Author: Katherine

Poetry writer and author

Pessimum didici.

Iam stem in “Tertio Class”
Fierce calidum flu circumdedit me.
Adfui meum genus scribendi et mathematica;
Gross altum ira multiplicationem
Memini Praeceptor capillos
Pellis eius pulchritudinem.
Statuens fecit iuxta officium
Qui absentibus viris invidiosis et requireris demonstravit.
Quid est, quod arbitror.
Pessimum didici.
Longis rationibus assem fuit ante
Anatocismo …… cito fugit amor.
Placuit somnium lectus manere
Diu scribere, et legere poems in dolosi.
Quid alienae fortunae induxi
Gratias Domino, non sum defunctus adhuc.
Ego numquam iniri.
Immaculata mea neque custodiunt domum.
Et habitabo in reverie
Dum riuulis bonum Taprobanae tea.
Ego montuosa est et campestris, de regno
Skipton Castle, Morecambe maneremus.
Steamers molli Windermere
Wastwater purum liquidumque flumina.
Hiems et Hill Rivington ..
Anglezarke ubi veniunt eo aquae.
Colligendis et civitates civitatem
Haec moris semel euentrem pulchrae.
Liverpool et manchester
Quomodo aberrasti quamtotius scolas
Bibam aquam de Tamisia
Iam salva cloacinis superior.
Tea irascibili facit me
Etiamne semper satietatem potare.
Et mirari zizania
Ubi ceciderunt in rimas.
Etiam in in industriae civitates
Sua vita manet “obstante supercilia oculorum suorum.
Iniuriam?
“

When he went away,Lehitraot

When he went away
He said,”Lehitraot,mama.”
Do vstrechi.
He died, but I’m still here
Yes,in my heart I feel his love.
But why did I live,
And he did not?
Auf wiedersehen
Lehitraot.
Yes,darling,I’ll see you later,
When the sky turns black and all the stars blaze bright
I’ll see you shining in the night.
I’ll see you in my dreams alas.
Do vstrechi.
But why you and not me too?
Araka
I can’t understand.
Lehitraot,beloved.
A plus tard
Some where in this world,you fell
But no-one,not even God, can tell.
God was absent then or in some other place
He’s gone again.
They said He’s died too,
But He didn’t have a mother like you.
Do vstrechi.
My breasts ache and my heart and soul,
My breasts were made to make you whole.
To feed, give love and to console.
A plus tard
And now they ache with grief as my tears fall.
A bientot
My body trembles in the night
As dreams may bring my lost ones to my sight.
A plus
I’d walk across the roughest bleak terrain
If l I could find my loves and hold your hands again.
Do vstrechi.
The bell rings on the ancient clock
As time goes on as normal,  never stops.
Araka
I wish the hands of time could be reversed,
And I was not living with this curse.
People forget that I once had a son.
They think my grieving has been done.
Araka.
But grief and loss and pain will never end
Until the curtain of my death descends
Auf wiedersehen.
Meantime I look at flowers and birds and trees,
But it’s really you my deepening insight sees.
Lehitraot.
Th inscape of my heart is shown to few,
An artist of the lost would know this view.
I know I want to see just you.
Do vstrechi.
But for me there is no
Auf wiedersehen
Never again will you say
What you said that day
Lehitraot,
Mama.
Papa
A plus tard
Tot ziens.
See you later
See you soon.
See you.
You
 my beloved son

Losing my dad

I look up our small street,
To see if you are coming.
I don’t know what time it is,
But I think I hear you humming.

You sang sweet songs for us,
And you could whistle well .
You wore an old tweed jacket
You loved us,I could tell.

I look out there each day,
But I can’t see your tall, thin shape.
I saved your Woodbine packet,
It made me feel some hope.

What does death’s door mean?
Where has Daddy gone?
When will be the welcome day,
When we hear his songs again?

I’ll hum like him all day,
I’ll dream of him all night.
I hope he won’t be angry,
If his cigarettes won’t light!

He can’t write his own songs now.
He went too far away,too soon.
I’ll write down what I think he sang,
And I’ll invent the tune.

I hear him singing now,
He dwells inside my heart.
And though I still can’t see his face,
I recognise his Art.

Now speaks the earth of spring and all its joys.

Now speaks the earth of spring and all its joys.
Now flowers and blossom soothe the naked eye
So happy are the lovers,girls and boys,
As in the  daisied meadows they may lie.

Now speaks the sun and orders us to grow
to open like the flowers to take  his love
To let the life within us start to flow.
From blessings rained down on us from above.

Now every part of nature is in flood
Fresh leaves point down from trees to fresh made nests
The birds are active in this little wood
And dwell in their constructions breast to breast.

Oh let's not waste time brooding on our thoughts.
For we may miss the joys which spring has brought

Writing,is it therapeutic?

Much has been made of research by Pennebaker claiming people’s immune systems were working better after they had written an account of some past trauma.However Fiona Sampson advises poets to keep the Samaritan’s phone number close at hand, [Poetry the Expert Guide]
Writing did not help Sylvia Plath’s immune system for she suffered repeated attacks of flu culminating in her severe depression during in the months she was living alone with her two infants.She wrote her best poetry then but it did not save her.Could it have harmed her?
Well,it’s hard to prove these kinds of hypotheses.Pennbaker’s sample was not random as far as I know.
I have seen articles claiming writing poetry in form is more helpful than modern poetry which to many of us does not seem like poetry at all… like modern music.
Listening to Bach might soothe us but late 20th century classical music may not help you if you feel depressed unless you bought a tambourine and used it to accompany the music!It’s exercise!
I find that whe I am full of emotion the poems seem better but I do not write about past traumas in them… emotions are energy so that can be transmuted into producing something…that’s why exercise helps us too when we feel low or anxious.
Sometimes writing a journal in the evening can ge helpful or even making a little video.Sometimes I feel too tired to write but talking is easier.On the other hand I found seeing myself like that gave me a strange feeling.
I learned that I over-explain things,being too scrupulous
to get an exactness to my sentences which is only appropriate in mathematics.And being very scrupulous is painful.
I was surprised to see I could talk into a mike like that or even hum… and that might help one when stressed.
Though being older and not looking so good is a surprise at first.
All I would say is,do not send hasty letters and emails when you feel bad.Once words are sent they cannot be taken back,alas.Anf with email it is too easy.
Some folk say they feel better after writing letters attacking someone but in my mind that’s immoral.You might feel better after taking heroin but don’t keep on!
I never took any and see what I’m like.:)
The Samaritans phone number is quite like M and S ‘s so beware!Don’t ask for the Food Department or lingerie at the Samaritans!

I find cleaning out drawers is therapeutic.

Bereft from tennis

150x150-52c96c35c30d11cfb13711cfa4231ac4_xlWe went to see Deaf in Venice last night.We couldn’t hear a thing.
We went to see Death with Menace and have been feeling threatened ever since.
We went to see Dead in Venice.I loved the undertaker.Sadly he dies too.
Why are you so blinkered? It’s my nun’s habit.
Why are you so knackered?I went down their yard.Can’t you go in the bathroom?No I have a shy bladder.You should get it out more.I thought it was illegal.
Being beaten never did me any harm.So what did it then?
That’s a very tall story… it’s positively attic.
We always ate fish on Friday until the pond was empty.Then the cat began to stutter. Meeeeemeee meee… ow!

I live so well because you so love me.

In the striking hotness of midday
The bench beside the roses seemed just right.
We sat and talked about the flowers with colour fair,
and whether Love is visible to sight,

The flowers swayed gently, beautiful and rare,
At last the times of joyous summer come.
I welcomed them with soft and gentle stare.
Ah,all too soon dear summer will be gone.

The sun was at the apex of the sky.
We caught the moment like a netted fish.
And as we looked the broad white clouds blew by.
While we enjoyed fulfilment of our wish,

I live so well because you so love me.
And even after death this truth shall be.


	


	



			
				


			

			
To raise my self esteem I am
		
	
	

		
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To raise my self esteem I am


1] Following my selves on Facebook.

2]Getting a new hair style…a red wig

3]Having my eyelash tinted.

4]Buying some long lasting blue lipstick.

5]Going to visit all my friend.

6]Relearning how to do long division

7]Buying some glue to joing my split off selves together.

8]Giving up helping others unless they really need it

9] Listening to Radio 3 more.

10] Realise self esteem is not important and recalling how nice it is to forget one’s self in being creative,baking,gardening etc

	


	



			
				


			

			
Himmler film on BBC
		
	
	

		












There was a film on TV this week made in Germany about Himmler.It was only 1 hour but it affected me profoundly..probably not a great idea this week but His Majesty wanted it [ the day before I had to carry him to the doctor’s]

The worst moments for me were

fire

1 Seeing a Synagogue on fire with flames bursting through the roof.

I am no longer a Christian in the traditional sense but I do know that Jesus would have prayed in a Synagogue and to me destroying them and killing millions of Jews trying to wipe them out is also an attack in Christianity and on God [ whatever that may mean to each of us.]

2 Seeing the first people/soldiers enter Auschwitz and finding the dead and the living sitting thin as skeletons, and not moving,

Industrialised genocide on the ancient people who gave us the Ten Commandments…..

Is that why they were killed? Because they heard God speak and they could write their stories when we were very far from that level of civilisation.Even now the image that burning Synagogue haunts me.I saw in this film how the Nazis defined Jews as sub human which is the opposite

of what they are as ironically they seem to be of above average intelligence if we look at Nobel prizes and other measures of genius.

We will not be watching Adolf Hitler tonight… because of our health.I would like to see it but have to keep going….can’t collapse right now.

I know it’s the 70th anniversary of the end of that war and Europe is not in good shape now,not to mention the Middle East.

If only they had had no oil how much better their lives would have been as we went there and are still there for that.





	


	



			
				


			

			
My sister
		
	
	

		
Trying to keep a hold of you;

trying to keep a hold of you.

Don’t go,

Don’t go.

I’ll not let you fall down that gap.

I’ll always try to pull you back-

Little sister.


You slipped so far away from us.

You slipped because you knew you could.

You saw a gap and fell right down.

You were serious,my little clown.

Come back now.

Come back now.

My baby.


I sang all those songs for you,

But I needed our mother too.

A mother too.

If only I’d been stronger…

Stronger,stronger..

Would you have stayed here longer?

Longer,longer.

Little sister.


As you rocked in your little chair,

the demons of the past were there.

Your blue eyes shone,

Then you were gone.

My sister.


I saw you in a long blue gown,

With a golden halo all wrapped round.

You smiled and said you didn’t know

That I had really loved you so.

You were sorry you had to leave like that,

And would I kindly feed your cat.

My sister.


When I woke up,the dream was gone;

But life and work must still go on.

If only I’d been grown and strong,

On this earth you’d still belong.

Little sister.


I sang the song that you once sang,

But felt my tears made it go wrong.

Once you smiled and laughed with me.

Life was not all black,I see.


Sisters,sisters three.

Now it’s two,just you and me.

But when we meet,a shadow’s there-

I see a flash of her dark hair,

Our sister,sister,sister.

A gap remains for grief to fill

and on we mourn till hearts are still.

One day we’ll die too

And perhaps then we’ll be with you.

Little sister.

My sister.

	


	



			
				


			

			
Our Father
		
	
	

		
Our Father,Stars in Heaven,

Spell out thy Great Name.

Thy wisdom comes

And Angels’ sums

Add up our human pain.

Thy love is felt,

Though we live in doubt

About the human game.

Give us delay

On bankers pay,

And forgive us our lackluster efforts

As we forgive those who lack humanity with us,

And guide us into a Demonstration

To make plain to the Nation

The evil done to the Poor,

The Disabled,the Mentally Ill,

And their Carers.

For Thine is the Trial

At the Hour of the Bible Story

We hope but are nervous.Amen

	


	



			
				


			

			
Never no more
		
	
	

		






Got heart trouble?

Feeling down?

Ring the BHF

And you’ll feel positively suicidal!


Still here?

Forgotten how to use your angna spray?

Need a little help?

Ring the BHF

They’ll give you a kick up the bum


Like nurses?

Want to talk to one?

Ring the BHF Helpline

And you’ll never want to talk to a cardiac nurse gain!

	


	



			
				


			

			
Does God live there any more?
		
	
	

		
Come here,Mary,come here quick,

‘Cos your Daddy’s really sick.

Run as fast as fast, you can,

Get the priest, get Father Dan.

Run,run went my eight year old feet,

Down the lane and up the street

I ran right up to Father’s door,

[Does God live there any more?]

“Come please,Mam said Daddy’s ill”

“Oh”,said Father,”that I will.”

Revving up his motor bike

With The Sacrament beside.

He lifted me up onto the back

And roared off up the church side track

It was the best thrill of my life…………

If only Daddy had not died.

	


	



			
				


			

			
Life struck twice
		
	
	

		
Millicent thought life should be fair.

So to suffering she laid herself bare.

When evil struck twice

She developed such vice.

She swore and she cursed without fear.


.


Life is not a boardgame for kids.

We have boxes without any lids.

Pandora’s was one

From which evil has come.

Life’s a gamble whatever the odds.


God’s not controlled by our prayers.

Earthly love cannot be without fear.

Prayer gives us courage

And limits the damage

Acceptance saves us from hot tears.

	


	



			
				


			

			
Your blue eyes
		
	
	

		










Those dragonflies

Your blue eyes

Lawns with daisies

Poetic phrases

Sparrows cheeps

No mobile bleeps .

Foxes eyes

Scrutinize.

Let me be.

Don’t squash me

BBC

Poetry

Earl grey tea.

Rabbits run.

Let’s have fun,

Knitted hats.

Tabby cats

Hot coal fires.

Deep quagmires

Lambs and sheep,

Lover’s leap.

Windermere

Glass of beer.

Sun on hills

Watermills





	


	



			
				


			

			
The Sunday Salon: Some Tame Gazelle
		
	
	

		
This seems a very nice website


Becca's avatarBecca's Byline


Some tame gazelle, or some gentle dove:



Something to love, oh, something to love.



~Thomas Haynes Bayly






Ah, something to love. That is indeed a major focus in Barbara Pym’s delightful novel, Some Tame Gazelle, in which we find a small clutch of English matrons looking for someone on whom to bestow their ardor. For Harriet Bede, it’s the village curate of the day, the hapless young man who has been assigned to their parish and by default becomes the objet du jour of Harriet’s affection. In today’s parlance, she would be called a cougar for the merciless way she flirts with the young men. But in the confines of the 1950’s when this novel is set, there’s something rather sweet about it- even though Harriet keeps refusing the marriage proposals of the ever so proper Count Bianco, who would be a perfect match.



And then there is Harriet’s…


View original post 427 more words
	


	



			
				


			

			
The pirhana monologues
		
	
	

		






Hello,can you put me through to the vulva clinic?

We have no vulgar clinics here.

I said vulva

Oh, the valve clinic?

Not heart valves…

What tyre valves?

Surely you don’t treat bikes?

I run a little business on the side.

I have a little vulva right in the middle and I want to speak to the clinic.

Vulva is a very rude word.

Worse than shit?

Well. it depends on what scale of measurement you use

Like nominal,ordinal,interval or ratio?

I suppose it must be nominal.Like some privileges

We need to weigh our words then we can use a ratio scale like the scale of measurement for height…

But nobody is of zero height!

You don’t know.They could be here but we can’t see them except as marks on the floor…

So vacuuming is cruel as these folk of zero height would get sucked up.

There’s no way of falsifying it.

There’s no way of verifying it…

So it’s not rocket science.

It’s not rude.

Anyway there’s a play called the Vagina Monologues.

If they called it the Vulva Monologues it could sound like vulgar.

How about the Diviner Monologues?

Sounds good to me…

Regina,diviner,vagina,pirhana.,… where are ye?

Some men there are teeth in there that will bite off their penis…

You have to laugh or else you’d cry.

BTW what is that vulva number?

It’s in the maternity unit,as was.

Well put me through

OK no need to get aeriated.Live and let live…

It’s all nominal on the end





	


	



			
				


			
				


			

			
In risky times
		
	
	

		
When desperation makes us seek for aid

When help is needed yet it is not given/

When torment holds us till  our souls arw flayed..

When we are weary;when in pain we’ve striven


In risky times, who stamps upon this hand

That keeps me anchored to a cliff’s hard edge?

Who seems to cast me off from this dear land

And even from this final tiny ledge?


We discover Charities exist

To further staff careers and gain more “dough.”

Yet should they not be able to assist,

When humans ask for help when feeling low?


My heart is heavy,pulling me to earth.

And yet upon no person   shall  I curse

	


	



			
				


			

			
Where countless humans prayed
		
	
	

		
Maybe you didn’t know


When you touched me so.


Maybe you scarcely knew


What your words would do.


I float across that space


Where lovers once embraced


And thus you brought torment


To me to whom love you sent.


When I close my eyes


My daytime face then dies.


I look across dark seas


To sacramental trees.


My dreams are full of loss.


Is night or day the worse?


If you return here


Will love outstrip your fear?


I gaze upon your face,


not wishing to embrace


My arms ache deep inside,


As if in agony tied.


Torn apart by grief.


Love is now a thief.


Where has God’s face gone


As brightly shines the sun?


The pains of life are sharp,


Cutting tender heart


But still we turn towards love,


With all the strength we have.


Trusting in the dark,


Trusting my own heart


I step into the void.


where countless humans prayed

	


	



			
				


			

			
The butterfly
		
	
	

		


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 color and of love,

Blessings that rain down from above.

I wish to be a sweet  flower too.

Ah,that the bee could but be you.

	


	



			
				


			

			
Puck of Robin Goodfellow
		
	
	

		
If we shadows have offended,

Think but this, and all is mended,

That you have but slumber’d here

While these visions did appear.

And this weak and idle theme,

No more yielding but a dream,

Gentles, do not reprehend:

if you pardon, we will mend:

And, as I am an honest Puck,

If we have unearned luck

Now to ‘scape the serpent’s tongue,

We will make amends ere long;

Else the Puck a liar call;

So, good night unto you all.

Give me your hands, if we be friends,

And Robin shall restore amends.

	


	



			
				


			

			
Oscar,my cat
		
	
	

		


 When Oscar sits on the window sill

And sees someone within,

His mouth opens wide in soundless cry

He gives us his cat grin.


Oscar rubs around my legs.

He’s such a friendly soul.

He next rolls round upon his back,

He waves his long striped tail.


But after Oscar’s greetings done

He goes to do his rounds

He sets off  from the white back door

To the long thin garden’s end.


Every inch of soil and plant

Is subject to his nose.

The garden looks the same to us,

But he can sense much more.


I wish that Oscar cat could speak

And tell us what he’s found.

Ten thousand spiders weaving webs,

A slow worm on the ground.


A million ants climb up the rowan,

I sometimes watch them too,

I see the wasps and honey bees

In this small rural zoo.


The hedge hogs have long been gone

But we have diverse birds

Oscar sits on our tall stool and watches them for hours,







	


	



			
				


			

			
Incarnation:The way you inhabit it
		
	
	

		


































you are not your body,

but the way you inhabit it;

the way you encourage or discourage

the circulation of feelings through flesh.

you are not your body

but how you become incarnate through it.

how you let go the angels of the high blue sky

the way you become willingly enfleshed

you are not your heart

but the way you open it;

resembling perhaps a grateful flower in sun;

or the way you clench it and turn away

so it turns to stone instead.

you are not your mind

but the way you trust it;

the way you receive new ideas,

and open up to hear and attend;

the way how,like water, you are willing to take more in

or to give it out;

the way you accept the images thrown up

and recognise them

they are who you are

who we all are

connected by the great Mind of the universe

which is more like a watercolour than a surveyors’ diagram

you are not the stones and pebbles of the river bed

but the flowing water,the fish darting and the movement

and the way you let go

as you enter the great sea.

the way you are one and many;

the way you trust and love;

the way you flow on;

the way you disappear and yet are always part of all











	


	



			
				


			

			
Evening humor
		
	
	

		
Cyborgs R Us.


P1000194 4


Clothes for the Cy.


Top Hats for Cyjews

Cy’s metal horseshoes.

Clotted memes.

Epsilon Beaux’s Arts.

Pre-trained shoes.

Knickers and Knockers

Devices 4 All.

Dutch letters.

Love for the Shy Cy.

Waiting room only.No exit.

Hell’s Incisors: please walk in.

Adult potties.

Excitement for Dummies etc

	


	



			
				


			

			
How you wrote
		
	
	

		























































































Image


You are a notorious and naughty person

You love both cursin’ a swearin’

You look like a crane.

Bei mir bist du shayn:

Because you’ve still got your hair on.


You have eyes like pools of  spring rain,


with a certain proud disdain.


Despite woe and pain,

Bei mir mist du shayn,

Because you’ve still got your brain


You have ears like small sideplates.

And you guzzle like a goat.

Your hair is a mane

Bei mir du shayn

Because I liked how you wrote











































	


	



			
				


			

			
I’ll never heed your blues again
		
	
	

		
No,I’ll never feel a man again.

No,I never rob a duck again.

No,I’ll never wet a pen again.

No,I’ll never drink your wealth again.

No,I’ll never flay a prayer again.

No,I’ll never post your litter again.

No,I’ll never fly at night again.

No.I’ll never write a ruin again.

No,I’ll never whistle to your rues again.

No,I’ll never bike your path again,

	


	



			
				


			

			
The dog’s grave needs weeding
		
	
	

		
I have to iron my husband tonight.




To be frank,I don’t like you much but I’d never say so


I have to feed my bugs now

Sorry,i am washing the cat’s hair right now.

Sorry,I have to faint later  in the kitchen

I have to press my husband weekly

The television needs watering.

The dog’s grave needs weeding

I have gone blind so cannot read your email.

I am dead so don’t write again.

You don’t believe I’m dead… it was you who cut me!

I told you,I’m dead


Why will they never believe what they read?

I rue the day I set eyes on your face.I should have used aspic jelly







	


	



			
				


			

			
The spirit swoops down like a bird
		
	
	

		










I think my vocation is sacred.

I keep seeing visions of God.

He’s like a bright light

Exceedingly right

I’d photograph Him if I could.


I have a calling to follow

I just do not know the details

I pray and I wait.

By yonder lychgate

Do vocations ever get into the Sales?


I would like it if I could buy one

I’ll give you the money I’ve saved.

Sell my idea?

My dear,no fear!

Just consider how well I’ve behaved.


Everyone has a vocation

To be who they know that they are.

Yet I am not me

Without you to be

Here in my arms by the fire.


I’ll get an answer tomorrow

As I dream of God during the night.

She will give me an image

And the much needed courage,

To go on till I see the Light.


The problem is one of translation,

For God speaks in symbols not words

Symbols are wells

in which truth dwells.

And the Spirit swoops down like a bird.


Why not find your vocation?

It’s possible whatever our age.

Attend to your dreams

and how yor life seems

Vocations will make us engage.