My cat went a roaming to find a new home.
Sing kitty,sing katty,sing Oh!
This cat was so clever he had his own comb.
Look up,now look down,stone the crows!

He went into the neighbours’ and drank all their milk.
Sing,fridge raiding kitties.No,No!
Then he laid himself down on a piece of fine silk.
Sing,what the dickens,my lovely pillow!

He went to the butcher and ate all the steak.
Sing greedy,he’s ruined my flow.
Then he went to the hairdresser for a shampoo.
Where else can a puttitat go?

He had got no money,no cards and no cheques…
Sing,cheater,sing creature,sing woe.
She sent for a Copper who paid the cat’s bill.
And so my puss came out all aglow.

Now my cat was glossy and plump and refreshed.
Sing:fancy,it all goes to show.
So he came home and said then ” this place is best.”
And he picked up his cello and bow.

He scraped some Sibelius and a sonata of Grieg.
Sing: Northern lights can always glow.
But,he looked so self satisfied,I felt annoyed….
One should not let one’s narcissism show.

But he is so handsome,I’m glad he came home.
Sing,grateful,sing katefull,sing Ho!
And I hope he will never again want to roam.
Sing glory.sing story;Sing So.

http://www.samharris.org/blog/item/why-dont-i-criticize-israel

I put a post on a few days ago giving a completely different view…it is a very complex subject.

And people jump to hasty conclusions.

I love you and you love me!
Believer!
Where on earth should I be?
Whenever.
I blocked cookies all my life
If you want one,ask the wife.
I eat spam, and google then,
I begin all over again.
whatever.
I ban websites for a living
But my wife is very forgiving,
Men ever!
I eat splogs and gurgle blogs
Then I cut up all the logs.
Whenever.
I’ve been married fourteen times,
They divorce me for my rhymes,
Whatever.
I eat cookies if I can,
If I can’t I get them banned,
Forever!
I’m the God of Monster Space,
I’ll destroy this human race,
Moreover.
If you meet me you won’t know
‘Cos I look like old so and so,
Whoever.
But I am mad and I’ll get you
I eat up this human zoo;
Together.
Whenever.

The Darwin Museum.

This is a poem by a poet/philosopher Alan Murray.Read more on his blog

How like a dream this world appears to me
My mind unfocussed spreads itself about..
No details, just an outline I can see.
And vagueness dimly fills me up with doubt.

The early sun made joy rise in my heart
As I looked out upon the gardens gold.
Of nature and each season we’re a part.
As with patience we let all our self unfold.

We are as nothing in the vast space of this sky
Where stars send light from deeps of long ago.
And yet despite my nightmares I shall try
As fears make fences if we don’t say No.

We have to make our dreams a home on earth;
from where creative thoughts are given birth

Beautiful Dream of Israel has Become a Nightmare

Gabor Mate lost many family members in the Holocaust.He lives in Canada now.This is from his blog

Freed from her trap
Bird soared into air,and hovered
And floated, resting;
And flew higher, singing as she flew,
And higher again,
Till there was only her song,
Left in the silence,
Trembling.

Up on the wide,stump topped hill,
I felt the lark inside my heart
And heard her singing.
And flying up with her,
I saw gold sun and silver moon,
Moors of heather ,and sheep grazing
Green hills,
And shimmering lakes,
Clouds ,sun and sky in watery mirrors.
And sang ,and dipped,and dropped,
And curled
Up the blue
Bright heaven, and rested
On the wind.
All that day
I was a lark singing.

I shall always have a vision of
A bird
That flew upwards,
Rejoicing and free
Into a deep blue sky, and high
And higher
Beyond high
Into a place, beyond eye even,
But music still sending.

I wish I were back on that heathery moor,
With the nibbling sheep and the bees sweetly humming,
Hearing again
The poignant song
Of the skylark,
A prisoner,freed by a magician,
From her trap,
So happy to be free,
So wonderful to see.
Do it again,
For me.

Floating like seaweed on the tide,
The final leaves of autumn glide.
The birds ride on the wind’s broad back,
They know no fear and know no lack.
The air is filled with unearned treasure.
My happy heart its wonders measure.
The clouds are deep and dark and grey
What snow storms may they fetch our way?
The sun appears and gives a glow
Of yellow to bare branches low.
Red berries bright,like summer flowers,
Decorate the holly’s natural tower.
Sharp thorns protect the smaller birds,
And from inside,their cheeps are heard.
As dusk arrives the blackbird sings,
So much sweetness nature brings.
I turn my mind from in to out,
I feel salvation for my doubts.
I know that I’m part of a whole,
And with all life I share my soul.
In this peaceful place I rest,
As with love’s eloquence I’m blessed.
There’s singing in my inner heart.
Like bees to flowers,my fears depart

[Made from a photo of my hand with art software.]

]
Although Stan was 92 years old he still rode his bike as much as possible in the summertime.He was out in the garden pumping up the tyres before going off to the Library when suddenly his neighbour Annie appeared at the gate,bedecked as usual in finest Scottish tweed with a long pendant on a solid 22 carat gold chain swinging nonchalantly from her neck,with a matching ring attached mysteriously to her upper lip
“Who’re you,the Lady Mayoress” he joked noisily as he felt nervous.
Where’s Mary?” she whispered shyly.
“She’s up with her widowed sister Joan in Scotland ” Stan admitted nervously.
“Joan,that’s not a very Scottish name!” Annie joked.”anyway how about we sit down here on this bench for a moment”.She pulled him vigorously towards her.Stan responded regretfully yet politely
“I’m afraid I can’t stop.I have all these  old books overdue and the library shuts in 15 minutes.
“Don’t worry,sweet heart”, she cried softly.”I’ll pay all your fines.I’ve just come into loads of money.”
“Oh,how’s that.my angel” Stan murmured into her ear.
“I just shot Bert.If you help me to get rid of the evidence,I’ll share the loot with you.”
At the funeral,Annie was dressed in a beautiful dark brown suit from Jaeger.She went around the room making sure everyone had enough food and drink..As she leaned over towards Stan her heavy gold locket,inside which was hidden the bullet that killed Bert,swung over and hit Stan a glancing blow on  his temple.
Stan fell to the ground where luckily there was a thcik  wool carpet
“Do you think we should ring 999?” someone asked sarcastically.Within minutes paramedics arrived.
“So,is it that chair again?” they clamoured.
“Yes,this foolish old man fell over and the leg came off my new antique chair.I’ve only had it a few days and it’s not insured.”
“Did anyone ever tell you,your eyes are like deep pools in the Sargossa Sea?” The paramedic whispered into her right ear.I’m  Dave,by the way,her muttered.
“Have you still not finished that Creative Writing Course?” Annie shouted,continuing..
“I’m getting tired of you admiring my eyes.What about my nose?”
“Has anyone ever told you,your nose is the shortest they’ve ever seen?” he said furtively
“That’s a bit boring” Annie retorted. angrily
“Yeah,maybe I should change to Art,” he ruefully moaned, his eyes on the ground
“I love the way your deep blue and turquoise eye shadow is melting round your eyes and running down the sides of your nose.”
“Hurry up and fix my chair,and while you’re about it,you may as well take Stan down to A and E for a head X-ray.”
Glancing  slyly at Annie in her Jaeger suit with carefully contrasting deep coral blouse and opaque teal blue 80 denier tights with 6 inch stiletto heels to complete the outfit, not to mention her raspberry coloured bra which clashed violently with the coral blouse, which, as it happens, was more transparent than she realised, Dave picked up a hammer and began,excitedly,to mend the broken chair as this would put her in his debt.
“This is what life is all about,my boy” he thought.Little did he know the true tale, that Annie had murdered her husband merely because she felt very  bored.
Boredom is very dangerous.If you are affected why not go out and look at some hats?

I do and look at me!

My spouse has gone out of his head
but he’s still lying here on the bed.
He’s got hands warm as toast
And I love him the most.
Thank God,for I thought he was dead.

He looked peaceful and calm as he lay
I was uncertain of what I should say.
So I left him to find
The way out through his mind.
He cried,Oh,I love you so much,Amy May.

Who Amy May is, I don’t know.
But her dream face gave him a hot glow.
Why should I deprive
This man of a life?
After all, I am only but his wife!

I wonce had a doctor who bred.
He had sixty fower sons to bee fed ;
for he had twenty wives
And fower lovers beside…
His sixty five gurls all got wed.

So the doctor created a tribe.
And wrote millions of emales besides.
At last he wore out,
Then he wallowed in dowt
About what sort of drink to imbibe.

Brandy is good for gut panes.
And to rub neat onto your chillblanes.
Yet whiskey galo’er
When the rane down doth pore
Can make won feel spring like wonce moor.

I  know you have to leave me,
Though you desire a longer stay
Let me hold you in my arms now
For just tonight and, perhaps. one day.

Then I’ll watch you travel on,sweet.
We   take this last step all alone.
I’ll be here beside you watching.
I shall sense when you are gone.

May you accept, may you surrender.
May you reach the promised land.
Into this earth my tears will fall,love
When I feel your cold,cold hands

I see  a barrier  divides us .

Invisible and haunting like a face in a  fading dream

Maybe it’s  always been there……….

How shall I render it?;

A glass wall through which we  see

yet cannot touch ‘

we are close but  we can never feel;

never caress or kiss.

All that’s left is vision

which is   desired yet produces torment.

If someone should break that glass wall

would that be bad or good?

Though we would walk on splinters

for a short time

We’d be together in the same sensual world

with roses,peonies and anemones;

with birds , badgers and barley fields…

cats and cradles

and nursery rhymes.

Is it right   to judge the shattering of the glass as evil…

after all,who was it who had drawn me there

as by a golden thread?

and are we alive inside that bell jar

which is meant only for the dead?

Yes,the noise and the wind that whirls through

may strike us with  an instant of terror

but ,holding hands, we would come through..

and how  then would we keep from singing?