I’m going to give you medication now
To keep the sugar in your blood quite low
He fell, the War Memorial was, his doom
Broke his nose, not coming home
His eye bled and his brain
His cheekbone did complain
Oh, he’s never,never, coming home àgain.
In the ambulance they screamed
Whilst his blood congealed
He’s never never coming home àgain
They asked him could he count
Dying,I lament
God don’t mind dementia in the Saints
The tree looks green yet it is not sap.
It’s winter bare and sunlight tints the gap
I’m a big bird chained to a metal ring
I cannot speak, I cannot sing
My heart is broken by this life
Lonely solitude or strife.
Come down eagles set me free.
Oh hear my call,I cannot flee
This maybe the death of me.
Is this how my life should be?
I didn’t know it was Boris’s last whopper .
Why is grief like a needle?
It is sharp.
He was my past tense
In what tongue?
I couldn’t see his tongue in the dark
Take a candle.
I am not seeing him again.
Make an exception for his tongue.
For heaven’s sake cut it out
Google find me some lice
Google, how is love prized?
Google, lend me your eyes.
Google, does our leader tell lies?
Google, what is my size?
Google,where are the pies?
Google, gambling is wise
Google, are clothes oversized?
We love and we die
Where are you?
The Oxford Dictionary p.58.
Can you read it?
Yes,but you won’t hear me.
Where are you eating?
I am not eating over the Dictionary.It would he vulgar
You would be vulgar?
He who would valiant be
Gainst all disaster
I would not want to be valiant
Why not?
He is ugly.
You mean Job Valiant?
I didn’t know he was Job
Neither does he.
How do you feel?
I put my hands on things and let them move about
The things?
No, my hands .
I am feeling fun struck again
Im
They say they will let minnow
I won’t carp
I don’t blunderstand
How about your boilers
They’re perched on the fence.
As a professor
I am entitled to take home
Paper,pens and ink
In very large bags
Or even ten suitcases
To write my thoughts down
Of course, my children
Might draw on the paper sheets
With one of the pens
Condemn young children?~
Is that an ethical act?
They can’t even write!
I might write,that’s it
For I am genius
And ingenious.
We must be prepared
To note inspiration
A good idea
What happens to paper
Is not important to me
I am brilliant
I shine in the dark
The habits of small people
Are not my concern
I might be the King
Oh,my Coronation
That is so timely!
I phoned Borneo
On my office phone again
Why not? I need perks.
Australia too?
Well it’s a small world
Don’t bother me now.
You do not need me!
What codswallop is that, then?
I was the future
I missed the…
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I have wandered off the beaten track
Searching blindly for the love I lack
Do not condemn the lost for being weak
Do not condemn the lonely one who seeks
Do not fear the ones with faces black.
Dont harass the ones who cannot speak.
The tree,though black, the smack of sun made red
It glows benignly as by love it’s fed
Half the branches shone like polished wood
The other side was dull like musty mud
We need light at night
She was ace from the face
You are a surprise to my eyes
His kiss went through her like a drawing pin pushed into a cork notice board didn’t.
The wedding ring was a safety pin restyled by a Tiger’s jaw
Her sewing looked like she used a nappy pin for speed.
His nails felt like horns from a beetle tickling her skin.
His embrace was as fierce as a moth’s eye looking at cashmere.
But not tested by human hand
Her nails shone like fake pearls in moonlight on the beach in Morecambe.
Feed those in need.
Creeds don’t need bleeds
No execution, no sacred
pollution.
No death penalty no Royalty.
No greed I plead.
A question of attention.
A suggestion for your pension.
Let your lips meet gently,
the top one resting against the lower,
touching with tenderness
your own skin to skin.
Forefinger propped on chin,
I let the others dangle,
like leaves on a branch;
how softly gravity tugs them downwards.
Let heart beat quietly,slowly
as the blood circulates
carrying its music,
a river,
following the path of least resistance.
How the blood vessels receive willingly this flow,
touching it kindly as with tiny open fingers,
helping and being helped.
How the hair on the head
floats
on the breeze,
like tentacles of an octopus
waving goodbye.
Top eyelid loves the lower one;
as we blink they touch
like lovers kissing swiftly
behind a tree.
and how the light comes in
we see a world.
[mine may not be yours,]
but the blink of my eyelid
sends waves through the air,
so we’re all touching and being touched,
lips kissing each other,
kiss all living creatures.
skin to skin.
air to air.
And inside us,the rich darkness
of creative night
transforms,in turn,
these touches
into dreams.
Neither hurry nor flurry
Don’t retaliate, don’t hate
Go with the flow, slow l
Beauty no vanity
Mental illness go pill less
Houseman rhymed in line
Stilled deep, go to sleep
Feed the cat, come back.
ln a part? Act with heart
Go slow, lighten the blow
Fast is worse,teach the nurse.
when in doubt do nowt
I feel and fear the emptiness of life
Now that I have grieved as a good wife
No-one wants a holiday with me
Stop the car,I see an ancient tree
The future looms and ends with my own end
What will fill the space, perhaps my friends?
Each day is constructed ,falls to dust
I lie in bed untouched by husband’s lust
My senses heightened by anxiety
I memorize the details that I see.
The old man smiling , kissing my cold hand
We remembered Norfolk cliffs in coloured bands
When he flew, he pulled my heart away
Now my breast is empty yet I pray
Photo by Katarzyna Modrzejewska on Pexels.com
Mary was sitting looking at the execution of Mary Queen of Scots on TV while also mending some moth holes in her skirt.The only thread she got into the eye of the easy thread needle was blue but nobody was going to examine her with a microscope, she told herself gently
She also was thinking of her winter coat.
Was raspberry really a good choice?
Would dark grey not be more useful?
After all she often sat down on garden walls while taking photos or even on old wooden benches.
What she needed was a folding cushion or a small thick towel.No wonder women have such big handbags.
Annie her neighbour came in the back door with a bag of broken biscuits.
Look at these!We used to get them in the market years ago.So for old times sake I have hit these with…
View original post 507 more words
Drawing by Katherine using Microsoft Paint, for her little brother
Mary took out her easy threading needles and some blue thread so she could darn the holes in a favourite old sweater.Not only had a moth been living off it but she had to cut a little more off when her mini shoulderbag had got its buckle stuck in the sweater.
What are you doing,Annie asked her?
Annie,I didn’t know you were here.How did you manage to get in.Have you got a key??
No,I climbed on my flat roof and in through your bathroom, window Annie admitted furtively
But why, cried Mary, as she noted Annie was wearing a blue jumper rather larger than normal, covered in a print of ladybirds and spiders.
I just wanted to feel young again,Annie told her.
I never knew you were a burglar!
I didn’t steal things,I did it to keep fit!
Supppose the…
View original post 305 more words
Do not post as a boast
Do not lie about my pie
Do not count till the month is out
Do not weep when my buzzer bleeps
Do no harm,try to keep calm
Don’t grease my palm, massage me with balm
Evade no eyes, stop telling
lies
Don’t expect jam to be made from spam
Look for the lesson,L count your blessings
Life is brief, do not seethe
I walked on sinking sands last night
I nearly lost my way
The sand was strong and sucked at me
I was afraid to stay
Morecambe Bay a stunning sight
You can take a guided walk
From the South to Cartmel Cark
But don’t go in the dark
What seems wondrous to admire
Kills anyone who errs.
It’s not made for our delight
Like the shark or polar bear.
We are pulled to risky walks
Climbing Hills,ignoring parks
I don’t need to know about the crow.
I have heard the blackbird.
In a cabin with my Robin
In the bush I saw a thrush
Off Mull with a gull
I can howl with an owl
Don’t give an inch to a greenfinch.
After so much sun, the cold returns
My feet are blue, my nose runs like a tap
For the warmer months my dear heart yearns
I wish I had a real fire, wood to burn
A hotter kind of dog that never yaps
After joyous sun, the cold returns
Still, I have much craft that I would learn.
A guide to navigate the poet’s map
For the warmer months my body yearns
I wish my little cat were still at home
To lie down side me while I take a nap
After cheering sun, the cold returns
In the summer woods, I sing alone
I hate my diary, calendar, all traps
For the warmth of love my body yearns
In each heart there is at least one crack
Where light gets in and lights up what was black
After so much sun, the cold returns
But warmer times will come…
View original post 4 more words
Snowy blanket rapture and fawn,
felt like MA, looked gray, bleak,
lightéd sky, sufficient enough,
my car’s reproach gurgle, cough,
in the market, wan, periphery
colors, and wasted human bodies,
the lane empty, stipends pay
nary enough for this, and a voice
rings out, like 1738 cobblestone
masses, horses ca-chunking,
listen to the birth of us in Ohio,
a carriage into the huddled hands,
poor and migrant, new life bellow,
stupefied my head, replenish my
heart, and I will be careful in the
snow, and I will have a nice day,
and I would like to save $5, and
I thank you for helping me if,
yet, you will never know, and
the car waited, no tsk, no neigh,
click’d and beaut, awash with
glee, transfixed on care, to a
home melted, safe as you say,
t’home I sprang, alee and away
The sun is bright,the branches have dark sides
Extreme light takes blackness as its guide
Mary dreamed she was riding her bicycle.She was going up a hill and then approaching a very complicated roundabout.
How can I look at the map when I am riding my bike,she asked herself.
Anyway, I don’t have a map and I’ve never been here before.She looked down and saw she was wearing some dark blue denim culottes and red suede knee high boots with laces.
I don’t remember buying these,she thought.She felt quite hot even though she wore only an olive needle-cord coat over a Breton T shirt.
Goodness me, she cried.I look smart.
Her spectacles clouded over as she was sweating.How will I know where to turn off when I don’t know where I am or where I am going to.
When she woke up she filled Stan’s beer tankard with tea.
What a lot of tea,miaowed Emile.
I thought it saves carrying the tea pot. I’m going to go back to bed as I feel a bit peculiar.
You have got a fleece nightgown on.Maybe you are too hot,he replied.
I am trying to save money on the heating,Mary answered.I see I can save even more money by buying 2 pairs of Hotters sandals for £97.Usually they are £127.
That saves £30,the clever animal informed her.
I think it’s quite misleading,Mary answered .It only saves money if you were already planning to buy them.I have such strange feet I don’t like to bare them.
Do you wear shoes in bed with a boyfriend.Emile asked.
I’ve not got a boyfriend.Emile.
But if you did?
Well.you know, an older man might not wish to go to bed with me.He might like just sitting on the sofa holding my hand and kissing me.
OK said ,Emile.It sounds a trifle boring to me.
Don’t be so cheeky, Emile.Talking to me is not boring.
No, he said, but it’s nice running up and down your legs in bed.
I could hardly expect a man to do that.He might injure me.
It was just a kind of example,he replied nervously.
Suddenly the back door opened and in ran Annie from next door.She was wearing a mustard coloured track suit and orange trainers with matching lip gloss.
What a horrible colour,Mary cried.
It’s the in colour now,Annie said kindly.I am getting my hair dyed too.
Bright yellow is better,Mary told her.Except it attracts insects.
Insects,I don’t want those.How are you,dear.You look flushed, she responded emotionally.
No wonder. I’ve been cycling all night in my dreams.Why can’t I dream of motor bikes?
Don’t ask me,Annie told her.I am utterly ignorant.Do you need therapy?
I don’t think so,Mary answered.I need to know where I am going.Do I decide or is it my Inner Wisdom or Higher Power.I could use higher power on that bike.
Just take it one rotation at a time, Annie murmured.
I thought it was one step.Mary answered
You can’t take a step on a bike.
I suppose not.But I could ride up a step on the bike.
Don’t ride up a step ladder,Anne advised.How would you get down again?
Let’s have some coffee,Mary cried.Here we are ,the kettle is boiling.
Let’s just sit and brood.
But don’t ruminate,purred Emile.It makes you ill.
Just let your mind go blank.
And so I did.
There was a young woman from York.
Who did not speak English but barked
When I asked her why
She started to cry
I joked, can’t you stop or at least get an Ark?
