I get up in the morning after twenty cups of tea I dress in some bright clothing that will make God worship me I am getting so much older and I never learned to flirt How did I have time to go to work ? I spend a long time daydreaming,I love a reverie Now I have no cat at all, my new plants all love me I sit and write my poetry, it doesn’t have to hurt How did I have time to go to work?
I’ve a prayer plant from the tropics,Brazilian so I read I’m buying it some pebbles, it likes a waterbed I’ve also got a Peace Lily, surveillance is covert How did I have time to go to work? Time they say is precious, as they run with manic verve Like a tangent to a circle, they miss the holy curve My ambition is for indolence, my ideas I will nurse Why did I waste time and go to work?
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times in a very real sense. Mary dreamed Stan was in heaven enjoying the company of Wittgenstein,Jesus and Pascal , not to mention Lady Jane Grey Ann of Cleves,Juliet,Cleopatra and an angel. At least at this point in time he can’t sleep with them ,she thought as she woke up.Though did that matter? Can men be faithful and monogamous? Look at Leonard Cohen.Was he better off flitting from flower to flower? Was he so stunning that women threw themselves at him and he could not resist?Sometimes people are actually afraid of intimacy or feel life is short and want some new experiences.Was he a wolf? It t akes one to know one It was indeed almost the worst of times when Mary remembered she had no food in the house except cat food for Emile.He was all she had now as her daughter Lyra lived in Australia and Stan was in heaven, she hoped. Here I am, she thought, pondering unanswerable questions and not looking after myself .It is probably best to err on the side of buying food and going out rather than lying in the bed wondering if life has any inherent meaning. or if we must create our own. Even discussing that with someone else would be better.But men folk don’t want to discuss serious topics with their lovers. It was an even worse time when she recalled a man who once loved her leaving her because she asked him if he knew what post-modernism was one night after going to the cinema to see a comedy.She realised then that she would have to play a part,To act like a woman.So far it was but moderately successful owing to her myopic view of life If only I had kept quiet, she told herself,I could be lying beside him now enjoying a few kisses and hugs and asking him how to light the electric fire.Still ,there’s many a slip twixt cup and lip Now then, said a loud voice.Stop ruminating and get up. One stitch in time saves nine. Who are you to say that to me, she called nervously ? She wondered of stress had driven her round the bend.She had begun reading a book which said mental illness in not an illness like flu. It is a reaction to bad events and other life strains. It doesn’t matter who I am,just do as I say, came the answer Mary recognised the voice.It was her dad who had died when she was 9. Dad, she called, why are you here now? Because Jesus told us to love our family, he revealed pleasantly. Why now after all these years? she persisted. I have missed you. I always did have a bad sense of direction,he told her.But do as I say.You won’t recover easily if you never get up.Stan is here but he is busy cleaning the gold cutlery for an angel. Alright, but I never knew there was cutlery up there, she murmured as she put on her new clothes.She had bought some purple trousers and two new jumpers.One was pink and one was teal.The trousers were exceptionally comfortable being in a last years’ sale by a famous label..She then found some Weetabix in the cupboard and some long life milk.As she drank her tea she admired the acer’s brilliant red leaves. Almost too bright, she thought.It’s due to the hot September.Plants are affected by their environment and so are we.Especially by bad or hot tempered men and women Poor people may have more than in the past but they tend to live in the ugliest areas of the town with no gardens nor parks. And seeing the better off walk by wearing expensive clothes it is surprising there are not even more muggings. She recalled seeing a man with a Rolex watch and gold earrings on talking on his new iPhone as he wandered through the Mall.I suppose we think everybody else is like us; we don’t mix with very poor or very rich people on the whole.Unless we are one of those two types. Mary went outside and found a neighbour wheeling in her bins. Thanks ,Tom, she cried.I wondered who it was.I am very grateful.What is post modernism,by the way?Nobody will tell me. Emile was watching from the window sill. I knew it was Tom, he mewed. But you didn’t tell me,Mary replied. You didn’t ask. Tom wandered off ,while Mary admired the autumn trees lining the road.Tom turned back and looked at her but she didn’t notice. Time for coffee, she muttered and went inside again.She was embroidering a table mat which said “Rumination is for the birds”.Where it had come from was a puzzle.But it may be a good thought
He thought I was an enemy , he said The eyes see what we fear or what we need I gave him love,but hate grew there instead
If you need to hate, try someone dead Do not say cruel words that make us bleed He thought I was an enemy , he said
Do not dwell where people hate the good If they curse, it’s best to pay no heed I gave him love,but hate welled up instead
Emotions mingle, wanton like fresh blood Let them be till form can be perceived He thought I was his enemy , he said Do not confront the paranoid nor mad The agony of their minds has them deceived We give them love,but hate wells up instead
Never take such people into bed Let them run away, they’ll be relieved. He mistook me for an enemy , he said I gave him love and care now I feel bad
Astounded by love’s impact, my tears fell As if a door was opened up by you The reservoir of grief, the flooded bell, The marble on the shore, the hidden view. I stayed still and by you I was held In your golden cloud, I felt embraced You covered me with warmth,I was your child A candle in the gale,a shining face
I was silent,I was even dumb They who see a face can not unknow Love is not a method nor a sum Nor can logic point the way to go Do not ask for knowledge or belief Do not ask reprieve from human grief
Oh,mother dear wherever have you been To leave a cat all day is very mean Emile,I need my freedom now and then I can’t love Dave but I would like a man I must go out to buy a handsome coat Cognac is the colour I love most
Emile cried, whatever do you think I saw some frogs a-courting in the sink I was on the draining rack up there They asked me to avert my amber stare Are frogs faithful, don’t they just leave spawn? They are cold towards tadpoles unborn We saw them by Moss Bank in shallow pools Mary wonders if all frogs are cruel Stan came in with his angels right behind They are tired of heaven, they’ve resigned Here’s a pin upon which they can dance Mary was delighted and entranced Do you need a dinner now you’ve died? I wouldn’t mind a steak, the old man sighed Some buttered new potatoes and a fool Rhubarb or vanilla would be cool I have done no shopping, Mary cried I have no money for the food you like Shall I get a pizza, fish and chips That will put some colour in your lips I am only joking, Stanley said I shall merely visit you in bed Emile wept with joy to see his Dad What a spirit, is he going mad? In came Annie in her long green coat Her eyes were black and scratched was her throat I fell into the Croal when eating chips See the bruises on my purple lips Never walk on water,Mary screeched Even when you cross all Southport Beach Stay away from danger,I’ll ring Dave He will dress your bruises with his gauze
Annie did not tell them all the truth She had fallen off the sloping roof
At last my one ambition is fulfilled I have a desk where I may write at will No more the dining table or a board A two desk family is safely moored Men must have their study if they write Though grandad was a coalminer at night And Father was a writer in gold paint Embellishing the Churches with quotes quaint He also did The Stations of the Cross Then he died, what torment ,oh what loss. We went to see his grave and said a prayer Jesus was so quiet, hardly there. But I believe in love and always will Now I’ll write my poems with a quill
The thieves took only one of my blue mugs Spode, I think,from Holt where cars break down I still keep my wildflowers in the jug The thieves took only one thing, sweet blue mug My husband gave me China.so he browsed All Spode, I think,in Holt where we broke down The car was large but caused frustrated howls The thieves took only one thing, a blue mug My gifts from Holt, the bed ,the wedding gown
Trees lean over,watchful as we meet The tall ones do not shiver in the breeze Trees listen to the torment in our speech We have rowan and 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 listen to 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
We walked on sea shores with our mates Though wide oceana separate Now we’re abandoned on the shores By the loves we’ll see no more We still stand on shifting sands Expecting , needing, helping hands But most people walk on by And we’re too afraid to cry
Lost in places we once knew But recognised by very few Our eyes look out but do not see Filled by tears we can’t set free
Shall we stay here evermore Hoping lovers we adored Are on their way back to their home As slowly, sadly, we still roam?
The sturdy walls that bear the sky Have been shattered from on high And feeling smaller than the snails We hear the long lost sea winds wail
Oh, weep for him and me, wide seas Embrace our souls in your salt breeze See the crushed and broken shells Hear the tolling of the bells
I love Picasso, it’s his line,you know How he evokes the movement fast or slow The sundered parts arranged in a new form The image still and yet depicting storms The unexpecting vision threw me down My mind was blown and I lay on the ground I heard no sound except for music lite For I was in a shop,not an art site I did not think I’d see great art in there My fences bypassed by such beauty bare The light of art burns into human souls May shatter or fragment, create new wholes
Noone ever knew the blow I took When I saw with no intent to look
The clock electric does not need to tick The seconds pass unheard by any ear If you watch, the hands don’t seem to move Eternal is the memory of love So my life is passing as I write I see the seconds hand move fast as light The memories stored inside my brain,my mind Will influence all I do, will make designs When this my heart stops ticking like a clock The cells of all my body run amok Who will mourn for me when I am gone? The angst and joy of life will soon be done The golden numbers move in patterns bright The sun defeats the ogres of the night
Instead of going to the pub to meet men,Mary went on FB and changed her name Unfortunatly her name was also changed on the Page where she was insulted and every where she had been. I have learned something useful, she said to Dave who had come because Emile had rung 999 Better if you had not visited their page,he told her sensibly, then Emile would be happy Yes, she said,each side is as bad as the other,You must either totally agree or be called a vicious Monster.There is no space for debate so why even try? Just then the phone rang Hello, it’s Noreen ,she heard Mary, I am so happy you have changed your name Are you,Mary asked in suprise Yes,my grandparents were Scottish and none of the relatives are left, so as you are partly Scottish too it’s lovely you chose to emphasis that Well, stone the crows,Mary thought.How unpredictable life is.And how one unexpected event led to a good talk with Noreen Well, since Stan is not here,I’d better do some housework. she told Dave On the hand if Annie and you,Dave, accept my untidiness, why should i worry? After all it’s wonderful finding books I had forgotten I had.Not to mention 30 pairs of tights and my reading glasses Emile looked at her turquoise glasses Can I have some reading glasses Mother? Why? demanded Mary angrily Then they will read stories to me as they can already read Mary wondered how to explain to a cat that the lenses of humans’ eyes become less flexible with age like their minds, perhaps Then she thought of Donald Trump who needs King Canute to explain that no human is omnipotent and that viruses are unable to distinguish between him and another old person even Joe Biden Why the family of the first virus might have relatives near Joe. But how do viruses communicate?They have no voices,eyes or hands Might it be they live in another reality? Do they have minds withour havig brains? Or brains without minds Dave ran out of the house wondering how to help Mary And so would all of us!
I missed the flowering of the maple tree Where red leaves swell like baby’s growing fists i fear to struggle there, what shall I see, Just the doves and sparrows flying free? Missed the flowering of the maple tree But watched less subtle human comedy Saw politicians flounder, saw ships list Missed the burning of some red leaved tree I wonder when they’ll break the baby’s wrists?
We climbed a stile oh what a reservoir Water from our hills served other towns If you’re listening, theres no editor We climbed a stile, surprised the reservoir We don’t have our pure water anymore We may have perfect kitchens but we frown We loved the stile, we saw the reservoir Water from our hills stole by yon’ towns