Author: Katherine

Poetry writer and author

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.
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.

Many maps for many worlds

  Words structured make a map for me

Sentences enable me to see;
But there are maps of other kinds
         And different maps suit different minds.
The Artist with her skilled brushstrokes
Her unique sense of the world evokes.
This goes straight to the heart and tells
Of feelings deep unfathomable wells.
   
The sweet plain music of the spheres
Moves those who hear to heartfelt tears.
Yet notes are written on just five lines
From which can flow all music’s rhythms.
There are so many different worlds
Which different maps to us unfurl.
The Art of Travel is to guess
Which Map will suit which World the best

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

   

In
this exciting  new  book, poet and logician Dr.K.R.Braithwaite 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”

Fifty more maths classes banned from TV

I wanted to give some new classes

On algebraic sextets.

I wanted some new spectacles

For  teaching babes who’re vexed.

I wanted new geometry

And some Riemann astronomy

For you to be  futile with at  tea.

So it’s now goodbye from  all  and me.

Binomial theorems ain’t no game

I don’t know your preferred name.

Do you love me,just the same?

I’ m foxy now,yet tame.

Fifty more green sexpots please

I want fifty people

to read my blog today.

Because I’m only fifty short

Of getting my M.A.

But what do readers want to see

On this poetry blog?

I guess I do not know that

I’m blundering through fog!

I write about the birds at play,

I write about the o  sky.

I write about  Election day.

I  scheme to get a high.

I wonder when I’ll reach my goal,

I wonder if I’ll care at all,

I need to write of sex and love.

When will my sweetheart call?

I’m growng subtly paranoid

As no-one looks at me.

Can I do a  dead broadcast

On the BBC?

Do you want to know my fantasies?

Do you see inside my mind ?

Well.why not see inside your own,

If you desnare yourself some time.

Well,I shall mail a pot of tea,

And do  a hand job on my knee.

It won’t be on , I said,  your B.B/C,.

I have not got a royal  licence ,see?

Goodbye fame,

Goodbye   name

Goodbye all  econometricians

Telling lies with statisticians.

I am leaving town today.

Please go out that e way.

There’s little here to fancy for

I ain’t writin’ poetry no more.

I ain’t drawing sketches now

But……………………………..I love you anyhow.!

YOU LOVE MY

    There was no way I could miss,
The smile in your eyes when we kissed.
I think you’re divine
And we’re getting on fine.
But please don’t wipe your nose on my dress!

You love my shining blue eyes ,
And the strange way my poetry rhymes .
I  do like your smell,
Though I still cannot tell,
If it’s  cologne or just  dirt,sweat and grime.

I love your weird sense of humour
And the way your love spreads like a rumour.
Shall we get wed,
And then go to bed?
Or shall I run away with the  new French  piano tuner?

Zero in Hull,please don't read this!

  I’ve had zero page clicks today,
So I am hoping to keep it that way.
I’ll have to write something dull,
About our last trip to Hull.

We crossed on the old Humber Ferry.
The boatman was eager and merry.
Grimsby was covered in fog

Don’t put that bit in the blog

When we got over on the Hull side
The boatman was on the wrong bit of the tide.
So we had to go back to the South.
Across the Humber’s wide mouth.

The second time was alright.
The estuary was a fine sight.
I like being out on the sea.
The salt air is so good for me.

Now we have the  mind shattering construction .
A bridge carries out the Ferry’s function
But I loved the old Boat, with  cars all afloat,
Off to Hull in my thick winter coat.

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