Category: story

Emile gets his nerve back

  • Tabby-Cats3

    Wikipedia

    Stan was happy for a few moments when he woke up.Then he realized Emile was not anywhere to be seen.Mary had already gone out as she wanted to catch a very early train to London.She needed to visit the British Library.She urgently wanted to find evidence that Wittgenstein wore a hat in bed.
    Stan went searching around the house but Emile had vanished.Usually at 8 am he would be dashing about pretending to chase flies and giving a balletic performance worthy of Sadler’s Wells.
    I wonder who Sadler was,Stan muttered as he filled the kettle with fresh water and put some Earl Grey tea into the teapot.
    Then, a strange feeling came over him.He looked up and there was Emile
    crouched on top of the highest cupboard in the kitchen.
    Emile,he cried,What are you doing up there?
    I’m training to be a spy,Emile replied nonchalantly.
    But how could this kitchen be of interest to the Intelligence Services?
    Well,the cat murmured,I am practising hiding.
    You gave me a terrible shock,Stan said.I had this feeling I was being watched.I wondered if it was paranoia.Then I saw your gleaming eyes.
    So,I need to get some dark glasses,Emile said.
    No,I would still feel that horrible feeling.And how were you planning to get down from that high ledge?
    I’m not sure,the cat mioawed faintly
    Well,the first lesson for a spy or even a detective is,
    Never go anywhere unless you can make a quick exit,
    As it is,I may have to ring 999.
    Just then the front doorbell rang.There stood a man with a white beard and moustache.
    Hello,he said holding out his hand to shake Stan’s.
    I am called Peter Fried.I have just moved into one of the new flats across the road.I am a psychoanalyst.I have taken on another flat to use as a consulting room and a waiting room
    A psychoanalyst! Do we need one round here? Well,Good morning,I have just brewed some tea.Would you like to join me?
    How kind,said Peter.
    I say,old bean,did you know there’s a cat on top of your cupboard?
    Yes,that is Emile.Today he has surpassed himself in wickedness.How I will get him down I don’t know.
    My training analyst used to say,What goes up must eventually come down.
    That seems a bit weird for an analyst.To what was he referring… something to do with sex I don’t doubt.It’s all sex with you people.
    Yes, some of us are very peculiar…that’s why we enter the profession.
    What I meant was,if Emile got up he can get down.How did you get up,Emile?
    I leaped,answered the tense animal.
    Can you leap down?
    I’ve lost my nerve,replied the poor creature softly.
    Well, as it happens,being a therapist,I always carry few sparwe nerves with me.I’ll climb up this stepladder and pass you a new nerve.
    And without waiting,Peter climbed the ladder.He put his hand into his pocket and pulled out a golden thread.
    Here you are,Emile,Catch this in your claw.
    Emile caught the golden thread and wrapped it around his neck.
    Can you leap down now? enquired Stan.
    Emile leaped down and landed in a bowl of hot water in the sink.
    It’s a good thing I wasn’t making chips,laughed Stan.
    Come here,Emile and let me dry you on this old towel.He put Emile
    in front of the fire and he and Peter drank mugs of Earl Grey tea.
    I have got a mistress,Stan told Peter.
    Well,do you want therapy for your conflict?
    Oh,no.I’m far too old for therapy or indeed for a mistress.I was wondering of you would perhaps be interested …she just likes to spend a little time with an intriguing man.. talking, drawing graphs, interpreting data,making tea,calling the ambulance.. you know what I mean.She likes the paramedic,Dave.
    Is she not married?
    No,her husband fell into the wheelie bin during the night and alas he was taken away with the rubbish.
    That is a strange story.Are you certain?
    No,it could be he grew tired of her and ran away.Then she invented this story,
    Well,this may be a quiet suburb but I can see there is plenty of material here for me to write my next book:
    Deceptive appearances and the fascination of apparent dullness.
    Oh,that sounds very unusual.
    Well,I’ve never believed in true dullness.There is always a story.
    See,I’ve just met you a man of 98 yet you have a wife, a mistress and a crazy cat.. and I’ve only been here for one day.Imagine 6156119_f260

    what else I may discover here.
    They heard a siren.
    Oh,no!We’ve not even rung 999 and here is the ambulance….
    Mary will be so angry..You see Dave is bisexual.
    My goodness,are you having an affair with him.
    No way,shouted Stan.My life is tough enough already.He can be bisexual or even trisexual but I’m not interested.
    What does trisexual mean,enquired Emile.
    I have no idea but I thought it sounded good,admitted Stan.
    Peter stood up.
    I think I’d better go home and start to see my patients.
    Now Emile,put your nerve somewhere safe.We don’t want you to lose it again.
    Thank you,darling cried Emile.I think I’ve formed an erotic transference with you already.
    Peter rushed out.
    Is it me or is it them?he wondered.
    I thought it would be quiet here on the edge of Knittingham but I think now wherever you are there will always be something unexpected happening.But I hope Emile will not begin to follow me around.I shall have to buy a lady cat and then Emile might fall in love with her instead.So off Peter went whistling a Bach cello suite and wondering how to cope with life in a suburb.. clearly it was not as dull as he had imagined.

The creaks of loving:Stan gets a surprise

 Cracks in the pavement 3

A surprise

Stan and Annie have been having such a lovely time since Mary went off.Stan has quite given up his addiction to microfibre cloths and polishing the windows.He and Annie can now make love at night and go out for trips in the day time.
Emile’s diary is getting quite full although he is worried he may bebanned from sleeping on the foot of the bed soon as he may be in their way.How will he know what they get up to?
Luckily there is a gap at the bottom of the door so he should be able to see them in the mirror opposite the bed.They usually light the bedside lamp so as to see into each other’s eyes.
~Annie is a very bold,confident woman.Despite being rather plumper than is medically advised she loves her body and lives happily in it now she has true love.
One morning Stan goes down to make some tea whilst
Annie comes to.
“Stan,come here quickly!”
“What’s wrong,my little lamb chop?”
“I feel sick!”
“Was it those old sausages we ate up last night?”
“No,it’s a different sort of sick!”
“You don’t mean………..?”
“Yes,Stan,I’m afraid a miracle has happened!”
“But you are 55 and I’m 90.Surely we can’t have a baby!”
“Well,the ways of God are strange.” she murmured.
“I don’t want to bring God into it.” he riposted.
“Are you not pleased we are still fertile?” she asked
him humorously.
“Well,in the abstract I might be but in the concrete it
could be awkward.” he said furtively
“What do you mean?”
“Well,Mary will be coming back in a couple of months,you
know”
“We don’t have to tell her you are the father.I could
pretend it was the new Vicar at St Andrew’s”
“But he’s gay!”
“Not many men are able to resist my charms and skills.”
“I can believe that,”Stan answered lubriciously.
“But will you have to seduce him soon before he notices
you are pregnant>”
“I wasn’t thinking of actually going to bed with
him,”said Annie with a smile.
“Oh,dear.I was looking forward to that,”Emile murmured
under his breath.
“That would have made my diary into a best seller.”
“Gay vicar seduces middle aged harlot who is now
expecting.”
It sounds a bit like the old Bible stories except they
had no vicars in those days.But miracles like older
women bearing children did happen so…who knows?
Stan and Annie got dressed and went into the kitchen.
They were both looking confused.
“You don’t want an abortion do you?” he enquired
tenderly.
“No way.” she replied softly.
“I love you so much,I could not wish for more than to
“In that case,I’ll tell Mary.She is a very wise woman in
many ways,though a bit lacking in the earthjer side of
life.She has not slept with me for thirty years or
more.”
“Perhaps she thought you were too old?” said Annie.
“No,she never enjoyed it.She just put up with it as she
wanted a baby.”
“Maybe you did not turn her on!”
“I did my best,but she preferred reading Proust and
“I wonder of she has Asperger’s syndrome?”
“Well,they do find social life trying but I suppose she
can’t blame you for loving another?”
“No,she’s very broadminded.I’ll suggest we all move in
together.I’ll divorce her but she can have the big
bedroom and we’ll have the guest room with the en
suite.”
“I think this will be fun.”
“Well,not all of it but it will be intriguing,”
“So no need to seduce the Vicar,then?”
“We’ll leave him out of it.He might fall in love with
you and then what would happen?”
“God only knows,”She answered humorously as she went
into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee.
Read more about this next week or it may be too late!

Shells by the Dead Sea

Awlf portrait
Stan the aged yet sexy senior bycitizen was outside polishing the brass doorstep till it gleamed in the early sunshine leaking from a blue and orange sky.
“My goodness,these microfibre cloths are wonderful” he thought intrigued.Mary was out taking a load of clothes to the Oxfam Shop.Suddenly he heard a loud cry.,then he felt a pair of hands fondling the top of his bald head and tugging on his beard.
“Eeh,no rest for the wicked,even at 81,” he screamed.He staggered to his feet and rubbed his nose with his knees.
“Just give me a hand” ,he said,”I’ll have to stretch my hamstrings.They tighten up so.”
“I’ll stretch them for you!” Annie whispered naughtily.Stan leant forward to touch his toes and she could not resist the temptation to give his bottom a hearty slap.
“For God’s sake,Annie” he shouted faintly.”Someone might see that.”
“Don’t worry,there’s no-one around at this time of the day” she tittered in her usual female manner..
“Oh,yes there is!”
It was Dave,the paramedic.He had been lying behind the wheelie bins,all three of them standing plaintively and unwanted in the tiny front garden.
“I’m an MI5 spy,and I’ve been reading your blog,Mr Brown.”We need you to answer a question”
“I’m not called Brown”,said Stan nerdishly.
“Refuses to accept reality,”Dave wrote in his little notepad with some blood he had taken from himself earlier,
“Jesus Christ!”, said Stan.”Now,now” said Dave,”that’s not your name.
“No my name is Tan,not Brown,you’ve been reading the wrong blog!” “Stan Tan!”
Dave appeared crestfallen,”Any chairs need mending today?”
“My what beautiful ears you have,sweetheart,” he said to Annie,
“They look like sea shells by the Dead Sea”
“Your eyes are like shallow pools in Lake Windermere during a summer thunderstorm.”Annie replied womanfully,sarcasm being alien to her nature.
“Are you still a transvestite?” she followed on incoherently yet logically.
“No,I had a mystical experience and now I’m a Zen Buddhist”
“How did that happen?” demanded Stan querulously.And can’t you be both?
“Well,I was knitting myself a Shetland lace sweater in pale blue mohair,and I suddenly had the feeling that everything was interwoven.
Going forward or backwards,sideways or straight ahead,it is all part of the warp and weft of life.
“mistakes don’t matter” he continued emotionally.
“Oh,yes,they do,”Annie said pouting her full lips,cherry pink by courtesy of L’oreal of Paris and New York,lip balm by Yves St Laurent,peach foundation by Lancome also of Paris,toning smokey grey mascara by Max Factor,handbag Annie’s own,deep burgundy 70 denier tights by M&S,Grey pointed ballet slippers by Bally of Switzerland.[also available in black,red and teal].Raspberry lingerie by ,strangely,M&S.
“As I was saying..,”
Dave dived back behind the wheelie bin.
Stan polished the brass and Annie disappeared in a patch of woodbine..
It was Mary’s famous and loud vocal imitation of a bicycle bell that had alerted them to her imminent return from the Oxfam shop.
“Don’t they make bike bells any more?” Dave boringly wondered as he carried on reading the new life of Emily Dickinson “A loaded gun.” He thought it was an army training manual,but,hey,mistakes don’t matter!Or do they?Read the next instalment yesterday at your local newsagent or here free of interest,hope or love.Any additions welcome.
All donations to Oxfam.

Shells by the Dead Sea

Awlf portrait
Stan the aged yet sexy senior citizen was outside polishing the brass doorstep till it gleamed in the early sunshine leaking from a blue and orange sky.
“My goodness,these microfibre cloths are wonderful” he thought intrigued. Could I find a better word than wonderful?

.Mary was out taking a load of clothes to the Oxfam Shop.Suddenly he heard a loud cry.,then he felt a pair of hands fondling the top of his bald head and tugging on his beard.
“Eeh,no rest for the wicked,even at 81,” he screamed.He staggered to his feet and rubbed his nose with his knees.
“Just give me a hand” ,he said,”I’ll have to stretch my hamstrings.They tighten up so.”
“I’ll stretch them for you!” Annie whispered naughtily.Stan leant forward to touch his toes and she could not resist the temptation to give his bottom a hearty slap.
“For God’s sake,Annie” he shouted faintly.”Someone might see that.”
“Don’t worry,there’s no-one around at this time of the day” she tittered in her usual female manner..
“Oh,yes there is!”
It was Dave,the paramedic.He had been lying behind the wheelie bins,all three of them standing plaintively and unwanted in the tiny front garden.
“I’m an MI5 spy,and I’ve been reading your blog,Mr Brown.”We need you to answer a question”
“I’m not called Brown”,said Stan nerdishly.
“Refuses to accept reality,”Dave wrote in his little notepad with some blood he had taken from himself earlier,
“Jesus Christ!”, said Stan.”Now,now” said Dave,”that’s not your name.
“No my name is Tan,not Brown,you’ve been reading the wrong blog!” “Stan Tan!”
Dave appeared crestfallen,”Any chairs need mending today?”
“My what beautiful ears you have,sweetheart,” he said to Annie,
“They look like sea shells by the Dead Sea”
“Your eyes are like shallow pools in Lake Windermere during a summer thunderstorm.”Annie replied womanfully,sarcasm being alien to her nature.
“Are you still a transvestite?” she followed on incoherently yet logically.
“No,I had a mystical experience and now I’m a Zen Buddhist”
“How did that happen?” demanded Stan querulously.And can’t you be both?
“Well,I was knitting myself a Shetland lace sweater in pale blue mohair,and I suddenly had the feeling that everything was interwoven.
Going forward or backwards,sideways or straight ahead,it is all part of the warp and weft of life.
“mistakes don’t matter” he continued emotionally.
“Oh,yes,they do,”Annie said pouting her full lips,cherry pink by courtesy of L’oreal of Paris and New York,lip balm by Yves St Laurent,peach foundation by Lancome also of Paris,toning smokey grey mascara by Max Factor,handbag Annie’s own,deep burgundy 70 denier tights by M&S,Grey pointed ballet slippers by Bally of Switzerland.[also available in black,red and teal].Raspberry lingerie by ,strangely,M&S.
“As I was saying..,”
Dave dived back behind the wheelie bin.
Stan polished the brass and Annie disappeared in a patch of woodbine..
It was Mary’s famous and loud vocal imitation of a bicycle bell that had alerted them to her imminent return from the Oxfam shop.
“Don’t they make bike bells any more?” Dave boringly wondered as he carried on reading the new life of Emily Dickinson “A loaded gun.” He thought it was an army training manual,but,hey,mistakes don’t matter!Or do they?Read the next instalment yesterday at your local newsagent or here free of interest,hope or love.Any additions welcome.
All donations to Oxfam.

Mary climbs a ladder

Mary was on a step ladder in the bathroom, spying on her husband Stan,through a hole in the wall.He had drilled this for spying on women sunbathing semi-nude in their private back gardens.
Here he was climbing over the fence with Emile ,their cat, on his shoulder.
I think it’s so ridiculous, she muttered .Surely Emile can jump over the fence by himself.
But Emile was very limp,she saw belatedly,
He can’t be dead,she whispered to herself fearfully.She jumped down off the  ladder and hit her head on a tap
Oh,my!That hurt…I’d better be careful. she murmured and she flew down stairs to Stan in the kitchen
Emile has got concussion, Stan said mournfully.

Is he  dead , perhaps,?she wondered anxiously.
No, he only fell off Annie’s roof.I am sure he’ll come to.
Good Lord.What made him go up there and more important,how did he do it?
You’d better ring 999,he informed her gently
If you say so ,my dear

Soon Dave,the bisexual transvestite paramedic ran in wearing a sundress and dark glasses with golden sandals from Hooters.
Poor Emile,what have you done?
He fell off Annie’s roof, but we have no theory as to how he got there,said Stan.
Well, there’s no need to think of that… we deal with reality.That’s my modus operandi!
He gave Emile the kiss of life.Emile came to…but was not pleased
Why did you waken me up? I was having a lovely dream of walking down a silver path where I saw a big cat with shining fur and tender eyes looking at me.He just began to miaow when some f**king idiot woke me up… was he God?
I can’t say,Emile,dear.But please do not swear.
I’ll do whatever I f**king well feel like,Emile said. nastily
Good heavens, what has happened.Has he been reading dirty books?
No, he was watching East Enders on TV… they all use the f word constantly.
Well,Emile.God will have to wait… he’ll be glad if you do some kind work here on earth.
Up yours,said Emile.I am sick of living here. I’ve been hoping for years Stan would mate with Annie but he has only managed a kiss.
Perhaps it was the kiss of life,said Mary hopefully
Well, in a sense,you might have hit the snail on the bed said Stan thoughtfully.I know any further mention of philosophy will drive me utterly and eternally mad!
Now,Dave said,shall I make you all some hot tea?
Thank you Stan responded.I am half crazed already.Tea may save my sanity.But for what?
Annie came in wearing her brick red trouser suit and a white sun hat. her face a dark shade of beige and her lips light mauve, with lipstick from Max Fracture’s new range.

Did you know Emile was in a hot air balloon,she said in tones of wonder.How has he got down so fast?
I f**king well fell out, the cat yawned proudly.Then I had a near death experience until this loon here brought me round.
Emile,I ’ve never heard you swear before! she whispered in a strange manner reminiscent of those silent films starring unnamed and forgotten beauties of long ago.
Do you like it,baby? Emile asked.
No I don’t. I’ve never said F*ck in all my life.
Well you have now,the cat informed her with a naughty smile.
I think he’s possessed by demons.We’ll have to have him exorcised.
But I like demons,Emile bawled .I’ve been good all my life and I am bored and depressed.
So you believe swearing will help more than therapy?
Emile got up and lit a cigarette nonchalantly with a certain ,je ne sais lah

Good grief,he’ll be having sex on the sofa next ,said Stan.
What a good idea,said Emile, but I want my own room and an en suite..I mean to impress the next girl friend I have.
Dave drank some tea and watched these old folk ponder.
I am wondering where we went wrong,said Mary.All these years we’ve educate you privately and even had you baptised.
Well.I am going to be a Jew,said Emile.
I don’t think a cat can be a Jew… and you never ever had any interest in the spiritual before,why this?
Well,when I was unconscious I realised that God exists….
But why be a Jew?
Well,they were the first to see God in a Burning Brush.
And the last too, I hope,thought Annie nervously.
Well,said Stan.You want to smoke,swear ,make love and possibly enjoy wine and song.Is that not enough?
Does God smoke and swear?
There was a long silence and Emile answered’
Well,Yes he does.
I’m off said Dave.I have to ring the Pope.
Why? asked Emile. I am not going be a Catholic….
Well,said Dave, he ought to know that God is a cat.

The creaks of loving:Stan gets a surprise

 Cracks in the pavement 3

A surprise

Stan and Annie have been having such a lovely time since Mary went off.Stan has quite given up his addiction to microfibre cloths and polishing the windows.He and Annie can now make love at night and go out for trips in the day time.
Emile’s diary is getting quite full although he is worried he may bebanned from sleeping on the foot of the bed soon as he may be in their way.How will he know what they get up to?
Luckily there is a gap at the bottom of the door so he should be able to see them in the mirror opposite the bed.They usually light the bedside lamp so as to see into each other’s eyes.
~Annie is a very bold,confident woman.Despite being rather plumper than is medically advised she loves her body and lives happily in it now she has true love.
One morning Stan goes down to make some tea whilst
Annie comes to.
“Stan,come here quickly!”
“What’s wrong,my little lamb chop?”
“I feel sick!”
“Was it those old sausages we ate up last night?”
“No,it’s a different sort of sick!”
“You don’t mean………..?”
“Yes,Stan,I’m afraid a miracle has happened!”
“But you are 55 and I’m 90.Surely we can’t have a baby!”
“Well,the ways of God are strange.” she murmured.
“I don’t want to bring God into it.” he riposted.
“Are you not pleased we are still fertile?” she asked
him humorously.
“Well,in the abstract I might be but in the concrete it
could be awkward.” he said furtively
“What do you mean?”
“Well,Mary will be coming back in a couple of months,you
know”
“We don’t have to tell her you are the father.I could
pretend it was the new Vicar at St Andrew’s”
“But he’s gay!”
“Not many men are able to resist my charms and skills.”
“I can believe that,”Stan answered lubriciously.
“But will you have to seduce him soon before he notices
you are pregnant>”
“I wasn’t thinking of actually going to bed with
him,”said Annie with a smile.
“Oh,dear.I was looking forward to that,”Emile murmured
under his breath.
“That would have made my diary into a best seller.”
“Gay vicar seduces middle aged harlot who is now
expecting.”
It sounds a bit like the old Bible stories except they
had no vicars in those days.But miracles like older
women bearing children did happen so…who knows?
Stan and Annie got dressed and went into the kitchen.
They were both looking confused.
“You don’t want an abortion do you?” he enquired
tenderly.
“No way.” she replied softly.
“I love you so much,I could not wish for more than to
“In that case,I’ll tell Mary.She is a very wise woman in
many ways,though a bit lacking in the earthjer side of
life.She has not slept with me for thirty years or
more.”
“Perhaps she thought you were too old?” said Annie.
“No,she never enjoyed it.She just put up with it as she
wanted a baby.”
“Maybe you did not turn her on!”
“I did my best,but she preferred reading Proust and
“I wonder of she has Asperger’s syndrome?”
“Well,they do find social life trying but I suppose she
can’t blame you for loving another?”
“No,she’s very broadminded.I’ll suggest we all move in
together.I’ll divorce her but she can have the big
bedroom and we’ll have the guest room with the en
suite.”
“I think this will be fun.”
“Well,not all of it but it will be intriguing,”
“So no need to seduce the Vicar,then?”
“We’ll leave him out of it.He might fall in love with
you and then what would happen?”
“God only knows,”She answered humorously as she went
into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee.
Read more about this next week or it may be too late!

Mary is worrried:tales from the UK

On Saturday afternoon after luncb ,or midday dinner as we said up north before winning places in posh universities  which stole our native language, Mary began to feel very nervous, as she was going to the hospital with Stan on Monday for his next appointment with Dr.Range Rover.
Mary was puzzled.She felt almost happy last week about seeing this kind hearted and gracious well dressed female doctor.However she had been shunted sideways onto a male doctor who was almost totally silent.. so much so that he seemed to absorb Mary’s questions into his sponge of a brain without feeling the need to respond.
Why do I feel so apprehensive this week? Mary asked her dear black cat Emile.
After all.I was happy to see her or to even have a biopsy last weekend.Why have I changed in my feelings so much in a week?
Does it matter? purred Emile.
Maybe your mood is affected by something else.. like fatigue or housework or the ravages of age… [he was well read]
We don’t always know why we feel a certain way but I feel it’s good if we are willing to accept these negative moods.Even I have my moods when the fish you get me is not the right sort and you don’t give me my cat’s handkerchief neatly ironed.
You are so wise,Emile,especially as,being a cat,you never have to endure these interviews with consultants in horrible outpatients clinics.So you must have a wonderful empathy for humans
This lady doctor tomorrow is exciting me,cried Emile loudly.May I come  with you inside your Grace Kelly handbag.
What’s wrong with my shopping bag? Good grammar,by the way..
Well,she wil be surprised if you take a heavy shopping bag even if it has a Mondrian design on it… she may get suspicious.. even paranoid.If I am in your handbag she will not realise.
Not unless you miaow,mused Mary benignly as she smiled down at him her singular eyes gleaming like the headlamps on a Roller.
I like to know the reason for things,she continued somewhat frantically.I think therefore I might be eventually.I am not yet,for sure.
Does everything have a reason,shouted Stan querulously from the hall…
Well ,it does,but it might be beyond human understanding like the Burning Bush..
We can only perceive what our language permits unless we are poets,mystics or artists and even then it’s tough to venture into the unknown,unthought or unknowable..
languages develop in societies and learning your language embeds you in many cultural assumptions without you realising it.You think it’s reality when it is just one perspective.
How true,screeched Annie their neighbour from outside the open patio door.

She stopped there in her teal velour tracksuit with pink bra peeping and  with  unusually  orange  lipstick  and  toning turquoise  eyeshadow and   on her feet were striped trainers with  red lights on which might give men the wrong idea about this pure and rich lady
You seem to be overthinking,she said to Mary.Are you sickening with the heat?It’s like loving too much, which may be co-dependency.
That’s a very silly pc word,said Stan rudely.We are all dependent but men can hide it until their wives run away with the milkman and they get a shock not knowing how much they’d miss her changing the sheets and buying their underpants and socks.And ironing their hankies
Surely that’s not the main reason a man might miss his wife,cried Mary as she carried in the tea tray with a big white insulated teapot.
Well,you can go on the web and find a virtual sex partner or even buy a dummy woman. but it’s tough to find a devoted woman who knows what you need to function.
Why don’t you buy your own underwear and use tissues?,asked Emile
Well,Emile,I put out the rubbish and wash the heavy Le Creuset pot.I see to the car and bikes.I paint the fence and even bake cakes.
Mary washes the clothes and changes the sheets unless she has an idea to write down.She kindly does all the worrying for both of us and I remain calm like a lighthouse.We complement each other ideally.. and we love each other and a few others as well..without giving away our secrets
That’s one waay of describing it,thought Mary without commenting out loud
Anyway,I am still wondering why I feel nervous about Dr Range Rover….
If you accepted the nervusness it might ease,said Annie wisely in her highly pitched  voice like a car siren going off at night
Just then the doorbell rang.It was Dave the bisexual transvestite paramedic.
Emile phoned 999 saying Mary was having kittens, he said rapidly.This really must stop;inter species sex is not allowed here like most sexual activity
He was speaking metaphorically or is it metonymically,Stan groaned.
Now you are here go and make us a fresh pot of tea and admire my new tea caddy.I bought it for Mary last week in that  new  ironmonger’s shop in town.
At your service,sir,Dave said politely,his flowered dress waving in the breeze.
Do you know anything about Dr Range Rover,Dave? Annie murmured
What is her reputation etc
Some people like her, Dave said,Usually men.she’s not so good with women..
Well it’s too late to change thought Mary so I shall have to willingly endure the agony of meeting her again as I cannot leave Stan on his own with her…
why who knows what might happen? She might become his mistress as he likes several nowadays. despite nearly being too thin to live…
God only knows, a little voice said.
Hello,said Mary.I’ve not heard from you lately.
Well,I am still here looking after you
Thank you, Lord,I love you, Mary shouted joyfully to the surprise of Stan and Annie, not to mention the cat Emile who was unlearned in the religion of his owners.
I thought you were an atheist,Annie said with horror.
I am an atheist and I still  believe in God.It’s what we call a paradox..Mary cried graciously….
What would Wittgenstein have said?
Whereof one cannot understand,therof one must be patient and tolerant,.
Why does Mary need to understand all her feelings…Stan wondered
When it’s raining she doesn’t spend hours wondering why and similarly if it’s raining in her heart she must take it like parched grass…she thinks too much.
Too much for what? Her sanity perhaps which has at times bei.ng doubtful but that has made her very understanding to those who find life hard.Everyone has value,even mad,nervous half blind, supersensitive, vulnerable,stout arthritic female mathematical geniuses like Mary.She enriches the tapestry of life in a very real sense as someone once said
And so say all of us,she’s a jolly good Fellow of All Proles College,Oxenford..you know how famous it is!Or soon will be.

Mary meets her neighbours

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Sitting on the high backed,v Ercol sofa in the large sitting room of her new neighbours Tom an n jn n n nnnd Edina, Mary sipped at the PG Tips tea she had been given in a pseudo-art deco mug.The tea tasted pseudo as well!

Would you like some delicious cake,Mary? Edina asked her rather loudly
Mary jumped.
Oh excuse me, my nerves are all on edge, she cried.I’d love some home made cake
Edina took out a penknife and cut a slice of the large cake.Alas it was coffee flavoured and Mary was not fond of that.This was agony to her especially coffee flavoured butter cream filling as she liked all the other flavours..Suffering from this is a new psychiatric disorder called uncakeophilia disorder
Why are you using a penknife in here ,Tom asked his wife angrily.We have lots of kitchen knives and other silver ones
I found it on the floor,Edina said pensively
I don’t suppose you washed it, Tom answered wildly
Mary leaned back and shut her eyes for a moment.I hate noise, she thought.
No, dirt is good for the immune system, Edina murmured
What rubbish, you are so lazy I can’t believe it! her husband told her.
After 39 years you should be used to it,Edina told him sensibly.Who made all these new curtains and vacuumed the roof? she went on languidly
Did you vacuum the roof in your last house,Mary asked her?
We lived in a flat before so I never had to do it.
Well, it’s unnecessary,Mary said , why not learn Esperanto?
Where do people speak that?
I have no idea but it’s a language,Mary cried decisively
But can it really be a language if it’s not the native tongue of any country?,
Well Yiddish is a language yet few people speak it,Tom told them
It would be difficult for the dead to speak,Mary said in a sad voice
It used to be spoken by millions of people in Central and Eastern Europe.
Why didn’t Hitler teach them English,asked Edina?
You think he only hated their language,said Tom in surprise.I’ve never heard that before.
It is bloody ridiculous,Mary said in her soft yet vibrant voice…he didn’t kill them because of their language and they spoke German as well,Maybe even French,Polish and other tongues
Just then they heard a strange choking sound .It was Emile the talking tomcat trying to get out of Mary’s large plastic handbag
Good grief ,Tom shouted.Did we invite this cat? Does he drink tea from cups? Is he real?
Well, yes , I love tea, Emile mewed.And don’t shout at Mary like that!
I am not letting a cat order me about,Tom screamed like a lunatic
But it’s not nice for Mary.She is a highly sensitive person and I love her
Now, they tell us,Edina whispered.She is married to her cat
I didn’t hear you,Tom said,Is she harried ,did you say?
No I said married
But her husband is dead
Well, now she has taken the cat, for better or for worse.Edina said in a humorous yet angry manner.

For richer for poorer… a cat can’t earn a wage
Edina and Tom were shouting at each other not realising what impression they were making
Mary called out,
Why invite me to tea and shout like this?
Did you never shout at Stan?
No,I didn’t need to.He listened to me.
Well, you are very quiet, said Emile, so Stan had no fear you might shout
I might have shouted when I read Fermat’s Last Theorem.Mary admitted furtively
Was Fermat your teacher,Edina asked?
No he died a long while ago
Fancy dying and all you have to leave is a theorem
Well, it stops the family fighting,Mary said wisely
Suddenly the door opened and in flew Annie, the flame haired mistress of the late Stan
Why was I not invited to this tea party ,she asked rudely?Are we in Boston?
Sorry,dear,said Tom.Not many people like to come here because Edina has a bad temper
No I don’t she shouted.You have a bad temper
I get so tired of all these projective misperceptions,Emile said in his intelligent voice
My therapist was not a cat, but I kept projecting on to him and he looked just like a cat to me until he barked one day.He was in fact a dog.I realised
Was that the end of your therapy?
Yes, I stole all the money from Mary’s purse and there was none left.And I learned about projection, that was enough
Good heavens,Mary murmured.I thought Annie had taken the money
What!You thought I was a thief.Annie bawled What next?
Well, you’re more like a sister and I didn’t mind as I know it’s so demeaning to ask for money.
See, said Tom to Edina,I said you should not ask me for money after we make love
Why not, she enquired? I need some new art materials
Can’t you use the housekeeping money?
Well, if you are happy to starve,Edina said sarcastically
Don’t use sarcasm.Only prostitutes take money.,Tom added.I did say you can buy whatever you like in the way of clothes and so on on our credit card
How do you know it’s only whores? Many women do need the money as they may be single mothers trying to feel their family and not getting Universal Benefit on time,Edina told him But other women might demand jewellery, and expensive houses like Wallis Simpson
That’s a fair point,Tom muttered.It’s more complicated than I realised.
Money is a big problem in many marriages,Mary called
But I earned my own and Stan retired early and got a pension so I had no need to
beg him for money
But did he beg you,Edina asked?
No, we just kept in the bathroom under the soap.So it was clean.
I wonder if viruses can spread on money? Tom said
I feel sure it is possible but how would we test that out. his wife asked
Best to wear gloves but when you take them off the viruses might fly all over the place
I didn’t know they could fly, said Emile.Are they invisible?
Well, we don’t really know but people often get bad colds when they go on aeroplanes
Annie turned pale.
Are you ill, Annie? asked Tom
I am having a nervous breakdown.I’ve caught paranoia from a £5 note.
You can’t catch it,Mary said in her kind voice.It’s not a physical illness and they are plastic nowadays so they can be wiped down
Well where does madness come from? It is horrible feeling so anxious.
This is not much fun, said Edina.I thought it would be lovely meeting the neighbours but we go from tarts to paranoia and back.Is this wise?
They all sat looking glum,Then Annie revealed all
I am a Russian agent sent here by Putin.I befriended Mary on Putin’s orders
He must be stupid.Why spy on Knittingham?
Well, you will be surprised.Mary is an expert on differential operators
On bicycle chains, asked Tom?
How ignorant people are.Annie shouted.Did you never see anything odd about calculus and little things appearing and disappearing?
Well, to be frank, no!
I don’t believe we learned calculus said Edina
We learned quadratic quotations
Do you mean equations,Mary asked?
I don’t know what I mean,Edina said nervously
And neither do we, said the others
Calculus is a bit like the Mass.Important things happen but we can’t see them.Everything looks the same but it’s not
Then they heard a siren.In ran Dave, the heroic paramedic in his new pink dress. and coat
Don’t drop the bomb, he told Tom audaciously
I’m not President Trump,Tom informed him gravely
That’s what they all say,Dave said to Annie
Who can we trust
Just Emile,said Mary.And Annie.
Why don’t you trust me said Tom?
I am waiting to see how you behave,she replied
Like a kind of exam?
Yes, it’s called
Trust your neighbour and yourself? How to know the people who might be dangerous
to your life and mental health
There’s not much mental health in Britain now,said Tom.I’m a doctor!
Well, don’t shout at the patients, said Annie
I only shout at home,
That is horrible, surely those you love need kindness?
Tom burst into tears and Emile lent him his hanky
I don’t think we’ll meet any more of the neighbours Edina said
Enough is enough.Kindly go home
Pleased to meet you, said Dave.Do call me when you need coal bringing in or have a heart attack
No way,thought Tom as he drank a bottle of brandy in the bathroom
I feel we made a mistake… we will have to move as soon as we can

And so say all of us

Mary climbs a ladder

Mary was on a step ladder in the bathroom, spying on her husband Stan,through a hole in the wall.He had drilled this for spying on women sunbathing semi-nude in their private back gardens.
Here he was climbing over the fence with Emile ,their cat, on his shoulder.
I think it’s so ridiculous, she muttered .Surely Emile can jump over the fence by himself.
But Emile was very limp,she saw belatedly,
He can’t be dead,she whispered to herself fearfully.She jumped down off the  ladder and hit her head on a tap
Oh,my!That hurt…I’d better be careful. she murmured and she flew down stairs to Stan in the kitchen
Emile has got concussion, Stan said mournfully.

Is he  dead , perhaps,?she wondered anxiously.
No, he only fell off Annie’s roof.I am sure he’ll come to.
Good Lord.What made him go up there and more important,how did he do it?
You’d better ring 999,he informed her gently
If you say so ,my dear

Soon Dave,the bisexual transvestite paramedic ran in wearing a sundress and dark glasses with golden sandals from Hooters.
Poor Emile,what have you done?
He fell off Annie’s roof, but we have no theory as to how he got there,said Stan.
Well, there’s no need to think of that… we deal with reality.That’s my modus operandi!
He gave Emile the kiss of life.Emile came to…but was not pleased
Why did you waken me up? I was having a lovely dream of walking down a silver path where I saw a big cat with shining fur and tender eyes looking at me.He just began to miaow when some f**king idiot woke me up… was he God?
I can’t say,Emile,dear.But please do not swear.
I’ll do whatever I f**king well feel like,Emile said. nastily
Good heavens, what has happened.Has he been reading dirty books?
No, he was watching East Enders on TV… they all use the f word constantly.
Well,Emile.God will have to wait… he’ll be glad if you do some kind work here on earth.
Up yours,said Emile.I am sick of living here. I’ve been hoping for years Stan would mate with Annie but he has only managed a kiss.
Perhaps it was the kiss of life,said Mary hopefully
Well, in a sense,you might have hit the snail on the bed said Stan thoughtfully.I know any further mention of philosophy will drive me utterly and eternally mad!
Now,Dave said,shall I make you all some hot tea?
Thank you Stan responded.I am half crazed already.Tea may save my sanity.But for what?
Annie came in wearing her brick red trouser suit and a white sun hat. her face a dark shade of beige and her lips light mauve, with lipstick from Max Fracture’s new range.

Did you know Emile was in a hot air balloon,she said in tones of wonder.How has he got down so fast?
I f**king well fell out, the cat yawned proudly.Then I had a near death experience until this loon here brought me round.
Emile,I ’ve never heard you swear before! she whispered in a strange manner reminiscent of those silent films starring unnamed and forgotten beauties of long ago.
Do you like it,baby? Emile asked.
No I don’t. I’ve never said F*ck in all my life.
Well you have now,the cat informed her with a naughty smile.
I think he’s possessed by demons.We’ll have to have him exorcised.
But I like demons,Emile bawled .I’ve been good all my life and I am bored and depressed.
So you believe swearing will help more than therapy?
Emile got up and lit a cigarette nonchalantly with a certain ,je ne sais lah

Good grief,he’ll be having sex on the sofa next ,said Stan.
What a good idea,said Emile, but I want my own room and an en suite..I mean to impress the next girl friend I have.
Dave drank some tea and watched these old folk ponder.
I am wondering where we went wrong,said Mary.All these years we’ve educate you privately and even had you baptised.
Well.I am going to be a Jew,said Emile.
I don’t think a cat can be a Jew… and you never ever had any interest in the spiritual before,why this?
Well,when I was unconscious I realised that God exists….
But why be a Jew?
Well,they were the first to see God in a Burning Brush.
And the last too, I hope,thought Annie nervously.
Well,said Stan.You want to smoke,swear ,make love and possibly enjoy wine and song.Is that not enough?
Does God smoke and swear?
There was a long silence and Emile answered’
Well,Yes he does.
I’m off said Dave.I have to ring the Pope.
Why? asked Emile. I am not going be a Catholic….
Well,said Dave, he ought to know that God is a cat.

A golden sheet

I saw your soul like that of a wild bird


Someone other guided me to act
Deep inside my voice had been unlocked
I sang the psalms and then a lullaby
Not aware in thought that you would die.


I fed you with a teaspoon the mashed fish
From a plate as good as one might wish
Like a little child you tried your best
You smiled at me and gazed like one who’s blessed


You sat up with a brighter face at last
Then lay back and God knows all the rest

Oh, don’t go yet ,my darling,I am here
The floor of heaven came down amidst my tears
Made of sumptuous satin, gold,revered
For a little moment it hung low
Then it rose and took you in its glow
I saw your soul like that of a wild bird
Taken by the Power who spoke the Word


A sheet of tears fell down from my closed eyes
It’s hard ,so hard when those you love must die

Mary visits Sally 1+ 2 +3+4+5

By Katherine v2015

Mary got all  dolled up in her new pink wool dress.She was going to visit her former neighbour Sally in her pleasan and friendly Care Home not far away

Which handbag will match this, she asked her tomcat  Emile.She did love a bag of fine quality as did he.

Not a black one, he muttered

How about blue?

Yes cerulean blue is pretty.

Mary put her keys and money into the bag,

It is very large,but never mind

Emile thought, Now my chance has come.

He donned his denim jacket and got a clean Hanky

Then when Mary was powdering her nose he hid inside the  gorgeous Enny bag

Powder puff £4 by Barks 2 Often

Buy  bag in G bay for £5000

Mary put the bag on her

shoulder and went to the

bus stop

And so will all of us

Soon the bus arrived.She picked up her beautiful bag and almost fell over.It was very heavy.

  I am getting old, she thought I can hardly lift my handbag Little did she suspect the truth That Emile was inside  trembling in fear in case Mary should drop the bag off the bus.He weighed 5 kg without his fur,so he had been told by the Doctor.

The bus went off and soon they reached Naughty Hall with it’s lovely Cedar Tree and its rose gardens.They got off the bus and walked to Pewter Road where Sally was waiting for Mary.She did not know that Mary had this errant cat hiding in her bag

But she soon will

Mary rang the bell on the front door of Suffolk House.

Come in the receptionist cried.

I have come to visit Sally, Mary told her Is she still in Room 13?

No we call it 12a now because 13 is unlucky

For whom?

Well someone broke a tooth eating nuts in there.

That’s not bad luck.Its stupid to bite hard nuts when you are old

In the Guardian last week  it said that old people could still enjoy sex They advise using sex toys.So why not food

But not to help one to eat nuts I guess!

Can’t tell you as I have never seen a sex toy.

We will ask Matron

Do you think she uses them?

God knows but it is not part of the job description.

Not yet

And so cry all of us.

Sally was happy to see Mary

What a pretty dress she shouted.

Thank you said Mary.

Oh, lord your handbag is shaking.Is there a bomb in it?

Who would bomb a Care Home?

A crazy old woman!

That would be stupid.

Oh dear, it’s moving .Oh, God.

The women froze.

The two women stared at the bag.

And so have all of us.

Then they heard a loud Miaow.

It’s a cat.A large one.

Now Emile what are you doing?

Can’t breathe.Let me out, mother.Quick

Are you the cat’s mother, asked Sally?

Not literally, Mary confessed.

She let Emile out and it was a lovely treat for Sally.She had not touched an animal since her husband died 6 years ago.

She usually preferred dogs but Emile was such fun

And so are all of us .

Emotions overwhelmed before we’d words.

Unable to recount by spoken word
What speechless  infancy endured in fear,
Through the body pain and hurt are shared.

In the doctor’s office, body bared
The blood test and the scan are both quite clear
Unable to express this pain by any words.

“Show , don’t tell” is in this case, absurd.
Wise for writers, not much good right here
The body hurts so human minds are spared.

Expressions on the face are not endured
Affectless  and wooden, yet unfeared;
Emotions overwhelmed before we’d words.

Like the Dutch boy’s thumb held back  the waves
But inner seas are not the oceans fierce
The body jerks , believing minds are spared.

 

Sometimes our defences cost us dear.
Yet floods can kill, destroy, debase and jeer.
Unable to recount by  our own words
With the body, pain and hurt are bared.

Stan meetings his M.P.

Stan was thinking of going to an Evening Class.He got a brochure from the public library but there was not much in it.As he was sitting in his conservatory brooding restlessly over this he saw a looming shape pass by.It was Annie, his neighbour wearing a big rucksack.
“Annie,you are usually dressed in a fashionable and stylish even modish manner.Whence the rucksack?”
“Oh,well,you’re out of touch.Rucksacks are the new handbags according to Prada.”
“Is Prada that young lady who has just taken the flat over the florist’s?”
“No,you nincompoop,Prada is an Italian Fashion Company”.
“I think Prada would make a good name for a cat or Prado if he was a male cat.What do you think,Emile?Would you like to be called Prado?”
“Definitely not.” miaowed Emile loudly.”Prado is too full of consonants for me.I don’t like say.ing “P.”
“He sayeth not P but doeth it,just as the Prophet foretold” Stan murmured merrily to Annie.”What are you doing?” she asked him pointedly.
“I’m choosing an Evening Class but there are not many on offer.I wanted to learn Pilates but maybe I’m too old and stiff!”
“We could go to a private class in the Conservative Club.”
“I can’t go in there,not even to learn Pilates.”
The doorbell rang.It was their local M.P. Andy Pandy.
“Good evening,Sir.”
“It’s only 10 am,”Stan said rudely.
“Wait I want to record your words.”
“Why is that?”
“I may be able to sell them on-line.”
“Oh,no.That’s unlikely.I’m only a glove puppet!”
“That wasn’t what you said before the Election” Stan whispered to him.
“Well.I didn’t realise then.I thought I was a human being.”
“Like David Cameron once did?”
“Yes,only I don’t speak so posh.”
“But do you think he is a glove puppet too?”
“Yes,definitely.I’ve seen the Hand that manipulates him.”
“Why don’t you leave?”
“I have thirty children to support.”
“How come you have so many?”
“Oh,it’s quite easy if you have plenty of lovely lady friends and …”
“I’m talking about responsibility.You are a member of the Establishment.”
“Well,once I was a rebel.But a Famous Rebel will eventually be knighted.”

“So I’ve noticed.” {He’s thinking of Sir Michael Jagger who is 74]
“Why was Lucian Freud not knighted?Surely he was a deserving artist.”
“He was more of an Observing Artist.He Observed what he shouldn’t!”
“What was that?”
That very large people are beautiful like rocks in canyons and caves.and the Queen looks like an old East Ender.”
“Do you think she’s partly Jewish?”
“Well,everyone in the world has a little Jewish blood!”
“So the Queen does”
“Does she know?”
“Well it doesn’t matter whether she knows.I’m just interested.After all she’s the Head of the Anglican Church, a branch of Christianity, so as Jesus was 100% Jewish it would be an advantage to her.She might be a distant relation to him.”
“I never knew Jesus was Jewish!”
“Oh,yes I remember now.And the shepherds with their flocks….was that not here in England?”
” No and King Herod wasn’t English.Herod’s never been a very popular name anywhere really.But you know everybody in the world is probably slightly English.Just listen to them talk!They all speak the lingo.”
“But what about that song “Jerusalem” by Blake?”
“Was not Jerusalem builded here,in England’s green and pleasant land?”
“He was speaking in symbols or metaphors.”
“Why didn’t he learn English?Cymbals are just for banging.”
“Well, he was English.!”
“He was crazy.That’s typical English trait.”
“Yes,we love eccentrics.”
“Do you know any?”
“Not as such,no. But I’d love one if they lived next door.”
“Well, you could have knocked me down with a feather.when I heard that.”
“Well,Annie is a bit eccentric.”Stan thought.”She’s murdered her husband and seduced me in front of the wife.”
“No,she’s just got borderline personality disorder.I wonder who invents all these new mental disorders?”
“Well,the mind doctors need to earn money.”
“True…. send them to Afghanistan.Then we’ll see who has PTSD!”
“Now,there’s a thought!

Anne Lamott’s writing tips

rosaalchemyst2019https://writingcooperative.com/anne-lamotts-top-13-writing-tips-7577eb5d5c24

 

8. Writing is fueled by hard work rather than innate talent.

“I know some very great writers, writers you love who write beautifully and have made a great deal of money, and not one of them sits down routinely feeling wildly enthusiastic and confident. Not one of them writes elegant first drafts…For me and most of the other writers I know, writing is not rapturous. In fact, the only way I can get anything written at all is to write really, really shitty first drafts.” -Anne Lamott

Lamott’s line about “shitty first drafts” has gotten a lot of airtime in the writing community. Many writers seem to use it as a rallying cry.

To me, this quote is a great reminder of the fact that authorship is not a land of “haves” and “have-nots.” The world population has not been divided into capable writers and hopeless wannabes.

If even the best writers in the world struggle to write beautiful prose, we know that writing is a learned craft — one in which we can all improve over time.

We earn the blessing of the Muse by putting in writing time — not by being born with a golden ink pen in our hand.

The strange river

Photo by Katherine

The water ripples in the early sun

The full dark river hurries to the sea

As secretive as an en-cloistered nun

As powerful as s tiger on the run

As poisonous as a snake out having fun

As other as a stranger is to me

As heavy as a heart when love won’t come

And on the world shall I bestow my wrath?

26233478_1054089244730953_3622257819011378810_o

When true love’s gone and doom hangs over head
When life runs like a river to the sea
Then shall I take new lovers to my bed.
And with their carnal touch consoled be?

When my love lies and break my woman’s heart
. When life seems grey and rocks bestrew my path
. Then, shall I my life of evil start
And on the world shall I bestow my wrath?

When true loves lie and wreck all loyalty.
When puzzlement makes all the world seem mad.
Then I shall upend causality
And let myself do deeds which make me glad.

For I have love’s own child inside my soul
And I shall tend her till at last she’s whole

They told me not to come

They told me not to come to you that day
They said that I was fragile,I should rest
What nonsense when your man’s about to die

They lack imagination,I would pay
If I stayed at home my heart would bust
They told me not to come to you that day

What happens to us when all is awry
My presence should contain you till you left
Not spineless abence when your lover dies

I remember Cleveland Hills and sky
Heather where we lay, embraced and kissed
They told me not to come to you that day

My tears fell like a sheet from helpless eyes
Who undid the warp,undid the weft?
The torture when your man’s about to die

Is our life on earth but a mere test
Followed by God’s kind eternal rest
They told me not to come to you that day
What ignorance when your man that day will die

Our bodies pale as fish

We are swimming in deep water,deep and green
I am coming towards you with my fingers stretched
Our bodies pale as fish, our soft hair streams

The deep sea has no sun, yet we can see
The retina is waiting, ready,etched
We are swimming in deep water,deep and green

I see your face and eyes,how well they gleam
Do we have to undergo a test?
Our bodies pale as fish, our soft hair streams

Underneath the ocean are strange scenes
I will tell you later, we are blessed
We are swimming in sea water,deep and green

Our fingers meet, our lips share silver sheen
We float in circles, weightless is our flesh
Our bodies pale as fish, our soft hair streams

What will happen, what shall we do next
Inspiration,grace, we are perplexed
We are floating in deep water,deep and green
Our bodies pale as fish, our soft hair streams

Bill,Bill,my mother’s dad

Bill.Bill.my mother’s dad
Down the coal mine he did dig
When he was but a young lad

He was never very big
He spoke in the old dialect
He had a dog, a pipe, no cig

Silent,smiling, starving wrecked
He sent kids to a soup kitchen
Learned to read, but knew few facts

Went to London,saw Big Ben
Still angry from the General Strike
Aye,he were a silent man

He walked at night, he had no bike
To the coal mine with his cat
The cat sat waiting till first light

Then they walked, he did head maths
His wife had died, the son was born
When he got home, he had a bath

His father worked in fields of corn
Peasants on the Chesire farms
The pay was poor, were up at dawn

He himself were on good terms
With his neighbours, Irish, torn
He went to Mass,so Latin learned

My mum was th’eldest of those born
She had me,my own dad died
She went mad, she was forlorn

Lost her mother, then she tried
To help her Dad with all her heart
Never wept and never cried

Then she made a different start
Met my dad and married late
So I am here with my own charts

Is it destiny or fate
Why am I down here, d’you ken?
I see you grandad, is it late?



In the desert grey

I was walking in a desert grey and bleak
All alone, with none to speak or  eat
I shuddered when I realised the truth
I was unmarried, pregnant, mere refuse.

Cast out for other failings all unknown
My baby came too soon and I alone
A doctor with no face appeared and said
Your baby died ,I see he’s never fed

He flung my baby  on his heap of dead
I lay there  in the dirt, red with  my blood
I  had to leave or I  would  die of grief
The will to live  just stronger than a  leaf

I went to see my baby, and  he smiled
He was still alive, my love,my child
I took him in my arms,  where should we go?
I walked into that darkness full and slow

The shape and form

Put your painful feelings into form
The sonnet,villanelle, the triolet
The shape controls the anguish of the storm

Our wounds can shape our vision and our thoughts
Remember school, where bullies made you pay?
Put your painful feelings into form

Words like daggers pierce the loving heart
Oh, memory must not cut us off from play
The play controls the violence of the storm

Let all thought of vengeance now depart
Or our spirit blackens, then decays
Put those painful feelings into form

In its time the sun will bring new dawns
Tears will wash our souls from black to grey
The words compress,contain the bloody storm

Do not give the monsters time of day
Conversation does not always pay
Put your painful feelings into form
The shape will heal the anguish like a balm

Meeting you

I used to see you waiting up the hill
Your shape a cipher,features not yet seen
My heart would smile and I feel tender still

I’d start  to run, while your eyes had their fill
Getting close with kisses like thick cream
I used to see you waiting up the hill

We would get the paper,pay the bill
As love flowed out like water from a stream
My heart would smile and I feel tender still

We walked  the City churches, they were  chill
But beautiful  and complex like a dream
I used to see you waiting up the hill

Now never will you be here,yet I shall
I mistake another person as sun gleams
My heart may smile for I feel tender still

In the night, I woke up with a scream
I felt I too must die, that’s how it seemed
I long to see you waiting up the hill
My heart will smile, I feel  so tender still

 

 

 

The one ram’s horn

Xmas lights induce a feeling sweet
Memories of the love inside our home
Little children safe drift into sleep

I never knew that other mothers wept
The smell of baking,cards and keeping warm
Xmas lights induce a feeling sweet


My errant brothers did their best to tease
Burned my golden hair as if to warn
Joan of Arc rocked restless in her sleep

When the lights are off nobody sees
The moment when the Saviour child is born
Xmas lights induce my feelings deep

Holy are the beggars in the street
Waiting, hear the sheep bells, the ram’s horn
Little children dream this as they sleep

Midwinter low, and slow the sun, the dawn
The veil between the worlds must not be torn
Xmas lights , oh stars that deck the night
Little children smiling draw us tight

It doesn’t have to hurt

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?


Do not ask



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

She tried to smother me


I dreamed she tried to smother me one night
I had had suspicions with deep roots
I screamed ad yelled and kicked her, as one might

Then she tortured me with brilliant light
As her minions climbed down from the roof
I dreamed she tried to smother me, alive

She looked so ugly, she gave demons fright
I wished I were a donkey kicking hoof
I screamed and yelled,confused ten megabytes

Her muscles strong, her grip was over tight
I tried to crash her laptop, no re- boot
I dreamed she tried to smother me last night

I wished I were a tiger with cruel bite
Or God whose name to angels was a proof
I screamed and shouted 999, please write

She was more sadistic than astute
She gave me pain, this action her debut
I dreamed she tried to cut me off last night
The two pint flask saved tea, my perfect right

We still stand on shifting sands

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

Connections,maps and roads

Roman roads connected in straight lines
The cities they had built in wealthy times
The remains of one  goes past my garden gate
Do ghosts of Roman legions pass at night?

I like to see connections,maps and roads
Others  love  old cities ,walls and moats
My road ran to Lincoln  near the Wash
Migrating birds and swans  go there to rest

Going South, there is the Pilgrim’s Way
Canterbury, Becket,murder, prayer
Julius Caesar, Deal,  the Roman hordes
Boudicea,  and her fighting Lords

Layers of history, meaning,love and death
Still we argue  what should be our path

One tear

A silver tear rolled lonely as sliced moon
Down my pallid cheek  and wet my lip
Your loss turned me to sadness and damp gloom

My future  seemed, not promising, but doomed
The icy nails of death gave me a nip
A little tear rolled lonely as lost moons

Yet, in my mind, I heard L Cohen’s tunes
“There ain’t no cure for love” on this our trip
Your loss turned me to sadness ,clouds of gloom

Yet soft, deep darkness  need not lead to doom
Come,I’ll take a lover, board a ship
A starry tear rolled lonely as   new moon

I will  love,I ‘ll seek  for new  hope soon
Will I descend to stealing from a skip?
Your loss sent me to sadness like a room

I  need no LSD to take a trip
My open senses give me what I miss
A silver tear rolled lonely as cruel moon
Your loss turned me to beauty,life resumes

 

 

My first attempt: wind and eye

An ancient one roomed building was  once home
Lit and warmed by fire,heat upward flowed
The smoke escaped  through one small  hole or “eye”
The winter wind  would fight to get inside.

Like a human eye, it was a breach
The bones of head and face allow this reach
We must see out and not live all within
Wolves, those metaphors. might  bite our skin

Enclosed spaces need  selected gaps
Few would enjoy choking in a trap.
We need a way to breath, to see, to touch
Sophisticated means, this eye  to watch

Sitting round the fire we hear  Wind howl
Through the eye, we see the moon,our jewel

 

Entertainment,sadism, power

On a hilltop not so far from Rhyl
Mother took us to the Zoo as Mothers will
The wind was strong and cold, the air was harsh
Although it was in August, not in March

Vultures  in enclosures   chained by leg
Like convicts in a prison   full of dread
When they vainly  tried to  get away
I felt their faith and hope dismayed

Who had chosen birds like these to show?
Even God himself would never know
Entertainment,sadism, power
Making people pay  and  children cower

When we got back  to the station I was sick
What cruel minds  played such a trick?