How alien this world seems without your face

Strangers populating every place

How do long-term prisoners survive?

How do they keep their heart and spirit live?

When what was once familiar disappears

The heart is struck by cold and dreadful. fear

My heart has wavered looking for the known

To meet a friend in person, not by phone

To see a human face the eyes  the smile

This would help me when I’m feeling frail.

My psycho social needs unsatisfied

Without your love  I feel  I’ve  nearly died

Could I love another in that way?

All the lost can do is kneel and pray.

I don’t think dating apps would be my friend.

Acquainted  with this grief, my tears descend m

And yet there’s always hope, black humour too.

Without  our humorous self what would we do?

For humour gives perspective, changes minds

And from our soul within, the new is mined

An image or a sound says more than words

Life is humorous, sad and quite absurd

Words float like water in a stream,
Reflected gently by sunbeams.
This stream flows swiftly to my heart
And through these words your love is caught.

The space inside my heart is clear,
Your love will find its right home here.
Your words are treasures in my night,
And in the dark, they glow with light.

Oh,let me read your notes of bliss,
And seal them with a loving kiss.
I hope this stream will always go
Where living waters softly flow.

For love is kind, and love is true.
Connections form from me to you.
And love creates an open heart,
From which all other feelings start.

Yet love is free, and does not bind.
Love is glad,and not unkind.
So if my love displeases you,
Then you can find a lover new.

I have life inside my heart
Which will sustain me if we part.
I wish you much great happiness…
And know my grief will one day pass.

But for today,let’s laugh and play.
Let’s make love inside the hay.
It’s summer and we like the heat.
Let’s celebrate with kisses sweet.

You are smiling on the pier above the sands

The rippling waves stretchef out like children’s hands

You look so strong I cannot comprehend

Your fatal illness and its grievous end

You were never  patient on dry land

You were living well and  feeling grand

We crossed the road ; I held your cold thin hand

  I suffered so much torment,would I mend?

I saw a fluid shape as dark it pranced

Through the open door it swiftly danced

With the  well known wiles of Tudor kings

Hoping they can make it on the wing

I learned with grief , it came to take you back.

Across the river wide ,my love, my lack.

In the pain of this raw grief  I dwell.

Is this the woe of heaven, the joy of hell?

The sun may shine, yet I am cold and still

Oh God relieve me, take me when you will

I loved my sister more than I had known

Now she’s gone and my heart is a stone

As if I rose one day to find no sun.

The darkness of the heart has just begun.

I breathe I eat, I lie down in my bed.

If I should stop what should I do instead?

Without that strength beside me I feel weak.

I look about and all the world seems bleak.

The joy I saw in every little thing

This joy has gone, and what have I to bring?

I gaze out through my eyes the world is here

Can my response be richer than a tear?

Thirty tears of silver would I give

To cheat your death and buy your right to live

I am your Judas I betrayed your love

Forgive me for my sin, below above.

I cannot dwell in heaven now you are dead

Nor can I go to hell to burn instead

In purgatory will I dwell in time

Forgive me for my errors and my rhymes

  WecEnglish have to be careful in discussion with people who speak English but live in other countries like New Zealand.South Africa and of course, Canada, home of Leonard Cohen However much we learn, if we don’t live in England we probably do not understand the idioms and I expect in politics and business it could cause great problems If Boris Johnson says he is going to spill the beans tonight, will anyone from other countries like France know what he means.Because I assume they speak English at NATO events Stone the crows. here is Boris striking while the iron is hot and spilling the beans and his seeds all over the area. Oh, my sainted aunt,I can’t escape agoraphobia, Seen a shrink? There’s sink in the toilet But will it flush away? Now be serious.I mean the room What ,where the Inn keeper would not let Mary and Joseph stay? They had no bathrooms then Mine is the cat’s pyjamas Should it be “are”? Grammar is obsolete. It sounds extremely rude.I must be mixing my words You sound like an artist Well,paint while the iron is hot! But you don’t paint with an iron,do you? No, but I can scorch the paper I’d love to scorch the Mail on Sunday Don’t waste your time I didn’t know I had any. Well, keep still.Don’t move Why, is Trump passing? Passing wind maybe Is he a sheep in wolf’s clothing? He’d be a ram, he would believe in God The wolf is only artificial Is it imaginary like a complex number Not that kind of imaginary Do tell Who? The cat’s out of the bag Emile! Yes, mother? Hide! But where? Under a hat I got the hat trick once.I took it off Now keep mum and watch what I do. I want dad Me too Don’t ask for the moon So is he there? Be quiet Michael Gove wants to squeak Where is Rees’ Mogg? Mating with yours This is the absolute end Well, nearly Not angles and not angels. You are around the end

https://wp.me/p3Pz3V-D5

Of mother and my sisters, I’m bereft.

Of the four a single one is left

Yet would we like to be a rock or stone?

Unmoved by feelings, heavy,dark, alone?

Though my sisters died, I feel them still.

The connections to my heart negate my will

Yet if my heart were made of metal cold

I would feel no joy though I were bold

The roots of love leave holes when loved ones die

The roots are torn out wildly, love goodbye

I miss my mother and my sisters two

Without such old companions what to do?

Words make cliches, die  when overused

My heart   still aches, for I have lost my muse

Words like weapons wound us when they show

Nothing lasts, the every loss a blow.

Should we be grateful though we are in pain?

Every loss we feel was once a gain

We

https://wp.me/p59Hmp-29s

One week before he died my husband said to me,

I am very angry with you. Because you are more intelligent than I am.

So I said, it’s taken  you 45 years to work that out?

So he said, well I just needed your salary, you see.

So I said, it’s mutual.

He said he was angry because he was dying or was it he was dying because he was angry?

Of course I didn’t know that he only had one week to live. He didn’t know either.

See nobody knows exactly when they’re going to die and that in itself could make you very angry

And then when you realise it’s too late to do anything except die.

He said, you are very beautiful and I said,  I’m glad there’s something about me that you like the thing is I’m still very intelligent but I’m no longer beautiful except to someone who loves me

The most important thing is that intelligence is not the most important thing in life. But looking at certain people in the public eye we realize a modicun of intelligence is essential

We never really know another person no matter how long we live with them with at least we can be kind to one another. For some of the time anyway.

That’s being intelligent

Stan managed to drive from the Wash to Knittingham without accident.Satan was asleep in the bottom of the mirror only wakening when they stopped for a cup of tea in a Restaurant.
But how can Satan drink his tea?
Stan  persuaded Satan that  if he wore Stan’s hat and coat nobody would know he was  not human.After all, many real humans  don’t look human.So Satan went into the Little Chef for his first experience of human life.They all sat down and ordered tea and pancakes with jam and golden syrup.
Woww,said Satan.I might consider apologising to  the Lord if I can eat this every day
Emile looked puzzled:
An apology is not genuine if  it is done for gain, he mewed.
Gosh,where did you get such a clever cat,  Satan asked Stan?
He just turned up looking wet and hungry a few years ago.Then I taught him at home how to speak properly and the basics of ethics but he seemed to know more than I could explain
Both the men stared at Emile as he lapped up the tea from a  white china saucer.I wonder who he really is, they both murmured in a hushed tone.
I have taught him  to swim in our bath and  sometimes he comes for a ride in my bike basket.Once he fell out yet managed to lure a beautiful lady to bring him home as he is tired of my mistress Annie and fancied someone who didn’t wear crimson and magenta together  nor such extraordinary makeup from Lemmings of Wigan and Warrington.
I’ve never heard of them said Satan wonderingly.I didn’t know women actually bought “makeup.”I thought when girls matured their faces went like that naturally/
That’s a bit stupid, said Stan bluntly.But never mind.Let’s carry on  or Mary will worry
Satan decided he would sit with Emile  and stay out of the mirror.He was beginning to look like a human being albeit a rather ugly one
And so say all of us

Satan  had been,  for  an hour or two ,inside a solid gold powder compact which  a delightful old lady called Dora had been given by her husband Alf.Alas when Dora saw Satan in her mirror she was not amused.

Luckily for Satan the  mirror broke and he was able to escape into the North Sea.
Since Stan and Emile were going home he decided to swim to the Wash and see if he could catch up with them.,(He is well up in geography unlike the author)
Being in the sea was very different from being in the Fires of Hell.Both have their downsides.Still we all have to conpromise  now and then.

But why did God let Satan get out of the mirror?
Alf and Dora stuffed with hot tea and  buttery muffins were paddling back to the car park in Cromer where their silver car was waiting
Why is there so much water on the road,Dora asked her amiable husband.
It’s not  been raining, has it?
Well. I saw some canoes sailing down the promenade.What has happened?
Cromer is a very strange place at the extreme  east end of the Norfolk coast.One moment you are facing North, the next East.This is where houses fall into the sea.Officially it is subsidence but the truth is, it’s the place where demons come onto the Earth and cause devastation with their fiery clothes and weapons.
And here they come, looking for Satan, their master whom God has taken away from his hot home with no running cold  water.
As Dora got out of the car, she saw her shoes were full of water.Why even the car was flooded despite  being in a high level car park
Don’t buy anything from a stranger on the beach again, she begged Alf.
We don’t know what we are unleashing.I wish we had gone on the cliffs to Weybourne rather than that old pier
Well,I had no idea such a delightful old man  might be in league with the Devil.Though when we see what is happening in  the  world it seems evil is much more sophisticated than  it was when  Fire and Brimstone were the punishment for murdering your wife with wilful intent.

Maybe Satan  was not so evil, just too proud to apologise.
The Mayor of Cromer was on the pier looking at the cracks in the concrete,
Has a bomb gone off, she cried?
Well, not exactly……  there’s a funny story about that Satan has been calling on us and someone tried to drown him,
Who could drown Satan? He is not human.He has no lungs.
My goodness, how intelligent the people of Cromer seem to be.Maybe we should  get them to run the whole country!
Stan and Emile were standing by the Ouse Crossing watching the  swans and sea birds when suddenly Satan  emerged from the swollen water
How did you  get here,Stan enquired tactlessly?  I thought we had seen the last of you.
Satan  looked very upset.
Help me, let me get into the mirror.My servants are looking for me but I don’t want to go with them.I am fed  up with Hell and sin and evil
Emile had a bright idea,
Look there are mirrors on the car.
Stan was not eager to let Satan  hide there but the wicked creature leapt in and cried with relief after taking a nice white hanky out of his hat
I  never thought Satan would weep,Stan murmured unkindly.
God has almost gone and  the order of the  Western world is collapsing.Everything is upside down.
Emile ran into the car and nuzzled against Stan’s old tweed jacket.
I’m frightened,dad, he muttered sheepishly.
So am I said Stan as he looked into the mirror before backing out and hitting an invisible stone wall which had not been there moments ago.
Now,Satan, step to one side  or we will never get home to Knittingham if the mirror is not freed
Satan obeyed,He has fallen in love with Stan and Emile.He wants to live in this quiet city forever.But what will Mary say if Stan tells her Satan is  on her dressing table in the mirror?
Will Stan be sent to see a psychiatrist? Will he be diagnosed with paranoid dementia  and double pneumonia of the mind?
Or will he manage to get Mary to see things his way? Will she see Satan when Stan is out?
We will wait and see

When he went away
He said,”Lehitraot,mama.”
Do vstrechi.
He died, but I’m still here
Yes,in my heart I feel his love.
But why did I live,
And he did not?
Auf wiedersehen
Lehitraot.
Yes,darling,I’ll see you later
,When the sky turns black and all the stars blaze bright
I’ll see you shining in the night.
I’ll see you in my dreams alas.
Do vstrechi.
But why you and not me too?
Araka
I can’t understand
.Lehitraot,beloved.
A plus tard
Some where in this world,you fell
But no-one,not even God, can tell.
God was absent then or in some other place
He’s gone again
.They said He’s died too
,But He didn’t have a mother like you.
Do vstrechi.
My breasts ache and my heart and soul,
My breasts were made to make you whole.
To feed, give love and to console.
A plus tard
And now they ache with grief as my tears fall
.A bientot
My body trembles in the night
As dreams may bring my lost ones to my sight.
A plus
I’d walk across the roughest bleak terrain
If l I could find my loves and hold your hands again.
Do vstrechi
.The bell rings on the ancient clock
As time goes on as normal,  never stops.
Araka
I wish the hands of time could be reversed,
And I was not living with this curse.
People forget that I once had a son.
They think my grieving has been done.
Araka.But grief and loss and pain will never end
Until the curtain of my death descends
Auf wiedersehen.
Meantime I look at flowers and birds and trees
,But it’s really you my deepening insight sees.
Lehitraot.
The inscape of my heart is shown to few.
An artist of the lost would know this view.
I know I want to see just you.
Do vstrechi.
But for me there is no Auf wiedersehen
Never again will you say
What you said that day
Lehitraot,Mama.Papa
A plus tard
Tot ziens.
See you later
See you ,darling
See you soon

How softly sweetly,gently flowers pose
Carnation,orchid ,daffodil and rose.
For their intricate petals form a shield
Yet bees with striped force shall make them yield.
Appearances,both natural and contrived,
Mixed with the wiles of human nature thrive.
As knowing not, we pluck the apple rare
And bite its flesh,with teeth we have to bare.
We too deceive the innocent who pass
Not seeing watchers hid behind the glass.
The windows break,the deep earth quakes;
Seized is the maiden ,he her virtue takes.
Beneath the surface,force and fierceness thrive.
What fearsome, burning God enjoys our lives

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

I see once more your just washed 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,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,

Always in my mind

Highly defective people. How to be a winner anyway

The highly sensitive merman

6 ways out of claustrophobia. (+Try the exit first)

Repression: the way out of your schism.

The naked person’s guide to shyness/politeness/dryness.

Heal your soles and other useful prayers

The wryly tentative person-

The advent  of hell on earth and other short stories

The highly inimical person

How to change your blame.

God be grateful to me, a winner. The new guide to prayer for narcissists.

https://www.rte.ie/culture/2025/1202/1546857-poet-tom-paulin-wins-2025-pen-heaney-prize/

Looking out across the River Lee

I could not see a place where you might be.

Tower blocks high and low stung both my eyes.

What use are sisters when they seem to die?

I could not see the road to take me home

I closed my lips so none might hear me moan

From another window I looked out

I saw a busy road and heard men shout.

The world was empty to my starving eye.

I saw the ice cream clouds as they went by.

The world I once could see was gone,was bare

I could not see your face,not anywhere.

How could you leave me in this desert harsh ?

The river Lea polluted stinks the marsh

There was no place where little birds could rest.

These feelings were a stone inside my chest.

I feel the grief without that blight despair.

And yet to others everything is fair

Near the Chiltern hills the River Lea

Dances like a lamb in spring,in glee

The water’s pure and sweet like wine, like sun

But all is changing as the river runs.

Industrial use and boats pollute the stream

The dirty water does not mirror dreams

At Hoddesden the mill destroys the scene

There are no Argonauts, no golden fleece.

At ancient Waltham  where the river  slows

I see the ruined monks,where did they go?

King Henry wanted money,wanted all

Soon  so soon,his dynasty would fall.

Then soon the Lea will meet the mother Thames

They run into the sea, the rivers end.

Is this the mystic love that some would like?

In the darkest shadow, hides the light.

When its moment comes the golden gleam

Returns our minds to nature and it’s schemes

The River Lea is merry near the source

At the end, near  human with remorse

It’s easy to be happy when all’s well

But when we are more troubled, who can tell? 

Should we envy grass which floats along?

Should we envy sparrows for their song,?

At least we can reflect then we create

Cheerful  through this world to navigate

The river Lea gets dirty and dismayed

When it gets near London its joy fades

It’s used for power and industry and toil

And so its natural charm has been destroyed

Yet  in the  war we needed all its wealth.

Radar was invented here by stealth

Now that’s all long ago but yet we see

The River Lee still crawls towards the sea

And so in human life it is the same.

Human life well lived may make us  lame

I am not happy because 2,294 views occured yesterday but not via a search engines nor from the WordPress reader

https://theconversation.com/its-wanting-to-know-that-makes-us-matter-how-tom-stoppard-made-us-all-philosophers-270952?utm_medium=article_native_share&utm_source=theconversation.com

I’m thinking of moving to the cloud.

Is that why you want assisted dying?

I can die without any assistance

Are you thinking about suicide?

No it’s just my Google account is overflowing

I don’t understand how they can put all your emails onto a cloud in the sky and then charge you so much a month.

Well it’s not a real cloud they put your information onto.

In that case why do they call it a cloud?

It must be a euphenism

Is that like a euphonium?

No one is a musical instrument and the other is using a word that sounds less unpleasant than the one you really want to say.

Can you give me an example?

Yes when you drop a brick on your foot and shout

Drat.

What is the real word that you want to say?

Well nobody knows actually but we didn’t like to admit it before.

What is f*** hiding,?

Damn!

That’s a bit rude. I was only asking a question.

No I mean that’s what they mean when they say fuck

I think  I prefer damn actually.

Why do you keep saying actually at the end of every sentence I had better not tell you what I really want to say.

,Fuck!

Damn

Stop showing off

I’m not showing anything.

Ignorance may be bliss sometimes but not when you’re being interviewed for an Oxford scholarship

What are you talking about I’ve never even been to Oxford.

That’s why you want the scholarship isn’t it?

You mean if I get the scholarship I have got actually to go to Oxford and live there!

Yes they don’t do Zoom there

What sort of out of date institution is that? I want to go to somewhere new and up-to-date.

What about the university of the West of England?

It sounds interesting but I think they’re trying to hide something by not specifically naming the town or city where it is because the West of  England is a very big place

That’s definitely a thought.

Maybe Battersea college of technology?

Yes that sounds more up to date. They will have the latest computers and everything you can imagine.

Well I hope it’s not quite everything I can imagine.

Are you having those nightmares again?

In a very real sense, I am

The whole point of nightmares is they are not real

But they feel really when you’re having them. How do you know that you’ll always waken up?

Well I can’t answer that question because there’s no way of proving it.

So far in my life I have always wakened up from my nightmares. If I don’t it will be very unpleasant.

Rumination is very bad for you.

And yet they said the best things in life are free.

They  are just pulling your leg.

So that’s what’s causing the arthritis

How do you tell when somebody is being ironic?

It’s an instinct.

Are we born then knowing what irony is?

No but you’re born knowing how to do the ironing  if you are woman.

See you’re ironic already

Could it be sarcasm,?

Similarities but sarcasm is more malevolent than irony which is perhaps on the humorous spectrum

I really think you should go to Oxford you are so intelligent and you can talk so well.

Do I have the right accent?

Well if you are successful they will all imitate your accent

And if you are not successful you will have to imitate theirs

Or what about idiom?  I think I’ve had enough for one night.

It sounds like a sleeping tablet.

Does that have a screen ?

No only inside your head

Well at least it’s free.

Everything has its price

And so say all of us

My dear sister was sometimes critical of me because I have a lot of books. When I was ill someone decided to tidy it up and took my books out of the bookshelves: put them into boxes in a different room and told me,Your sitting room looks a lot better now that it’s  in order. Then I was very distressed even angry. I couldn’t find anything.

That’s the conventional view that a room which is half empty with polished furniture and neat sofas and chairs is the perfect home however order to me is not about constant tidying up to the extent that you are not allowed to eat drink or almost breathe in someone’s living room because they’ve just cleaned it.

And of course I knew where all my books were and I knew where all  my art books were

And I knew where the cookery boots were as well but it’s taken me a long time to find the books I need again.

I’m not finished the job yet.

So the deeper sort of order  is where the owner of the room or the house has an internal map of where everything is which may not be apparent to a stranger or even to a sister.

Interestingly, there is an article today in some of the newspapers saying that experts have found that the desire for total orderliness and minimalism is driving some people crazy when they’re already busy with looking after their family working in a demanding job or a boring job or tiring job.

Because being judged is very painful and if you feel that everybody who comes to visit you is going to judge you on the number of possessions you have and the state of your house then you won’t be able to relax and enjoy  their company

I expect one should follow the rule of

Do not take it personally

Yes we need a certain amount of order of the traditional kind. We need to wash our clothes we need to cook and wash up we need to make beds even to change the sheets but where’d you draw the line,?

I must confess that I was shocked when I was a student living in a bed sitter when one of my friends said she only changed sheets once a month.

At that point I was still doing what my mother did which was changing one sheet following the rule of top to bottom. As I got older and more tired and realized that if you are a clean person you might not need to change your sheets every week then that’s what I did… change them once a fortnight. And it’s nice to have clean sheets. So it’s a pleasure which might be worthwhile doing more frequently as long as it doesn’t make you ill and tired

In any case all the cleaning and tidying and washing used to be regarded as women’s work and of no value.

But in fact this work is of value despite my criticism of people who are over orderly and over  clean.

As I said to my sister,

A rich person like the author Michael Frayne can afford a big house with lots of bookshelves and so tidiness to some extent is linked with money

For older people and  those with asthma and other chronic conditions it may be very important to have a dust free and very clean home.

But it should not be regarded as a moral necessity.

I don’t know why some people feel impelled to judge others constantly.

Someone in my family criticizes another person if they get new furniture but really it wasn’t their business

It wasn’t causing any trouble financially so if this person wanted to have new furniture every five years or 10 years rather than waiing till it fell apart then to me that seemed a reasonable choice because life is not very long and if you don’t like your furniture to get worn out and dirty and you want to get a new sofa or whatever that is your choice and you are entitled to it if you can afford it. And that’s one of the problems about poverty that peopke are not only short of food and heating bills are frightening but also they they have no choice about whether they want a new bed or a fridge or freezer because they can’t afford it anyway even if it’s necessary.

There’s a lot of pain in being poor and it is not acknowledged by many of us. And it’s not surprising that mental illness is more common in the poor.

And if you were a powerful person people will not criticize you for being untidy because they’ll be frightened or you.

Still I would not wish to live the way that I the philosopher and novelist Iris Murdoch lived because you have to recognize that if your floor is covered in rubbish you are at risk of getting rodents etc

So I’m not advocating for complete ignoring of dirt and mess but saying that having a few piles of books in your living room it’s not really something to be ashamed of.

If I went into a room like that I would long to look at the books and be interested in the person.

I suppose we women don’t always  realise what stress we are suffering instead we feel guilty because our home is not perfect like the ones on the television programmes we’ve been having recently.

Since my home was tidied I found it much harder to write because my hands reach out for a book in a shelf but it’s not there. I spend time trying to find it and its fellow books which used to be so near me all the time.

If you want to help another person don’t assume that they want their house to be tidy in the way your house is tidy. That they want all their kitchen utensils in a jug on the windowsill because what looks disorderly to one person is actually the order of somebody else. That’s somebody else is different from you. That they are entitled to their own way of life

And also you may need to tell them that you cannot just borrow books from the public library because they do not have books that are only readable by a small group of people about things like philosophy history poetry music art. It’s become even more true in recent years when governments have cut back on money and the local council is running out of money and so they closed the libraries or they buy fewer books.

And if you want the book as a reference book as you might do if you are a writer or an academic or an artist then borrowing it from the public library is not really sufficient. That’s why people steal sometimes. And that’s selfish but on the other hand is understandable if you can’t afford to buy something that you really need badly.

My old blue fountain pen allows
The ink across the page to flow
Like wet paint from an artist’s brush;
And words come in a rush.

Enchanted by the hand that writes,
Bewitched by art, beauty alights.
The script is like a music score
Through which you pass as through a door.
Imagination’s home.

As,mysteriously,to you,to me,
The spirits of our hearts are tamed,
By rhythms of pen,of brush,of mind,
They enter vision quite unplanned,
Like moths to flutter softly round
Fire joined heart and hand.

The pen slows down,the hand goes still
And just as dreams at daybreak will,
They shrink,they disappear,they’re gone,
I almost caught that one.

nvestors who hoped Trump policies would be pro-business are “learning a very expensive lesson about the difference between creative destruction and just plain destruction”.

https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2025/mar/05/hopes-of-us-golden-age-fade-as-investors-start-to-worry-about-trumpcession-risk?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other

https://www.theguardian.com/stage/2010/apr/14/tom-stoppard-the-real-thing?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other