Author: Katherine

Poetry writer and author

The mirror of our souls

My actions are the mirror of my heart
And what I do to others makes my soul.
But myopic,narrow gaze can wreck at start
The chance of growing to a greater whole.
Sometimes we think we look without
But see projections of live fantasy.
We do not like to linger long in doubt
Fearful of what true sight will make us see.
We love a person whom we do not know.
we fit them to a picture in our mind
and if the fit is wrong we feel a blow
As if the world itself has been unkind
We must do work to help us truly be.
Perception’s just the Latin word for see

Emile’s nerve

IMG_Rosy nights 2

Stan was happy for a few moments when he woke up.Then he realized Emile
was not anywhere to be seen.Mary,his wife, had already gone out as she wanted to catch a very early train to London.She needed to visit the British Library.She urgently wanted to find evidence that Wittgenstein wore a hat in bed as this was an important idea in her new study “Wittgenstein ,guilt and hats.. a new theory”
Stan went searching around the house but Emile had vanished.Usually at 8 am he would be dashing about pretending to chase flies and giving a balletic performance worthy of Sadler’s Wells…
I wonder who Sadler was,Stan muttered as he filled the kettle with fresh cold water and put some Earl Grey tea into the teapot.
Then, a strange,uncanny feeling came over him.He looked up and there was Emile crouched on top of the highest cupboard in the kitchen.
Emile,he cried,What are you doing up there?
I’m training to be a spy,Emile replied nonchalantly.
But how could this kitchen be of interest to the Intelligence Services?
Well,the cat murmured,I am practising hiding.Hiding is very useful.
You gave me a terrible shock,Stan said.I had this feeling I was being watched.I wondered if it was paranoia.Then I saw your gleaming eyes.
So,I need to get some dark glasses,Emile whispered.
No,I would still feel that horrible feeling…. someone is staring at me.And how were you planning to get down from that high ledge?
I’m not sure,the cat mioawed faintly
Well,the first lesson for a spy or even a detective is,
Never go anywhere unless you can make a quick exit,
As it is,I may have to ring 999.
Just then the front doorbell rang.There stood a man with a white beard and moustache.
Hello,he said holding out his hand in a pleasant manner to shake Stan’s. hand
I am called Peter Fried.I have just moved into one of the new flats across the road.I am a psychoanalyst.I have taken on another flat to use as a consulting room and a waiting room
A psychoanalyst! Do we need one round here? Well,Good morning,I have just brewed some tea.Would you like to join me?
How kind,said Peter.
I say,old bean,did you know there’s a cat on top of your cupboard?
Yes,that is Emile.Today he has surpassed himself in wickedness.How I will get him down I don’t know.
My training analyst used to say,What goes up must eventually come down.
That seems a bit weird for an analyst.To what was he referring… something to do with sex I don’t doubt.It’s all sex with you people.
Yes, some of us are very peculiar…that’s why we enter the profession.
What I meant was,if Emile got up he can get down.How did you get up,Emile?
I leaped,answered the tense animal.
Can you leap down?
I’ve lost my nerve,replied the poor creature pathetically
Well, as it happens,being a therapist,I always carry few spare nerves with me.I’ll climb up this stepladder and throw you a new nerve.
And without waiting,Peter climbed the ladder.He put his hand into his pocket and pulled out a golden thread.
Here you are,Emile,Catch this in your claw.
Emile caught the golden thread and wrapped it around his neck.
Can you leap down now? enquired Stan.
Emile leaped down and landed with a splash in a bowl of hot soapy water in the sink.
It’s a good thing I wasn’t making chips,laughed Stan anxiously
Come here,Emile and let me dry you on this old towel.He put Emile
in front of the fire and he and Peter drank mugs of Earl Grey tea.
I have got a mistress,Stan told Peter.
Why tell me? Do you want therapy for your inner conflicts?
Oh,no.I’m far too old for therapy or indeed for a mistress.I was wondering of you would perhaps be interested …she just likes to spend a little time with an intriguing man.. talking, drawing graphs, interpreting data,making tea,calling the ambulance.. you know…she is most charming and intelligent company. When I give lectures on Statistics and Modern society she organises all the rooms and the chairs and so on..She likes our paramedic,Dave.and is always sending for him to mend chairs and open tins.
Is she not married?
No,her husband fell into the wheelie bin during the night and alas he was taken away with the rubbish.
That is a strange story.Are you certain it happened?
No,it could be he grew tired of her and ran away.Then she invented this story,
Well,this may be a quiet suburb but I can see there is plenty of material here for me to write my next book:
“Deceptive appearances and the fascination of apparent dullness.”
Oh,that sounds very unusual….please lend me a copy.
Well,I’ve never believed in true dullness.There is always a story hidden in every house and home.
See,I’ve just met you a man of 98 yet you have a wife, a mistress and a crazy cat.. and I’ve only been here for one day.Imagine what else I may discover here. after a few weeks
They heard a siren.
Oh,no!We’ve not even rung 999 and here is the ambulance…. Mary will be so angry..You see Dave is bisexual.
My goodness,are you having an affair with him. as well?
No way,shouted Stan.My life is tough enough already.He can be bisexual or even trisexual but I’m not interested.
What does trisexual mean,enquired Emile.
I have no idea but I thought it sounded good,admitted Stan.
Peter stood up.
I think I’d better go home and start to see my patients.It may calm me down.
Now .goodbye,Emile,Put your nerve somewhere safe.We don’t want you to lose it again.
Thank you,darling cried Emile.I think I’ve formed an erotic transference with you already.
Peter rushed out in terror.
Is it me or is it them?he wondered.
I thought it would be quiet here on the edge of Knittingham but I think now wherever you are there will always be something unexpected happening.But I hope Emile will not begin to follow me around.I shall have to buy a lady cat and then Emile might fall in love with her instead.So off Peter went whistling a Bach cello suite and wondering how to cope with life in a suburb.. clearly it was not as dull as he had imagined.Dullness… does it exist or was it merely invented?

fi

You were always too far away and moving

 

 
 
 

 

 

The sky looks like a Turner painting.
At the high point it’s brighter,even golden cream
Like the top of a bottle of Jersey milk;
then it dims down to a bluey gray
with a slight threat in it
like a blacker gray…It’s
Too warm today for snow.

 

I swept brown dried leaves from the step..
Had to move my bike.
Then I hid the leaves under the hedge
So they can keep some insects warm in the winter.
But mainly I don’t want to bend down to collect them,,
I’m tired or lazy after the weekend.
I still have a dress here I was ironing just a week or two ago.
Now it will be put away till next summer.
Here’s a denim jacket with flowers all over…
I did wear it but it won’t look right  any more.

 

I washed my hair.It feels soft and pleasant.
I like that feeling.I am wondering what you are doing.
Are you listening to music or resting?
Or sitting looking down the road at wet fields?
I think I’ll make some tea.
I need a focus for the day which also has a feeling
Like those late watercolors
Everything merging
Until one thing dissolves into an other.
Some people like it but today
I need some edge,some definition.
I need someone to give me boundaries.
Time 4 pm
Kettle boils and a neighbor’s cat peers by the locked cat flap…
Wondering why she can’t get in.
I turn away.

Now the sky is without any gold
It’s sixty shades of gray.
It’s clouded dark and soft
Like your hair might have been
But I could never  touch it…
You were always too far away and movin

Mary wants a woollen vest

Dotty cats

Winter had almost come to Knittingham,yet owing to the late summer and wet autumn,many trees still had their leaves,,,,,,,,,,,some were even green.Stan and Mary were sitting in their mock Tudor cottage style kitchen eating muffins and honey.

Wow,it’s so cold,Mary remarked.Now,Mary I have told you before that Wow is not a word I expect to hear from such a highly educated person.Stan said wistfully

Bollocks,Mary answered in a tone not unlike the late Rose Nordloch,philosopher extraordinaire who was famed for her obscene talk.I am thinking of buying some woollen vests,she continued nastily.Good grief!

What is it, my darling Stan said nosily.Mary was looking at a catalogue of ladies clothing.

They are £39 each,she said wonderingly.If I get three it will be nearly £120 plus postage.

Can’t you just buy one and wear it all winter like the Tudors did,Stan demanded charmingly

I think it would get smelly,Mary answered benignly.We should get wool vests from the Government to save us from going to A and E with double pneumonia,she continued softly…Shall we mention it at the Labor Party meeting?

No,no,Stan cried,I want your lingerie to be a secret…
A woollen vest is hardly lingerie,she retorted…
Everything a lady wears under her dress is lingerie….bras,knickers,pantaloons,petticoats,vests,corsets,suspender belts…………………..But some lingerie is more sensual…Stan said wistfully,recalling the brown silk underwear Mary used to wear before feminism made most lingerie a No,No!
Anyway,Mary said,we are too old for sex….

but not too old to have a few fantasies,Stan thought… and woollen vests did not feature in his… he preferred lace and silk with a hint of perfume..

Emile came in and he too asked for a vest and some underpants… .. but suppose I wet them? he fretted as cats do

Well,you can’t have a nappy,Emile.Stan informed him courteously
I have no desire for such things,Emile mioawed angrily…where is my food?

Oh, yes… it’s in the fridge,said Stan.He took a large goldfish out of the fridge

Where did you get that from? Mary asked fearfully….Oh,that tom cat down the road knocked a fish tank over and he gave Emile one.

But they are pets!She shrieked…. ring 999.

Dave the bisexual paramedic strode in.

It’s Frank,the gold fish,said Mary.Is he dead?

He is not quite dead,Dave answered…get a bowl of rain water.He put Frank into the bowl and Frank began to swim…

Well, that’s a bloody miracle,Mary screamed…

Just call him Lazy Lazarus.Dave quipped…he was in suspended animation.. fish are very clever.Would you like me to clean out the kitchen or fetch in some coal for the scuttle?

Thanks but not today,Dave.We were just discussing vests.Do you wear one?

Oh,yes.he said, and I wear a short petticoat too.

Very wise,Mary informed him.Underwear keeps me warm.

And it makes me hot,thought Dave…. but he said nothing.He kept his sex life almost a secret.

Vests,thought Mary.

To buy or not to buy

That is my question

Shame.. is it the most painful emotion?

I don’t know if it is possible to answer this question.Shame is definitely distressing.Guilt is painful but I believe it usually relates to an act or something we said to hurt someone whereas shame is related to our whole self,our existence as a person… and if we feel bad about that then we do suffer.
I am just rambling on but what comes to my mind are occasions when we have been out with some friends eating a meal in a pub or restaurant when one of a couple starts to tell of all the bad things the husband or wife has done.Is this because they can’t summon up the courage to talk when at home?
And some of the things were criticised about were ridiculous.. like a wife who had had a Freudian analysis in about two years berated her husband who had begun before her and still not finished.As they were well off it wasn’t the financial aspect.But is that not sadistic to reveal your husband’s lengthy therapy to others who are not that close…
The very fact that this woman did that made me wonder how deeply her own therapy had gone.. which seems to imply I expect people to be improved morally by having psychoanalysis.I am unsure why I think that except that if you have dealt with your own neuroses ,your shadow etc.,one might imagine you’d have more sympathy for others’ struggles… and thus be a better person…. in general..
I can’t put down many examples because I would not want anyone to recognise themselves but I do wonder about the ethics of blurting out criticism of a friend or partner in front of acquaintances.
If you genuinely wanted help, and both agreed ,it might be better.. just to share a problem to put into words a shaming doubt
This leads me to something like the following idea…Why do we treat so called loved ones worse than other people?I believe it might be because we expect more from them,perhaps irrationally get angry or anxious when we don’t get our expectations met. I have a friend who tried to hold her husband by her fantastically good cooking.Unfortunately he had grown up with a mother who had servants and he was completely unaware of her efforts.I knew as I was also just married and doing a lot of extra work… but my husband had to travel a long way to work so that was my contribution.I had enough energy then to cook and entertain people… not cook the people,cook for them,I mean…..
Ahaa,that makes me laugh…
Once I opened the oven door and a flame shot out and set my hair on fire…I never knew about cleaning the oven properly as my mum was a single parent of 5 children and never had time for cleaning.Cooking,sewing,knitting.. yes… sheets changed .. yes..
Maybe I should have used my brain!
I went back into the living room and carried on serving the meal.
Maybe that’s why my hair has gone wispy…
What makes us feel shame?Is it rejection? That a friend no longer likes us? But they may be rejecting us because they fear closeness and intimacy with anyone,not just us.So they move on from flower to flower like the butterflies…As they say, what people do and say might tell us more about them than about us… possibly.
I suppose some people feel shame if their dad is sent to jail but others regard it as normal..Some feel shame if they wear second hand clothing but that is fashionable now.. to go to jumble sales in wealthy areas where people change their wardrobe every . year..
Well.I’ll leave it there for now and embroider it later.i meant brood on it later.

Stan is spying on his wife again

Photo1043

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    Mary was just running out of the front door when she realised she had not combed her hair.She looked around and found a small brush labelled,”For nubuck and suede shoes”.Peering into the old mirror she ran it though her gold and silver hair,powdered her nose with her Estee Lauder natural beige foundation in powder form and slapped some coral lipstick on with haste.. and accuracy.
    Right,that’s it,she thought.Enough to show willing.
    She met her old friend Maureen at the bus stop.
    Have you been seeing Joel again? Maureen asked naughtily.
    No,I’ll be damned if I see him again,Mary said shyly.He told me he was living alone in a large house up the hill,then I met him with his wife.Who was he trying to fool?
    Maybe he hoped you would not notice?
    Not notice what?
    Luckily the bus came down the road and stopped beside them.They jumped on and ran to the back. for a gab.
    Are you going shopping?Maureen asked.
    No,I am going to take some photos of the jazz band playing on the pavement by the bank… but I told Stan I was going to the pharmacy to buy some Vaseline….
    Why,does he not like you taking photos?
    Not when an old boyfriend of mine is in the band.
    Exactly how old is the boyfriend?
    About 69 I guess.
    Well he’s not that old!
    He is an ex I should have said.I knew him in primary school and used to ride his tricycle.He was my first love.We were only 5 years old.I think it was his red curls and the tricycle that attracted me… but we split up when we were 6.
    Surely Stan would not be jealous;it is 63 years ago,
    And to me it was like last year!Well. you know time does not exist in the Unconscious.
    How wonderful.
    Yes and no.Good memories can be there but also pain can seem as if it just happened even when it is from 50 years ago.
    Have you had a lot of men admiring you,dear?
    How would I know?There could be thousands if they were too shy to speak.
    You know what I mean!
    Not so many.. I had my second when we were 10.He had golden hair and long eye lashes and lots of games in boxes.He was very sweet but we were to young to be engaged so I decided to give men up and study mathematics instead as that has its own icy beauty…
    Wel,,nice meeting you.Have you dyed your hair;it’s got brown streaks.
    Oh,dear,Mary thought.Is it shoe polish? But who polishes suede shoes nowadays?
    Stan was following Mary on his Face Bike.He was watching her from behind the bike racks in front of the HSBC Bank…
    Mary had had many bikes in her life.. what would a fortune teller make of that,he asked himself.
    Still,she had no idea Stan was nearby as she wandered nonchalantly along the grey pavement in her Rosella dress and Gabor suede Mary Janes..
    Now then, where shall I go to take the photos,she thought…maybe I’ll sit outside this Coffee Shop and pretend to feel faint if anyone asks me to buy coffee…
    she opened her bag and took out her Kindle Paperwhite… she was reading,
    Creative Imagery and Healing… and also Cars and Peace by Leo Wholeshaw.. a futuristic novel set in North London.In the first chapter a grandmother has been beheaded in North London.
    That’s a bit far fetched,Mary had thought when she read it but in fact Wholeshaw had been right on the ball when he wrote his e book and self published it on Cramuzon for £3.89…I wonder if I’d like to write a novel Mary mused… just then she saw Stan on the other side of the road talking to a blonde bombshell dressed all in pink.
    I see,she thought.He didn’t know I’d be here as the pharmacy is half a mile away.
    who is watching whom?Well.the morals be lacking but my grammar is correct

 
 

Where once a cat

The apple tree,now bare of leaves,
Still bends in worship to the sun.
The sap flows down into the earth
Its fruiting year is done.

Where once a cat sat on the branch,
And children played below,
Now only sparrows hunt for crumbs,
and patterned snails slide slow.

The sun is setting to my left;
where is the slivered moon?
The day is deeper than a dream,
and over all too soon.

Oh,come,my lover,to my bed
And hold me in your arms.
I’ll rest against your fragile chest,
Whilst you enjoy old charm

Cliches of the week

 

Incense makes the  nose glow longer
Absent power  erupts ironically
See a face on the whole?
He had my waist up his sleeve
Did Achilles do  a deal?
He was  an acid guest at rhymes
Bacon  doesn’t  do it for me..
Reactions speak louder than words
After my own heart left,I felt  half dead.
Swearing at  dirty laundry is not a job for a woman
We were bent  into drapes by the windows to confuse  the neighbours
All sets are inconceivable contradictory  and infinitely boring
All dressed up and nowhere to glow,I thought….. then I saw his face.. right out of my bind
I was  not here when I wrote this

 

With tender puzzled eyes





A day of sudden changes.Clouds

cross the sky

like whales swimming North in rows.

The sun was bright,dazzled my eyes

with gold and silver.

Wind cut across my face

like a slap from an angry father..

Those who love can also seem to hate us too..

The lure of that small childish body

tempts them to divert their anger towards it.

When the ones who hurt you

are also the ones you love,

it’s hard to know which direction to run in;

but it usually turns into a circle.

Retreating turns into a new arrival.

Straight lines might be better. though

On a spherical earth

difficult to find.

Even parallel lines meet

In their Riemannian geometry.

So we can never get away

Sometimes the best we manage

Is to increase the circle’s radius.

Though how is hard to know.

Do you love me or hate me?

Do you want me to stay or go?

What do I want?Do I have a me?

The memory of warmth draws me back

Like a cold lonely beast leaving the jungle

To lie down with a what appears to be a lamb,

Surprising the farmer up early to milk his animals

Finding a strange new one

Looking with tender,puzzled eyes

into His Human Face.































	


	



			
				


			

			
I want a winter lover
		
	
	

		












New River












In summer time when  sun does shine


I’m  happy on my own


I gaze up through red maple leaves


All transparent in the sun.


But when winter comes I’m lonely


Sitting here beside my fire.


So I want  a winter lover


To make my  spirits  higher.


Oh,my winter love  come to me


And I’ll gaze deep into your eyes


The light that shines in there


Is so much warmer than my fire.


We’ll  stroll  through wintry  woodlands,


Where elegance  lies bare.


The branches struck  by sun


Now feel  the frosty grasp of air.


I’ll love you all  the winter time


i”ll love you in the dark.


I’d like dwell  within  your arms,


To love   in London Parks


When summer  comes I’ll disappear


To roam across the dales


I’ ll sleep on heather moorlands


And send you  loving  mail.


I can’t be tied  in summertime


I must be roaming free


But ,if  you accept   this need of mine,


Then how happy I shall be.


 


 


 













	


	



			
				


			
				


			

			
Mary gets worried
		
	
	

		
Mary was feeling a bit off colour.Then she found a scary looking thing on her neck…

Stan,she moaned,come here!

What is it my duck.Stan cried.Are you alright..

No,Mary replied,I just looked in the mirror.

Well,dear,you still look young to me,the dear old man replied… still I suppose it must be hard for someone who was o nce very beautiful.

No,it’s not that,she responded faintly.

What is it then?Did you see Satan?

Not directly,she told him gently… but I saw this funny looking thing on my neck…

Have your lovers been biting you,he enquired caringly.

Stan,I have no lovers.

I find that hard to believe,he replied.

I am your wife,she told him.

Are you really?I forgot…Well,if you’d like a lover I am ok with that.I am getting past it.

Well considering your behaviour you have not got a leg to stand on….

Mmmm, he murmured,I am a man,you see.

I know you are a man… I married you for that reason.

How kind.If I went in for a sex change op,how would you feel?

How would YOU feel she said.They won’t be wasting money on that any more.Why you have to wait 6 months for cancer ops.

Only if it is a “non-worrying cancer” which nevertheless

” must be removed before it invades the nearby structures” they reminded each other.

I am wondering if this thing which you claim is a love bite is in fact a cancerous lesion…

I know.I was wondering.And they’ve not done the first yet.

I think we should see the doctor.

I want to do more than see him.I’d like to speak to him.

What will you say?

Hello,you are my doctor,are you not?

That’s a bit pedantic..

Take a decco at this thing on my neck,which by the way is not a result of having sex with a vampire.

Do you always decide what to say before you go?

No,I usually write my concerns on a sheet of paper and hand it to him, being as I am a disordered  avoidant personality.

That’s a good idea as he hates people rabbiting on.

Does he?

Yes,he told me off for asking how he was!

How he was what?

That’s just what he said.I say, are YOU the doctor?

Just because two  people say the same thing it does not follow that  they are the same person.

But it is a strange coincidence… is it not?

Well,I suppose I’d better ring the surgery.

Hello, we are closed right now,Please go to Hell.The doctor has gone mad…

Did they really say that?

No, he can see you at 11 pm tomorrow in the woods…

I can’t wait…

Well,said Emile,you will have to wait.That’s what you always tell me…

Emile,you are a very intelligent cat.

Thank you miaowed the furry beast in a jolly voice.

May I come to the doctor’s with you.

Wait and see,said Mary rudely.I have a lot on my mind . I am getting too irritable . I might upset somebody.

A lot of people get irritable when stressed,said Stan

Yes, cats do as well, concurred Emile.. then they scratch holes in the carpet and gnaw the furniture….

That explains a lot,Mary said.I think you need a tranquilliser,Emile…. even cats can have nervous troubles…You may need therapy if we can afford it.Then you can study mentalising and read Peter Fonagy.What fun that will be,not.

	


	



			
				


			

			
Feeling blorgy
		
	
	

		


















If you store plenty of words in a word freezer you will be able to write a poem or letter very rapidly.Alternatively,you can store some dried words in polythene bags in a cupboard and add some moisture like tears to them when you want to write.This gives you some information about our era; that we spend time now,preparing for a fictive future and if you do store words they may be out of date before you use them.

The best way to always have words at hand is to read a lot of novels and poems.Even reading newspapers can teach you new words.

You don’t need to make an effort to recall them.Your mind will remember the ones that are for you.

You might try inventing words.I have done that but I’ve not kept a list.Sometimes it’s for fun; sometimes it’s to fill a space..

I am feeling blorgy today.. I feel like writing a blog with a guy but could also mean having a blog orgy…. could we do that?

We did have a blog tea party once but having an orgy could be tough at a distance…Still,who knows? Keep me informed,please.

You recall a song,feeling groovy.. well put blorgy instead of groovy!













	


	



			
				


			

			
The looking glass is truth
		
	
	

		
















Note














I like the idea that we are healed when we see ourselves truthfully


I think it’s odd that we pay psychotherapists to tell us our defence mechanisms and self deceits,but we don’t like it when friends point them out,free,without charge.I find religious imagery is     useful to a poet as a metaphor


Poem


God’s Son was here on earth.


A  young girl gave Him birth.


His words remind us of our worth,


Give hope of heavenly mirth.


He brought the gifts of love-


To cure our bad eyesight.


But we don’t want to see,


To have the painfulness of light.


We love our flaws without knowing,


Even when the effects are growing.


We rage when someone points them out,


We’d rather stay in dark and doubt.


Than have our weakness showing


But when you seek advice


From someone kind and true,


They tell us that our hearts will be


Healed when we can bear to see


The mirror’s total view,


The looking glass is truth


It’s painfully acquired.


But, oddly ,when we face the glass,


A transformation comes to pass,


And our souls change from black to gold,


As Alchemists foretold










 











	


	



			
				


			

			
“This Being Human is a Guest House” – Rumi
		
	
	

		
This is a very interesting blog


Jo Ann Brown-Scott's avatarthe creative epiphany





RedSeaMoon



Mixed media titled RedSeaMoon by Jo Ann Brown-Scott copyright 2014



This being human is a guest house.



Every morning a new arrival.



A joy, a depression, a meanness, some monetary awareness comes, as an unexpected visitor.



Welcome and entertain them all! Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows, 



who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture,



still treat each guest honorably.



He may be clearing you out for some new delight.



Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.



RUMI, 13th Century Poet and Scholar



Sometimes I wonder how I would have managed to paint if the context of my life had been different…if things had been less to my liking in my life, would I somehow have struggled to rise above it and paint anyway? Would I still have been a painter, or maybe even been a better painter, if I had been forced to deal…


View original post 637 more words
	


	



			
				


			

			
How I  became an amateur  poet and artist on the Internet.Part3.
		
	
	

		
Image


I love color very much.I am profoundly affected by it


One of my  nieces was at University doing English. Literature Thinking of my past life,I  suggested she do Creative Writing if it were possible.It was.She wrote short stories for her assessments.During bad winter weather she was unable to access her computer at  the University. and read her notes.When she did she got  writer’s block.I sent her some  ideas from my notebook and she manages to complete her assignment and got  a First.One of my notes was about seeing a woman whose husband left her.She was recovering and was out in the snow with a big dog on  a  lead pulling her forward!


…And one day I thought,maybe I can  writ too.So I started to try to write more frequently.As I have some health problems and disabilities I find it very satisfying to do creative work.And I am happy to get criticism because it helps me.Some of my early poems were good.Some were not.Here is a strange one I wrote in 2010


But first,thank you,Helen ,my niece,for  helping me to begin writing.And  thank you to the folk on my first blog who encouraged me so much. Thank you to my brother and sister and others for reading me  on Facebook,I take all the blame for the flaws in my writing! I k eep editing but it’s hard to know when to stop.


DIRAC’S CATS :NONSENSE VERSES


6419534_5a28508448_m
 I dreamed I rowed in a large pea green boat
 Accompanied by seventeen cats.
 And across the Great Lake,without a mistake
 I saw mountains of gentleman’s hats.
 I was making no waves in my effort to move,
 The cats were discoursing on geometry.
 I looked in the mirror fixed onto my boat,
 The moon spoke  entrancing Theology.
 “I wonder who’ll help me”I thought to myself,
 When I saw an entire spectrum of men–
 Dirac, Archimedes,Niels Bohr, with their theories.
 I got my great inspiration just then.
 I need seventeen physicists,that’s one for each cat,
 All tied to my boat with a chain.
 The force they exert will just compensate
 For the magnetic attraction of rain.
 Paul Dirac came up, and I looked into his eyes,
 They were full of anxiety and pain.
 “I am sorry I am unable do what you wish,
 But my father never taught me to swim.”
 “That is perfectly alright”,I politely replied,
 “You can walk on the water instead”
 So that’s how my boat and its cargo of cats
 Were accompanied back to my bed.
 When I awoke the next day,I was filled with dismay.
 I saw that Paul Dirac was gone,
 With the cats and the boat,of which I just wrote
 And I was now completely alone.
 I took a quick look,in my old physics book
 And there was a photo of Dirac
 I stared at his eyes,and I am not telling lies,
 He threw me a very strange look.
 I caught this strange look,it’s here in my book.
 I am saving it for a special event.
 When I gather more Data on Relative Quanta,
 I’ll understand just what Dirac meant.


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The digital art came later.And even later my stories about Emile the cat and Stan his owner.You can see a few on my blog


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With charms like
		
	
	

		
 


 


abstract summer


I was unready for anything,
with no charms, like a bee.
Each fresh day is torture..
When you don’t hate me.


I was as tame as a mango,
I was alright in my mind.
Each night was  a daydream
Where you were  so kind.


I was harmed by your molars.
They were sharper than whales.
Each claw brought the moon out.
As you cut your nails.


Rolling stones gather….
Your heart is not mine.
I’ll give you what you wish for.
It ‘s a true new design .
.
As long as the clock speaks
As long as the rose.
As long as the bike pumps..
I’ll remember your nose.


As long as my patterns;
As brief as they are;
As long as my brain’s dead…
I shall parse on a star.


I love a good proverb.
I love no cliche.
When you find some Wisdom
Do not never pay.


Justice long as a ruler,
Sharpened to a screw.
When you are more kind,then
I may leak what I brew
.
As long as the flat Earth
As wise as it’s broad.
The moon in the water
Heard the crow caw.


Please hear my tall story
Sing  beside my cello.
I may fail at  the Wife Class
But I can  still say,Oh,no!


I went to the Church belle,
And asked for a clue.
The finger on the dial
Keeps pointing at you.


The music of laughter,
The joy of details,
I went by the river
and the moon never paled


I know the  sky’ s tilted
My muse is with me.
Don’t sting like a buttercup
Nor like a striped bee.

	


	



			
				


			
				


			
				


			

			
The music of silence
		
	
	

		
 


 


trees swirl


I didn’t hear you coming,
then you were by my side.
Happiness fills me.
Standing in the garden
looking at red leaves,
I hold your hand gently,
and share the sweetness
of these green leaves,
the distant doves cooing,
the sun dipping to the horizon.
Life is good.
We hear together
the music
of this silence


 




 

	


	



			
				


			

			
How Daniel met the lion:Bedtime tales
		
	
	

		
 






Free.-jpg


[image from arkadiansystems.com]


http://www.arkadiansystems.com/?p=1391


Daniel Spinnett was a newly  homeless man in a horrible  wealthy but cruel country called the Reblighted Kingdom.He had been married once but his wife often  used to hurl his hot dinner at him if he was a bit late home and she also had fourteen lovers into the bargain.When she was made Head of Uncivil Service UK he decided he was leaving her and hoped for a second chance and maybe a child as well with a gentler woman
At first he was truly happy in his new  commodious flat and also with  meeting women on the Guardian Solemates website but all too  soon his firm was affected by the recession and he ended up with no money to pay his rent ; his ex-wife was completely and utterly unsympathetic. though she was absolutely rolling in money and men or both at once!
He went to the Council to seek for cheap accommodation
I have nowhere to live.The rents in Lone-don are so high.. can I get a council flat?I am on job seekers allowance of £70 per week…
A council flat?The man behind the desk laughed sarcastically like a dying flea.
There ain’t no such anymore,mi duck…didn’t you know the Trying Lady sold them off.
Did you not build more using that money,he enquired courteously and logically. as was his wont
Sorry,chum, we spent it on wine, women and bling… gold watches,golfclubs,moats, you know
Daniel felt very upset so he set out to walk to Lightw.ebbs Forest a couple of miles away for a time of  green beauty andquietness…He fell asleep under am old oak ; he was nervously exhausted ,no doubt
When he woke up a huge cat was standing near him staring curiously
Hello, the cat said in a kindly but loud voice
Hello,I am Daniel from down the road
Well, the cat said,I’m a lion from the circus.We have escaped and we are living here in the woods.
But what do you eat? asked Dan.
Well,we forage around and we find quite a lot of food left out for house cats.. we also have learned to cook leaves and grass over a fire in a double boiler.
The lion smiled down at Daniel showing a light in his amber eyes
You look very thin.Why don’t you come with me to have dinner?
Daniel was  afraid of the lion but he had no alternative. in mind.
After a circuitous walk they reached the deepest,densest  most magical part of the wood.There were four lions,two tigers and four  leopards.
Is this our dinner,they cried excitedly as they gazed at Daniel.
No,this is a poor starving man with no home.
Well.lie down Dan and eat this leafy risotto..
Absolutely delicious,awesome, he cried greedily as he used his hands like a child with no table manners
Then the first lion asked Dan to come with him to his own den.
When they got there he said piteously
I have got a problem and none of the animals here  can help.I have got a piece of barbed wire stuck in my tail and I need a human with fingers to untangle it..
Daniel looked and there was about 12 inches of barbed wire which hit  and beat the old  lion as he walked or ran.Dan managed to untwist it and uuntangle it.He got some water from the stream and washed the lion’s backside where the barbs had cut into him..I have no Elastoplast, he muttered anxiously.The fresh air will heal it, said the lion gently….


And that was how Daniel came to be living in the lion’s den.
He says he prefers it to living with his dominating wife.
He certainly looks fitter than before and is considering asking for surgery to change into a lion on the NHS as there is a lady lion whom he has fallen in love with.No doubt lions don’t get married in church but they do love each other very deeply.
Just go to the forest and take a look next time you fall asleep.
Now the lions enjoy even better food because Daniel has  recipe books and unlike the lions,he can read.They found some old sauce pans at the recycling centre so he can do cheese sauce using milk from the sheep on the edge of the wood,
If you knew what went on in our many woods,you’d definitely get a big surprise..I can tell you.





	


	



			
				


			

			
Moses was an Eruption
		
	
	

		
Anglo-Catalan Psalter or The Great Canterbury ...
Anglo-Catalan Psalter or The Great Canterbury Psalter, folio 1 recto: Genesis (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
AdamsFamily
AdamsFamily (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
The First Mourning
The First Mourning (Photo credit: Wikipedia)


Moses was an Eruption I hear.So he had to be kept warm in a basket.
 Then Foureyes daughter let him gloat  down on the  River Nile…till a bull rushed him
 Then he turned into a shrew and found God.. or God found him
 But God would not let him find Galilee so he found Emilee ,Loelee and Phoeebilee linstead.
 He had many children such as Matthew,Hark,Look and Gone.They were all men and had more children with no wives.They didn’t have any women so who did Cain and Abel marry?Eve?
 Is this what Freud never realized… men used to marry their mothers and later their daughters who were also their sisters,Crikey,what a blunder
 Blimey what is this Bible?Libel?
 As we were taught in school Daniel lived with a lion and a lamb.I’m unsure if they had children…. it might explain a lot if they did.
 And finally Solomon was very wise.It was easier then when there was no judge or jury to stop him cutting a baby in two… well, he was just pretending.
 I say,the Shrews were very shrewd and clever.Like who told Adam and Eve what to do before Masters and Johnson wrote that book.. the Human Textual despondency?
 In any case Adam could not read.In fact they didn’t write either.And to think children here can write so young.Adam and Eve were a bit lacking but they have lots of family
 Everybody on Earth… pity they are dead and can’t see us though God knows they’d be shocked if they saw our behaviour to our family


Related articles


	


	



			
				


			

			
Falling
		
	
	

		
Hilltop
Hilltop (Photo credit: Aeioux)


King's Cross railway station, London, UK
King’s Cross railway station, London, UK (Photo credit: Wikipedia)


The man who never listened to the troubles of his wife


fell down the escalator at King’s Cross station.


No-one met his eyes,


as he lay sickly on the concrete,


though someone did push his shiny briefcase towards him


as if hoping that was enough.


He phoned his wife but she was out


complaining about him to a neighbour instead


of painting or cooking dinner.


As he lay down there on a level with the feet


of the commuters


he noticed no-one polished their shoes anymore…


well,no-one could polish trainers of course..,


though you can wash them—-


he saw the way people leaned forward as if pushing themselves


against a gale.


though it was a still warm day.


It seemed as if they were battling against a huge force,


not relating to the feeling of their weight upon the earth.


It was some spiritual force which was pushing them back


towards the Underground,hot and turgid with sweat and dust.


A sanitised Inferno,where the hell is in the collective mind


.


The force seemed to push them in and they pushed back and did


eventually make it into the street outside and into Westminster,


for we all need our rulers.


He lay there all morning musing, until a tramp came over


and asked him to buy a copy of the Big Issue.


And he stood up and bought it gratefully,


taking strength from the acknowledgement of his humanity.


He phoned the office, went home


and told his wife


he’d like to know how she had spent her morning


how she felt,how he wanted to learn to talk and listen,


and recommends now


that if you can fall off the escalator


without breaking a leg


you might be glad


to see life from the bottom up;


for he’d always looked from the top down


and was above everyone.


These reversals,though fearful,


can give us a new perspective


especially on women who are so often


on the underside of society


He’s wondering about changing his life


from up to down..


and down to up.


Mothers always said,it’s good to have a change.


I don’t think it was their husbands they meant..


though………who knows?


A game of musical chairs might be good


on the weekend,


if you live near a good escalator.


Escalating… it’s not for the beginner


at falling.




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Avis vigiliae: A Golden Bird sits on the line…
		
	
	

		
An intriguing writer


Gill McGrath's avatarGill McGrath


2014 08 19 mushroom palace, robed faerie kings and a horse jpg sig

….in purple lit shadows

While the Faerie caravan moves on

Towards some new stopping place.

Dressed up in robes and tiny crowns

These funny flying things

Do hide their wings

So they can pull their toadstool on its course….

Then dragging slow a sort of worn out faerie horse!

Yeah!

Gill McGrath©


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Ask the wife
		
	
	

		














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 the 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.

Can’t forgive,erhhh

























	


	



			
				


			
				


			

			
A worm in therapy and other Freudian notions
		
	
	

		




The psychoanalysis of a worm












Home of worms




Wisteria aided by worms




Wisteria aided by worms








Blossom in September


















I was planning to make a carrot cake till my mother told me:


    

  • Carrots don’t eat cake.What are carrots anyway? Why are they so picky?I have to eat all my food or I get punished by hunger pains.Are there worms inside me eating my food or biting me?Do worms have teeth?What is it they like about soil.

    Charles Darwin wrote a book about worms…
    

    So far I have not read it.
    

    Worms are the opposite of us.
    

    They never get angry or depressed as far as we can tell..
    

    How fortunate as to psychoanalyze a worm would be hard.
    

    Indeed could you tell a worm to lie on the sofa
    

    Or would you have to climb inside a plant pot next to the worm?
    

    As Wittgenstein might have said,
    

    If worms could speak we would not understand what they said.
    

    I don’t know,I think I can guess though…
    

    I have some experience …symbolically that is.
    

    Or is it metaphorically?
    

    Imagine a worm on your couch.
    

    Hmm,how are things going?
    

    Yurp,blurp!
    

    Well,that’s good.
    

    Werp,serp!
    

    Quite right,I am interfering with your transfernce.
    

    Hurpppppppp.
    

    Would you like a little soil?
    

    Mummmm
    

    Oh,dear…I should not have offered you anything.
    

    Daddddddd.
    

    Surely you don’t remember him?
    

    Herrrrrrrr.
    

    So your dad was a lady?
    

    Oh ,ahhh!
    

    Well,it takes all sorts.
    

    Glumb,glomb.
    

    I’m afraid your time is up.
    

    Tinnnnnggggggggg
    

    You want a minicab?
    

    Taaaaaaaaaaaaa.
    

    That’s £500
    

    Do you take plastic?
    

    No,only notes.
    

    Doh,ray,me
    

    I never knew worms could sing…
    

    Well,you do now.
    • 







 

	


	



			
				


			

			
I’ll not skimp
		
	
	

		
The Lord’s my shepherd I’ll not grunt.

Was a Jew’s lamb lingering here,in England’s green unpleasant land?

O praise ye the sword,its works to proclaim.

While leopards rung their blogs all night

Oh,run all ye faithful

Pale St Joseph poor and mental,God has made thee a cuckold.

We worship our bling,its worth we proclaim

All people that on earth do smell

Silent night,wholly light


…. call into Boots later.


[You may sometimes see ads here to make money for me.]

And an angel appeared to Mary and spake thus

Oy vey,Miriam.

And she replied.Oy vey.

You will be bare and wild

What?

Sorry,the wrong script… you will bear a child.

So what’s so odd about that.All women do it…

Well,that’s what is in the telegram.

But they’ve not been invented yet!

Oy vey! Amen.

Drecked again.

What an angel,what a wife!Poor Yussif