Category: Thinkings and poems

Identifying as white

Where is reading about the census of 2021 I noticed it in London

the number identifying as white was quite low

This language wonder weather I I could identify as black although biologically I am white. It is similar to the gender identification where white woman can identify as a white man

Then could they identify as black ?

Q

Love was,oh,so long ago.

 

Waxy flowers poking through
Snow so white
Flowers bright.
Made me think of you.

I see once more yoursweet white hair,
Soft as snow
On pillow.
Now my bed is bleak and bare

,
Face alight,flower to sun,
I loved you.
Love so  true.
Fear by love was overcome.

Cyclamen in  the snow,
Pink and red,
Now frozen,dead.
Love was,oh,so long ago.

But never gone from in my mind.
Thoughts so deep,
Upwards seep.
Love was gentle,love was kind
And always in my mind

Emile sings

Fish,fish wonderful fish…
Nothing so tasty gets onto my dish.
I live on Whiskas and milk and cold tea.
They don’t know I drink it to help me to pee.
Milk, milk,I love it well.
Mother’s was best,but, oh,what the hell!
I drink it at night,to send me to sleep.
I feel so nervous when Stan’s old sheep bleats.
I sleep with Stan and he’s very kind.
I lean on his legs to help me unwind.
When he’s got company, I stay outside.
I look through a mirror and blimey,I spied
Stan was cuddling a lady who was totally nude!
You would not believe the strnge sights I have viewed.
He was quite naked but I’m used to that.
He has no bosom…………..men are quite flat!
Mice, mice, mice are so nice!
Mince the left overs and serve with boiled rice!
Do you need puddings…we never do.
Some cats like chewing their master’s old shoe!
Drink,drink let me imbibe
Nothing quite like it for aiding  the Scribe
Bed,bed,I lie up there
I find beds are better than Mary’s new chairs
Sleep,dream, the angels will care
I do it often, so I shall go there

Susan Neiman

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Susan_Neiman

If you would like to know more start with this Wikipedia entry

Born and raised in Atlanta, Georgia, Neiman dropped out of high school to join the anti-Vietnam War movement. Later she studied philosophy at Harvard University, earning her Ph.D. under the direction of John Rawls and Stanley Cavell. During graduate school, she spent several years of study at the Free University of Berlin. Slow Fire, a memoir about her life as a Jewish woman in 1980s Berlin, appeared in 1992. From 1989 to 1996 she was an assistant and associate professor of philosophy at Yale University, and from 1996 to 2000 she was an associate professor of philosophy at Tel Aviv University. In 2000 she assumed her current position at the Einstein Forum in Potsdam.

What does serious mean?

What do you think of when you hear the word ‘serious’? The dictionaries are double-edged. They list synonyms like stern, unsmiling, grim, dour and humourless, but also earnest, genuine, wholehearted, committed, resolute. ‘Meaning what one says or does’ is one definition; ‘concerned with grave, important or complex matters’ is another”

Susan Neiman

Noise cancelling earbuds

https://quieton.com/noise-cancelling-earbuds/

Studies have shown that constant background noise is one of the most significant factors in stressing us out in the first place. Read into the subject more thoroughly here.

Before tossing the air con out the window or snapping your work mate’s pen in two, you might want to consider calling maintenance and asking nicely. If that doesn’t help, there are other remedies. No matter if your concentration is bugged by apparent noise disturbances or you’re exposed to more subtle yet constant background noise, the question is whether a noise management solution is for you and if so, what kind?

Not yet anyway

The dentist wants to charge in advance in

case I die in the chair

Surely it’s not electric?

Not the first time apparently.

Is it not murder?

I don’t know I’ve never been murdered 

Have you ever committed suicide?

That’s murder too 

So that’s a No?

Yes

A day in the life of Mary

Mary was getting dressed on a wet October morning.The cycling
shorts she had never worn alone made a warm extra layer under her green cotton trousers.On top she wore a red tunic and also some green plastic earrings.

She saw Annie who had just rung the door bell very hard

My goodness,Mary,you look different.Where on earth did you get those earrings? she said enviously

I made them, myself out of the little tops of those plastic milk containers from the supermarket.

I say,you’re not that poor are you?Anne asked her kindly

It’s not what is real,it’s how you feel,Mary replied poetically as she sometimes enjoyed a bit of fun and teasing a friend gently.

No,said Annie it’s It’s not what you feel,it’s what is real.

And how do we know what is real?Mary asked her with deep curiosity her eyes glowing in a deep shade of teal blue as she had drunk some pina colada in the night.

Well,I know you had a moderately good job so you must have more than just your state pension.You may be giving more than a tithe to Charity.Is that wise?

No,Mary cried,but I want to…I like to do it.

Oh,dear,Annie said.By the way you will need a coat,it’s much colder.I hope you’ve not given all your coats to Oxfam like Stan once did with his shoes.

Thanks,Mary smiled with her voice.I still have twenty two coats of all colours,A bit like Joseph in the Bible.

At the bus stop Mary met Tom who lived round the corner in a semi detached villa with a an extension,conservatory and downstairs shower room tiled dark scarlet and mauve..He had fallen over again and bruised his face but still looked handsome with his dark hair and blue and yellow spotted Irish eyes.

Maybe you need to pick up your feet more,Mary whispered to him cautiously
What a strange expression that is,.I wonder who invented it.It’s amazing how wise our ancestors were.They invented writing and cooking and philosophy.We are going backwards.

Thus Mary passed her day,talking to friends and musing on the meaning of words and sentences. and making herself jewellery from mundane objects she noticed on her walks.Not to mention cleaning the front door knob and putting all her old Xmas cards into bags for recycling.

Since from the natural numbers 1,2,3,4,…… we can get to the strange transcendental numbers pi and e and the fact that there are different orders of infinity does that prove God exists,she asked Tom plaintively.Well,not prove,but suggest.

I don’t know what you are on about,honey,he responded.Nobody ever saw pi in a burning bush although I have seen pies burn in a halogen oven more than once
That is a totally different order of reality,she told him sweetly.

Wow,Mary, many men don’t like extremely clever women you know.

Which men are those ? she asked wonderingly, as her peaches and cream complexion glowed with health and beauty like no-one since the Queen of Sheba.

I suppose I don’t mind brilliant womenmyself,he said,.it’s possibly because men need to feel superior otherwise they lose their confidence. and then they are in big trouble.
But what about women’s confidence Tom reflected further to himself

Maybe women don’t need confidence so desperately much,Mary sighed sweetly
They looked at each other and smiled.The sun came out and the
trees were glowing in red and gold as the bus came down the hill looking like some chariot from a myth as the sun hit the windows at an obtuse angle ,as Mary might have said.

Trying to understand

From today’s Times in London

The trick for us, living in an impossibly intricate society, is to distinguish between those with cause for genuine confidence and those charismatics who are just whistling in the wind. Whether we’re voting, investing or making one of life’s big decisions, we have to be on guard against wishful thinking and our evolutionary tendency to be swept up by fashion or enthusiasm. We should confine certainties to what we know and

The cliffa of North Yorkshire

Walking on the beach at Redcar Bay.

The Cleveland hills are not so far away.

The cliffs begin at Saltburn we walk there.

Filling up our lungs with North sea air.

The pier is long whenever is it used?

In my mind’s eye I see it far away

Cliffs begin and seabirds will amuse

The super structures wear into decay.

David Hockney Bridlington

sea views

I walk on this wet sand without my shoes.

High functioning anxiety

https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/40fcab76-56a1-11ed-b965-3a5f647316f8?shareToken=298fdb40f1fcf157e28d23596f8c7fc4

At first glance you would think: here is a woman who is utterly sorted. But she confesses to knowing that she hasn’t slept a full night for years, and that her diary is so full because the only way she can keep the anxiety at bay is to “keep busy”. It is much easier to keep climbing the hill than it is to look down.

Imagination

Is what I make  original and new?
Can  Imagination   rise and fly for me
To   recreate the glory   one child knew?

Who lit the candle flame that brought me view?
Who opened up my inner eye to see?
Is what I make  original and new?

We birth into a culture others grew
Weŕe part of all,  responsible and  free
Oh,   recreate that glory children knew

We make music with our voices too
The ram ś horn  or the string/ed lute make plea
Is what we make  original and new?

The charcoal on the paper is a clue
I sail  with wonder on my  inner sea
Oh,   recreate the glory    children  knew

Oh,God , oh eye,  have mercy upon me
Oh God, the voice, the hand , the touch, save me:             
Is what I make  of worth and pattern new?
To create , to live , must  we know Calvary?

Early winter sky

The sky is distant,cold

Neither Fall not Winter

Colour light mauvey yellow

No birds àbout, full silence

hangs like a dead bell

No thoughts,no emotion stir my

mind

This does not flatter

Death hides in the shrubs

Chased out by a cat,it floats

away like a coat someone hung

there for a moment

To lie on the dead leaves

Leaving mistletoe weeping in old

jealousy

We will have to kiss

As sudden as the ending of a song


Was this the apple then, your mother’s breast
Which father thought was his to oft caress?
And when, in deprived rage, you bit to test,
he vowed to hurt you ever you harass.


So then you learned that you could hate as well,
The punishment struck hard in your small heart.
Your memory was unworded, could not tell;
Though pain and anguish made your soft skin smart


.As unknown as the journey to your birth
As shocking as the grief of unmeant wrong.
As frightening as the gauging of your worth
As sudden as the ending of a song.


Impossible to foretell or to prepare,
The ambivalence of our hearts starts here.

How to Write a Free Verse Poem | Writers.com

Rather than letting a certain structure define the poem, the poet lets the poem structure itself through the interplay of language, sound, and literary devices.

Wait a minute—poetry doesn’t have to have a form? Definitely not! While schools expose students to highly formal poetry (sonnets, villanelles, haikus, and the like), there are countless free verse poem examples equally delightful and intriguing.

That village Street

Standon church, the village and the ford

How the eye will wander as it stares

Lazy cows stand idly by the gate

How deep silence holds and melts our cares.

The heavy load of work, the children’s gaze.

The weight of coppers spoils the father’s clothes

The cake stand gleams, sadistically exposed

The cat sleeps on,while BarclaysBank is closed

We left the car beside the butcher’s shop

Climbed up to the church his mother moaned

She enjoyed the view down this long Street.

Despite the aching of her twisted toes.

Now they’re gone and I stand here alone

I see your face, your eyes,your smiling bones

Smokey Essex cornfields, insects’ pyres

While my husband kissed me in our bed
Our cat would  lounge on top and lick his head
No matter what gyrations that cat saw
All he did was pat us with his paws
The happy days of learning  how to feel
How to entertain with spicy meals
Of walking by warm rivers hand in hand
Watching coots and moorhens ,washing pans
Buying an old kettle, then a house
Driving  out to Ongar ,stubble fires
Smokey Essex cornfields, insects’ pyres
Driving  down the Saxon Cliffs at Hythe
Soft teal Sea,Capel le Ferne, men’s eyes
Happy  in a cottage in the wilds
I sang like some  small bird, we walked for miles
Kersey where the ducks bathe in the street
Kissing in the hedges was so sweet
Getting  our own garden, growing beans
Growing spinach, lettuce and snap peas
Picking  our blackcurrants, making tea
Making jam from raspberries. yes please
This proves that when you marry you need pans
Cooking  dinners  talking with our friends
Wearing jeans and  hair so long it flowed
My husband liked to brush it till it glowed
I dream some nights my hair is still like that
And how  the cat slept with his paws in it
How his father died and mother grieved
Life is not all positive, we see.
On we went and love  was what we grew
Though anger  did rise up and strain the glue
First the cat died, then my man went too
Can’t I adopt a beast  from Whipsnade Zoo?

The Dress and Zip

girl holding white birdcage standing behind trees
Photo by Tú Nguyễn on Pexels.com

Mary was sitting in her coral and teal kitchen  wondering if she needed some new clothes.The weather had been unusually warm  and she  had forgotten where she had
put her summer dresses.A “special place” is easily forgotten
A crash in the hall  meant the post had come.Here was Lands End   sale catalogue
Mary began to look through it though there  not many summer clothes and shorts did not suit her
Then she  found a   lovely blue dress with a draped front
Annie, her neighbour, tapped on the door and came in, a very lovely sight in her orange striped shift dress with matching lipstick and shoes
Hey, Annie, what do you think of  this  blue dress?
Annie had lost her contact lenses so she peered at the description

Elegant 3/4 sleeve dress with
Exposed statement back zip

The zip sounds weird,hard for a woman to so up,Annie said
Is it to attract men, she coninued?
Well, if a man undid it while I was at a dinner party I would be embarrassed,Mary cried
So would the man,said Annie, when he saw you were not wearing a camisole nor a bra
I suppose it’s a kind of flirting or teasing. Mary murmured softly.
She was ignorant of such things since studying Schrodinger’s equation and his dog.
But it’s not an invitation to bare  me to the four winds
Well,  this is the problem,Annie enthused.To some men it would be preciely that.Not to mention gay women
The most odd thing is that Lands End sell more sporty casual clothes
If it were made of towelling you could swim in the river and then put it on, Annie rambled like an old lady who drank too much brandy
I could put it on anyway but would you like a zip on your naked flesh, asked Mary
in her jocose yet feminine way?
No,I like soft fluffy things on my naked  flesh
Well, please don’t mate with a rabbit,Mary ordered
I only want a merino wool or cashmere cardigan and I can’t mate with that.
Don’t you know I am 103?
No, you are 73, Mary said correctly.I think we should call 999 and see what Dave the 
 skilfull  paramedic thinks about the dress
What a waste,mewed Emile who was hiding inside a  large copper pan.With so many people ill it would be wrong.
Since when have you studied  Ethics,Annie asked him
You don’t need to go to Magdalen College to know wasting NHS money is wrong
Well, he keeps us sane and that saves money, she retorted.
You can’t  grumble, the vet is expensive and he doesn’t call to make us tea,
Nor  does he drive to Barnard Castle to test his hearing aids.
So true
Soon Dave ran in wearing a new sundress made of gingham
That looks stunning,Annie told him
I made it myself, he said, smiling
Well,we would like some.Mary haa mislaid all her dresses.
I’ll bring some patterns round.Dave answered shyly
Maybe  when Boris Johnson resigns
We can’t wait.Look at this dress Lands End are selling
It looks uncomfortable Dave repied.Why not wear a sheet with a leather belt to keep it secure?
Why not indeed?
You may get complaints from the neighbours
And so say all of us

Who is Emile?

 

image1 the cats
By Katherine

Mary stood in the kitchen wondering why the floor was so dirty.It looked as of a  plant pot had fallen over and flung its compost wildly outwards.Emile was standing on his
hind legs   pretending he could dance.
Emile, did you knock  over a pot,Mary cried?
I’ve never seen a plant pot here, he replied honestly with a hint of dramatic rony
Oh,well.I’ll make some tea,Mary murmured loudly as of dropping a hint to her late husband,Stan.
She was wearing a  red fleece dressing  gown and  slippers as she ran upstairs
to read,The Sun.
Suddenly, before she got to the top, her doorbell rang
In ran Dave, the bisexual  paramedic, wearing   his new  dress
What’s wrong,Mary asked petulantly?
I was  just passing and thought I heard a strange noise.His nose dripped like a tap with no washer
Have you got a cold,Emile asked?
Yes, but I am not selling it
Do people sell illnesses?
Yes, some buy polio  germs and send tbem with Xmas  Cards
To whom, asked Annie, who was in the porch.
Their enemies., of course
Well, after Brexit we might all be paralysed as half wanted to leave anmd half didn’t
Since the average reading age in Britain is 9 years most of us could  not understand the information we were given.To read The Guardian  you need a reading of 14.
That explains a lot,said Mary morosely.How can I teach non linear algebra to people who can’t even read the Wailing Nail?
It sounds like the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem
A nail is not a wall, said Emile  furtively.
Annie was wearing some shortie pajamas with cats  printed all over
which went well with her amber eyes and long nails,Can I borrow some Weetabix, she asked Mary? I’ll return it
Please don’t, Mary cried in horror.I have   3  packs of Weetabix Protein here
Do you eat them often,Annie teased her?
As  often as possible!
Dave was washing Emile’s feet to practise for Maundy Thursday.
Are  you Jesus, he asked Dave?
How can I be Jesus  and Dave the paramedic at the same time?
Well, if you believe in the Trinity I see no problem
Emile, you are so clever.Noone would believe a cat was so brilliant
Well,said Emile, maybe I am not just  a cat,; his amber eyes turned cerulean blue with joy

Please send some   to us.

The Quietus | Features | Tome On The Range | Things Come As They Will: A Q&A With John Burnside

https://thequietus.com/articles/25109-john-burnside-interview

As for separating out the forms, I have to say that things come as they will – ideas, images, rhythms. I compose poetry ‘on the lips’ (or to put it less lyrically, in my head) then write the lines down when they have formed (though not before). Prose, I get ideas while on the move, but I have to jot down notes, scribbles, impatient doodles, maps – just to try things out before I am ready to start writing. This means that I draft prose stuff on paper, but not poetry. So what separates the two mostly is the method. In prose, I’d say the ideas that interest me get tangled up with  ..