When yet another lover flees my king sized bed
and leaves me cold and lonely in the night
I wonder on the thoughtless words I’ve said,
Or if for him my eyes ddon’t glow woth light?
I lure them in with all my female arts.
They feel I’m like a spider with a trap.
to lure ,devour,digest my handsome guests,
Some think there should be warnings on the map,
But most who find me feel they have been blessed.
I give them my attention and desire
I give them gentle care and sing sweet songs.
I give them comfort by my winter fire
Have you ever had a dream,
That you were all alone?
Have you lived with someone handsome,
With a heart like a cold stone?
Have you drowned in deep,cold rivers,
And been lost in shadowed caves?
Have you lived with too much fusion,
Till you drowned in ghostly waves?
The waves run down the sea shore,
Then up they come once more.
The tide turns and life alters..
Deep on that ocean floor
.
You were so beautiful and silent,
Like a sword without its sheath.
I should have let you take me,
The way you took away my breath
They lay down in awe and fear,
Of what their love was bringing near.
They gazed into each other’s eyes
And so did rhapsodize.
They lay down to gaze into
the eyes and soul and heart so true.
They gazed until,when overcome,
They were united into one.
Their souls and bodies were conjoined,
And thus their hearts were well entwined;
As honeysuckle on the walls,
In joy’s sweet arbours does grow tall.
Their loving lips and eyes and hands
Gave pause to time’s soft flowing sands;
And while they touched and gazed so long,
The birds sang out in glorious songs.
The eyes are mirrors to the soul,
and love will make us grow more whole.
Gaze lovingly on humankind..
And hold care in your mind.
I wear my heart displayed upon my face.
Attentive readers find their meaning there..
Where feelings thought too deep to be embraced
Can shine demurely where they do not scare.
As Freud observed we're never quite disguised
Betrayal is our body's real motif
The message comes conspicuous from the eyes..
Bright sparkles or your tears of blackest grief.
The answer to a question seemly leaps
So Yes or No is visibly revealed.
The blush that spreads so fast across the cheeks
Both bold and shy unable to conceal.
Your face tells me you lied when Love you wrote.
Yet let us part with song as we are poets.
Always keep some nuts in your pocket when you go out.I do,for sure.I love to feel them if I am worried
He had a broken start in life and his motor never got him going properly.
And his doors were locked shut so he was lonely.He forgot he had his own key,you see.We must all remember that.
She has a following soul but no humans follow her blog.What do you advise?
To eat cake?We’re not in France!l
I froze in any other game but cricket.I kept the boundary in a marked manner
Her nose on any other face would need a pleat.
All those toes and never had his own feet.~what a shame
Icecream goes down the little red lane,even when it’s too sweet .
Hold my nose,whilst I tweet.Who are you? I’m just a sheep
Hell,no!I know why any other fame is indiscreet.
I have only a solitary ghoul living with me but he is very sweet if lonely for his own kind.
So is there a love site for ghouls on the Web.Ghouls in love?
I said,Ghouls, not,fools
All the world is a love site for fools
Ghouls full of longing please apply to be rehomed with birds and bees
There was a hole full of tomorrows in Eden but they missed it with the big Apple
I saw all the horrors and skipped them till I was old enough which is now
I am a sole tactician with discretion and ammunition but no weapons except care full poems
He has a beer in the Mart and a lemon tart for his heart…… he wants to die suddenly in the pub garden with a playgirl from Page 3
Abandon Whips.Vote by Conscience… what,a Revolution? I don’t relieve you
All the bands on the ship went flat together.What a bit of luck!
All hands to the Quip…keep it smiling.
About your face… it’s almost a poem in itself.Don’t say a word!Say a sentence,
Above a board a bread knife hung.He wondered what to eat after that? I suppose the handle is wooden,he mused to himself.
Absence makes the heart grow longer but not much!
A face in the hole looked squashed but he recognized his partner,Jane.What a pain she was and no mistake.
He keeps his face up his sleeve.. it’s his pet neurosis.He gives it all his care and love..But is that wise, to love a neurosis?
Achilles heel was very sore.To be blunt,it killed him.Or permitted it.We all have our weak spots.Sometimes our whole being seems like a weak spot.In that case you need armour.. or amour as the French might suggest
An acid test is given to people who gossip.If they test positive,they are sent away to live in a green forest clearing brambles and nettles, with their bare hands.
Signs and symbols guide the route.
Love gives the soul her appetite.
Though the night is black and starless,
The inner guide is never careless.
The notes are struck,the tune is played,
Plain melodies are overlaid.
In this chant and benediction,
Healing comes for desolation.
I have had several mystical or spiritual experiences in my life.So I thought I’d write this poem.I think many people do have mystical experiences but we don’t talk about them.
World of colour
Colour delights
Mystical experience
A beam of light passed through my eyes
And showed to me a world disguised
So near,yet far,we do not see,
Unless by gift of grace redeemed.That world is full of peace and calm
It’s colours mingle like a balm
In such a moment all thought dies
Revealing Love which underlies.
Colours caress my naked eyes.
Sunlight blesses new designs.
I stand enthralled,and do not wish
For one delight,other than this.
My breath slows down, and filled with joy,
I rove my eyes with bliss to toy.
Everything is just itself.
This is now my living wealth.
Beneath the noise of city traffic,
This mellow joy,love soporific,
This depth and peace, is always near
When we choose Love and turn from fear
Sometimes my hands curl up, and other times,they open. Then I feel the air; My fingers relax. I touch your hand; uncurl it and press it to mine. Palm on palm,it’s no secret that palms connect to hearts. In your face I see a hint of melancholy, I feel it in my soul.. as if there was a secret connection.. thought how,I don’t know. Somehow,touching, we create another soul, Neither you nor I, but we…… Touching,need to be physical.. We know how a story can affect us that way. What a gift to know we have touched someone… In the heart.’s. most tender space.The place of love. Both true and false,my palm is lonely. Then I feel the caress of summer air.. To touch is to be touched as one soul opens to another.. Vulnerable,human,loving, Painful and illusory,like those dreams of childhood. Now I go,first gripping, then loosening our hands. Goodbye,we say,Goodbye
In my early forties I was struck down by a disease I knew nothing about. For ten years I suffered from untreated Hypothyroidism. It ruined my career as a writer and came close to killing me. This is my story…
With the power of hindsight it’s hard to believe that nobody noticed. I certainly didn’t: although the evidence was staring at me in the face every time I looked in a mirror. My wife didn’t seem to notice: although really she did but it’s just that I wasn’t prepared or able to listen to any of the hints that she tried to drop in an admittedly uncharacteristically subtle manner. My friends didn’t notice: but they were probably amused that a weight fascist such as I had piled on so many pounds. The truth of the matter was that I was falling to pieces. My body had gone into shutdown. My…
When the windows shattered
And the splinters flew in
You just made for the back door
And left me
not knowing where to begin.
When the shards of glass hit me
And pierced my vulnerable skin
You were already going
Leaving me
feeling you were an inhuman being.
When I fell down covered in glass and bleeding,
And the storm raged on,
I didn’t look round because
I knew,I knew,I knew,
I knew you would be gone.
Gone.
Suddenly peace came,storm had quite
disappeared..
It was all over so quickly
Not as terrible as I feared.
My wounds were bad,I have to confess.
I had no bandage
Nothing with which to dress.
With an old towel I cleaned my blood
Then I lay me down
Just to have a rest.
Since that day,no storms come this way.
My wounds are healing
I have just one thing to say.
When the storm was so bad
You left me all alone…
but strangely since then
all is peace and calm.
Your absence has become
almost a balm.
But I hear stories of fierce storms rising up
In towns and villages
Not too far from here,where a strange man appears.
Seems like he’s running to get away
From some storm
But the storm’s inside him…
He gives it form.
So when the windows crashed in
And glass flew at my face
He left me all alone
In what, he thought,
was a very dangerous place.
Did he not pick me up
and carry me outside?
No,my daughter, he left me alone;
I might have died.
But since then
I lost a great burden…
And I lost a great feeling of shame.
Rise up,you women,bleeding and torn.
For on days like that,a new resolve is born.
While you live don’t accept all the blame.
Don’t live so long as I did,in fear and in shame.
Rise up and find that calm
In the eye of the storm…
On days like this
a new woman is born.
The theme of this poem is one that is very important to me.Actions change when vision changes.Actions are changed most by Imagination,not by force or will power,Actions change by seeing from a new perspective.
I use language here in the form common in the past in a working class mill town in the North of England . We always referred to people as our Mam,our John or mi Mam,mi Dad.
I rode on a horse on the Merry- Go- Round at the New Year Fair,
And every time I came around,our Dad were stood right there.
The horses they went up and down,as we whirled around.
To me,so small, they seemed so high, way up above the ground.
You knew I loved those colourful horses standing up right tall;
So you let me ride on one,though Mam thunk me far too small.
I shall never lose the happiness,riding with a view..
But far more than I loved those horses, Dad, you know that I loved you.
I wish I were a child again and you were with us today.
I think we’d recognize your voice,and be eager for what you’d say.
Why did God take you off,it seemed to be so wrong.?
But thanks,our Dad,for the Merry- Go- Round,and thanks for all your songs.
I think that life’s like a Merry -Go- Round that we are turning on.
And every time it whirls right round.someone else has gone.
We don’t know how long we’ll ride here so merry,and so gay.
So enjoy the Revolution now,and say what you really should say.
The world may be a Merry Go Round and we are nothing but fools
We had so much bounty and yet we break life’s rules.
We strong ones steal and injure as we pass this way,
Will we ever realise…. it’s a serious game that we play?
Thanks our Dad, for the memory and thanks for all your songs.
Now my heart grows weary so I shan’t linger long
I tried to use my talents, like the Bible said.
I trust sweet God to judge me well,when in human terms I’m dead.
Blue hills
Note:I must have been three when this happened.Dad was keen on Fairs and Pantomimes
If a cat were 12inches long,4 inches wides and 4 inches deep,assuming its body were a rectangular block,and furthermore assuming its head and legs were hairfree
a] calculate the surface area of its body excluding the hairless parts
b] if the cat’s fur has hairs in a density of 1,000 per square inch
how long would it take me to dust it [ignore the head and neck for simplicity]
c]and given my current age assess the probability of me completely dusting the cat if I work 8 hours daily 5 days a week
Calculators may be used if appropriate
d[And if the minimum wage were £6 per hour how much would it cost me to employ a man to dust the cat weekly.
e]Do you believe the State Pension ought increased so as to enable a person to have their cat dusted on a regular basis.
You may use diagrams in your answer or to get to the answer
f]Could there be more than one answer and if so why?
g]Finally, give a brief account of the Ethics of dusting domestic cats which cannot sign consent forms.How would Aristotle deal with such issues, with a duster or another sort of cloth?
h]Finally can you clean a vacuum? And is the above cat a Platonic Form? Am I?
