They tell me that trees are a wonderful sight
They have leaves hanging on them all day and all night.
They tell me the golden sun shines in the sky
It’s said to be so much brighter so high.
I’d like to hear birdsong and thunder and hail.
At all these pursuits worms are likely to fail.
We only make holes in the soil as we move
And we know almost nothing about feelings and love.
We don’t know why we’re here or what purpose we serve
And our earthen workplace is also our grave.
.
It appears the world is a verb not a noun.
I’ve had my suspicions of course,
I know that’s how I see,
Not yet having achieved object constancy
I see afresh,which is alarming until one adapts.
I see the way you see on Heroin,
But for me,it’s free.
I never knew if mother was the same person today,
Or some new other mother.
She did have the same hands
But her eyes altered.
I gave them all the same name,
Like a folder on the computer.
Let’s see how many mothers I created!
In the end I had to go to school
To get some kind of safety net.
We had alternative explanations there
Like we were saved from sin.
But who can save us from multiple mothers?
I never let on,though I felt stressed sometimes
By all the changes.
Couldn’t things be more fixed?
Dreams end,but life goes on
Being a verb it has to act, you see.
If it were a noun it would be enclosed
By many parameters,grids like stunning geometric orgasms,
Quite beautiful to look at it but never felt.
Feeling is the art of life.
Art is the life of the feelings.
What are the feelings of the feelings?
Who understands the heart of Art?
I love you like I’d love a black walnut.
You’re so rare I can’t eat you.
I’ll put you in my pocket
and take you with me
when I go in town
I’ll feel your crinkles and your wrinkles,
But nobody will know.
I love you like I’d love a comice pear.
I’ll put you in a golden bowl.
I’ll let the sun shine on you,
Till you are ripe.
I’ll put you in my bag,
Take you to a meadow of buttercups
And devour you.
And nobody will know.
I love you like I’d love a flower.
I’ll give you my best vase.
I’ll stand it in the window.
Then I’ll look at you all day
With my peripheral and my central vision,
Till your pattern is embedded in my brain.
I’ll sleep well and dream of you all night.
I’ll wake up and remember it all.
And nobody will know.
Maybe you didn’t know
When you teased me so.
Maybe you never knew
What your words would do.
I float across that space
And thus ypu bring torment
To me to whom love you sent.
When I close my eyes
My daytime face then dies.
I look across dark seas
My dreams are full of loss.
Is night or day the worse?
When you return next here
I gaze upon your face,
Forbidden 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 through the 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.
Love can’t be denied
I find it hard to be loving at breakfast time
Listening to the horrible News
And it’s hard to be loving at Churchtime
Kneeling in those hard wooden pews.
The Bible ‘s supposed to be holy.
And it’s certainly holier than me;
For I love you so in the afternoon
When we have our Sunday tea.
I don’t like to listen to preaching
Avout how wicked I am
I just can’t wait till the afternoon
To sample your blackcurrant jam!
I know I have been a difficult person
With all my variable moods
Why not pack up a tea hamper
So we can caress in the woods?
I love you all the time ,darling,
But work takes a toll on my mind
But when you show me your cream filled sponge
My troubles are soon left behind.
I love you on a weekday
I love you dreaming at night.
But I love you the most on a Sunday—–
Your teas are a wonderful sight!
When I was stuck in the hospital
Waiting for doctor or nurse.
I dwelt in my mind on your Sunday teas
I could have been a lot worse.
Now my illness is over
Normal life reappears
Let’s have a special treat today……..
Let’s pretend Sunday is here.
Standing together,
We lean forward touching foreheads lightly
Eyes closed for a moment
Tenderly we respect
The other’s boundaries.
Yet I feel your heart beating too,
As it it were me.
We lean for a few more moments like this.
Wordless.
Holding the broken places,with love.
Then we turn and walk away
Such moments last forever
In the eternity that Love creates
Foreheads touching,
Skin to skin..
Boundaries of the inner and the outer
You are another;
A real human person
Wanting nothing;wanting everything
I shall remember your smile.
You were with me once
And now we go our ways
Our own difficult journeys.
One meeting of souls
Creates its own symbol
May you be blessed
May the fire not burn you
Nor the water drown you
May the Lord keep you always near him.
May He protect your spirit.
May he give you strength always.
Dear Stan
I hope I you don’t mind me telling you I had some problems with your last few letters.
Your spelling is now so absolutely ferocious I almost passed out in Church [The sermon was too boring so I opened your latest missile]
You seem to have forgotten all the wiles of grammar we once learned at school..Maybe you should write more letters to keep you au fate with English as she is poked about today.
And don’t you have anything interesting to tell me about.Surely something indecent must happen over and over again in your town.Why not pass it on to me.I would be delighted to be read all about that sort of thing… old age is so dull.
You never say how Mary is.Is she still riding that old bicycle from University days.I can’t imagine why you don’t get her a new one instead.Can she not drive?I think it’s unseemly to let your wife ride a second hand bicycle.The neighbors may despise you,imagining you are from the underclass and therefore ripe for abuse by all and thundery.Nowadays being poor is dangerous.
Why even your car is 19 years old.Have you never been tempted to keep up with the Jones’s, whoever they may be nowadays.A new car and a loft conversion would only be about 60 thousand pounds and your self esteem would rise like a butterfly in a thunderstorm.I say this only to help you
I have noticed you are getting thinner and Mary is getting much fatter.I do hope God has not worked a miracle and made her big with child at her age,though we could certainly do with a New Messiah.
On second thoughts,it would save a great deal of suffering if she were to get an abortion immediately… it’s less painful than Crucifixion…. you catch my drift, and giving birth at her age would be dangerous.Not to mention you gave up carpentry long ago.And pensions are low.
I hope I haven’t offended you but at 109 I doubt if you are still potent… it’s only natural we lose a little with each passing year especially when you have both a wife and a mistress as you did for many a merry year.You must have worn yourself out with pleasure.
Well,I just wanted to tell you about your dreadful spelling.Think about getting an online Dictionary.We all regret things as we age.Don’t be shy.You can tell me anything and regret it with whoever later on
Well,that’s all my news this week.I hope you get some good weather soon.
With love and warmest wishes from us both,
Joshua and Maggie.
PS.It’s terribly hot down here in Hell!
Although Stan was 82 he still rode his bike in the summer time.He was out in the garden pumping up the tires prior to going off to the Library.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.Where’s Mary?” she pointedly whispered.”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 “I’m afraid I can’t stop.I have all these books overdue and the library shuts in 15 minutes.”Don’t worry,sweet heart”, she cried contemptuously.”I’ll pay all your fines.I’ve just come into loads of money.”
“Oh,how’s that.my angel” Stan murmured. “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 the temple.
Stan fell to the ground.”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 Saragossa Sea?” The paramedic whispered into her right ear.
“Have you still not finished that Creative Writing Course?” Annie shouted.””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?””That’s a bit boring” Annie retorted.”Yeah,maybe i should change to Art,” he ruefully moaned.”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 furtively 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 alas was more transparent than she realised, he picked up a hammer and began,excitedly,to mend the broken chair.”This is what life is all about,my boy” he though
Sympathy is sometimes good,
Especially if you are not made of wood.
Empathy can be superior
If to metal,your brain’s nearer.
Do you want to be fulfilled?
Don’t get ground by coffee mills.
Would you like to be superior?
Do not venture to your interior.
Journeys often end in struggle.
As they make the mind more muddled.
Archaic words can be a joy,
But sometimes archaisms annoy.
Do you like tea from Ceylon?
Alas my own supply’s all gone.
Do you want to study grief?
Take your lessons from a leaf.
After short weeks on a tree
To be cast off is destiny.
Into earth the leaves return
To become food for journeying worms.
So it will be for us all,
Regarding not your status tall
When Lyra was a tiny child
Her Mother was not happy
The lute is not so cute.
Lyra began to dream of lutes
The way small children do.
She dreamed Mozart wrote a piece
He called “The Magic Lute.”
She was very disappointed
When she woke up in her bed.
What she’d like to do instead.
She hummed and sang from morn till night
And one day realised
That singing was her genius.
Her voice was Lyra’s guide.
Now Lyra ‘s in “The Magic Flute“
Opera is her thing.
She is a high soprano now.
Stan had decided to do a some of baking.
The larder was empty
the cupboard was bare
he looked in the cake tin
but nothing was there
Sorry about that!
Stan had flour,eggs and sugar and of course milk and butter.Emile was under the table waiting for something to drip out of the bowl!He loved baking days.
Stan had bought a load of blackberries in the market so he was thinkin ofblackberry tarts,blackberry crumble..
He picked up the bag which seemed very heavy.Putting his hand in …..he pulled out a Blackberry!
He went to the market
to buy me some fruit
and now he’s got Blackberries
he’s going to shoot!
Annie his next door neighbour was coming to the back door.”What’s up ,Petal?”
“Oh,dear.I seem to have made a category error.”Stan answered philosophically.”Well what category would you put me into?” she asked petulantly.
“Why are you so egocentric ?Not everything is about you!”He said fluently.
“Well if I’m narcissistic it’s because my infant grandiosity was ruptured too suddenly and I was not held and contained in a suitable manner.”
“You’ve been reading that Wilfred Bion again.” Stan said admiringly.”No,not just him.It’s some American chap as well .Would you like to read it?”
“No,thanks,I’m finding Julia Segal is more than enough for me.I find Bion is a bit too mystical.I don’t think I can approach you without memory or desire.To be honest,without memory or desire I wouldn’t want to approach you.”
“Wow ” she said stupidly,her large green eyes staring avidly upon him inviting him to fall into their salty sea like depths.
“Shall I ring 999?I can’t think of anything to say.I’m lost for words.”
“Perhaps you have reached that mystical spot beneath language mostly only known to babies,the mad, or meditators?”
“well,I do feel a bit of madness today.”
“Is that why you have purple and orange eyeshadow on clahing with your alarazin crimson lipstick and your light beige, but not too light, foundation by Lancome of Brixton and Blackheath,Paris,Rome,and London?”
“I suppose so.” she replied indifferently.I feel as if I’m behind a glass wall.”
“Oh,don’t worry.That’s the new window!” Stan explained courteously.”You really are behind a glass wall.”
“You’ve been reading schizoid processes again on Yahoo,”
“Yes,” she admitted her face blushing violently.”It’s those new people who’ve moved in across the road.They are both psychoanalysts so I wanted to feel up to their level of knowledge.”
“I didn’t know they were psychoanalysts.How did you find out?”
“Well,first of all,there were two large sofas, and then hundreds of knitting needles and a lorryful of wool.And I thought,”Hello,hello,It must be one of Anna Freud‘s followers.”
“So have you met them?” he asked laconically?
“Yes”,she confessed animatedly .I went over and said,
“Sprechen Sie Deutsch?”
“And what did he say?”
“Are you all mad round here?”
“So I thought,”You’re not getting hold of me that easily.””
“So I said “I’m sorry to disappoint you but I’m am an admirer of Melanie Klein,”
“Oh,how did they react to that?”Stan quizzzed her jovially.
“He was so rude.He said,”Are you telling me you’re a lesbian as well as a lunatic?”
“Oh,dear.No wonder your make up is all running off your face and disappearing down your cleavage.Why don’t you pop upstairs and have a bath?”
“Well it’s either that or ringing 999“
“My self is totally divided.”
“Into equal parts?” “I can’t say” she murmured.”Oh,well” said Stan “you sit there with Emile and I shall make a Victoria sponge and a lemon drizzle cake without the lemon…I’ve only got bananas and they don’t drizzle.
“Why not adapt to reality and make a banana loaf?”
“Is that wise?” Stan enquired.”Wise or not,it seems to make sense.” she whispered coyly.”Get a move on or Mary will be back on her Raleigh shopper bicycle and there’ll be no cake for tea.”Thank you,honey.”Stan replied.
“I am filled with memory and desire.””And quite right too,”mioawed Emile from his basket.”I’m like that every night!””And so are all of us,”Annie twittered on one of Stan’s blackberries
Kathrynsince i lost you i have lost
the keys to my heart
the front door key
my mobile
and my money
now all i have is a large tube of ibuprofen gel max strength
and some feathers from the tail of a baby wood pigeon
that flew into our house when i left the back door open
maybe i need better boundaries
closed doors
and windows
the wood pigeon was so strong its agitation rocked the front door like a thundergod
like you,it did not realise
there are easier ways to leave
than smashing through glass
leaving shards to pierce my heart
not to mention my feet
become a better leaver
have mercy on those other lovers
for charm wears thin but courtesy is everlasting
like love itself
I see a light fuzz of hair on your head
like the softness of just opening leaf buds in spring.
The chemo is over,and you wait relieved and letting that
take you for a while before you start to face the next stage.
Will your Spring turn to a warm enchanting Summer
or has the cancer,as they say “spread.”
Just for now,you’re in that lull
so in three weeks time you will not be
arriving for another session of drugs
and days of sickness.
I see the light fuzz which reminds me
of how the cat’s fur grew back after her surgery
and she,being unable to reflect or question,
leaped from the fence top onto next door’s kitchen roof;
no thought in her mind of stitches breaking.
How beautifully the patterned fur returned
and the vulnerable skin was covered again.
Oh,to look into those eyes and see you dream
about mice that live behind the shed
and how you sat watching for hours
and how you were alive till the very last moment.
Then , all of a sudden,you were gone.
Pray it will not be so for ,the fragile,loving human
now waiting and living,hoping for what you took for granted…
a “normal” life span Or maybe just three quarters of one
would be satisfactory;would be a beneficence
such as trees feel when the sap turns and begins to flow back.
bringing life out of the darkness of earth and soil.
And another Summer comes at the right time
and we find it,shall we say,satisfactory?
When he went away,
He went away
Away.
I didn’t know where
he had gone
where had he gone?
The call came.:
call came….
Man,white,good health
Has died.
Has died alone
Died alone in an hotel room.
So a stranger would find him.
Man alone;
man alone in hotel room.
there was a man
alone
in his hotel room.
Not wanting to be any trouble.
trouble,no trouble alone
in his hotel room
not his room,you see.
not a shared room…
An hotel room.
Tall man with light brown hair
alone in a small hotel room
with no TV.
We had no smartphones
Smart
Phones
No,don’t tell , not me ,not yet.
He was all alone.
He was behind glass
glass walls
windows
a window of glass.
I could never touch him.
I could not touch him.
not touch,no,never,
Man alone.
Solitary man.
Tall man with brown hair.
Beds for love
Beds for leaving.
Don’t you die alone
in that hotel room.
Don’t go
You wanted to be alone,
afraid to feel.
Thin skinned and pale like a torn petal from a wild plant.
You were alone again
And you left me all alone;
alone without you.
Now I’m alone
in my hotel room.
my room.
Someone knocks.
I’m dreaming of you
wishing you were near me.
dreaming,wishing,
lonely for you.
He was all alone,they said.
In an hotel room.
His doom
In a lonely bedroom.
Don’t leave me yet.
Yet you were never here
behind your window
I see you
but can’t touch you.
Can’t touch you.
Can’t touch.
Touch me.
Touch me again.
Love me…
You were all alone
alone.
Why did I not break the glass?
Break the glass?
Why,why?
All alone
An hotel room
Not a day for going out for tea
Nor chatting with some vigor on the phone.
Rain falls, variegated as green sea;
And dark earth takes it with a sighing moan.
Not a word from him whom I did love
Nor picture,image photograph or mail.
No cooing from a kindly turtle dove;
Just pain that feels some kinship with a nail.
Not thinking now nor feeling in my heart;
Not hoping,longing,wishing for his touch.
His last words hit me like a poisoned dart.
Now always I must keep far from his clutch.
Not tea nor even coffee did he brew
That has taught me more than I once knew
ANXIETY – Opinionator – NYTimes.com.
Oh,I see the wolf listening..he’s so gentle or is he mental?
Oh,Ah,kerbumplof.
Shrieks,calling for mate
Bang my soul up
In your bedroom
Ker pluf
Thor.War
Storms of lightning
Hail you
AAAAAAhhhhhhhhh
Me,oh,me oh,me stuck here in my groove
Give me electric shocks;the silent treatment.Sulk for me, please,Argentina.
Screech,scream,I felt you watching.
Touch me with a feather
Dust me!
Glug!
I see the wasps round your coat
They hug you and nip your neck
Bong!
Don’t cocme near me again
wolves are not
Well come!
I sigh for mein mutter
she’s a nutter,
utter
Sob
Scream
nightmare
Thud!
You hate me!
Never call again when you’re already here
You are not welcome.
I close my door
on your foot boot
Oh,yes.
Thunder and lightening
Go home now
This is a poem as likely
ill conceived
Eagle flies while I am
Falling down a mountain…
Scree burning.
I never want to see you again,babe.My duck.
Please be a love and leave me.Cheers
That’s ok.I understand you.
Asp,gasp
Per bot fly!
No thud
No dach
sunds whimper.
It’s time for my tea and biscuit
I cooked it twice
but you were
ab ab a aaab aa absent aahaa
sent!
No.No.no
I can’t believe you!
Cut this string and let it all hang out again
Oh,bloggers.Go to bed
Now
How
Mein eschreitschzung.Flightschzung.Nachtschzung
blung.blung
blot me out
I’m an ink stain.
I like your fingers, so clean and curving
I’ll mark you and give you homework
Och,aye
It’s well come
Crooning mouse traps
See Rockefeller
drop out and
Bring a bag of sylvia plath’s
scrap paper.
did she know?
Did she k now?
Did she sweat
Bang?
Thud.My sky fell in onto the millpond
Don’t smoke near me
I’ll get burned
For I hate you
Or just want your hat and an E for
flatness
Droom,droom
Dee
Bag
bug
Ted went to bed
where he spent his honeymoon
with another woman
Not with the second one
Mathilda
It’s finished us all off
Brang.Blong
Eschreitchzung
Fleightschztung
Herr Meightschrung!
I like to write imaginary conversations with myself.Alas my unconscious mind is very vulgar,That’s why I write naughty poems and stories.Why not try a chat with yourself?I find it fascinating…Maybe you are very moral.Then again,you never know till you try.And it’s free entertainment
She said she never knew what syntax was until she met me.
Well,you do look worn out by your sins.
How do you know they were sins?
Well,you went to Confession twice a week all your life
That was my scruples.Sometimes I went twice a day…
It sounds like having an upset stomach.
In my case it was an upset soul.The soul emptied out and hung out on the Maginot line
Eventually I realized virtue is not attainable by Will Power alone
How is it attained… won’t power?
I knew you’d say that!
That!
Anyway to get back to syntax,it’s about structure.
Like council tax?
Words fail me
That’s good.I meant tax on a building
You seem very rude today
It’s not just today,I’m like this all the time.
I never noticed before
You only met me tonight
That’s almost true..now syntax is a very important topic.
Are we on a date or are you giving grammar lessons free?
No,I have Wasperger’s Syndrome.It’s as if I have Asperger’s but I sting too.
When do you sting
When people say sharp things to me.
Go on,you’re just needling me..
Truly I think you’ll love syntax and spelling rude words.
Well,we’ve had santax for years.Women pay VAT of 20 per cent on Tampax
It’s enough to make me throw up
No,throw out!Throw out the Coalition Government
Do you think Labour will remove Santax?
I don’t know but at least you’ll learn how to do percentages with them
I will?
Thank you so much.I am delighted to hear that.We are engaged.Here is a ring.
That’s beautiful.Was it your mother’s?
It still is my mother’s.
How can I wear it when she might see it?
I’ll tell her I liked hers so much I got one the same.She’s got poor vision so don’t worry.After the Wedding I’ll give it back
How mean.
I never knew you liked statistics.What about deviance?
Well,some I like,some I don’t… you catch my drift?
Well,babe,I’ll explain everything when we lie together.
That makes us sound like the government.
How come?
They all lie together.
Do they really.That explains a lot.Do they come together often?
I guess they have a rota.
You can’t come by will power.
That’s good.I want to come in a a horse and carriage.
It might frighten the horses.
I mean to our Wedding ceremony
Do you want four horses?
I am not that heavy!
No,I want you to have it all.
Suppose it’s not enough.
We’ll have to play it by ear..
Is that the organ?
Well,it’s a kind of organ.
A harmonium?
Maybe..I’ll ask the priest.
Does he play?
No,he just hears confessions and says Mass.
It’s a pity confession secret.He could write a long novel.
I daresay some have…. with pseudonyms.
I use a wordprocessor… should I get a pseudonym too?
You are crazy but I love you with all my heart.
And is it big?
Big enough for two.
Thank you,God.
I
© 2013 kathryn
The Earth keeps googling all of us
To see just where we are.
I am feeling rather angst ridden but,
Nevertheless, I care.
The earth is sweet ,the earth is round
It might be a ginger biscuit,
I think I’ll have to gnaw on it.
The earth has many seas on it,
Shall we drink them dry?
You can if you want to do,
I ‘ll just sit and cry.
The earth has googled Nicky Clegg
And found him in Westminster.
She wants to move him up the road,
To somewhere much more sinister.
She googled Osborne wallpapers,
For to decorate the sky.
But her credit card was out of date,
So she’s not allowed to buy.
George Osborne is a merry soul
They gave him all our money
And on Budget morning we’ll find out,
If the outlooks’s sunny.
And David Cameron looks down
To see what we will do.
I think that I might emigrate
And so should all of you.
You want to google Mrs.Earth
We are much too inquisitive,
And now we are all in view.
The earth is square and made from silk
,t hangs upon my wall.
Don’t let David Cameron know.
I think I’ll find a rabbit hole
Alice went down one of them
Look how the rabbits scurry.
Those rabbits know more then we do,
Like all of earth’s dear friends,
Don’t google rabbits please I beg
That would be the end.
No privacy for animals,
No privacy for people
Let’s send google far away,
And climb up the church steeple.
Let bells all ring,let angels sing
And ponder on earth‘s wonders.
We don’t need google earth for that
God voluntarily turned himself in at one the governments vans asking illegal immigrants if they want to go home.Lawyers are assessing the cost of shooting God up to heaven from the top of Snowdon or Great Gable.
God declined to say how he arrived in Britain though his shawl gave us a clue .
She signed in for benefits as Jessy Christ and said she had two husbands.At the time she was labelled as border line schizophrenic but the Father and the Spirit were found in her council house. feeding some beggars.To have a council house in Walthamstow is a miracle in itself these days
God will be getting a reduction in her housing benefit
He can sleep in one bedroom if the bed is large enough [Infinitely]In f,act,does God ever sleep?If not he can be moved to a single room.
Why God came here is not known as yet.
However he has been a great burden on the Economy as he has so many gainfully.
His English is ok grammatically but we were told he has a “foreign accent and so many children that the Social Services can’t count them all”
He/She had no papers or identity cards.
God has asked that all the Medieval Cathedrals in the UK be returned to the Catholic Church as his son does not like Anne Boleyn very much.Nor any of the Royals.
We’ll let you know more about the drain on the Economy and whether God caused the Recession in the next day or two.
I have written many stories about Stan.Time goes backwards and forwards.Ages fluctuate.But the main characters always come in somewhere.”Double entendre” and exaggeration are some of the humor tools which I use.I chose the name “Stan” for the main character as a tribute to our English novelist,Stanley Middleton
Sometimes I give a little instruction about e.g. when to call out the Emergency Services and when not to such as when the cat scratches you or you break a chair leg.You’d be astounded to know what trivial reasons cause people to phone Emergency….. then again,perhaps you are one of the culprits!
I take my photos mainly with a mobile phone,sometimes with a Fuji camera.I use Artweaver Free3.1 software,Paint.net and Microsoft Paint.Also Google Pixir.These are all free software available on the Internet.Why not try?I find it fascinating.A crack in the pavement or a gnat bite on your leg can make a great image!
While Mary boiled the kettle in the new greenish blue painted kitchen,Stan smacked his thick red lips.
“I thought we said, we’d have no more corporal punishment,” she murmured loudly.
“Why did you smack your lips just now?”
“Well,I can hardly smack yours” he said politely
“But we said no more smacking at all yesterday”
“I just like the noise” he confessed, turning as red as a stalk of ripe rhubarb.
“Sado-masochism may be fun, but after reading,Fifty Glades of Fray,I thought we said we’d abandon it”
“Well,why don’t we abandon ourselves to our bodies or divine providence?” he answered curiously.
“I am unsure if one can do that on purpose or if it just happens whilst doing something else.”
“Elser than what?”
“I dunno” the Oxgrudge educated woman replied sheepishly .
“The Government didn’t give you a three year research grant so you’d say,I dunno” Stan told his slender and silver haired wife and lover.
“Well,that’s their problem.Three years studying Searat’s equation did nothing for my spoken English” the brilliantly brained brown haired and eyed lady told him shrewdly.
“Well,are there rats in the sea?
“I dunno”
“So who wrote the equation?” Stan asked her.Immediately in a peevish tone
The door bell rang.
“Hello,Mary,It’s me” cried Annie their naughty neighbor and man magnet
“No,it’s not”
“What do you mean?”
“You never invented Searat’s equation”
“Pardon me for living,”Annie answered rudely.”I prefer peeling potatoes to this noist argument.”
“I never knew potatoes pealed”
“Yes,it’s like little bells ringing” Mary informed her kindly
!Oh,for God’s sake,”Stan shouted quietly,”that’s Emile’s bell ringing so the birds can escape from him”
The women went red all over with shame.Annie ran into the kitchen and poured a bucket of cold water over her head.
It’s this hot weather;it’s too much.I need a man now!I am mad with desire.
No,it’s just that mid life madness coming too late,she told herself gently
It’s too hot to make love anyway.
Why you must be getting old,she remarked to herself confidently
Heat never turned you off before.Why you once said you’s lie down in the road and sleep with the next man who passed by.
Unfortunately he passed by on the other side,just like in the Bible.
But in my case no Samaritan came to my aid.
“Am I having a mental breakdown/” she shouted pensively
“No,it’s me” Stan told her,I am trying to stop Mary smacking her lips but it is hard work. and it has create a bad atmosphere.”
“Is it wrong to smack your own lips?Can you morally smack someone else’s?” Annie said wonderingly
“Why do you ask me that?”
“Well,it seems lots of things are wrong if one does them alone but are moral if you do it with someone else or to someone one else”
“I just have no idea what you are talking about,”Mary called valiantly.
“Make me some tea.My lips are parched!”she continued
“No wonder,”said Stan vivaciously
Well,thought Emile,I am glad cats have no lips.That’s one thing less to worry about.He sat up and drank some tea from his china saucer
Stan and the ladies sat quietly on the patio watching the birds flying about.
“Do birds ever get obese?”Mary asked.But answer came there none.
Night fell and they all went to bed together,Emile says there is safety in numbers and I find thirty is a safe number to share my bed.I write30t on a postcard and pop it under my pillow.With my dentures and my hanky and four mobile phones
Sou
I can’t love you without loving the whole world too.
I can’t open my heart unless everyone can be part.
Wait for me.
I’m not afraid.
Wait for me.
I may be delayed.
I see you in my mind
Smiling, sad and kind.
I can’t love you
Unless I love the lost too.
Give me your hands
Outstretched across the world.
We’re all one
Love has begun
Trust the unknown”.
All shall be well,and all manner of things shall be well”
St Julian of Norwich
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.
Opposition 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.
Stan was down on his hands and knees washing and scrubbing at the carpet with a new microfibre cloth and some shampoo for dry hair.He had a bucket of hot water beside him.Happy, as always, when cleaning and scrubbing he whistled “The lark ascending” for his cat Emile, whilst sipping at a big mug of lager.
Mary was down in the town buying some new earrings to match her red dress from Phase 8 Sale.Their granddaughter Flora had also gone to town but she wanted a nose ring not an earring.As she was a girl it was mandatory in the UK.Suddenly,quite out of the blue,the doorbell rang.They always do don’t they.It was their Muslim neighbour Bert.”We’re going away in the caravan.”He boasted gruffly.”Anyroad,the cat ,Nelsonia Mandelinaah, doesn’t want to come.Would you be able enough to feed her over the weekend without any politically correct remarks being issued ,as it were?”
” Certainly” Stan responded jovially.”When are you off?”
“Well we went last week but we need a weekend in bed to recover from seeing Brent Cross Shopping Centre in Kettlewell right next to the old Post Office.[Kettlewell,Yorkshire’s idyllic village]
“Very strange”Stan said,”Mary was in it only yesterday ,she claims,in Knittingham spending all our minute joint pension on new dresses and shoes.”
“I encounter women who have seen Brent Cross down the road all the time all over Britain.Still they’re entitled to believe what they want!” “But what will the consequences be?”Is there a flying Brent Cross?”
“That sounds rather religious,” Bert answered quickly
,”Is it an augury?”
“I’d say it’s an omen,myself”
“But of what?”
“The times we live in?
“But what’s going to happen?” “God knows.” “Well,does he though?”Stan’s hot water had gone cold.In fact it was frozen.”The laws of physics seem very mutable” Stan wrote in his journal,”Also my spelling has deteriorated badly ssince I began drinking laaaaaaaaaaaager.Would whiskey be better?”Meanwhile,he had cleaned only one third of the carpet.
He filled the bath with hot soapy water,stepped in fully clothed and then rolled himself around all over the carpet to pick up all the fluff.
When Mary came in she was amazed,”What’s going on?”
“You look as if you’ve been having an orgy on the floor!”
An orgy was something unknown to Stan as yet.”Would you like one?” he murmured.”Yes,”said Mary childishly “Age has not beaten me yet!””Better have it soon before my knees get too bad!”So now Stan is cleaning the carpet again.It’s very soft and thick,just perfect!The list of invitees is posted on his blog.
Well,he’s been told to do something new every week.An orgy this week,the marathon later!
But why is Mary ringing 999?
Does she want to invite Dave,the paramedic or is it more sinister than I can tell you? “Yes,indeed,she wants to invite Alistair Campbell and Tony Blair but she’s not telling Stan!.He’ll be furious.In fact he might kill someone but no,even these people have the right to life.And they did some good in Northern Ireland.But would you want them at an orgy?””Me neither!”
I once fell in love with a book.
I was unable to eat or to cook.
It’s cover was blue,
That’s my favourite hue too.
I kept giving it meaningful looks
I bought it and carried it home.
I wrapped in white plastic foam.
Alas it expired,
After I had retired.
So I buried it in a bucket of loam.
I never even read my blue book.
What a pity I didn’t take a look.
The attempt to preserve
The love object served
To make me a real neurotic freak
The moral of my limerick is this
We are alive now,so now we must live.
Don’t keep love back,
You are on the wrong tack.
To live is to love is to give.
If you can’t acknowledge your hatred if you deny it exists, even to yourself then it may cause havoc in your life.This does not mean letting it rip either.It is very painful to hate someone you love.This is the dilemma of the infant and of all of us in life.Perception and its possibilities and flaws are of the utmost importance to me ideas wide and narrow focus in seeing They came to my notice in the book “A Life of One’s Own” by Joanna Field [Marion Blackett-Milner] and in her later book “On not being able to Paint”
Wonderful books, still available.
This poem is an attempt to describe of the problems of only using the narrow focus in life
Blind sight scattered my wits
Like whitened bones
Across the deserts of my mind.
I descended into blackness.
Love shrank into the tame cat
By the fire,unacknowledged hate
Grew to fill the room.
I stared too much,
A full stop grew gigantic
Crowded out
All the words in the sentence
I saw nothing but this dot
Now a gigantic black hole
Into which I was dragged.
An energy coming from within my own head
Sucked me into the black hole.
That place was the wrong sort of dearkness.
Within that full stop,
Love Fundamental became invisible.
Disappered into the dark.
I dragged my eyes away
And saw the moon appear , so eerie,
It shone,grey silver.
If I had opened my eyees wider
I would not now lament
What I destroyed in the wormhole
Of the black dot that drew my eye
Into a tunnel of darkness
It blinded me to the light
Did not let me read the sentences
Beside the full stop.
An error of focus left hate
Unacknowledged,unmitigated unredeemed,
Kept from love or goodness
Afraid to spoil my love with hate,
The fear of hate became
That which spoiled all else else,
By freezing Love itself.
Deep in a pitiful saddened state,
Relaxation is hard to await
You feel so tense you can’t sit down
Your eyes glare out, and then you frown.
You talk too fast,you lack patience
You lose touch with your common sense.
Follow instructions from a book?
oh,no your entire brain’s been spooked.
So what to do to help yourself,
Not to mention your mental health?
I discovered that very deep within
My self is always quiet and still.
To gain tranquility we must sit
And to consciousness this peace admit.
Deep down inside you are at rest
And with love your soul is blessed.
All you have to do is sit
To get in touch with this sweet state.
Your loving peace is always there
But you have spend time to discover her.
Sitting may sound a simple skill
Were we capable of will
Pretend your chair is full of glue
We have some here called UHU.
Pretend that you cannot get up,
An elephant is sitting on your lap.
Gaze patiently at a tall tree’
We share an affinity with these,
With flowers,cats bats and bumble bees.
So let all words and thoughts now go.
Your mind will shift until it’s slow,
Relaxing improves our perception,
Doing nothing is good for the complexion.
I love to look out,
And see birds about.
While glimpsing if any of them have specs on.
My daughter‘s in love with a tree,
It’s a most wonderful sight to see.
She hugs it all night
In the pale moonlight.
But what will their joint offspring be?
My sister’s in love with a book
She gives it long lustful looks.
She takes it to bed
I think it’s so sad.
If she conceives it will be by a fluke
My niece is in love with a girl.
She thought she’d give gay life a twirl.
They dance and they kiss,
O what utter bliss!
I think I might give it a whirl.
My neighbor has love on his mind
He’s ancient,,but he is so kind.
He showed interest in me
But I’m in love with a bee.
So I ‘ll have to see who-em I can find.
My friend loves a politician.
You’d know him,you definitely can’t miss him!..
He’s on the T.V.
He’s a P.M. to be.
.She’d be far better off with a tree!
