Where are you now, when I am here alone?
I cannot feel the truth, you’ve gone away
Is this my punishment, must I atone?
Where is love , when I am here alone
With heavy heart,with warm flesh turned to stone?
Though grief has made me anxious and I moan
This must be the ending of our Play
Why have you gone, when I am all alone?
I cannot be relaxed, you’ve gone away

Please do not eat your own words at the table
My eyes rolled like marbles in the gutter but how could I see?
She was full of smart bones and loose joints but it was a bad idea to give her
a date or ten
The doctor seemed to put blue rubbers into my ear but they were a thermometer
Since I was the only patient, I could not mate in the hospital
Her eyes nearly came out of the bed
Her eyes were like sharks teeth
She muffled her cheeks in wool
I did not suffer from my hallucinations.I found them very moving
We used to meet at dawn or 8 am whichever was later
I do wish he’d put his clock back.
He swallowed my words.
My voice was strangled by a wolf
He stole my vice and was transformed into electricity
My eyes were so big he fell in
Then we all fell out

The words don’t matter but the rhythm does
Verbal music gratifies the mind
Nonsense can be poetry and love

The sun is setting , where’s the turtle dove?
Music dances though it’s writ on lines
The words don’t matter but the rhythm does

I like Jabberwocky just because
It makes me learn the value of design
Nonsense can be poetry with love

Looking at the stars we see above
The moon is silver like a silent sigh
The words don’t matter but the meaning does

Now I eat my meal,I miss my dove
I hum and sing as I eat my pork pie
Nonsense can be poetry,my love

Bring the glasses, bring the oldest wine
All must share the music,it’s divine
The words don’t matter but the rhythm does
Nonsense is the poetry of love

I can’t wear no trousers cos my bladder’s gone to pot
When it leaks and flows my face goes red and hot
So wearing skirts is easier, as noone else will note
My bottom’s hidden gorgeously, halleluja, a teal coat

My feet have got three arches and now all of them have dropped
My toes are twisted sideways and get into tightish knots
My shoes are on a stretcher and I am in a chair
My feel look really horrible when like me they are bare

If you despise this poetry, blame it on my jab
My head is reeling wildly, the pain is like a stab
My hands were once so slender, my sister was annoyed
She thought I’d get attention from the handsomest of boys

My eyes are large and beautiful but they are not much use
But I have learned insouciance and I’m feeling very loose.

The art of musing isn’t hard to learn
Instead of tablets,screens,electric toys
A spacious mind may entertain  the spurned

We each  learn this when we need to mourn
As  companions leave, of sympathy  devoid
The art of musing isn’t hard to learn.

As milk ‘s transformed to  butter  when we churn
So sorrow’s ale  brings   memories  of joy
A spacious mind  may entertain  the spurned

 
The art of living is  one art  we earn
By patience and  with tempers un-annoyed
The art of musing isn’t hard to learn

As life goes by,how greatly we may yearn
For lovers lost in  wars akin to Troy
A spacious mind can entertain  the spurned.

Unlike  that  mistress tempted to be coy,
We open up our our minds to marvelled joy
The art of musing isn’t hard to learn
A spacious mind  may  entertain  the spurned

Thank you for telling me I have won a million pounds.I can’t send money to you as I have no bank account.
And I didn’t buy a ticket

Yes,I was in a crash last week but it was my computer

No, my husband did not take a woman to an hotel last week.His ashes are here

My husband did kill a spider but only because I dropped the urn when dusting

If you were the Tax Office you would speak English.

I did not enter a competition for a 67 inch TV.We use centimetres now

I do not want a visa for the USA.I have no passport.And no money

There was an accident here, you are correct.I trod on a spider and I am still weeping.The spider is too

  · 

Oh,Emile got up, then he yawned & stretched
Cat pandiculationFor cats get stiff and cats get tense
They won’t write no dissertations
Emile called to Stan and Stan got up
Pet manipulationion
Stan made tea and fed Emile
Emile’s ecstasisulation
Mary came and she saw old Stan
Oh, a manifestation?
Are you real,she called to him
What impertinentication!|
I like your cheek, her husband cried
Show me your appreciation
Where is that, his dear wife said.
Is it underneath my aprion?
Well,Leonard Cohen did mention this
I’m damned by my own veneration
Oh,Stan get up and get us gin
This is pure excruciation
Calm down,Mary.I am back
This is a mere notification
Well,I have got myself another man
What a pestification
Does he sleep by you in bed at night?
There may be an evacuation
Don’t be rude, we thought you had gone
I’ll drown in my own perspiration
I feel such shame at seeing these men
It’s torment and it’s a tribulation
The doctor told me you were dead
Is it conspirification?
Send a code to my phonionion
That will verify my restoration
And om

Thanks for calling to tell me I am owed insurance money after that bus ran over me in Uxbridge Road.However,I have died since.My funeral is today at 6 pm

Thanks for asking me what I think of your telephone service.I prefer Westminster Cathedral.

Thanks for saying I have a beautiful voice.However you may not realise I am 87 and no longer date strange men or indeed women or other human beings.

Thanks for the offer of three pairs of shoes for the price of two.I have 50 pairs of shoes now so I must turn down your offer or buy a new home.T

hanks for sending me the Sun.If the Guardian is not there I’d prefer nothing at all to come or if you are desperate for money send The Telegraph

Thanks but the LRB is too much for me already.It gives me a certain je ne sais pas or qua or da da as I walk into the Turkish Cafe for my coffee.It keeps men at bay.And women,I hope.I love Jesus best.

Please stop writing to me.I don’t speak Russian.I don’t even know if it is Russian.And I do not want to be your wife.Or a spy

Of the evils,,devil, world and flesh
The world is what is worst of life and death
We may pray in chapels with stained glass
Then let migrants drown while we’re at Mass.

Christians desired to convert this world
That ended when the atom bomb was hurled
The Jews and Muslims lived in Spain in peace
Till Christian Monarchs killed them with no grief

The flesh is not an evil in itself
Coercion of another makes ill health
Abandonment of children and the weak
Disillusioned, insecure we break

Now I’ve lost my faith I face the gulf
Struggling to stay human above all else

Morecambe

The world we see is like a film of play
I saw them turn the handle by the screen
This may cause us laughter or dismay

Before important thinkings I shall pray
That what I see is real and not my dream
The world that we inhabit is a play

For erroneous sightings we will pay
For egocentric thoughts create crazed scenes
This may cause us laughter or dismay

I was hurled from bicycle to sky
Time went very slowly with no screams
I felt no fear, it was a role to play

Then I hit the pavement, hard and grey
I saw the stars of gold, the moon, her themes
I was back on earth with quiet dismay

I was young and flexible and green
The bicycle was rusty, what’s your scheme?
The world I saw was like a film or play
This knowledge may cause folly or dismay

While I was ill recently with a UTI I heard a cat running then jumping onto my bed and resting against me
for a minute or two.I thought it was real,Whatever it was it fled after 2 minutes and I am missing the dear animal,I had heard a loud noise rather like the army helicopters we have flying over us today
Is it preparation for the Funeral on Saturday?

My mobile phone has been a trial
The other could not hear me
I could have run a million miles
Carrying tote bags filled with files
My mobile phone has been on trial
It seemed ok what e’re I dialled
I bought a plastic case,you see
It covered up the microphone
And turned all humans into stone
Hardware problems it cannot be
My mobile phone has been a trial
No foe or friend could hear me

Oh who can see into our hearts
And make them safe in grief
Catch all our tears in rivers dark
Oh you who see into our hearts
Let love be shared in vital sparks
In golden flames that burn no leaf
Oh you who see into our hearts
Oh make them wise with grief

The first triolets were devotional I believe.

https://www.theguardian.com/society/2014/may/26/misjudged-counselling-psychological-therapy-harmful-study-reveals

After a trauma it often makes the person relive and be retraumised
One week after my husband died I shed a tear and was advised to have counselling but is it bad to cry?
And you can do a six week course and get a certificate to become a bereavement counsellor so beware.Always ask your friends and contacts for their views
I spoke to a psychoanalyst who advised me not to see a counsellor.Crying helps us.Surely we can comfort each other?