Category: emotion

Don’t lie so still

Ah,brother I don’t want you to lie still

No blood to circulate,no thoughts,no will

No help,no humour.jokes no

sharp true eye

From our old shared pram,to live, to die.

I used to do your homework

late at night

Abstract thought to you was no delight.

You wondered over X and y and z

Preferred the shapes of Nature in your. head.

I shall retain the memories of the good

You who taught me speech and hate and love

Goldenrod

On Sunday we would stroll to old Deane Road

My brother used to speak in. Code

My baby sister in her pram so bold

Now both have died and passed away

I can’t forget the golden rods and Mum’s coat frayed

The cemetery where we used to pray

Now Mum is dead will there be room for me

I prefer to lie beneath my tree

I hope I shall be eaten like the Host

Though I am no Saviour I have done my best

And crave the peace of nature and her rest.

The church bells ring again in harmony

Asking for some peace and charity

I rode on Daddy s shoulders held his ears

He sang and whistled I wished he was still here

Goldenrod

On Sunday we would stroll to old Deane Road

My brother used to speak in.his own code

My baby sister in her pram so bold

Now both have died and passed away

I can’t forget the golden rods and Mum’s coat frayed

The cemetery where we used to pray

Now Mum is dead will there be room for me

I prefer to lie beneath my own

I hope I shall be eaten like the Host

Though I am no Saviour I have done my best

And crave the peace of nature and her rest.

The church bells ring again in harmony

Asking for some peace and charity

I rode on Daddy s shoulders held his ears

He sang and whistled I wished he was still here

Without you

I didn’t like to go there without you

I didn’t like to be there without you

I didn’t like to come back without you

I don’t like to be here without you

No,not without you

While the gossips chat

And I see that caf

I don’t want to live without you

And they say I’m strong

They can’t understand

I don’t want all this without you

They put me in

A metal van

It hurt my back

It’s you I lack

Tell them you’re near

And you can hear

What they don’t say

What they don’t pray

I miss you.I miss you

Come with me.

Be with me

Forgive me

Must I suffer for ever

Don’t leave me

I can’t go on with the pain

But that’s what remains

Without you

We’re indecent

What is life to me without Tea
What s left when you eat buns
With no wife
Who’d brew tea
What is left when she won’t agree?

What is satire when I’m stupid
I pick the pods off the lupins
What is strife
Strive errant Cupid
What is weft when warp is dud

What’s an oak when we’re flaccid
Eating apples full of acid
Who is broken
When the wheel has spoken
I may as well feel kind of placid

What is poetry to a pheasant
Being shot is pleasant
What is emotion
In our maddened Nation
Now we realise we are indecent

In the frying pan

I wondered how the two of me would be
If the sperm had got inside a different egg
And my egg was penetrated by a bee
Then by sperm whose entry was by bag

I often hum and buzz as I walk out
All unknowing of the neighbours thoughts
Full of concentration and of guilt
Wondering what my other half has bought

One half of me would know no way to change
It’s not like making sponges filled with jam
Unless the universe were rearranged
Then we’d all be in the frying pan

I cannot let this thinking carry on
I can be myself and all is one

Blinded by the past

The old man and the seea were calm as glass
The Cafe was surrounded by mixed blooms
He was listening to a lady who described
The flowers, their colour,name all afternoon

He could not see at all yet was relaxed
Indeed he was delighted in the sun
I thought blind men were piteous,full of fear
That tells you more of me, than of the men

Below the steep cliff path, in ran the sea
I can’t imagine how our Airforce fought
Barely trained young men went out to war
Is Brexit Britain worthy of their Cause?

Now the blind man gazes out to sea
Was he one of those who kept us free?

Dream like memories

Hollyhocks,delphinium and phlox
Foxgloves,cat mint, nettles,near by docks
The blind man breathed in air full of wild scent
His daughted named the colours now absent

High up on the Kentish cliffs we sat
Capel-le -Ferne I found it on a map
We listened to this girl, we did not speak
Absorbing by our senses,proud and meek

Now I recollect the details very well
In those dream like memories I dwell
Snapdragons growing just beside my chair
I smell the scent as if I were still there

I may be blinded by the tears of loss
But I remember, love, our happiness

Annie flies in

Digital art by Katherine

Mary was in her front room looking for the Jewish Cookery book by Penguin.
She couldn’t see it,so said to herself,Jesus Christ, you’re a bloody idiot,Mary
As she turned to walk away, the book fell onto her head.
Thank you,Lord, she said in a sarcastic tone of voice.There was no response
She went into the bijou kitchen covered in cerulean blue tiles by her late husband Stan, while he was still here in this world.Why not make a cup of tea, she asked herself politely
Just then the back door opened and her neighbour Annie ran in.She was dressed in indigo trousers with a scarlet top and scarf.
Her face glowed with Avenue Oat and Lentil  CC moisturiser  with sunscreen and  she had green mascara on her eyelashes from Rive Sans Torrent de Paris and Bruxelles. which matched her trainers and her eye glasses
May I have tea? she said shyly.I ‘ve just been to my English Grammar lesson
Yes,you will be very welcome,Mary said.But why bother now to learn the difference between MAY I and CAN I?
I feel better if I am more confident,Annie said.And the tutor is very handsome
Is it a man? Mary asked
That seems grammatically erroneous.IT refers to   a non-human object
What should I say? Is she a man, is he  a man,are they a man,is that a man? Mary wondered.
Well, they could  even be something else,Annie told her
Don’t say any more or Jordan Peterson will be here shouting at you
I am  puzzled by him,Mary said.He said he was a therapist but his voice is not very mellifluous and you’d have to be careful what you said to him.
Like, you hate housework and prefer to try to solve Fermat’s Last Theorem?
Annie whispered nervously
Well,yes, but with a therapist you need to be relaxed and say whatever comes into your head,like Canadians were redeemed  by St.Eliezer a  Cohen,usually referred to as Leonard but I can’t see JP getting on with him Leonard loved women  but he was never actually married legally.JP would hate him.
He looks very cross and  annoyed despite a marriage and family.I wonder if he helps his wife to cook the dinner,Annie pondered
Not likely, Mary said as she looked through her Jewish cookery  book.
I might make a cheesecake tomorrow, she cried.I need a new recipe as I’ve met a  man online and we are taking a picnic to the Park.
Are you sure, he/it/they is/are a man?  Annie said politely
How can one be now,said Mary.I suppose  he/they want to pass as a man but I hope he is a biological man if we are to marry.
He might be gay,Annie told her
Then why would he ask me out?
Because he is a mathematician and he wants to discuss surreal numbers,Annie giggled
Would you join SoulMates and pay a fee just to talk about those? Mary replied in a  puzzled way.
I guess it’s cheaper than  taking a train to Oxford and sneaking into the Maths Institute,Annie informed her.
OK,I shall bear that in mind.What shall I wear?
In the park you might sit on the grass so wear some thick trousers and a wool sweater
I won’t look very charming  in those,Mary said furtively, afraid Emile her cat might get angry if he knew she was dating a new man.
Can’t I wear a red dress with flowers all over and a yellow hat?
You CAN…. but is it WISE? Yellow attracts insects
Well,Mary said,I don’t mind what they are,I just want SOMEONE or SOMETHING to be attracted to me.
And so say all of us.Except Emile

Another mind

From time and place and season I am lost,
Disorientated ,missing tracks well worn
.Do not suppose I’m unaware of cost,
Nor label me with epithets of scorn.

For usual paths lead to the usual place.
the safest way to live and perhaps to die,
But wandering through the woods I find new space
and in wild grasses with the fox I lie

.Through distant trees, I see a way to go
As narrow as a slit in pale limestone
.I pass in silence as if in deep,deep snow
.My courage rises even as I groan.

Remember when we’re lost ,we may then find
Another way,a place,another mind.

The mystery of love and what we sing

The proper conscience does not wound our hearts
But tells us truly when we have done wrong
It does not injure love before love starts

Its voice is still and small, it is not sharp
Sometimes it impresses us by song
The goodly conscience does not wound our hearts

Yet conscience is no angel with an harp
Unheard when minds are crowded, with thought thronged
It does not tear up love before life starts

It does not use great force, no threats shall rape
But talks to each in their own native tongue
The moral conscience does not wound our hearts

But what of evil men,Satanic sharks,
The mysteries of genocide and bombs?
Do they tear up love’s roots from their hearts?


Even good folk suffer like the lambs
We must enter darkness with blind hands
The proper conscience does not wound our hearts
It does not curse our love before life starts

Like butter in the sun

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

My heart is soft like butter left in sun.
Much more heat and it will melt and run
Oh, why do we have feelings,why engage
When friendship turns into such bitter rage?

I do not wish to live remote and stern
As if I am so perfect I can’t learn
Pain too deep can mortify the flesh
Turn us into robots fit for trash



All I need is an enormous fridge
Which will make me harder than sweet fudge
I’ll go inside and pray for peace each day
If I freeze to death,I shall not say.

Oh, be of merry heart,my friends and foes
When love comes in, a little hate will go

First class ass

I am very clever,give me that
I have got a first class aegrotat
Do you feel that you would like one too ?
Just get chicken pox or maybe flu

I went to York in winter,this is true
Hebden Bridge had icebergs in the loo
Then we were near Grimsby in thick fog
The Humber Ferry crossed like coppers plod

In Hull they gave degrees in geography
Now they teach the gross democracy
That may be where I caught Golders Green
My face is apple and my eyes are teal

I could have done degrees in Law or Greek
I love to hear the way the foreign speak
Give me Aramaic for my tea
Give me ancient Hebrew,I am he.

I learned Dutch but I was not first class
In fact I failed completely,I’m an ass


Yet life endures

Since you died I learned to use a crutch
I have noone to lean on, none to touch
I wanted you to die with kindly ease
Now I miss another I could tease

Noone knows what was our special tree
Nor why the pain of loss dwells in my knee
As if I cannot stand or wait alone
Dark earth is softer than these paving stones

The trees you loved my neighbours see as weeds
I shan’t recite a list of their misdeeds
Others gossip of my coloured coats
A widow’s weeds aren’t teal, they grin, they gloat

Before you went I saw the cloth of gold
Coming down from heaven to enfold
Then it rose, its satin thick and pure
Taking you away, yet life endures

The emptiness, the void, the loss, the pain
The crash severe we know is foreordained



The handkerchief pan

In the evening. simmering handkerchiefs
Perfumed the air with odours I can’t tell
Mother scrubbed them, hung them on the line
Then I had to iron them, folded well

Now we have our tissues, we don’t need
Hankies that need scrubbing many times
The oceans  deep are  poisoned  with our  waste
Is the use of tissues a  new crime?

While we did our  homework  after tea
My brother  liked his Wagner at  full blast
Imagine  learning Latin  with that din
Now the time for anger  has  long passed

Bad memories change  by  newly given grace
Evoking hints of  mother and her face

Pen and bell

In this so called office,I am trapped
Trying hard to write and to adapt
I have numerous pens in this my cell
Reminding me of school, the longed for bell

Ten past four, we put on winter clothes
I crossed the Park in fog, it wet my nose
Walking down our street I’d see the cat
Sitting on the pavement, Ginger spat

I put the kettle on to make our tea
The coal glowed low and red like elves in glee
The aluminium teapot never broke
The kettle had turned black , the milk was smoked

I had that tiny piece from others free
That was when I learned that I am Me

Carnation,orchid ,daffodil and rose.

How softly sweetly,gently flowers pose
Carnation,orchid ,daffodil and rose.
Intricate the petals that should shield
Yet bees with striped force shall make them yield.
Appearances,both natural and contrived,
Mixed with the wiles of human nature thrive.
As, knowing not, we pluck the apple rare
And bite its flesh,with teeth we burn to bare.
We too deceive the innocent who pass
Not seeing watchers hid behind the glass.
The windows break,the deep earth quakes;
Seized is the maiden ,he  her virtue takes
.Beneath the surface,force and fierceness thrive.
What fearsome, burning God enjoys our lives?

They haunt the seer

Image result for Pendle Hill

Pendle Hill , the Langdale Pikes are me
They waken up my heart from dull, dark dreams
The marvels are the poignant shapes I see
I recognise them in the grace and fear
Pendle Hill , the Langdale Pikes are me
I’m branded with their shapes so known so dear
Yet how huge shadows frighten,haunt the seer
Pendle Hill , the Langdale Pikes are me
They waken up my heart to what may be

Liquid unmodernity

My brain has turned to liquid and it’s dripping from my ears
I need some kind of tampon to absorb this sudden rush
Why did noone tell me this is frightful to endure?
My brain has turned to liquid and it’s dripping from my ears
I think it’s far too late to expect a total cure
I’ll never hear the little voice nor see the burning bush
My brain has turned to liquid and it’s dripping from my ears
Where’s an alcoholic then, to drink the mighty rush



Tread right on the holy human face

The way to be successful is now clear
Deny your shame,humiliate the poor
Have no friends or mate whom you hold dear
The way to be successful is right here
Control your cronies with a hint of fear
Tread on the lowly, who can but endure
The way to be successful, shed no tears
Repress your shame,humiliate the poor

Accidentally tread on someone’s face
As you run for president again
Make sure their features are unclear,erased
Knowingly tread on the human face
It’s not evil, it is just bad taste
The devil is a clown, we feel no strain
Incidentally tread on someone’s face
As you run for president again

My husband has a rubber face













My husband has a rubber face,
He’s from a subset of the human race.
Some men have faces fixed and set;
My husband’s face is not like that.

He imitates our politicians,
Just like Rory Bremner can.
Though he has no wig or hair piece,
He can look like anyone.

Some nights I waken for I am laughing
While I am quite sound asleep.
I am dreaming of his mobile features,
Contorted to a different shape.

He is skilled at telling jokes.
And he loves a good cartoon.
If I am feeling flu style blueness
I he can get me up again.

He has a rather noble visage.
He gets attention he abbhors.
In the bar on King’s Cross Station—
I was asked was he a Lord!

He’s a Lord of Fun and Humour.
He’s a Lord at Listening Well.
He’s unique, but so are you,
And all creatures that on earth do dwell

	


	



			
				


			

			
Enigmatic  like a midday dream
		
	
	

		

The fallen sun makes black the trees that lean
Its liquid centre thrown up wild and bright
Enigmatic  like a midday dream





The  pinky edges shift in  sun’s bent beams
Do they convey the aura of the light?
The fallen sun makes black the trees that lean





I wonder where my haunted eyes have been
In the forests deeper than the night
Enigmatic  like a midday dream





Schizoid, lacking affect,  a  slit scream
Destroying what is left of love and sight
The fallen sun makes black the trees that lean





Here we saw wild primrose by the stream
The castle of the Tudors soft in  blight
Enigmatic  like a midday dream





Bewildered people  kill their own insight
Toss their fears , into the weak to bite
The failing sun as pure as  boiling screams
Enigmatic  are our midnight dreams

	


	



			
				


			

			
The personality of trees
		
	
	

		






Trees lean over, watchful as we meet
The tall ones do not shiver in the breeze
Trees can hear the torment in our speech

We have flowering cherry in our street
But mine died like my lover with great ease
Trees lean over listening as we meet





The tree won’t bend too close, it will not reach
As panic,worry, horror,nightmares squeeze
Trees discern the music in our squeaks





Alas, no tree has mastered human speech
But when they can, they coax the honey bees
Trees lean over sweetly as we meet





The leaves will rustle,wrestle and may tease
Smile for selfies,what’s the word, it’s cheese
Trees lean over, wonder, and conceive
Yet trees hate noone, nor do they believe

	


	



			
				


			

			
The footstep on the stairs
		
	
	

		

I  remember you  so well  for those eight  years
The nights you sang love’s lullabies  to me
I was fearful of  the  footstep on the stairs





You held me as we paddled in the sea
Maybe Blackpool,maybe Morecambe too
You told me stories as I sat upon your knee

I have  some good memories, too few
Where are all those days we played outdoors?
Who knows  if these memories are true?

In East Lancs and in West Lancs rain will pour
Once you wrapped me in your coat, but then
Mam was angry when we   reached the door





She  told you, you were foolish for  a man
Why should men  be wise, should anyone?
That  was when your illnesses began





You let me lie beside you in your bed
I’d had my tonsils out and felt  unwell
I talked but don’t remember what you said

I didn’t know the meaning of pure hell
I guess I learned that when death you befell
Come back,Daddy,missing you  too well
I’m still your little girl, your smiling belle





















	


	



			
				


			

			
Now the melancholy’s gone
		
	
	

		

Now I’m feeling  kind of numb on this January day
The darkness came down sudden and I feel it’s here to stay
Shall I make some tea and pretend that you are here
I’m naked like the wood underneath that swish veneer.

I’m feeling kinda nothin’ now the melancholy’s gone
Should I be doing something  that will give me, like, some fun?
The silence is not threatening, but neither is it good
Did you ever wish that you weren’t made of flesh and blood?

I’m feeling  so damned stupid  for falling on my back
My shoulder was in agony and there’s whiplash in my neck
The doctor, he injected me, but  he said it’s down to luck
He may have missed the mark, he says,I wish I’d said,oh feck

Apparently  the elderly are not in much demand
I heard a sorta whisper as my head  went  in the sand
We must keep the silence or we’ll frighten off the young
They don’t seem to notice   but the cat  will lick my hand





I  didn’t  know how old I was   till the  clock flew off the wall
Isn’t it uncanny what you see before the Fall?

	


	



			
				


			

			
The dam burst
		
	
	

		

Yout letter seems to overflow with rage
The reservoir of hatred has emerged
The loving kindness  vanished without trace





I cannot see the mirror of your face
You used me to contain   your anger’s  surge
Yout letter, wanton, overflows  with rage





Why did you enact   your Play in haste?
Why  treat me so coldly , why me hurt?
Your act  of love has vanished without trace





Do not tell me I was not your taste
You  fantasised an image I  dispute
Yout letter ,sadly, overflows with rage





I hate to see my love  was  to you  waste
Free speech applies to both,  you can’t refute
How could good, true  love leave not a trace?










After this, I  in my world was mute
I could not speak,my heart and soul  pursued
Yout letter uses words to  channel rage
You wished to see me naked,this  the stage

	


	



			
				


			

			
THE MEMORY LASTS
		
	
	

		
















midsummer days evoke the trancelike past
where children played in joyous, daisied fields
with buttercups so bright the memory lasts
a freedom that our conscious growth will steal.





those stones and leaves and many coloured flowers
were gathered into images that glow
yet later we forget those treasured hours
when for a while we lived in life’s deep flow





we did not look and see,but felt at one
we lived as did the birds high in the trees
now we  write , experiencing has gone
we cannot live like flowers filled with  bright bees





to lose ourselves in nature is a joy
which to our adult selves we must restore

	


	



			
				


			

			
Deep down in the earth
		
	
	

		

Cold dull winters bring us close to death
The blood grows thick and scarcely does it move
The worms may  shudder deep down in the earth










This damp coldness presses out our breath
The frost and ice, the memory delude
Cold dull winters bring us close to death





Do we  need the sun to give us worth?
Low in oxygen, the mind’s confused
The worms  have nightmares deep down in the earth

Should we pause, these issues to address?
In this Lockdown, where should we confess?
Cold dull winters bring us close to death





Wonder now what  makes our voices terse
With no  priests, who shall this  poor world  bless?
The worms may sleep deep down inside the earth






On each other,let us not intrude
Let all loving kindness be our  food
Cold dull winters bring us close to death
Like worms  that slumber deep down in the earth

	


	



			
				


			

			
I fried the honey moon
		
	
	

		

The cat would listen as I sang a tune
Maybe Leonard Cohen, maybe Bach
I washed the pots and dried the silver spoons





He  lay down on the carpet as I crooned
Now I have a doormat and no heart
The cat would listen as I sang a tune





In early married life. I saw no doom
Oh,mother, don’t you know we have to part?
I washed the pots. gave back the silver spoon





Instead I saw the silver of the moon
Where do we draw diagrams  or charts?
The cat would wriggle gently, dance my  tunes





He said the cat was ill,oh, can’t be cured
The cat had tumours ,soon we had to part
I threw the pots outside and  bent the  spoons





Our hearts  are full of holes, pierced by such darts
My lover left me and my  friends were sharks
The cat should listen as I sing a tune
I am mad, I fried the   honey moon

	


	



			
				


			

			
God with you
		
	
	

		

Bring your own God with you, you can’t help it anyway
I have heard you singing, don’t tell me you can’t pray
We’re strung like beads along a chain, we’re linked  with none left out
Every time that someone dies, there opens a new mouth
Mouth brings voice,   the people’s choice, there is no faking Truth
Eat and live, speak and grieve, give and so receive
Eyes to see and ears to hear,grace may be about
Still the  Sirens  wail and moan, leave them, they can’t count