I accidentally dropped the garlic bread on the floor
I had already eaten half of it
The roasted carrots were particularly delicious.
In fact I have never enjoyed a carrot more and I look forward to eating hundreds.
Although I would not like to live on them entirely even with garlic bread to accompany them.
Food is very poignant bringing memories of eating at the kitchen table eating apple dumplings. My mother used to cook them on the fire in a big saucepan and they were absolutely wonderful. How I wish I had the appetite now
Did you bang your head on the corner of the table when you were a child?
I fell downstairs and broke my leg when I was three.
I can’t remember that, just the plaster.
My brother challenged me to a race and I was pleased until I realized it was because my leg was in plaster and therefore I would lose.
I must try to eat better the carrots are a good start.
I am sorry you can’t roast eggs.
It seems so superior to frying.
As for boiling, it’s so common
Why it’s practically mediaevil
Yes the Media are evil to a degree but if you look at several it will help you to make up your own mind
In the 60’s women wore a tiny mini- skirts
[Which seems odd now, as we wear trousers most]
Then bought longer ones should Vogue direct
We wore minis, stockings with grip welts
Cool in summer, chilly in the frost
Once all women wore wool winter skirts
Trousers made us free from fashions cracked
As long as we had slender tapered waists
We bought versions of Parisian taste direct.
But recently we see the trousers whacked
They must be short this year or lack good taste
They’re up and down our calves just like the skirts
And though we hated belts, suspender packed
We now must buy a longer type of sock
To close the gap the shorter trousers make.
So I make my case that women’s trousers lack
Virtue, beauty, wonder, colour based
I think it’s time that skirts should now be backed
Let us admire the daring females most
Who wander flower-skirted to the coast
Let us humans tear off all that hurts!
We need comfort, let the fashions flirt!
Through the TV series fun on Saturdays, They educate us to our foreign ways We’re blind to our own prejudice, you see. But we can see it on our dramatised TV.
Our mind’s a stranger to our self; As Freud discovered with his stealth We make believe we are all saints. In words, by gum, it doesn’t half sound quaint!
Tonight on Taggart we see Poles Shot at close range, here, look, bullet holes. They’re foreign though they were born here. And, by the way, your auntie’s queer.
We want a game like chess with rules Make it black and white, we’re fools. We forget the Last Judgment’s here today And God is foreign, by the way.
God’s the foreigner par excellence He sent us Son down here just once But like we often do, we killed They’re using TV now to change our wills.
Enlighten us, dear God, by screens of blue Make us understand we’re foreign too We don’t need to go to Church The TV’s on and here I perch
Originally written in 1866, a fragment from “The Habit of Perfection” was first published in Robert Seymour Bridges’s anthology The Spirit of Man: An Anthology in English & French from the Philosophers & Poets (Longmans Green & Co., 1916). In “Food Metaphors in Gerard Manley Hopkins,” published in Victorian Poetry, vol. 55, no. 3 (Fall 2017), Mariaconcetta Costantini, professor of English at D’Annunzio University of Chieti–Pescara, Italy, writes, “Another struggle against the lure of the senses, including taste, is dramatized in ‘The Habit of Perfection.’ Like other lyrics of Hopkins’s university years, this poem in quatrains exalts the human capacity for renouncing physical pleasures in favor of spiritual ones [. . .]. [T]he poet turns the body and its perceptive organs into vehicles for achieving a condition of bliss that entails the final rejection of corporeality. Such a strategy is evident at the beginning of each quatrain, which opens with a direct reference to man’s sensual powers of perception / communication: hearing, speaking, seeing, tasting, smelling and touching. Stanza four, in particular, focuses on the pleasures of the palate—‘the hutch of tasty lust’—which are visibly evoked before the invitation to transcend them. Despite the use of negation, the speaker gives flesh to the palate’s ‘desire . . . to be rinsed with wine,’ while the other references to drinks and aliments (‘The can . . . so sweet, the crust / So fresh’) attach physical valences to the ‘fasts divine.’”
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The boughs, the boughs are bare enough, But earth has not yet felt the snow. Frost-fringed our ivies are, and rough
With spiked rime the brambles show, The hoarse leaves crawl on hissing ground, What time the sighing wind is low.
No worst, there is none. Pitched past pitch of grief, More pangs will, schooled at forepangs, wilder wring. Comforter, where, where is your comforting? Mary, mother of us, where is your relief? My cries heave, herds-long; huddle in a main, a chief Woe, world-sorrow; on an age-old anvil wince and sing—
I must be far from men and women To love their ways. I must be on a mountain Breathing greatly like a tree If my heart would yearn a little For the peopled, placid valley. I must be in a bare place And lonely as a moon To find the graceless ways of people
I walked along the countryside At eventide, And everywhere The road was fair With moons of water here and there, Into whose heart the grasses spied. And suddenly upon them shone The light of the City’s eye, Reflected from a bulb on high.
It is a beauteous evening, calm and free, The holy time is quiet as a Nun Breathless with adoration; the broad sun Is sinking down in its tranquility; The gentleness of heaven broods o’er the Sea; Listen! the mighty Being is awake, And doth with his eternal motion make A sound like thunder—everlastingly.
The Lord’s my Shepherd,I’ll not scratch.
Oh, raise me with words
Underneath the arches,I’ll sit and eat my shoe.
Scarlet ribbons made her glare.
Guardian angels set heaven alight.
Wraiths of our fathers ‘ living bill.
God blessed our Hope
Yesterpray.
Welcome to the Communist State of Diarrhea.
You keep sewing your way.
In search of lost crimes with Marred Cell Pouffe.
A still small choice .
Ezekiel,why are you Lear?
My fiance was a Jew until he met me.Then there were three.His mother made a big impression on me… with her shoe!
Don’t believe all I write.I have blurred derision and fantasy.
The Lord’s my shepherd,so he taunts.
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 lovers lie 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 my love lies and wrecks all loyalty. When puzzlement makes all the world seem mad. Then I shall upend causality And let myself do deeds which make me glad. I have the fruits of love within my heart.
Jack had just taken early retirement from his old job as a maths researcher. in Knittingham university.His large collection of books was overwhelming the home he shared with his excitable French wife Simone.
Simone was still working at the university cleaning computers heads all day long.Now she was hoping that she and Jack could do more entertaining.If only he would get rid of some of the many books he owned!
Simone left for work wearing her new pink cord trousers and a dark blue denim knit jumper with a long lasting beige foundation from Max Factor covering her red complexion.
Jack gave the cat,Louisa, a hot bath in goat’s milk.Now instead of being grey she was cream coloured!
I’ve been dyed,she shrieked politely but Jack never replied.
He pondered,as he dried her what to do with all his maths books.He had thought of making a large collage but who would want it?
Or he could donate them to the university or have a fire in the back garden.
Suddenly he looked up and saw a very charmingly pink faced woman peering into the window.
It was his neighbour Mima whose husband had disappeared last year,possibly inside a wheelie bin,though no-one was sure.
Hello,l,did you want me?” he cried nervously
I thought you might like some company for morning coffee.What a pretty cat.what is her name?”
Louisa was wary of Mima.Maybe the purple trousers and orange jumper might give the cat an epileptic fit… she was a sufferer, just like St Paul.She hoped to be converted but so far was disappointed.She longed to see a vision of heavenly cat food in the sky.
Can cats go to Mass? she mioawed to Jack.
Yes,but they can’t have Communion,he responded furtively
Well,we don’t eat bread but I love wine!
I’ll mention it to the Pope next time I see him,Mima said with a roguish smile.Her make up looked to be waterproof as the drip in the ceiling was right above her head and heavy rain was falling yet her face did not change at all.Was it plastic coated?
But Louisa,you would have to confess your sins.All your sins
I never did a thing wrong in my whole life ,the cat replied haughtily.
Well,you know the Church is only for repentant sinners,so if you never sin,you can’t repent. so it follows indubitably that you can’t join the Church! I studied Aristotle once so
I get all logical with emotion.I only wish I’d got to Wittgenstein..I could have loved that man….though now I seem to recall he was gay…still,who knows?
If that were true about the Church,would Jesus be allowed to join?
Certainly not.He was perfect and also he was Jewish.So why would he want to join a Christian church?
As he began it, he might like to see its holy life,Louisa purred loudly.
Really,I think this is a very odd conversation murmured the parrot,Felix Semper.
Not so odd,responded a tall dark man who just appeared from nowhere.
I am called Jesus he said,but I’m from Malaga.
In Spain many men are called Jesus,he continued mellifluously.
Is that so, cried she murmured tenderly.
I never met a Jesus before.If you married me it would give people a shock if I said I was married to Jesus! she whispered loudly behind her hand.
Marry you! Is it leap year? Women have never proposed to me before.
I was just thinking out loud,she replied demurely in her soft voice.
Nuns used to be married to Jesus and wore a silver wedding ring.
I was educated at a convent school.That’s why I’m so very neurotic.
Are you really neurotic? Jack,screamed neurotically
I have a whole shelf of books by Karen Horney here.Self Analysis, is just one.
I could give it to you now….
Not in front of Jesus,she muttered chastely.
Have you no moral feelings?
No,I’ve never had any feelings of any sort in my entire. bu life but it’s done me no harm.
I’ll ask Simone when she gets back, we’ll see if she agrees!
I’m just like a computer with a human body.
I sometimes think I’d like a suit of silver armour.
Bless you,my child,Jesus murmured.
When they looked up the tall dark man was gone.
They looked around but he had left no footprints.
Should we call the police?He came in with no permission!
How disgraceful.
How dastardly.
How disgusting
How damnable.
How divine.
How dumb.
How deplorable.
So on they murmured until it was time to cook lunch. for the cats and birds.What a morning,what a life.
Oh, mug, so noble, men might worship you
You hold a pint of Earl Grey Tea with milk.
That’s more than I can fit inside my shoe.
The very notion makes my body wilt.
From Amazon, you traveled all alone
Until I took you to my heart complete.
I shall never stir my tea with bones.
Not shall I for my writing press, delete.
I drink a pint of tea when dawn arrives
I dream of broken teeth and opiate drugs.
But when I waken, I am still alive
And to an opiate,I prefer a mug.
Yet has my life been abstinent and harsh?
Still my mouth can never , now, be parched!
Next they’ll be putting cameras into our ears but are the eustachian tubes large enough?
Which is larger the urethra or the eye of a needle?
Just think what might be living inside your kidney and you won’t even know until one day you have a terrible pain and it’s not your period.
I have had sepsis twice but will I make it through a third episode? On the one hand yes I must be very strong to survive twice so on that basis I predict I will go on surviving it forever until I die of something else
But my infirmity is no reason at all for Trump to bomb Iran or indeed to bomb anywhere at all in the world.
There’s probably a name for this but it’s the opposite of feeling that you are responsible for all the sin and suffering in the world.
We just have to accept we’re responsible for a small amount of it but we’re also responsible for a larger amount of goodness kindness decency humour love friendship care and community spirit. And much more . Like the preservation of ancient churches and other buildings. On the medical research that’s ongoing in the NHS and our universities.
Shall I miss the journeys that we made
Up sheer cliffs and through deep muddy yards
Chased by geese and then with heather laid?
I cannot catch you now, it is too far.
You cleaned my boots back in the cottage sweet
On the bed, you covered me in coats
Tenderly you stroked my crooked feet
And hot and sugared tea you once more brought
A dog stopped by and held out its clean paw
It shook your hand and gazed with amber eyes
Remote and cold, the Hartland Cliffs we saw
Where have you got to now, my love, disguised?
Danger and delight then drew us on
I cannot find your face, where have you gone?
Try to put a cannula into your arm and burst a weather vane. Sorry I meant your vein.
Inject you with broad spectrum antibiotics with a blunt needle.
Give you an enema
Wash you all over with fairy liquid and cold water?
Read you a story about Donald Duck the evil orange murderer. He is getting to be worse than Satan
All of the above?
After all, the worst thing is being bored, being alone and being sick.
We don’t know what it’s like to be dead until we die and then we can’t come back and tell anybody although I did see my husband once.
I saw him in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep because my friend had been run over and my husband was very fond of her so he appeared in my bedroom and said when I heard I had to come back unfortunately he was only there for about two minutes.
My this metal bed is very hard Mary thought she lay on the scanner. Where should I look? Just keep my eyes closed that’s the best.
I think the iodine will have got into your kidneys by now, she heard a male voice say
Well I can’t feel anything but as long as you can see something I am happy Mary told them suddenly her phone rang.
It was nside her capacious bra Mary had forgotten.
Luckily she was not inside the scanner so she pulled it out and handed it to the radiographer who was standing by her side.
It’s lucky it wasn’t inside my knickers I suppose but then we don’t have those knickers that women used to wear in Victorian times with elasticated legs coming halfway down the thighs but they would be very useful. Actually my mother-in-law used to carry a handkerchief there.
Mary’s mind drifted on. Her shoulders were aching because she had to hold her arms vertically behind her which meant they were actually horizontal.
Finally they had finished and she sat up with the aid of the radiographer because the room was spinning round and round.
Well this makes a change, she told Annie. Then she heard a noise that sounded like a cat meowing
Have you got Emile inside your handbag she asked Annie?
Well yes I have because I did not want to be alone in the wait ing room while you were having your scan.
I don’t know if that’s a good enough reason…
we could have brought another person with us like that man who lives in the house across the road it’s about time we got to know him.
Mary you’re acting very strangely you’ve never expressed interest in men before not since we lost Stan
Well maybe it’s the iodine if it goes into my kidneys and bladder gets into my womb
Maybe iodine is like viagra for womenm I can’t say what it does for men .
But do not drink iodine at home as I will not be answerable for the consequences no will I pay for you to go to a nursing home to have a baby if you become pregnant after reading this storym
short-eared durham owl
meditating over the dale’s edge,
shadows the fields and folds
in elegant diurnal flight.
on wind-side,careful sight,
may swoop to prey
and away.
your yellow broad-eyed look,
at once both sharp and distant,
holds me.
oh,silence,
oh,wind on green,
oh,earth,
sky.
immense your held vision,
sphere without center,
pied geometer of flight,
oh, swift descent and ascent.
trees bunched by dry stone wall
call heart home
How my heart speaks 