Win them back

I saw a book called Split:how to win your husband back.I wonder if it works when they are
Hey,Lord,I want my husband back.I’m sad by myself
Help some other sad people then
But I will still be alone at night
I know the feeling only too well
Oh,Lord.I’m sorry for being so egocentric
Everybody seems to be nowadays and even in the past Eve stole that apple
Yes, you’ve seen it all
There’s a lot more to life than that.The beauty and the terror
I suppose you also have felt the terror
No doubt, I did.
So you know how people feel when they are homeless and despised
I know some of it.
I hope I didn’t interrupt you.
I have plenty of time
Good night
Good night

Ferrets are popular now

Ferrets are the latest thing in pets
They need less food than any pussy cat
But if you have a rabbit hole nearby
A ferret will run down there like a spy
Their faces look adorable and sweet
But don’t let one run up a lady’s feet
Very soon they’ll reach her private parts
That will be the end for all sweethearts
On second thoughts I’d get yourself a snake
Or why not live alone and bake a cake

My arm was paralysed

When I wrote in a poem that my arm was paralysed when I planned to write
something hurtful about someone who had hurt me,it really happened
I wrote the beginning and middle but the revenge I could not write at all
So has my conscience got control ……I didn’t think,I just felt puzzled
I could not move my hand or arm until I decided I was not going to retaliate
After that I was able to finish the poem.
Unfortunately I usually have to work it out for myself

Mute again

On Monday morning he was mad wih me
I asked him what I’d done to make him hurt
He said I thought too fast and talked too slow
Then he lay down flat and looked inert

So I try to think more slowly and talk quick
It makes me stutter ,stammer and go mute
My tongue got tied in knots I swallowed it
I can’t eat or speak,he thinks I’m cute

Best to stay with nature and your form
If men get angry that is their concern
Why does being a genius and a wife
Make men envy me until they burn?

I wonder if I should go mute again
Then my lovers will not suffer pain


With good will

At last my one ambition is fulfilled
I have a desk where I may write at will
No more the dining table or a board
A two desk family is safely moored
Men must have their study if they write
Though grandad was a coalminer at night
And Father was a writer in gold paint
Embellishing the Churches with quotes quaint
He also did The Stations of the Cross
Then he died, what torment ,oh what loss.
We went to see his grave and said a prayer
Jesus was so quiet,was hardly there.
But I believe in love and always will
Now I’ll write my poems with a quill

I hated once but that is not an end

Photo by Quang Nguyen Vinh on

I meant to write a poem of revenge
To hurt the one who shot out glacial words
I knew how to begin but how to end?

Through the Oxford. my sharp eyes had lunged
My vile emotions then were further stirred
I meant to write a poem of revenge

First he wooed me , showed his cultured friends
Sweet the words and soft the voice I heard
I knew how to begin but how to end?

Would retaliation my heart rend?
Down the vultures rushed ,carnivorous birds
As he wooed me with the words he wrung

My arm was disengaged by unseen hand
I could not write, impossible cruel words
I meant to write a poem of revenge

Lady of Macbeth, who’d wash in blood
When evil can be overcome by good?
I meant to write a poem of revenge
I hated once but 
Good controlled my hand

The words evoked what no-one could conceive

With the Mass in Latin,I believed.
The words evoked what no-one could conceive
The women in their hats looked like proud queens
What was, what is, and what once might have been

The men came late,hung over, full of dreams
They took no Wafer, drunk from living streams
I did not mind confessing made up sins.
Nor did I mind beans found in small tins.

Religion gives fresh themes to those obsessed
Guilt and sin,but scruples are the best
I went to church and told God I was through
He said, hang on,I’ll send my Light to you

Thus it was that I was saved from death
I had worshipped Satan in duress.
After that I took a job for health
I am rich in love, though not in wealth

To me there is a White House of the Soul
We shall meet again there when we’re whole
A place of beauty, space and coloured light

God won’t boast, and neither will the mice

The personality of trees

Trees lean over, watchful as we meet
The tall ones do not shiver in the breeze
Trees can hear the torment in our speech

We have flowering cherry in our street
But mine died like my lover with great ease
Trees lean over listening as we meet

The tree won’t bend too close, it will not reach
As panic,worry, horror,nightmares squeeze
Trees discern the music in our squeaks

Alas, no tree has mastered human speech
But when they can, they coax the honey bees
Trees lean over sweetly as we meet

The leaves will rustle,wrestle and may tease
Smile for selfies,what’s the word, it’s cheese
Trees lean over, wonder, and conceive
Yet trees hate noone, nor do they believe

In this city

Photo by Peter Laskowski on

Searching in this city I may find you
Then you will desire to come back hom
In my savaged heart I feel this true
Seeking in this city I may find you
I’m searching all the places that we knew
From Greenwich up to Amersham I roam
There is nowhere in this city I can find you
I grieve for you will never come back home

My curly headed baby

I sang this to my husband when he was dying.I did not consciously know he was dying
My mouth opened by itself and I began singing ,unwittingly giving a performance to all the other
people in A & E
When I was little my dad sang it to me when he put me to bed.
I seem to have inherited his habit of humming or singing a great deal….

Free electric shock treatment in Berlin Airport

Photo by Phyo Hein Kyaw on

Baggage handlers at Berlin’s new airport have reported receiving electric shocks from scanners in yet another problem to befall the troubled project, which is widely seen as an engineering catastrophe.
From the Guardian Newspaper

If you’re feeling real depressed again
Get free treatment down here in Berlin
Put your arm into the scanner, not your bag
The shock will cure you with a short time lag
If it’s not enough, you must sneak bac
Stick your other arm in for a shock
It’s a bit like vaccination, some need two
Yet only one is needed for the flu
In Germany the home of engineers
This scanning error reduced grown men to tears
If you can’t afford to hack Berlin
Put your finger in a socket to begin
The shock is scary, it will make you run
Exercise like this sure beats a gym
If you are unlucky you may die
Then you’ll see the stars up in the sky
If it’s not your time come back to us
I fear you’ll need a cab, there is no bu

The anguish in the bones

People often think feelings come from the heart but sometimes i feels as if they come from my bones
especially the bones in my arm
After the camera software electronically stitches the image together, the resulting panorama offers a much wider view than a standard photo.s

I miss the full shared silence with you here
I miss you as I watch a film alone
Now I am just me ,God must me steer
I miss the full, calm silence with you here
The peace of love, the loneliness of fear
The anguish that arises from my bones
I miss the full, deep silence with you here
I miss you as I lie in bed alone

I miss the car rides into Essex towns
I miss the burning stubble in the fields
Yet I must rise again,I will not drown
I miss the coloured houses in the towns
I miss your glances as Love settled down
Where the harvest, where the ripened yield?
I miss the car. the journeys, hamlets, towns
I miss the burning stubble in the fields

I miss the joy of learning who you were
I miss the warmth of being loved and held
I cannot now complain you are not here
I miss the joy of finding what you were
Of learning what you knew of Art and fear
Now the golden ring has been unwound
I miss the joy of feeling who you were
I miss the peace of being loved and held

I miss the eyes that used to smile at me

Katherine  September 6, 2016

I miss the hand that used to hold  my hand
I miss the eyes that  used  to  comfort me
The needs of love don’t  feel like a demand
I miss the hand that  caressed  my  held hand
I miss your love  and miss you as a  friend.
When you gazed , your eyes lit what you’d see.
I miss the hand that used to warm  my hand
I miss the eyes that  used  to smile at me.

I miss your arms around me in the dark
I miss the early morning,  thoughts unspoke
On Purbeck Hills; the  Easter singing lark
I miss your arms around me in the park
Poole Harbour’s beauty is a living spark
Sharing silent glances as we walked
I miss your arms around me in the dark
I miss the mornings, though we   rarely spoke

Silent sharing ;  company in  love.
With strangers,  we must  manufacture talk.
To be silent ;the domed sky above
To be silent ;  spaciousness of    love.
With strangers, how their talk can jolt and shove
I held your hand and stroked it when we walked
Silent caring;  symphony of  love.
Not strangers blindly snatching in the dark.

The world destroyed

Hannah Arendt, an émigré from Nazi Germany.“The result of a consistent and total substitution of lies for factual truth,” Arendt wrote in her classic volume The Origins of Totalitarianism, “is not that the lie will now be accepted as truth and truth be defamed as a lie, but that the sense by which we take our bearings in the real world—and the category of truth versus falsehood is among the mental means to this end—is being destroyed.”

Photo by Kendall Hoopes on

Arrest those who incite crowds

What woud happen here if Boris Johnston’s followers rioted,burst into Westminster ,some armed
and five people died?
I think he’d be in a police cell waiting for his trial
Surely inciting people known to be unstable/crazy to do what these Americans
did is also guilty of a crime- depriving someone of their life.
What will happen in the next week?

city road landscape man
Photo by RODNAE Productions on


To develop bad taste or at least to tolerate it
To stop telling children Micky Mouse is twee.
To comb my hair more than twice a week
To stop thinking men are like women before disaster comes down
To decide where to keep the Radio Times
To stop drinking Twinings Breaakfast Tea in the afternoon
To make the bed before 11.30 pm
To decide what things one does not need beginning with smart watches,matching cutlery and
washing one’s clothes very frequently [ what is tha
To laugh at pain

From 2013

Katherins  December 2, 2013 

  • Bands of rhyme will be crossing the UK tomorrow.. streams of poetry will bring rain in the eyes.
    Season’s Tweetings to Sinners if all repent
    Shadow of silence are folding over like an envelope.
    The spice of wife..pepper.
    Hop around the roses
    It’s best to saunter nowadays.
    When inside out, a cat can still scratch.. with its reversible catclaws.Try one tonight.Just unzip the cat and it will spring into the heir…to the throne or is it the air all round
    Until the end of all rhymes I’ll be loving you
    Time feels all wounds…and fills holes
    Maps of the iceberg have melted..
    Two hearts that beat as none ever did.
    I wait for the lime to be ripe then it will be a lemon.
    If you have a man,wash him weekly in a tin bath…don’t blame me if you get drawn in…..mate in the bath … saves washing the sheets.

Lead us not into devastation

Our Unknown,dwelling in Heaven,

Helloed and helloed be Thy Name.

In Kingdom come, may Your Will be done

As it was not at 9/11

Give us this day,no more Dread.

Forgive us our Christmases,

As we forgive those who Christmas with us.

And lead us not into Devastation

But deliver us great acceptance and kindness

For Thine is the Wisdom,the Love and the Spirit,

As ever was, and shall be.Amen

You were doing the foxtrot and he began to waltz

Photo by AG Z on

Language has different rules.A language can be looked at as a game with rules.But the rules vary,That’s why perfect translation is impossible.Many different perceptions are linked into the vocabulary of each language.And the rules for combination are unique to each.
Like dancing…each society used to have its own form of dance though here it’s died out.Irish and Scottish dancing still exist and are very similar.People entertained themselves by singing their unique songs and dancing together… and playing their own instruments.. violin,tin whistle,piano…
Sometimes you make a friend from another culture.Sometimes you hurt them because your singing and dancing may have seemed similar and then one of you took a step which was not part of any dance the other one knew…. so feelings are hurt or the mind is puzzled.Unless you have very deep trust
You may think they are wanting to hurt you.But it maybe you were doing the foxtrot and they began to waltz, feeling it would be lovely to waltz with you.
Then they tread on your toes,you slap their face and it’s the end of a good friendship.But thinking of it as a confusion of dances may give the event a different meaning which ascribes no blame,just confusion natural in such a case