hello,said Mary.I’ve not heard from you lately.
Well,I am still here looking after you
Thank you, Lord,I love you, Mary shouted joyfully to the surprise of Stan and Annie, not to mention the cat Emile who was unlearned in the religion of his owners.
I thought you were an atheist,Annie said with horror.
I am an atheist and I still believe in God.It’s what we call a paradox..Mary cried graciously….
What would Wittgenstein have said?
Whereof one cannot understand,therof one must be patient and tolerant,.
Why does Mary need to understand all her feelings…Stan wondered
When it’s raining she doesn’t spend hours wondering why and similarly if it’s raining in her heart she must take it like parched grass…she thinks too much.
Too much for what? Her sanity perhaps which has at times bei.ng doubtful but that has made her very understanding to those who find life hard.Everyone has value,even mad,nervous half blind, supersensitive, vulnerable,stout arthritic female mathematical geniuses like Mary.She enriches the tapestry of life in a very real sense as someone once said
And so say all of us,she’s a jolly good Fellow of All Proles College,Oxenford..you know how famous it is!Or soon will be.
You seem to be overthinking,she said to Mary.Are you sickening with the heat?It’s like loving too much, which may be co-dependency.
That’s a very silly pc word,said Stan rudely.We are all dependent but men can hide it until their wives run away with the milkman and they get a shock not knowing how much they’d miss her changing the sheets and buying their underpants and socks.And ironing their hankies
Surely that’s not the main reason a man might miss his wife,cried Mary as she carried in the tea tray with a big white insulated teapot.
Well,you can go on the web and find a virtual sex partner or even buy a dummy woman. but it’s tough to find a devoted woman who knows what you need to function.
Why don’t you buy your own underwear and use tissues?,asked Emile
Well,Emile,I put out the rubbish and wash the heavy Le Creuset pot.I see to the car and bikes.I paint the fence and even bake cakes.
Mary washes the clothes and changes the sheets unless she has an idea to write down.She kindly does all the worrying for both of us and I remain calm like a lighthouse.We complement each other ideally.. and we love each other and a few others as well..without giving away our secrets
That’s one waay of describing it,thought Mary without commenting out loud
Anyway,I am still wondering why I feel nervous about Dr Range Rover….
If you accepted the nervusness it might ease,said Annie wisely in her highly pitched voice like a car siren going off at night
Just then the doorbell rang.It was Dave the bisexual transvestite paramedic.
Emile phoned 999 saying Mary was having kittens, he said rapidly.This really must stop;inter species sex is not allowed here like most sexual activity
He was speaking metaphorically or is it metonymically,Stan groaned.
Now you are here go and make us a fresh pot of tea and admire my new tea caddy.I bought it for Mary last week in that new ironmonger’s shop in town.
At your service,sir,Dave said politely,his flowered dress waving in the breeze.
Do you know anything about Dr Range Rover,Dave? Annie murmured
What is her reputation etc
Some people like her, Dave said,Usually men.she’s not so good with women..
Well it’s too late to change thought Mary so I shall have to willingly endure the agony of meeting her again as I cannot leave Stan on his own with her…
why who knows what might happen? She might become his mistress as he likes several nowadays. despite nearly being too thin to live…
God only knows, a little voice said.
Hello,said Mary.I’ve not heard from you lately.
Well,I am still here looking after you
Thank you, Lord,I love you, Mary shouted joyfully to the surprise of Stan and Annie, not to mention the cat Emile who was unlearned in the religion of his owners.
I thought you were an atheist,Annie said with horror.
I am an atheist and I still believe in God.It’s what we call a paradox..Mary cried graciously….
What would Wittgenstein have said?
Whereof one cannot understand,therof one must be patient and tolerant,.
Why does Mary need to understand all her feelings…Stan wondered
When it’s raining she doesn’t spend hours wondering why and similarly if it’s raining in her heart she must take it like parched grass…she thinks too much.
Too much for what? Her sanity perhaps which has at times bei.ng doubtful but that has made her very understanding to those who find life hard.Everyone has value,even mad,nervous half blind, supersensitive, vulnerable,stout arthritic female mathematical geniuses like Mary.She enriches the tapestry of life in a very real sense as someone once said
And so say all of us,she’s a jolly good Fellow of All Proles College,Oxenford..you know how famous it is!Or soon will be.
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Obnubilate is a word I detest
A new word to me is obnubilate.
A few more like that and I’ll emigrate.
I’ve lived all my life
Without using it twice.
And as for the cloud,it’s real obstinate.
Oh, obnubilate me now,my sweet Lord
Draw a cloud over my evil thoughts.
Give me a sitar
Or a metal guitar
And I’ll leave all my sins here unbought
Obnubilate is a word I detest.
So I am writing in with a request
Vow never to use it
Or else we’ll confuse it.
Obdurate is a word I pretext.
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William Blake > Quotes
William Blake quotes from Goodreads website
“To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.”
― William Blake, Auguries of Innocence
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.”
― William Blake, Auguries of Innocence
“It is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend.”
― William Blake
― William Blake
“A truth that’s told with bad intent
Beats all the lies you can invent.”
― William Blake, Auguries of Inno
Beats all the lies you can invent.”
― William Blake, Auguries of Inno
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For many are the actors on life’s stage.
Judge not by appearances alone
For many are the actors on life’s stage.
With facades carved and gilded like rich stone,
False faces may conceal a dangerous rage.
To ask a friend for help is very wise
For they can see without love or desire
Emotion will contort a lover’s eyes
And thus the eye itself may be a liar.
Too foolishly we fall into love’s arms.
It’s tempting for affection laden hearts
By exaggerating judgement of his charms
We ‘re ntering a sea without its charts.
Love may make the world rotate anew;
Yet endangers both our values and our view.
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Word of the day
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Did You Know?
The meaning of obnubilate becomes clearer when you know that its ancestors are the Latin terms ob– (meaning “in the way”) and nubes (“cloud”). It’s a high-flown sounding word, which may be why it often turns up in texts by and about politicians. This has been true for a long time. In fact, when the U.S. Constitution was up for ratification, 18th-century Pennsylvania statesman James Wilson used obnubilate to calm fears that the president would have too much power: “Our first executive magistrate is not obnubilated behind the mysterious obscurity of counsellors…. He is the dignified, but accountable magistrate of a free and great people.”
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A Poison Tree by Wm Blake
I was angry with my friend;
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.
And I waterd it in fears,
Night & morning with my tears:
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew both day and night.
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine.
And into my garden stole,
When the night had veild the pole;
In the morning glad I see;
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.
Discover this poem’s context and related poetry, articles, and media.
POETWilliam Blake 1757–1827
POET’S REGION England
SCHOOL / PERIOD Romantic
SUBJECTS Trees & Flowers, Relationships, Friends & Enemies, Nature
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My Pretty Rose Tree – Poem by William Blake
A flower was offered to me,
Such a flower as May never bore;
But I said ‘I’ve a pretty rose tree,’
And I passed the sweet flower o’er.
Then I went to my pretty rose tree,
To tend her by day and by night;
But my rose turned away with jealousy,
And her thorns were my only delight.
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The Sick Rose
O Rose thou art sick.
The invisible worm,
That flies in the night
In the howling storm:
Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy:
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.
Discover this poem’s context and related poetry, articles, and media.
POETWilliam Blake 1757–1827
POET’S REGIONEngland
SCHOOL / PERIODRomantic
SUBJECTSDeath, Trees & Flowers, Relationships, Nature, Love, Living, Classic Love, Desire, Break-ups & Vexed Love, Heartache & Loss
POETIC TERMS Rhymed Stanza
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The spirit freed by man
Ariel, the spirit freed by man,
From Tempest to the work of Sylvia Plath
Made famous as a horse on which she ran
In such bitter, suicidal wrath.
Or was this a rebirth that never came
The risk she took, a gamble, careless,wry.
For death of body is no children’s game
And from a husband brings a hellish sigh.
Was this a test to see if we survive;
As madmen may stick knives into their hearts
To see the blood is real and so derive
A knowledge that they live and are a part?
The test we make to see if we’re not dead
May kill us and so end the work of God.
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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.
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.
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.
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?
What fearsome, burning God enjoys our lives?
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The heart’s interior
When you are far, so far away, The longest night, The shortest winter day, will be places where I might die. The heart's interior no-one else Can view. When you are lost, I cannot find your face... Its outline on the pillows, My fingers shaped to trace... The new design, the stellar rhyme, Where have you gone? You slipped from out my arms. You slipped away. Was night or day Ever cut by such a narrow line? In your embrace I lay. You seemed so strong. Yet,sighing, took the path away. I can't see where Is it night? Or is it day..? I tried to write to bring white light, It's dark, and still. I long for you to come. Oh,will we ever quite Find out our way? Or is that pure illusion? As we stagger through the wandering furrows in the fields They shoot us down. What is this confusion? The war goes on The world goes round The mirror gapes at each new clown. But in a crack, a seed may grow.. I can't see you, But yet,I know
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With fragrance I entreat
If I were to choose a flower for my love
A rose of perfect form would be my choice
A rain of roses from the sky above
Would certainly express what I can’t voice.
I could well choose a daisy with no thorns
I could choose lush lipped tulip for design
But never would I send a flower forlorn
Should you reject this loving heart of mine.
But,no,I choose these roses for your bliss
For Blake wrote of a tyger not a cat;
Yet if I am made bloody by a kiss,
I ‘ll wrestle with the daemon you’ve begat .
The rose with other name would still be sweet.
May my passage to your heart be sure and fleet.
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And cultivate my hatred with my tears?
Shall I give home to grievance and to woe
And cultivate my hatred with my tears?
Shall I remember carefully each blow?
And add this sorrow to my anxious fear.
I thought by hating you I would have peace
And surely I had reason without doubt.
Yet rumination gave me no release..
For wisdom and compassion it did flout
I remembered then past love and shared sweet words
I gave them freedom in my anguished heart.
I did it for your sake, yet then occurred
A sweetness, joy and gladness in all parts.
To forgive,repent and let go of such grief
Helps us more than hatred’s legal briefs
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Deer Descending
From American Life in Poetry: Column 573
BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE
|
Philip Terman is a Pennsylvania poet who, with his family, lives in a former one-room schoolhouse. And whenever there’s a one-room schoolhouse you can count on just a little wilderness around it. This is from his new and selected poems, Our Portion, from Autumn House Press.
Deer Descending Perhaps she came down for the apples,
or was flushed out by the saws powering
the far woods, or was simply lost,
or was crossing one open space for another.
She was a figure approaching, a presence
outside a kitchen window, framed
by the leafless apple trees, the stiff blueberry bushes,
the after-harvest corn, the just-before-rain sky,
a shape only narrow bones could hold,
turning its full face upward, head tilted to one side, as if to speak.
I want my life back.
Morning settles around her like a silver coat.
Rustling branches, hooves in flight
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My beloved is mine
My Love, Antonia
Your skin glows likea comical pear in deep sunlight;
You smell as sweet as the unlaundered clothes in a Charity Shop
without even a deodorant to your name,
My yearning heart dotes on your lilting voice
and leaps like a seasick kitten at the whisper of your Latin name,
Antonia.
The evening descends softly over that great Wren Cathedral in the City.
I am calmed by your body chemistry;
I carry your odour into the twilight
I see the moon beams and I hold your gloves next to my table napkin at dinner
so I can steal some food for tomorrow and leave no fingerprints.
I am filled with such tremulous joi de vivre
May I dry your tears of ink and buy you a biro ball point and some artificial tears?
As my left ear falls onto your breast,
it reminds me of your three dimensionality and your solid geometry.
And your perfect symmetry.
I have waited too long saving up for a diamond.
In the hushed noontide, I wait for the last drones of the USA to pass over
or may be it’s just a herd of wasps.
My heated hands leap to put on your sweet blue shawl
I wait in the crystal moonlight for your sentimental piece of verse,
so that we may drive as one,leg to leg
We discourse spitefully on the spiritual nature of true love.
I have more than once tried to roll your stone away
but your tomb is impenetrable without angelic help.
Oh,Jesus, another nightmare.I am glad to meet you..
I could hardly wait..
And this is my girlfriend,Antonia.
My sweet Lord,
Really want to know you,but it takes so long,I know.
I’m in Heaven..
Here’s Nye Bevan..
And Lord Beveridge
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The oxymoron class
There is a sentence often spoke
In jest or repartee:
“See how the cookie crumbles,mate.
Why don’t you have more tea?”
But my cookies don’t crumble
They bend in multi-ways.
Why here are some I made for you
Only yesterday.
You want to know why cookies bend?
Well,mine are made from rubber.
They look impressive on the plate…
As good as any other.
But when you pick one up to start
And press it in your hands
It does not crumble,but just falls
Into a thousand rubber bands.
The guests suffer embarrassment
As they gaze down in dismay.
But the children and the dogs and cats
are happy as they play.
I gave my lover,one cookie
I gave him three or four
But he was never satisfied
Until I gave him more.
Then when I met him later on
He seemed to be in pain…
And claims his doctor told him off
For eating food again.
So now I’m having lessons
In how to bake real fakes.
It’s called the Oxymoron Class
And you should see our cakes.
I made one,I made two,
I made fifty four.
But now the freezer’s full right up
So I can’t make no more.
I want some crumbly cookies,
But mother doesn’t know.
She has gone to heaven…
Oh,how I miss her dough!
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No form,no freedom
There is form and therefore there is free verse.
Without form there is no freedom.
Without craft,there is no Art.
Without self forgetting there is no new creation.
“Trying” is always a mistake.
Without silence there is no speech..
Without song,there is no silence.
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Words float like water
Words float like water in a stream,
Reflected gently by sunbeams.
This stream flows swiftly to my heart
And through these words your love is caught.
The space inside my heart is clear,
Your love will find its right home here.
Your words are treasures in my night,
And in the dark, they glow with light.
Oh,let me read your notes of bliss,
And seal them with a loving kiss.
I hope this stream will always go
Where living waters softly flow.
For love is kind, and love is true.
Connections form from me to you.
And love creates an open heart,
From which all other feelings start.
Yet love is free, and does not bind.
Love is glad,and not unkind.
So if my love displeases you,
Then you can find a lover new.
I have life inside my heart
Which will sustain me if we part.
I shall wish you happiness…
And know my grief will one day pass.
But for today,let’s laugh and play.
Let’s make love inside the hay.
It’s summer and we like the heat.
Let’s celebrate with kisses sweet.
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The flower
The butterfly is like a flower
which moves its station every hour.
Oh,happy is he on the wing.
The vision makes me quick to sing.
The flower is open in the sun,
And to its heart, true love shall come.
The bees shall feast and fly replete
With nectar they are now full sweet.
I sing of colour and of love;
Blessings that rain down from above.
I wish to be a flower too.
Ah,that the bee could but be you.
Copyright
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Reverberations
Like a piece of ground where bombs go off repeatedly,
my inner landscape is perpetually marked by these explosions of sorrow, made all the worse by the lack of a listening ear, a warm open heart or an outstrerched hand. I have constructed a map but it's incomplete,by its nature; so even now,I might stumble into an old hole or a new one,created by reverberations underground; the noise like distant music, a constant drumbeat. We do not dance I might call it the Liturgy of Loss, a dance to the music of rhyme; Patterns abd shapes hold the feelings and express them.The shape of these forms is a container for the grief. In this way,I indicate that life will go on;I hear the healing music and sing to its melodies like a mermaid on the edge of the sea in winter when the water is cold and green like his eyes, and the rocks are hard like large fists. Nature can be a s ymbol for such emotion we cannot walk without a tear in ech eye and a softening of our hearts as tenderly we touch the world and are touched in turn by each other. Stretch out your hand to meet mine. We can hold each other better than each can hold theirself. Like in sex, the meaning is not the climax but the giving and being given; receiving and being received. The sacredness of the erotic needs no explanation to a gardener or a fisherman but may need it for the information saturated,postmodern who dwell in the fascist virtual reality we call life on earth today
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Storm
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Nightfall
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Softness
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Cadge in us
A wonderful word is oleaginous
It scarce rhymes with the old word magnaminous.
We say oily instead
To show we’re ill-bred.
Yet endure so much folly from the cadge in us.
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When we use our own voice
Oleaginous is a very long word
Not one I have frequently heard.
We temper our choice,
When we use our own voice,
To avoid giving pain when it’s shared.
Should men being allowed to offend
By cursing in email they send?
They hate criticism
So prefer witticism.
But to swearing the apes can descend.
