The wind altered direction
Clouds fought,whirled
like flying merry- go -rounds
broken from any bolts
The sky was grey but angry.
Exultant my spirit lifted
A plane at the end of the runway took off
Above the clouds.I saw the earth
A ball floating through space
Then I landed;felt my weight in the chair.
The dentist was gasping
I thought you’d gone.
I smiled despite the blood.
It was all over
Reluctant clouds;
Train with brake half on
going up Shap Fell
in winter.
Moving away from the sun’
south west
they have no guide
are not hostile
make no decisions;
submit to nature;
never fight.
What do they perceive?
The sun shines
but
we hide in dark corners.
Behind a big chair
it’s always winter
I used to write these for my husband.He liked them when he was ill.
Stan and Mary enjoyed their coffee.Emile,their pet cat, was somewhat over affected by the caffeine and began to tremble wildly.
What shall we do for him ? Mary asked Stan.
Well,we can’t ring 999 from here,surely? he replied plaintively
Mary took off her silk scarf and wrapped Emile up in it.
There you are,that will calm you,she told the nervous cat in her soft voice
Next time we’ll get decaf for you.
Thank you,Emile mioawed.I liked it but it’s very strong.
Stan went inside to pay and found it was £3 per mug…making £9 in total.
Gosh,it’s expensive now,he grumbled.The waiter looked puzzled as he did not recall a time when a cup of tea was 6d and coffee 1 shilling..
Why,I am getting old and tetchy,Stan murmured to himself.
We don’t do it often.Mary said in a warm, kind and tender voice,something she had more or less permanently.
We enjoy a treat now and then…. and I’ve enjoyed watching people go by.Such a variety now from all over the world.
So did I ,thought Stan,especially the girl with leggings of about 20 denier and a very short top.He’d not seen so much of a woman’s private parts for ages.The fact that the leggings were light grey had made it even more of a thrill;even a sin,maybe,to a Catholic or Jansenist…
But can a man help it if he is excited by the sight and site of what was once reserved for marriage bed or the brothel.
No,a man cannot help it because we are all animals,we are all flesh and as such we have certain automatic reactions….And in any case even with long dresses on women still look alluring,perhaps more alluring.
Stan fell into a day dream were young ladies were walking about wearing short satin nightgowns and lace peignoirs of silk with gold embroidery….
Very nice! he shouted loudly.
What is very nice? Mary asked
Stan opened his eyes and found he was still outside the Cafe de la Fromage… where are we,he said
Why we are here in Knittingham to get your shoes in Hotters.
What a funny name for a shoe shop,said Emile.
Is it because shoes make you hotter? I’d like some red shoes,myself.
I fear we can’t afford shoes for you Emile and you’d not be able to climb a tree then either.
I could have slippers for in the house,Emile whispered..
They set off and arrived in Hotters.
Yes,madam.What do you want,asked an elegant lady assistant.
Some slippers for the cat!
For the cat? Are you barking?
No,that’s a dog.
Emile had found some baby shoes and was trying them on.
Look ,he howled,and all the customers stared at him as he ran up and down the shop floor in them.
OK,said Mary,Two pairs please.
That will be £50,dearie.
Oh,I’ll pay with my debit card.
They left the shop and headed for the bus stop before Mary realised
They had forgotten to buy Stan’s shoes.
Stan didn’t really mind and it meant he could see more female bottoms again the next day.
Suppose men wore leggings,he mused.Would women like to see our private parts while shopping in Tesco’s or Lidl’s?
Time will tell… but ,it seems unlikely to happen here in the UK as men are more conservative ,though we do see men in bathing trunks walking down the road in summertime and alas,they are usually not the ones with the right shaped bodies not to mention that few of us want bare chests and other body parts pressing closely behind us in the queue to pay for our food and drink and other goods in the supermarket… and they are not very super nowadays.
Sometimes there’s a moment in life when you know something is utterly wrong, that your life as you have known it might become something other,something alien.This happened to me in late February 2014 when I took my husband to buy some shoes.short-eared durham owl meditating over the dale's edge, shadows the fields and folds in elegant diurnal flight. on windside,careful sight may swoop to prey and away. your yellow broad-eyed look, at once both sharp and distant, holds me. oh,silence, oh ,wind on green, oh. earth, sky. immense your held vision, sphere without centre, pied geometer of flight, sketch your descent and ascent.
trees bunched by dry stone wall call heart home.
Lots off love
Good bye for the remnants
I have fun out of ideas
i’ll write next shriek as you shall
i don’t like to emit this
I must shop now.
Oh,devour.
Ode to annoy
See your dilator
See your tune.
See your moons.
See your plater
Yours wincerely… ouch
Yours fadingly
Forever lined.
Buy,buy!
How’s your shoe?
How’s your heartless murmur?
He loved my sins and tumour.
I write my own ruins.
God be with you
With blots on love.
Sans theorie,alors.
God by and by.
He loves me not so it’s rough.
Source: The Lion’s Gaze
Pen me the weights is here
Richard the surd and his algebraic horologies
William the bonkerer ate a chess nut
Dishabilished , viewed her?
Richard the lion’s tart. were they married?
Edward the sheavenst of Horn
Victoria, the Temptress of India.
By George,the wicks! Candles on view.
Eleanor of auqa planes was a wife to fear
It was a mugger and his ass
With this ring I thee bed.i beg your jargon.What did you play?
The water’s side,I cannot fuss.I can walk on it.
Silence emboldens.
See red ,sweet maid,I bet you’re very clever.
He looks as bold as he seems
He feels me very touching
Thank you very much for the poetry ironer.
So is this a good mien…
Some clotheads insult me without even gnawing.
He broke up with her as all the windows in his house fell in when he made love on Sundays.
But surely it was an act of God; he was trying to reap moles on the Sabbath.
And he shot a chicken when it tried to cross the road.
He was deficient in elasticity….he needs a rubber soul…………………. and a tin heart
She has Mall a la tete.
I have ’em all a ma tete.Wire lambs
Some days are days for losing
Diaries,letters,lovers.
Some days are days for losing
Fathers,money,mothers.
Some days are days for finding
Mobile phones and patience.
Some days are days for finding
New friends and old relations.
Some days I feel at sea for hours,
Some days I feel so lost.
Some days I know that life’s worthwhile
Whatever the emotional cost.
Days are special units
In the journey we call life.
Days are short so don’t waste time
In needless haste or strife.
[ change Niegoreloje.]
Elena,a baby, wrapped in her woollen clothes,
On the last train,Warsaw to Moscow,
1939.Father,mother,brother
You passed through the Arctic Wastes of life.
Still as if travellng on a train
To an impossibly far destination.
As you left the German Army crashed into Poland
Lost,your aunts
Your cousins.
Your culture.
How does God select the damned?
Later,you had your own baby,here in England,
Not lost like all those others.
Your father died by his own hand,
The hand of history;
The fingers twitching,
Not sure where to point.
Then settling into frozen grief
A sculpture only your mother saw.
You saw too,Elena.
You always saw,though you can’t remember;
The long journey,your mother’s breast,
Your father’s silence.
Only the dead know that silence.
Only the dead weep
With the rocks and stones .
And the ice in each eye
Fell like snow down your cheeks
As you held your own infant.
Warsaw to Moscow,
Moscow to Jerusalem.
Always journeying
Looking for what they can never find:
The home they left behind
The presence of the dead
Lying in gaunt heaps
Like rubbish
Your aunts, Elena.
Your cousins.
You never knew them.
But there’s a hole in your mind
Through which the Polish wind blows for ever.
Fire out,I sit in coat and fake fur collar
My hands cold,
Just caught hake off Flamborough. Head
Know how I feel
A cold winter already came for me.
I am prepared.
I find some hats I knitted.
Fish have no skin
Their eyes look out poignant yet fierce
They think they are sharks
It’s so wrong to display them
Dead in rows.
I knew then in the fish market
What kind of world it is.
Animals have their own holocaust
Well,think about it.
Crabs and mussels boiled alive.
God never wanted human sacrifice
It was some evil demon Hitler worshipped
Himself I think
How do you do it?
Did Freud get it right.. the death instinct.
Or to be blunt
Would n’t a hot soak in the bath be better?
Cold again.
Is the world worse now?
Your hat blew off by Salthouse church
In Norfolk
We laughed as it went over the roof.
Wild hollyhocks swayed in April winds
I miss you now
We hope for fortune’s smile upon our lives
And work so hard we distort what is wise.
Husbands may not please entitled wives.
And women may not show their tender eyes.
Far better to be willing with our choice
What fraction of our lives can be controlled?
Need I say we need to free our voice
And that we attempt to be more bold?
Braveness is pure good by wisdom known
We grow it through the trials of our lives
Cowardice is common, often unshown.
There most evil deeds may hidden thrive.
Fortune may not favour all who’re brave
For fortune strangely favours cruel knaves
Television on standby
Light like a red eye
The webcam’s eye sees all
I sit like a stiff model
Art class
How to do it
Live
The fire is not red but orange
I cannot eat the flame.
My back aches
Bad teeth gnaw at my gut
Auto inflicted
Its motorway right through me
Below my heart lingers wondering
Is it the music?
The holly stands, still as a candle;
Lights the winter dark with rubies.
A still white cloud hangs over
Its mirror flashes low sun
A cat stands,puzzled paw held up
God’s marionette
A worm surfaces
It’s time to go
In the land which dreams dwell in where creation,love and life begin; where swiftly the deep rivers flow from those lost lands of long ago. I wander through wild poppy fields Underfoot the dark earth yields…. I see the flowering fruit trees start Their blossoms gather round my heart… I hear the sparrows sing with joy And bees their busy wings employ. In those lost lands I saw your face And so I longed for your embrace. Earth to earth and ash to ash Glory,pride and boasting pass. Stay awhile,my dearest one Soon I too will be called on. Nothing lasts but truth is real Keep to that and your ideals.. Earth to earth, we rest in clay We must give all self away Softly on this earth I roam Seeking yet my love and home, for until the very end Love and kindnss may descend. Soft as wings of butterflies Tears well up and wet my eyes. My heart has melted into yours Thus we grow and die like flowers
Grass and daisies have no spikes or thorns
So we can run barefoot across the lawns.
So why do roses hurt our hands forlorn
When sheep don’t hurt the shepherd as they’re shorn?
We could cut down the roses in our rage.
Their own aggression might bring down their death.
Yet beauty in their form does love engage.
So we ignore their useless,painful wrath.
Recklessly we love a spiky friend.
Enchanted by their learning or their face
But wounds unneeded bring this to an end.
Patience thins ,we sever this embrace.
Roses have a beauty that beguiles.
Yet do they need to harm us with their wiles?
Kindness,comfort,solace,arms held wide.
A tender hand that s gently strokes the hair.
The Lord no longer with us does abide.
And leaves us to caress our own despair.
Independent,solo, a real self
Can one be real without the hands of friends?
What is missing from our national health?
Who’ is with us ,who does condescend?
Was said one time by a great poet Donne
When another dies, it’s we who’re gone.
Seems long ago, God lost his only Son..
In suffering it made us all to one.
We cannot grow in isolation cold.
Take my hand and we shall always hold
The rose’s thorns are visible to all
The holly trees can’t hide their prickly leaves
But what of us who conceal our barbwired walls
And with a pleasant charm can then deceive?
You’re cut,you bleed, they say the fault’s not theirs.
And if you fall ,they leave you on the ground.
For they deny their weapons and their lures,.
Your agony,your cries and screams resound;
So lions and tigers are less cruel than man
They can’t conceal their claws and flashing teeth
To avoid them seems a wise and human plan
Their appetite’s not blunted by a leaf..
Thus a savage beast is kinder than a man.
Who caresses long before he points the gun
He eluded to his passed with wit devine.
He traveled on and passed the perish all.
And when reel tired he often wood recline
If not he went out for a bawl.
This spelling tests the most astyoote of mindes
Yet Shakespeare never spelt the same whey twice.
As well it’s often felt to be unkinde.
For being obsessive is, in truth, a vise.
But used we r to different methods now.
Texting changed the whey we all now rite
And even if we learn the rules ,I vow
Writing onto laptops makes me byte.
No more attack the witless for your pleasure
For we have many skills which you must treasure
Butterflies can light upon a rose
And sparrows miss the prickly holly leaf
So thorns deter most larger, useless foes
And safety bring to birds instead of grief.
The butterfly is symbol of the power
That weakness has in entering sacred ground.
A butterfly can fly through hail stormed bowers
His wings send waves across the world by sound.
A cat too has its claws as well as fur
Yet they do have a a modicum of choice.
For those of us for whom they have a care
Claws are held ; mioaws or purrs given voice.
Am I a holly tree or fragrant rose?
Am I the cat who may unsheath her claws?
Could any be more frenemial then a rose
For as we reach to sniff its fragrant scent
It digs its thorns into our hands and clothes
And tetanus is a menace where we’re rent.
And yet this flower is judged to be the queen,
As fragrantly it opens in the sun.
And for a while, we enjoy what we’re seeing
Until its time and purposes are done.
May it be so for people whom we know?
The more they grace, more the harm that’s done.
Attracted by a sweet and charming glow
Our heart is torn and we then beauty shun .
And yet we would not banish flowers like these.
The pain is offset by the ways they please.
PS I invented the word frenemial based on the word frenemy which I posted on yesterday
The old red wall is dressed in stems of wood
In wintertime, we see the ancient bricks.
But in the springtime come the flower buds.
We see no more of Jack Frost and his tricks.
Which vision is the true one, we may ask
Just as with the faces we each show.
But is there any virtue in that task
Reality is impossible to know.
Each perspective gives a vision new.
The more we see , the more we realize.
Other cultures have a different view.
The argument is futile and unwise.
As when and where we stand gives us our view.
l perceive life differently than you
Today,a picture post card came here
from your sister
And you won’t see it.
I had my hair restyled
And you won’t see it.
I bought a new kitchen bin with a green lid
And it opens when one presses a button
And you won’t see it.
The manager in the coffee shop was sorry
to heat that
you have died
He gave me a free drink
and said to go in if I feel down or lost.
He said he liked you but you looked weak in the spring
And I can’t tell you.
I’ve had some roasted potatoes tonight.
You would have liked the
Mr Patel called and put his hand on my shoulder.
He said to call them any time day or night if I am in need
You did know that he came with food in the winter.
I look very pale now as my haemoglobin is only half of the normal level
I am glad you don’t know about that.
i had blood tests yesterday,so maybe I’ll get more treatment soon.
I’m happy you don’t know and also you’d miss my rosy cheeks.
I saw Alfred down the road mewing outside number 99 yesterday
it’sand today he came here and had some milk
so he’s not a stray cat and I can’t keep him.
you’d be disappointed for me…
I mended the headboard on the bed.
I have bought a new armchair which is bright red
andi does not match anything else
And you would not like it.Probably..
Neither do I but I can’t wait any more.
I have got some new shoes too.
What a surprise!!
I still have your ashes at home.
I don’t suppose you know that.
But I know
I know.
..
