I heard your voice outside the glass front door I felt no shock nor worry nor surprise. But there a man, whose image is a blur, Handed me a box with friendly cry.
What part of me still waits for your return? Why don’t I know you’re gone and shan’t come home? What knowledge must my puzzled heart still learn? Why do I get an urge to search and roam?
If we are conversations ,as I read, Then our exchange has ended with your death; And so I am not she with whom you laid. Nor she with whom you shared a common breath.
When deprived of hearing your response. I am no longer she whom I was once.
I wish I were on Hutton Roof again The limestone and the little open flowers The sea at Arnside like a distant gem The spaciousness, like days with far more hours
I wish I were as agile now as then I’d climb the mountains, hills,the little lanes
Windermere below still winding on The handsome Lake the old man, Coniston
I wish I were in Dent, the curious shapes The hills and their deep mystery engross The height, the little river, the mistakes The lost loved man alive, to hold me closeI
I yearn to be on Hutton Roof today The holy smell of grass, the feel of air
← I wonder who thinks calculus is part of geomorphology?
Topology, a branch of mathematics, is sometimes called rubber sheet geometry. It’s a sad world when mathematicians have to study the sheets of those of us who have leaky bladders. However, if Tracy Emin’s bed is a work of art it extends the possibilities for scientists and mathematicians.And this needed because with all academics having to publish very frequently they might run out of topics. So we might have a study of duvets and the different shapes they might assume when they are covering just one person, two people, three people and since we are mathematicians, we could study their shapes when covering an infinite number of people. Alternatively how about the effect of one person being covered by an infinite number of duvets? Would it be aleph-null the infinity of the rational numbers or aleph 0ne [the infinity of the real numbers]? Aleph one is the bigger of the two . Aleph is the first letter of the Hebrew alphabet… and it is used because mathematicians already have used up the Greek alphabet. So now we use the Hebrew one which is slightly different. If you learned calculus you will recall all those delta x’s and delta y’s. This makes me think calculus is part of geomorphology and I do believe that geomorphology which studies the surface of the earth is linked to the love and study of the mother’s face and body by human infants. So calculus is linked to the studied love of babies.Can it be that if you had a disturbed infancy you will find mathematics very hard? Plastic geometry and plastic surgery will be dealt with later but obviously again it is linked to love or hate of the body though our bodies are not usually made from plastic but who knows the future?
The dead flowers in the vase have their own charm They have their form, their shape, their wistfulness What is dead no longer does us harm
Thus being dead is no cause for alarm There is no need to suffer loneliness The dead flowers in the vase have their own charm
As they age, they look like a dead palm The sort we got in church had comeliness What is dead no longer does us harm
The secret of good lives is keeping calm And looking at the world with gratefulness The dead flowers in the vase have their own charm
Meditation on dead flowers is balm We fear no longer our own death’s fullness What is dead no longer does us harm
Waste not time in hateful wilfulness We sing with love our own dawn choruses The dead flowers in the vase have certain charms What is dead no longer may alarm
Why did Jesus have no shoes? He had sent his soles to be heeled.
Why did Jesus not wear trousers? Jewish tailoring had not got that far 2,000 years ago.
Did Jesus drive a car? Drive a car what?
Did Jesus write letters? They had no Royal Mail then and soon we shan’t either.
Why did Jesus go to a comprehensive school? He wanted to widen his appeal.
Did Jesus iron his clothes? It was before the Iron Age when he lived. (That is not true)
Am I sure I’ll go to heaven? Stop going to betting shops and wearing red bras and you should be ok How about this atom bomb here in my pocket? Please, let it drop,I beg you
Dream Hollyhocks,delphinium and phlox Foxgloves,cat mint, nettles,near by docks The blind man breathed in air full of wild scent His daughted named the colours now absent
High up on the Kentish cliffs we sat Capel-le -Ferne I found it on a map We listened to this girl, we did not speak Absorbing by our senses,proud and meek
Now I recollect the details very well In those dream like memories I dwell Snapdragons growing just beside my chair I smell the scent as if I were still there
I may be blinded by the tears of loss But I remember, love, our happiness
Mary had ordered all of her groceries but she forgot to put tea on the list So she sent Emile to the corner shop with a note tied to his collar Please give the bearer your best tea. Emile went off and managed to get into the shop after some children who were getting sweets with their pocket money or debit cards He went up to the counter and mewed, Mother has sent you a note. One of the children laughed Is your mother a girlfriend of Mr. Kumar? No, she is not, Emile growled with a loud throbbing voice Mr. Kumar led Emile behind the counter into his living room and spoke to his wife She asked Emile to sit down as she went into the kitchen and poured him some tea from her China teapot .Do you want it on a saucer, she enquired thoughtfully? Yes, please, said Emile. This is very kind. He leaped onto the rug and began sipping the Ceylon tea. This makes a change, he murmured. I didn’t know you could just walk in and get free tea! After a few minutes, the shop door crashed open and he heard Mary’s voice Oh, Mr. Kumar, I am so stupid. I sent Emile out to buy some Twinings tea and he has not come home! What shall we do? She started crying and dabbing her eyes with Stan’s hanky. Come through, he whispered politely. Do not weep, dear. All is well Mary came in and saw Emile drinking his tea and winking at Mrs. Kumar. Emile, you stupid cat. I was going crazy worrying.I’ll strangle you! Is it my fault, he replied. I only gave them that note you sent. But is it not obvious what I intended? she said plaintively These days you never know, the cat muttered. I try to be obedient as far as I can. Mrs. Kumar came out and gave Mary a cup of tea. Sit down, dear. Worry is so bad for you. Why did you not phone us? Since it was just a packet of tea I thought Emile could carry it. He is very intelligent normally. Yes, I am, thought Emile as he looked at Maisie, the Kumar’s lovely cat who was asleep on a chair. I wonder if I can wake her up, he asked himself. Does she drink tea? Would she like to start a family? It’s not too late for me to become a parent. Maisie opened her eyes What’s that cat doing here? I only came for the tea, Emile told her. But you look very beautiful. Shall we meet tonight I’m washing my fur, she told him with a smile How about tomorrow? Have you got a phone? No, he said, I’ll just caterwaul at dusk and if you are free I’ll be under the red maple tree waiting for you Good grief thought Mary. This cat is very cunning. Just one chance and he is making the most of it. Mr. Kumar gave her some tea and she wandered home in a daze after asking them for a drink on Sunday. My social life is looking up but there’s no-one who will hug me. If only Emile were bigger! His legs are too short!I should get a donkey instead
Some people get creative with this signature. A few fun (if not necessarily business appropriate) examples found round the Internet include:
My parents wouldn’t buy me an iPhone so I have to manually type “Sent from my iPhone” to look cool Sent telepathically Sent from my laptop, so I have no excuse for typos Sent from my smartphone so please forgive any dumb mistakes I am responsible for the concept of this message. Unfortunately, autocorrect is responsible for the content Sent from my mobile. Fingers big. Keyboard small. iPhone. iTypos. iApologize.
Thinking about gnats flying/dancing haphazardly over a pond, I realised that a lot of our thoughts are very shallow and not very important. But sometimes we can get obsessed with them when what really matters are the much deeper thoughts and images in our minds as the big fish in the bottom of the pond are the ones that the angler wants
So anyone creative is probably aware that you have to listen with a special set of mind to be receptive to these thoughts in a similar way to an angular sitting on the bank of a river or a pond waiting patiently for hours the tempt the fish to take the bait.
Maybe we don’t have the patience. But do we want to remain on the surface of life never having any deep feelings? I don’t think most of us want to live like that I may be wrong but at least we have the choice sometimes.
When you are writing a poem the space between the lines can be as important as the lines themselves.
After dinner, Mary and Stan often went for a longish walk.They liked to go to a road where the richer people of Britain lived.,where there were some Georgian houses and one Tudor house. At dusk, they would stroll by looking into the lighted windows to see how the rooms were decorated.And if the front garden was large sometimes they crept in to see more One beautiful house they liked from the outside was spoiled for Mary by the garish tartan wall paper. What sort of people would live there, she asked Emile who was in her handbag.with his head peeping out Well,they have a cat called Percy,he mewed softly. Why Percy?It is a noble name from the British past of course, she answered… Earls of Percy were involved in affairs of state. Well.Percy is Chinese, Emile said to her wittily. He ought to be called Hu Ar U then, Mary joked ,or tried to as her sense of humor was somewhat lacking or maybe just odd.Still she looked lovely despite her moth eaten clothes bought in Sales in colors nobody else wanted like purple and lilac and bottle green. She and Stan crept slowly up the garden path and peered nervously into the empty sitting room trying to identify the paintings on the walls. All of a sudden, a woman who was completely naked came into the room and lay modishly on a sofa as if she were a trained dancer.She was a sight for sore male eyes. Are they about to have a drawing class, Stan whispered. She must be a model for a Life Class or an abstract woman with cat ,if Percy gets into the frame, Mary mused Percy might scratch her then.Stan muttered.She could scream. Suddenly a loud voice was booming at them. What the hell are you doing in my garden? There stood a big man in plus fours and an oversized red jumper with matching cheeks We were admiring your wall paper, Mary said.I think it is very unusual. He smiled in gratification. I chose it, he cried.All by my self. But why is there a nude lady on the sofa, Stan enquired? I am so annoyed, the man told them.My fiancee likes to walk around nude but she forgets to draw the curtains first. Does she want to make an exhibition of herself, Stan enquired hopefully. We wondered if it was for a life class, you know, students learning to draw and become artists of note. Well, that’s a good idea said Arthur thoughtfully. The woman got up and came over.She opened the window.To their astonishment, she was Annie, their neighbour and Stan’s mistress too.Stan might have known but he had kept his face immobile after years of practice. Fancy seeing you here, Annie whispered creatively in her sweet little voice I am trying to seduce Arthur but with no success so far except a marriage proposal. You need to be more discreet and indirect, said Stan. If you act like this he will think you are an artist’s model and likely to be featured in the Tate Modern Annual Show of Infamy Now, would a man like this marry or even sleep with such a woman as you appear to be walking around like Eve before she ate the apple? I don’t know said Annie but my clothes are all in the tumble dryer, anyhow. Did you wet yourself? Mary asked her kindly It’s nothing to be ashamed of.We all do it now and then especially since public conveniences were shut down across the UK.And now ,even coats are machine washable. Well,I knocked over some lemon barley water in a big jug and so I decided to wash all my clothes. while I was here as Arthur as a tumble dryer That’s a very strange tale Arthur told her.You look ravishing hanging out of the window with your nipples pointing up.Let me take a photo of you.Say, Cheese But will you put it on Twitter, Annie asked anxiously. No, dear.I am not so cruel.Why don’t you get your clothes and make us all some tea/ I can’t make tea, she yelled and without pausing she dialled 999. What is it Fire or Ambulance the lady receptionist asked politely? It’s a kettle. Is it on fire? No , it won’t boil.Can you send Dave the paramedic please, as he makes good tea. We are quite busy so it may be two hours or more she was told. I thought this was an emergency service, Annie said. But who defines what an emergency is? the lady asked her philosophically. I will die without this tea, Annie informed her in a ringing tone Ok, hang up and I will send the ambulance now. Arthur seemed a little surprised I have private medical insurance, he cried.But they don’t make tea not even for old people. Well, in the UK tea has always been essential to the National Health But it will soon be drying up and we shall get flasks from the dustmen on Sundays instead. I just don’t believe it, Arthur said and he then passed out on the rug which stood in front of a bookcase full of leather bound volumes of poetry. Will he live?Read more tomorrow and pay the price… a few minutes of fun and gaiety.
1 Do not stop your car to read this sign.Thank you
If you can’t read this sign get your eyes tested~unless you are illiterate 3 This sign is not here till further notice 4.This sign is here but don’t look at it 5 Harald Bluetooth, please call the police.
This sign has been push here to annoy you. If you do something bad like driving on the wrong lane then we will know that the sign should not have been here
How to pack a suitcase when you never wear a suit However did we pack ,when we had no kindle books? How to go on holiday on the perfect route
I sometimes wore a sandal, my sister liked a boot We were not so worried by perfection and our looks Nor how to pack a suitcase when we never wore a suit
If you play a cello then never take a flute Don’t take any sandwiches unless you have a cook How to go on field trips when the your anger is acute
If you feel the stress of life, why not become mute? If you have a caravan, is it overlooked? How to pack a suitcase when you never sawed a suit
If you only take one bag,, you seem to me astute Don’t take any rifles it’s illegal to shoot rooks How to go on holiday on the perfect route.
Make sure you wear your wellingtons if you walk through a brook Take some stolen credit cards , if you are a crook How to wear a suitcase when you never wear a suit How to grow on holiday, slurp the perfect soup
Annie Laughton, the neighbor of Mary Brown, widow of Stan , the almost world famous logician, came out of her oak-panelled front door and paused in her double glazed white plastic porch deliberating over whether her teal color 7/8 length wool coat was the best one for her to wear in the frosty smog covering Knittingham and the River Quaint.[Now breathe] She decided a full-length raspberry maxi coat would be wiser however she did not take her own advice but wandered next door, to see what Mary was doing. Mary was reading some book reviews. There is a new type of illness, she told Anne. Almost flu.almost depression, almost measles……almost happy
Surely you either have measles or not, Annie mumbled. Not so, Mary answered.That is Aristotelian logic; nowadays we use fuzzy logic.It’s a degree of indefiniteness or its opposite. This is why Trump got elected, Annie cried.We want it simpler.apart from Leonard Cohen who wanted it darker and so it has been for him.He died! Well, fuzzy logic is not so hard, Mary whispered. Any logic is hard, Annie replied.Prehistoric man had no logic and look at us now.Are we happier?Or we wiser? You seem a bit moody, Mary told her.By the way, I love your new coat.Where did you get it from?
I stole it from the cloakroom at the Cricket Club, Annie teased her thoughtfully.
Are you not worried the owner will see you? said Mary anxiously.
No, it was in Newcastle under Lyme! Annie cried
But it is still both a crime and a sin.Mary retorted logically
Actually, I got it from Lands End, Annie said triumphantly.They had a big sale on.Because it was a warm autumn.It was only £6,788.09.
My, that’s cheap, said Mary.
My pension is £189 a week so how long will it take me to pay off the credit card? Annie wondered.
If we ignore interest and assume you pay £100 a week it will be 16788/100 which is about 168 weeks or 3 years.Can you live on £89 a week for 3 years?
No, I knew I should have stolen a new coat but I lost my nerve.
I am still wearing my old clothes, Mary boasted.
Yes, I can see all the moth holes, Annie said humorously.Your darning is pathetic
I know, Mary said.Stan was good at darning.
Well, he can’t do it now, Annie informed her logically.Well. he might darn God’s tablecloth but not your skirts and jumpers.
God’s tablecloth is perfect, said Mary.It lasts for eternity unlike our clothes
Are we going out?It looks so cold.Why don’t we stay in and teach Emile to thread a needle?Annie pondered
Do you believe that a cat could ever learn that? Mary cried.
O ye of little faith,cried Annie.With God all things are possible.
Your argument has only one flaw,Mary cried.We are not God.
And so say all of us
While Mary sat in the kitchen on a large pine chair looking at Hotter’s latest shoe catalogue,Annie was creeping up the garden path in a pair of turquoise suede elegantly heeled shoes matching her teal tencel culottes and matching blouse.Round her neck was a large lump of amber on a gold chain handy for beating off muggers or lustful men
Despite the heat she was in full splendour with golden beige tinted moisturiser from Langone of Lyons on her lovely complexion,pink eyeshadow from Yves St Current and dark brown boot polish as her mascara had run out and she’d not been out for a while to buy more
Annie ran the last few yards and darted like an eel into Mary’s 1970’s kitchen.
What on earth are you doing,dear? Mary asked her.Those shoes look unsuitable for leading anyone up the garden path.Mind you,I do like them
Oh,I’ll explain,Annie said huskily.
I told that therapist across the road I was living with you.
What exactly do you mean by living,Mary asked anxiously.
Well,he said yesterday that anyone who lives alone must be lacking in some way.Except for him of course as he had full analysis with Alfred Zion.
You mean Wilfred Bion,Mary told her.
Zion,Bion,what’s the difference?
It shows your lack of education,Mary told her.Not that education nowadays makes much difference when almost anyone can get a 1st or 2.1.After all would you pay £90,000 for a third class degree in Aeronautical Engineering?
That’s not quite what I would have done, said Annie.A degree in flirtation and pleasing men would be more up my street.And cooking of course although I once did have an interest in Hebrew and Aramaic.
It’s not a way to progress in a neo-liberal economy,although reading the Hebrew Bible is always interesting.Personally I prefer that to the New Vex-a man.The stories,the love songs,the action.Mary’s round eyes gleamed with intellectual life and a bit of languorous lust
How about God? Annie asked her.
He seems to have changed as he related to his people.But he was a friend despite being an abstract concept.Though one could hardly call him a concept as he is inconceivable.
Mary’s voice faltered as she was stunned by her own articulacy and wondered what she might say next that could offend millions around the globe.
You should write a book,Annie said kindly.
I think I am ill-equipped to write about God.And ,also ,I am saddened to see how his own people have been treated.I can’t dwell on it over much as I already feel weak and weepy.
Why what have you been doing,asked Annie.
I have been sorting out clothes to give to the hospice shop. I’ve got a big bag
full already and 2 bags of newspapers and rubbish of various kinds which somehow creeps into my bedroom… tissues,cotton wool, old hairbrushes.I am hoping to get it nice and neat before my sister comes to see me in August.And no doubt she will not be happy even then.She’d like me to buy a small new house with a lovely bathroom and kitchen. But I don’t want to leave my neighbours behind.If I won the lottery I could get the neighbours to move as well.Love thy neighbour etc
And now I realise I have far too many pans despite burning several.But it’s a big decision for a woman who was famed for entertaining friends with scorching Beef Vindaloo and lemon mousse that tasted like rubber.Giving that up is a big wrench.
Why can’t you carry on, asked Annie.
Carrying on is precisely why I can’t do it.Now I am a widow the wives of my former colleagues and my own women friends are afraid I will steal their husbands.
Emile miaowed in ecstasy as any talk about the love lives of his family were always intriguing.He was hiding as usual behind the stone flour bin.
Don’t you see,said Annie.If we pretend we are living together then you can mingle with men without suspicion.
This is beginning to sound like a spy story,Mary told her.And do not drag me into a character part in the play based on your romantic love for that psychoanalyst.
He looks ugly and boring to me.
Oh,that’s just a projection,Annie told her.You are defending yourself against acknowledging how much you long to lie in his arms and let him smother you in kisses.
Well,said Mary,I see you have been reading Freud for beginners again.
Or is it Freud for Dummies?
Mary recalled how nice her dummy used to taste when it was dipped into a jar of malt and codliver oil.Maybe that is the answer,she thought.
I’m going to Mothercare,she called as she ran out of the house in her green trainers and denim trouser suit.See you later.
Annie sat in the kitchen wondering how soon she could see the psychoanalyst again without being accused of sexual harassment.Even old age has not deterred her from seeking a replacement for dear old Stan.A few tears ran down her cheek and Emile jumped out and sat on her knee.
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 among my tears Made of sumptuous satin, golden,dear. 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
How my heart speaks 