Author: Katherine

Poetry writer and author

From one hour to the next

Far from the madding rowdy crowds
with peace I long to be.
Away from noise and music loud
My soul desires to pray.

As palms were waved  and smiles blazed free
Jesus came to town.
Yet soon a different sight they’d see…
And hear the deathly groans.

From joy to woe we humans pass
From one hour to  the next.
For sins and troubles do harass…
And  impure hearts are vexed…

Yet we are told that in the end
Love will outdo death..
And so we beg for grace to lend
To us the strength to last.

Wanted

LC3_3811An edible chocolate life sized  man or octopus required by hungry lady who  finds eggs insufficient.Please send well wrapped to avoid breakage en route.Must arrive by Sunday next.Will eat kindly

Giraffes need not apply but will eat if desired

The pagan Easter

I hate writing limericks and rhymes
And I am a sadist betimes
So I inflict my terror
On short words like “error”
And always write straight off the lines

We celebrate the pagan Easter this week….
On google put “Easter” and seek.
The Passover was changed
and false worship arranged..
To make English Pagans feel bleak

We’d soon do that which men and women can.

The rain fell and the clouds hung overhead

As I walked on the moors to meet my man.

If only we had access to a bed..

We’d soon do that which men and women can.

 

The sun was absent anf the trees all bowed down

The wettest winter for a hundrd years…

Yet full of love ,my face displayed no frown…

My heart was  brimming,absent any fears.

 

Th moon too was watching as I ran

Her silver crescent pierced the clouds like joy.

I could not wait to meet my loving man.

And with his lips and face I longed to toy.

 

But when I reached the spot where he would be,

Nothing waited but a fallen tree

Trust the dark

Trust the unknown force that grew you,
From the joining of two cells.
Act of love, of self giving,
Thus to grow a newer self.

Trust the dark,the unseen aspects
Of the life we all do live.
Trust that there is wisdom elsewhere,
To your emptiness to give.

Wait in patience for the time
When inspiration comes at last
Trust in darkness,silence, lowness.
Oppostion forms the cross.

Pain is bearable in lowness,
Like the worm in earth I dwell.
When I look I see the sunrise
And I trust all shall be well

Please pass over soon with a helping foot

This love’s a disgrace to me and all women
Love’s a wanker  singing a duet with himself
I love you less than I love a sheep’s eye or a pigsty
Far more than your words distresss me,your body is a blot on the landscape of life.Are you ready for erasure?
My head is winning over my heart so run now while you have a chance
My heart is aching to believe you have gone for good,bad and are now indifferent,
My heart sings to a new tune.. I hate you., it cries
My heart must have lied about you so now I am a suspect in my own murder.It’s just  a plot for a new novel
My heart is a bony lump now and it’s turning to stone
My heart is very ashamed of loving such a pair of nuts.
My heart gave a bad start after you shouted and swore at me.Get out at once and shoot your foot then shoot your other foot
My heart is hiding in a burrow with Alice in Wonderland
If my heart is in my hand I’m dead.Howzat?is it not cricket?
I now believe my heart is a liar and my head is in charge from now on.Let’s use some iintellectual intelligence
My art is fiery and I smoke.I’m a dragon and I’ll kill you if i meet you.You know who you are.May you soon pass over like a grey cloud in a stiff breeze and water someone else

As fast the river flows

  • Oh,John Joe was a farmer’s son

  • He lived up in the hills

  • When he went to tend his sheep

  • He saw the cotton mills.

  • The rivers ran with water pure

  • And so provided power

  • Yet over these dark ruined towns

  • The heathered hills did tower.

  • Mary was a local girl

  • She walked out on the moors

  • She wore a dress of silky cloth

  • Printed with small flowers.

  • John Joe saw Mary

  • When he was dipping sheep

  • She peered over a dry stone wall

  • And saw the new lambs leap.

  • Her hair was long.Her hair was gold

  • Her eyes were sapphire blue.

  • In John Joe’s eyes she was so fair

  • What was a man to do?

  • He watched her walking all alone

  • Was she sad or sick?

  • He showed her how his dog behaved

  • And showed her shepherds’ tricks.

  • So one day,he held her hand

  • As they walked to the Pike.

  • They stood up there and gazed all round

  • So John thought he would strike.

  • He bent down on his right knee

  • And spoke to Mary then.

  • I’ve loved you Mary since we met

  • I hoped we’d meet again

  • Mary smiled with her blue eyes;

  • Her lips were pink and bright.

  • I love you too and love the hills

  • And. love the summer light.

  • The next year they were married

  • Mary wore white lace.

  • She looked so happy then

  • To know she’d her own place.

  • The church bells rang,the people sang

  • John and Mary wed!

  • And naturally, when evening came,

  • At last they went to bed.

  • When Mary lay in John Joe’s arms

  • She knew this was her home.

  • And so for many many years

  • On the hills they roamed.

  • They cared for sheep and hens and goats

  • They cared for children three.

  • They never had a falling out…

  • But talked beneath a tree.

  • Fro youth to age the years went by

  • But John still loved his bride.

  • And Mary too was happy

  • With John Joe by her side.

  • Their faces,lined, were full of cheer

  • Their hair as white as snow

  • And everywhere that JJ went

  • Mary too did go.

  • Until the day came for his death

  • He lay down in the grass

  • Mary ran and held him close

  • And thus dear John did pass.

  • The muffled bells rang from the tower

  • John Joe was carried in.

  • The parson prayed and hymns were sung.

  • The sheep dog made a din.,

  • In the dark earth John was laid

  • and Mary wept and cried.

  • what will I do now,my sweet John ,

  • without you by my side?

  • So Mary grieved and wept and sighed

  • And thus she spent two years…

  • The loss was great and bent her back

  • with the weight of care.

  • For when we open up our hearts

  • We feel both joy and woe.

  • This is tha pattern of our love,

  • Which like the river flows

 

Borderline impersonality disorder.. the latest mental disease

Feeling testy? Feeling nutty?

A new illness is sweeping across the borders of Britain.Have you got  it?

Take this test.

1.If someone asks you the time in the street you
a] Swear at them
b]Tell them to eff off back to where they came from.
c] Make a rough guess because you are afraid they will see your Rolex and mug you.
d]Look at the nearest sundial.
e]Say you have no idea but ask them to come to Starbuck’s with you.
f]Look at your watch as it’s from Argus.. so you could even give it to them!
g]none of the above.
2.Someone at the bus stop asks you the weather forecast.
Do you
a]Say:why don’t you look on your Smartphone.
b]Smile vaguely and say you are meditating.
c]Say :Can’t you afford a newspaper?
d]Say you never listen to it but you’d be happy to discuss Wittgenstein,Countdown,Strictly Kosher or Come Dancing.
e}Pretend to be deaf.
f]Tell them to submit to the will of God.
g]Say:Can’t you be quiet,I’m saying the Rosary.
f]Glare silently.
3 Do you always refer to yourself as “One”
e.gI f your partner asks you a question you say
“One might think you couldn’t read.”
“One might believe that,sometimes”
“God has not told any One.”
4} Are you evasive?

 
So if someone says.Where’ve you been,you say,
It’s none of your business,even though you only went to the Newsagent.
Evasion may lead people to think you have something to hide.If you do then use a different defence..
“Oh,I was just taking a few photos in the park.”
“I went to the library but saw nothing that appealed to me.”
I think you get my drift now.If you don’t you may have
Borderline lack of mind disorder [BLMD
.Don’t worry if you can’t read between the lines.Just read on them or around them.

From Riemann to Schrodinger:Cats in Modern Physics and in the Unconscious Mind

In her new book Dr.K. Purselthwaite  takes a long cool  and  ironic look at the influence of cats,and  the cat archetype on the minds of mathematicians and theoretical physicists  in the last 190 years.Lavishly illustrated, with pictures of Riemann’s cat never revealed before.An analysis of the dreams of towering figures such as Paul Dirac,Werner Heisenberg  and  even Ludwig Wittgenstein reveals how Uncertainty  arose from the minds of these tormented geniuses to become a cornerstone  principle of Quantum Theory,The link between cats,witches,hatred of the feminine principle and the development of the nuclear bomb is drawn here in a subtle,delicate yet powerful way.Publication date is uncertain as yet.Preorder available we expect..Price probably unquantifiable  but it will be  in the  spectre’s  range  for books of this genre

“The evil that men do lives after them”

New photos of British Birds by Mike Flemming of Oxfordshire

Visit Mike Flemmings website where he has new images of birds not to mention butterflies and flowers.I enjoyed looking at these last night… a turtle dove and a grebe took my eye [ not together,of course!]

Don’t miss these photos

http://home.btconnect.com/mike.flemming/birds7.htm

You are a notorious and naughty person

Image

You are a notorious and naughty person
You love both cursin’ and 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 plates.
And you guzzle like a goat
Your hair is a mane
Bei mir du shayn
Because I liked how you wrote

Perverse and presigned

A few weeks ago I wrote about my way of writing.I can add to that a few lines.I wrote this in Word online which is part of outlook..Sky drive etc.Then I copied it and  put it into my other blog.When doing that I felt tempted to alter lines 4 and 5 which were

some even texted

so now i write verses which rhyme.

Then some imp got into me to change that into

some even pretexted

so now i’m perverse and pre-signed…

Every time I move some writing I want to change it and play with it. so sometimes it seems like nonsenses.Is that why some poets are thought to be crazy I wonder?

LC3_3831

 

LC3_3462

I used to like writing long poems
I loved to write free without rhymes.
But my readers objected
Some even pre-texted
So now I’m perverse and presigned.

I wonder what it’s like to be a writer
As I sit by the fire on this tomato..
I’d like to understand
where poets keep their hands
Do they grip their mind tighter and tighter

If I go

Image

If I go I won’t tell you.
I’ll just disappear one day.
Like when a cigarette ,which seemed so long,
suddenly has become smaller
and you never noticed it
because you were talking
about the meaning of life
while life was somewhere else
blown away with your smoke
into the sky
and then dispersed
never quite visible again
but still floating on the breeze
hoping to be caught
in a butterfly net
but unable to communicate
except by flying.
If I go it will not be today
but it will be an ordinary day
no one will realise
that it’s that day
that the bird flies
from her nest
to go to a new place
only seeing the deserted nest
he realises,
my bird has flown

Oh,John Joe Brown,you were my man

Oh,John Joe was a jolly man.
He was the one for me.
He had ten fingers on his hands,
And always on my knee,

Oh,John Joe was my husband dear,
He slept upon my bed.
He had ten toes upon his feet,
No man was better bred.

Oh,Dear John Joe did pass away,
Whilst he lay on the grass.
And now ~I have no one aside of me,
How slow the night hours pass.

I love John Joe with all my heart,
I’ll never love a man
The way I loved my dear John Joe.
I don’t believe I can,

I read a twenty dozen books,
And went for therapee.
But all I want is my John Joe
In bed aside of me.

Oh come back John,Oh come back Joe
Don’t you leave me here.
Oh,John Joe I can’t live without
MY husband lying near.
Oh,life’s so simple,life’s so clear,
We all need work and love,
I have my work cut out today
A grieving for my dove
.
Oh,John Joe Brown,you were my man.
I’ll not have any more.
I wish I lay within your arms
Were oft I’ve lain before.

I’ve never lain wi’ noone else
And never will again,
If I can’t have my sweetheart John,
I’ll not have any man.

Oh,come back John,Oh,come back Joe
Don’t lay down in the grass.
I’ll bake thee cake and mutton pies..
So sweet the hours shall pass.

Uncontrollable passion

We have no Observer todayLC3_3921
Oh,dear what a calamity!
But reading it’s like a prayer
So I always do that with alacrity.

I usually read all the letters,
And check on the leaders’ acuity.
I admire the bright crossword setters…
As my mind is a nest for vacuity.

As always I check out the fashion
And advice on my sex life and organs
I am too old for unconrollable passion
Or to have sex before work in the mornings.
..
I suppose we could get laid after dinner…
but the big death is more and more likely.
I remind God we humans are all sinners
In the hope he will let me off lightly.

Well,do you think loving’s a sin now?
Are wars and killings more virtuous?
Or how about beating one’s brow?
Being saintly is even more tortuous.

A wonderful review of J G.Ballard and his novels..

Do read this if you like literature and novels

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http://www.theguardian.com/books/2014/apr/04/jg-ballard-celebration-five-years-writers-books-reissued.

I have not yet read all of his novels but I really liked his works.He had a very hard life in amny ways including bringing up three tiny childre alone and he proves that smoking and drning do not always kill you in middle age!
Blue

The true poise, that of contemplation or imagination, sits right on the border of sleep and dreaming.

Image

 

This is an extract from “Humboldt’s Gift” in a book review on GoodReads Saul Bellow

https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/637022168

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Humboldt’s Gift
by Saul Bellow, Jeffrey Eugenides (Introduction)

Kelly’s review Jun 16,

https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/637022168

“Some think that sloth, one of the capital sins, means ordinary laziness,” I began. “Sticking in the mud. Sleeping at the switch. But sloth has to cover a great deal of despair. Sloth is really a busy condition, hyperactive. This activity drives off the wonderful rest or balance without which there can be no poetry or art or thought — none of the highest human functions. These slothful sinners are not able to acquiesce in their own being, as some philosophers say. They labor because rest terrifies them. The old philosophy distinguished between knowledge achieved by effort (ratio) and knowledge received (intellectus) by the listening soul that can hear the essence of things and comes to understand the marvelous. But this calls for unusual strength of soul. The more so since society claims more and more of your inner self and infects you with its restlessness. It trains you in distraction, colonizes consciousness as fast as consciousness advances. The true poise, that of contemplation or imagination, sits right on the border of sleep and dreaming. Now, Naomi, as I was lying stretched out in America, determined to resist its material interests and hoping for redemption by art, I fell into a deep snooze that lasted for year.

Now it’s not just children being tested,it’s the waters of life.

The season’s too fleeting for greeting…we once had a cat which was squeaking
God saw a shadow on my soul.It was his!
Silence is mean and golden like you
I have the spice of a wife with lice
Bars like Raymond’s are few but well designed for demons like my lover
We can’t even sell our own noses now
Why do they test the waters… or they poisoned or just cold?
My husband’s like a thorn in my backside
Till the clock rhymes,I’ll be tickling your butt with a feather duster.It’s called housework
Times without jumble I have written you knots of words to aid memoire and seduce your eye.
It’s time to call for a prayer for unanimity..passed with no votes
I hate the sound of hooversand dusters
She had hips like an iceberg’s flo
That man stole my heart.I need either him or it..stand and deliver.Be a man

The promised land

=

Joy sings now in summer light;
Yet after day comes deep,black night.
New moon will rise by these gray trees.
Our earth is where I want to be.

I want the day;I want the night.
I want the dark;I want the light.
I want to see and to be seen,
And not to lose myself in dreams.

The sun has set,gray clouds turn black,
The day just gone will not come back.
I’ll rest in thoughtful reverie
Until the reaper’s scythe takes me.

And then I drop and mix with dust,
till worms and beetles sate their lust.
I fall into ten thousand motes,
And dance,in sunlight,music’s notes.

No more striving;no more ambition,
No more fighting;no competition,
Every particle’s the same
Without even its special name.

And, side by side, we all are one,
The lusts of life have been and gone.
We dwell with dirt and grain and sand
At last we’ve reached the Promised Land

True love’s vision

A rose
True love is not a feeling but a path
Discovered by a new perception of our life.
Our vision is less skewed by pain and wrath,
We see in true proportion and true size.
True love desires just vision of the good..
And asks for nothing but the eyes to see.
The violence in our bones and in our blood
Is less and with creation we agree.</p>
<p?But risking the abyss of love brings fear.
Just hope of satisfaction tempts us to progress.
To God or to a loved one we draw near.
And as we walk we find anxieties grow less .
Yet human life is always full of doubt.
Acceptance is a way to make this naught

Continue reading “True love’s vision” →

Stan and Mary go shopping

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Stan and Mary went in town
To buy Stan a new dressing gown.
But he wanted a woollen one
In march that is not on.

The shops are full of summer clothes
But Stan’s not warm enough for those.
Mary likes to look around
But see how old Stan frowns.

So Mary says,I’ll go online
I’m sure I’ll find some fully lined
Made of wool and acrylic…
Them you can make your pick.

Thank you,Mary,you are kind
despite that brilliant,anxious mind.
I am the best dressed man intown
And soon I’ll have my gown.

Would you like cafe au lait?
I have my pension,I shall pay.
Very nice,dear Mary said…
I’d like a piece of bread.

Won’t you have a slice of cake?
I know it’s not quite what I make.
No,just plain bread,sweet Mary said
She then turned very red.

Mary,you look very hot
Is it healthy in this spot.
The central heating is too high…
She gave a weary sigh.

They drank their coffee and made jokes
About old folk who never spoke…
They bought some fresh fish for Emile..
They alway shop with zeal.
..
When they got home.Stan dialled Dave
Who told him he was very brave
and not to stand near a bus door…
Or he’d fall on the floor.
.
Oh,how i’d like to lie down there
With my mistress Annie fair.
but Mary is at home today
So i’ll just have to pray.

If you’re in pain and can’t have sex,
They say that prayer is second best
Morphine is so hard to get…
and it makes me feel sick.

So tomorrow Mary works
Stan and Annie have their perks
Dave calls round to bath the cat…
How obscene is that?

If you would like your cat washed
Or if your shopping has got squashed
Just dial 99999
The service is divine.

How I get ideas and how I write

 

Birth

Since several people have asked me,I thought I’d write a little on this.Before I began writing I kept o notebook writing about things which I saw,heard etc which had affected me emotionally… like seeing a neghbour who’d been deserted and looking very low walked past with two very fierce dogs on a lead…I still make notes or mull over experiences.
But often I have no idea until i start.Sometimes if I am stuck I write limericks.The writing act itself brings up latent ideas relating to issues which I care about,what life is,people who have affected me.If I can’t understand someone’s behaviour i might write around a topic but often it takes me elsewhere.
If I write a sonnet it seems to take me elsewhere than if I write free verse… it has a framework which gives less choice about where to go.
After writing,I do reading.I pick up ideas from what others have done or even games like playing with cliches.although these may be rubbish often some ideas are thrown up, a phrase, a sentence,which I can use.
The main thing is I don’t plan ahead very much.. as in the stories exceot when I got stuck with Satan in Sheringham!I began writing those stories to show the silly reasons why some of us send for the emergency services.. but then they got their own life and continued int other themes.
Sometimes I have been going to write how I will do something bad because I am hurt,but my mind won’t let me and I see that after being hurt “living well is the best revenge”.
Recall WW1 began because Austria wanted revenge on Serbia and ended up destroying itself.”Do good to those that hurt you”
So maybe my early religious training and life experiences of suffering have goven me ideas I’m not fully aware of till I start writing
Read a lot and increase your vocabaulary… listen to people talking…keep a diary of surprising or lovely things that happen.. the bad things you will remember for we are made to react more strongly to negative events by our animal inheritance
so I read… it’s why anxiety is so common, it’s protective… but don’t forget the happy and good things and the flowers blooming,,,
Someone said to me he gets up late as there is nothing to do…
well, in that case,go for a walk,write a limerick or play with the cat… or slowly and patiently tidy up some junk,visit an old person who can’t get out and tell them some interesting tales of how you fell off the bus or how a man tried to pick you up in a coffee shop even though your hair needed washing and you were wearing old clothes!
Activity itself brings purpose.. start and follow your nose..
Well, if you hate my writing just do the opposite of all these things I have told you about….try to do it your own way.

“Sexual orgasm relieves pain about the same amount as a dose of morphine”How do they measure it?

Night scribbles
Sex as good as morphine… but not so good in hospital here in the UK!!

I read that in a book about pain relief… but if you are in severe pain do you feel able to have sex?And even if you do,who are you meant to have it with?Is it prescription

This entitles the bearer to ten orgasms a week signed The doctor.

The book did not say if morphine is as good as sex, but I once had some mixture called chalk and opium for gut trouble and it certainly changed the world for a while.It’s illegal now of course unlike sex… is there a message

A mini collection of writing

  • Genudirection

ImageGenuflection

 

  • I do not indulge in genuflection

  • As my knees are so far away I can’t detect ’em.

  • But bend yours if you desire

  • To show courtesy to the Higher…

  • The God does not come around to inspect ’em.

  • Tables and chairs have legs

  • They are stiff and held in with pegs.

  • Perhaps I am a chair?

  • Who will sit here?

  • Don’t crush me down I beg.

  • However chairs do not have any minds

  • As far as scientists can find.

  • And they do not have eyes

  • So they cannot be spies…

  • Yet we know chairs do have their behinds

 

 

  • Word origins

  • The origin of the word knee

  • Latin genu as in genuflect.. bend the knee before God usually but also as people curtsey when meeting a Monarch.  

  • Flex means to bend…deflect must mean bend away

Fire Tests

  • ignis aurum probat

  • I married an acrobat.

  • He jumped through a flame

  • Calling my name…

  • with a gold ring inside of his hat.

  • ignis aurum probat

  • Who is your advocate?

  • Send him some gold.

  • Fire burns out the mold!

  • I know because God told my cat.

  • Ignis Aurum Probat

  • Is a wonderful name for A Lat.

  • But Mrs Probat

  • I do not like that!

So I’m going for golden,howzat?

 

  • Et tu, Brute?

  • I now have a Romanian friend

  • He was on the bus at the back end

  • Cum va numiti?

  • Just call me Kitty.

  • Et art tu,Brute?I punned.

 

  • Sing early

  • Encantado de conocerle.

  • My bird is usually early.

  • So hasta la vista,

  • I think I have kissed her.

  • I get up at dawn but rarely!

  • I’ve had nothing to eat all today

  • I sought to sell my soul on E bay

  • Oh,no hay de que,

  • I leaving anyway.

  • Buenos tardes,we all need to pray.

  • My friend met a fan on a boat.

  • Alas,it wasn’t far from the port

  • So, hasta la vista,…

  • The faster he kissed her

  • The more she sang out,please emote.

  • You old goat

  • Kiss my throat

  • Like your coat

  • Sow an oat.

  • Die Zauberflote.

  • Pissed as a mote.

  • Encantado de conocerle….. pleased [enchanted?] to meet [know?] you.

  • Spanish is very like Latin,more so than Italian.Romanian is also like Latin but fret not,I don’t intend to write in it as yet

 

  • Mirror Faces

  • Shadows, on the whole, are an error

  • which predestine the soul to feel terror

  • So if by a mystery

  • Folk sniff your history

  • Avoid all light precast by a mirror.

  • Mirrors can throw out strange beams

  • which can only be deconstrued in your dreams.

  • Allow yourself time

  • To sleep and to rhyme,,,,,

  • Reflections and love are one theme

  • Rocking chairs give an illusion

  • Of resting on grandmother’s bosom

  • How warm and how kind

  • Is the light of her mind

  • I sometimes need such care and soothing.

 

Rereading favorite books

Penelope-Fitzgerald-A-Lifephoto1230_001

 

Sometimes we want to read the new novels from the Review in our weekend paper but for a few years I have taken great pleasure in reading books which I have already read once or even twice. I reread some of Nicholas Freeling’s novels this winter.I noticed some  parts which I had not absorbed before. These were especially with the landscapes he creates.In fact he has a very painterly way of writing .A watercolorist’s way,perhaps.In that he reminds me,oddly, of Virginia Woolff.

He was a writer who changed the nature of the detective story.I read him for his depictions of relationships, people,different countries. My favorites are the Castang series which were never filmed… a great pity but who could play this man realistically? I suppose I have similar values to Freeling which always helps. He clearly loves women which is rare, in my view

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