I have seen so now I cannot doubt
But what I saw, I do not know its name
The laws of common sense it likely flouts
Yet it brings ripe comfort to the lone
A felt experience without any words
A brighter, stronger comforter declared
As swift as sunshine on a flying bird
There was a living being who their love shared.
Shared is not the best word I might use
For this was someone stronger than a gale
Stronger than the sun, could nothing lose
Would always be surprising, could not fail
How hard to here communicate my seeing
For we have different eyes and different beings
An ancient skill, the making of a rope
Twisting threads into a strong,tough form
Used for tying up a fishing boat
Or ancient ships where slaves rowed till deformed
Ropes of pearls would decorate a queen
Yet ropes were used to hang condemned men
Who knows what this rope above has seen?
Was it used by sailors now and then?
Primeval like the gift of flame and fire
Animals tied up so they won’t run
In the form of wool it has empires
Keeping warm in winter ,kingdom come
A skein, a rope , a thread, a ball of wool
From this sight, imagination’s full
Stan was feeling somewhat glum,nay even despairing,on Monday morning.
Mary had gone to work on her new folding 6 gear bicycle with own basket and an extra basket from Wells-next -the- Sea 1995
[the wicker basket now somewhat grey in hue.]
He was left at home sorting out all his art work and materials as well as doing the baking,cooking and bathing Emile,the delightful yet trying male cat.
Sunk in dark misery,Stan sat in an old uncomfortable chair in the darkest part of the room, while Emile snored on the rug by the bright French windows
.Stan went through all the possible reasons for his state of mind.Was he guiltyabout his flings with his alluring next door neighbour Annie?
Could it be his failure to toilet train Emile? Or his omitting to carry out the penance given by Father Brown after Stan confessed to stealing sweets on the way to Confession in 1956?
The longer Stan brooded the more reasons he found for his depression.
He could hardly get up to make a cup of coffee ..even instant seemed too much trouble.Would he even clean his teeth which somehow he’d failed to do?
The doorbell rang… it was a new cord for his laptop as Emile had been chewing the current one ,and 29 books in a sack from Amazon which his wife must have ordered,as he had no recollection of any such foolish spending.
How would they pay the bill on the credit card? he ruminated.
Later in the day.Annie peered through the window.She tapped on the glass with her well manicured blue finger nails.
Let me in she cried.
I’m too tired for any hanky panky he murmured lovingly as he ran his fingers through her thick red tresses.What is this delightful perfume,beloved,he questioned her.
It’s Poison! she replied.Oh no,sorry it’s Iris and Jasmine Eau de toilette from the Bodyshop.
Despite his lowly sunken state Stan loved this perfume.He sniffed rabidly at her well rounded form
.Well,shall we have some tea,she enquired.
Stan sat there hand on chest.I’ve been feeling a little gloomy,he muttered.She peered at him.
You look terribly pale,Stan.Where’s your angina spray?
I can’t recall,he said.Oh,here it is in my vest.
What a strange place to keep it,she responded.
Mary made pockets for all my vests.at one time you could buy vests with pockets
She’s good at sewing despite being so clever.In fact she loves doing things with her hands.
Annie got the GNT spray out and handed it to him.
Have you got a pain?
Well,yes,now you mention it,I do,he replied verbosely.
Well,in the name of God, use the bloody thing,she whispered endearingly into his left ear.
He opened his mouth,raised his tongue and with his hand resting lightly on his chin he pressed the button with his forefinger.
His head began to throb.
Annie appeared with a cup of Earl Grey tea and a biscuit.
Why,you look a little better.Do you need another dose?
No,I feel much better now.I’ve had it before.
He drank the tea but didn’t eat the biscuit which he threw out later in crumbs for the field mice in the shed.
His spirits began to rise.Why did he always forget that physical ailments can worsen a mood?He still felt a trifle glum but nothing a meringue wouldn’t put right.
OK,what shall I make for Mary’s supper? he enquired.
You sit there in the window and I’ll just make my special spaghetti,Annie replied gaily,as long as I can stay too.
Yes,I’ll open some red wine he said youthfully,and we can have fried apples and bananas for pudding with non fat Greek yoghurt.
What a wise choice she murmured gently into his ear………that will use up some of the newly picked apples,the bananas were from Lidl’s as usual.
Well,Stan you look better.said Mary happily,You’ve been pale all weekend.Was it Annie who cheered you up,not to put too fine a point on it?
Actually it was nitroglycerine,he said roguishly,but Annie made me use it.
But for us women you’d be dead,she replied equably.
But for you delightful creatures I wouldn’t be here at all,he moaned ecstatically.
Now then Stan,control yourself she urged,After all we have a visitor,Annie!
What a hoot,he thought as he twisted spaghetti round his fork in a careless manner splashing tomato sauce all over his new green acrylicjumper.
Thank the Lord for washing machines,Mary said.
I didn’t know Jesus invented them,Annie said with a tone of mild sarcasm but no-one bothered to reply.
As told by Emile to the local paper.
And believed by all of us
My eyes saw a dark tunnel drawing me
This might be my path as I felt dread
Near a slope as grave as ends can be
Hesitating. wondering what to do
When with such grief and pain my own heart cried
My eyes still saw the darkness drag at me
Shall I go or stay, what will it be?
Not the love entire my heart once craved
Rushing to unravel mystery
Then a fire, a cloud of gold I knew
My frantic rush had kept Love far away
My eyes desired the darkness beckoning me
Silent,warm , the Good caressed me
I recognised but had no words to say.
The warmth. the golden love from language free
A sheet of tears fell from my open eye
I felt the Love which saved me on that day
Rejecting the deep darkness and its plea
In despair we’re frozen , cannot play
In despair Love comes without our prayer
My eyes saw a dark tunnel beckon me
Down a slope as grave as earth might be.
Trying to see things from another person’s perspective means
1.We acknowledge there are other people on this earth and not only here in our country.
2.Their point of view is of value at least some of the time unless they are drunk or sick or some other problem affects them
3 Imagination and willingness to try to look at the world differently and to be polite to those who differ from us if possible [Don’t declare war]
4 And letting them know why you see things differently if appropriate
Mary was looking through the front window trying to guess whether her neighbour’s car was there; she did not want to meet him if she went outside. To her surprise she saw her neighbour on the other side, Annie walking down the road wearing a brand new and lovely sheepskin coat
I wonder where she has got that coat from, Mary wondered to herself She never mentioned that she was going to buy an expensive coat for the winter. perhaps she’s been lucky in a second-hand shop, but even second-hand it will be pretty expensive She opened the door and called out,Hello. Annie came running in just like Dave the paramedic.
Hello Mary is there something wrong and she asked her gently?
Nothing is wrong I am just envious of your coat.
Why would you like to be my coat? Are you a lesbian? Do you want to keep me warm in a manner of speaking
I should have said I am jealous but that doesn’t sound right either does it; what is the right word? I wish that I could afford a coat like yours is that envy or jealousy?
Said Annie I don’t know. I never used to listen to the nuns when they were talking about Ethics and morals I used to stare out of the window and imagine what it would be like lying on the grass with Fred Astaire or Leonard Cohen
I wish I was able to do that,said Mary .but my father died when I was 8 years old and it gave me a feeling of guilt which has never really left me. So I always paid careful attention to all the sins the nuns told us about ; then I would make list of sins or feelings and try to understand what they meant But envy and jealousy are quite difficult No they are not said Annie ,jealousy is a three person : you have your husband or boyfriend but you worry another woman might tempt him away
Well you tempted my husband away,Mary told her ruefully
Why, were you jealous ? said Annie.At least he was near home and you knew that I was looking after him while you were at work>What ever looking after him means she said, thinking of Prince Charles and his first wife Princess Diana.
Envy is a two person relationship , you envy me my coat and you will kill me to get it or destroy me and the coat and knock my house down
Don’t worry I don’t feel like that, said Mary but I’d like to know where you got it from as the weather has gone very cold and it might be just the thing for me
Well I stole it said Annie cunningly
My goodness you are a very wicked woman how do you bear the shame i
Why are you still friends with me ,asked Annie her politely?
I don’t really know. I suppose I like you and Stan was bored being at home all the time except for Emile so I suppose I got used to it. I found the whole thing quite intriguing I wish I had got married again so that you could have had an affair with my second husband but unfortunately I don’t seem to know how to get one .
Where do women get them from?
God Only Knows cried Annie in a rude tone of voice;s you can’t buy them in a shop ;some find them online at places like tinder and other people flirt with all the men at work until one of them gives in
My problem is I don’t know how to flirt ,Mary admitted nonchalantly
You do know how to flirt Annie said. You must No I don’t I thought it was genetic .are you telling me it is down to the environment?
That makes it sound rather like IQ ,Mary told her
I just never felt free enough to wink and flutter my eyelids,How did you learn,Annie
I don’t really know it just seems part of my personality. Maybe it would have been better if I had studied Hebrew and Greek but unfortunately I failed all my examinations except those is involving men’s bodies
You are awful, said Mary I have only seen one man’s body and that was my husband’s
Well if are you happy with your husband what’s the point of loooking at other men’s bodies?
I suppose you had better come inside and let me try that coat on
Alright said Annie. I didn’t steal it that man in the house with a tartan wallpaper gave it to me, do you remember him. I was trying to get him into bed but he wanted to marry me ;I didn’t want to get married again so he very kindly buys me many presents like coats and silk underwear
Do you think it’s right to accept such expensive presents from an old man who wanted to marry you?
Well if we were married I would have spent a lot more,Annie informed her geometrically
I guess you’re right said Mary. if he wants to give you something it’s not evil although it might make some people think that you are a kept woman
They both burst out laughing at this old fashioned name and walked into the kitchen where Emile was looking at a goldfish in a bowl as if it was the Pearl of great price
I was struck by your words
I hope they didn’t make holes in your face
Think nothing of it
It’s hard to think of nothing
I meant, don’t keep brooding
Hens brood
But you are not a hen
Well,I’ve been called worse
Worse than what?
Anything you can imagine
I never imagine
Do you mean you don’t day dream?
I control my mind with a rod of iron
But your mind is not a physical object
Well, what is it then, a spirit?
Descartes said so
I’ll drink to that.Pass the brandy
If we weren’t unanimous
about keeping our lives so much in motion,
if we could do nothing for once,
perhaps a great silence would
interrupt this sadness,
this never understanding ourselves
and threatening ourselves with death,
perhaps the earth is teaching us
when everything seems to be dead
and then everything is alive.
Now I will count to twelve
and you keep quiet and I’ll go.
Moses Maimonides adopted Aristotelianism from the Islamic scholars and based his famous Guide for the Perplexed on it and that became the basis of Jewish scholastic philosophy. Although some of Aristotle’s logical works were known to western Europe, it was not until the Latin translations of the 12th century that the works of Aristotle and his Arabic commentators became widely available. Scholars such as Albertus Magnus and Thomas Aquinas interpreted and systematized Aristotle’s works in accordance with Christian theology.
After retreating under criticism from modern natural philosophers, the distinctively Aristotelian idea of teleology was transmitted through Wolff and Kant to Hegel, who applied it to history as a totality. Although this project was criticized by Trendelenburg and Brentano as non-Aristotelian, Hegel’s influence is now often said to be responsible for an important Aristotelian influence upon Marx. Postmodernists, in contrast, reject Aristotelianism’s claim to reveal important theoretical truths. In this, they follow Heidegger‘s critique of Aristotle as the greatest source of the entire tradition of Western philosophy.¨
Your painting arrested me.
There aren´t enough police -people any more.I am PC, you see.Eyes see.
I mean it stole my attention
So now itś a thief!
I am trying to compliment you
Let me know what is complementary to a man like myself
I mean I not He
Who is He?
I am not sure.
Look,I prefer Aristotelean logic.
Do stop showing off.I prefer it fuzzy.
Well, your hair needs combing. I see..
How do you spell Aristotelian?
Keep to the spoken word and no worries
But I write letters
Draw them instead.
I am not a magnet,you know
Well, who are your followers?
They are not stuck on to me
Magnetic force is not glue
So the sun is not glued to the sky?
Did you think it was?
Well, we ŕe getting mixed up with gravity
Better to stick to levity
Godś own glue.Don´t hesitate.Be saved now
I am not money!
But you use it!
He who would transient be
Can use a plaster
A plasterer is more handy
With your face I so agree
The chiropodist said she liked my feet.If only we could unscrew them, she could replace mine.
I found the flu jab less painful than seeing the government squabble
It´s best to think of what we can still do,not what we can´t
Does reading about Brexit make one go blind?
The pharmacist said I was the only person willing to obey the instruction to sit down for 10 minutes after the jab.Such a rushed life
The great lyric poets of the English language wrote — and, I hope, are still writing — words which have their own melodic quality, cadences which lure composers to add music to them. Shakespeare, Herrick, Blake, Tennyson, Burns, Yeats have been set to music by numerous composers, creating a lasting heritage of English song. A smaller but intriguing category is poetry that is not turned into song but is spoken to music. Grand master of this compositional genre is Jim Parker.
‘I was an orchestral oboe player,’ he says, ‘but I was always wanting to get away from that and do something a bit more creative so I joined the Barrow Poets, as an oboist and possibly to do some arranging. It developed from there when I started composing music specially for them. There were other groups of poets and musicians around, like the Scaffold, Roger McGough’s band, but they were writing songs. We set poems to music but we didn’t really do songs because none of us could claim to have been a singer.’
In 1974, as a result of this, he was asked to write music for some poems by John Betjeman, to be read by the poet himself. And the fruit of that collaboration was the wonderful Banana Blush. ‘I didn’t think Betjeman could sing,’ remembers Parker, ‘so what I did was to write music that accompanies the words.
You say you love yet mail me such harsh words
You say you care yet shoot me down to die
As if you are a despot always heard
While in black silence. I in pain must lie.
You say you would embrace me with your love
But could I in your presence ever rest?
I must be prostrate and you above
I must be the lowest, you the best
.
You never ask what I may want or need
Am I not human, have I not a soul?
I must offer help when your skin bleeds
Mine might peel away and leave me cold
Oh,foolish woman,I believed you true !
I am no judge of men, I’ll stick to glue
How like a prison is a cubicle
Where office workers type out bills and forms
How I prefer to mend my bicycle
Or lie with a sweet man among ripe corn
Oh, why did we not stay as chimpanzees
With no house , no tax or rent to pay
Even might I envy a striped bee
That gathers nector as it gently plays.
We would not need to study etiquette
Nor washing up ,clean worktops or new clothes
We would not even know an alphabet
As in the hot sunshine we would all doze
I escape traps by fantasy and mirth
That’s my sonnet, estimate my worth
The “word laundry” is very busy now:
The “non involved,” the children “used as shields”
Creating euphemisms and bloody how!
Certain words we cannot yet allow
Tampax, blood and women who, paid, yield
The word laundry is very busy now
With a tiger’s cruelty we’re endowed
You should have seen the rows of ” disappeared”
We’re using euphemisms,it’s bloody you.
Relationships are more than winning rows
We saw the soldiers lying in the fields
The word laundry is sadly busy now
The sheep and goats will give you bible’s clues
The politicians lied, contempt revealed
We’re using euphemisms and Oh,God, how
In our minds we keep some facts concealed
Yet self deception greys our days unreal
Your “word laundry” is hyper-busy now:
Creating euphemisms like ” blood is dew.”
I hate the dark evenings
I hate buying Xmas presents
I hate getting up in the dark
I hate winter
I hate heavy clothes
There’s nothing on TV tonight
Flu jabs make you ill
If you get a cold, it’s yout own fault
Cream cakes make you diabetic
All cake is bad for you
Why bake when you can buy cake?
Why cook a meal when you are alone?
I can’t be bothered to invite anyone round
Everyone is selfish.Except me.
“Medieval poems helped to give rise to new civic institutions.
The Iliad is an epic ignited by the dispute between Achilles and Agamemnon, and we are more likely to associate dispute with epic poetry or with plays, as in the drama contests of fifth-century Greece. But many other genres of poetry have the debate structure built into them, as we can see by the word “anthem”—derived from “antiphone” or “verse response”—which surfaces in the translations. That an anthem, or hymn of praise, holds disputing voice within it reminds us that there is nothing anti-lyric about this deliberative structure.
Many styles of poetry bring us face to face with acts of deliberation. The eclogue is a dialogue poem about the act of choosing, as in Virgil’s Third and Seventh Eclogues when a judge is asked to choose between the arguments of two shepherds. The word “eclogue” is derived from eklegein, meaning, “to choose.”11 Another example is the tenzone, in which two poets argue “in alternating couplets,” as Urban Holmes describes in Princeton Encyclopedia of Poetry and Poetics.12 The tenzone eventually took on other forms, such as the partimen or jeu parti, in which one “poet proposes two hypothetical situations.” One of the positions is then defended by that poet and the other by a second poet, each speaking in three stanzas.13 And in his translation of Dante’s Vita Nuova, Mark Musa explains, “The Italian troubadours invented the sonnet form [of the tenzone], still a mode of debate in which the problem is set forth in a proposta inviting a risposta (using the same rhymes) from another poet.”14
While in the tenzone two distinct sonnets are placed in dispute, an oppositional mental act is also interior to the sonnet itself, particularly in the Petrarchan form with its division into an octave and a sestet. While the volta, or “turn of thought,” is most emphatic in the Petrarchan form, it is also recognizable in Spenserian and Shakespearean sonnets15
Across the road I see a Tudor wall
In its cracks defiant flowers grow
The modern traffic sounds out a loud wail
From the East a freezing wind still blows
In between the natural world and man
The space provides a habitat,retreat
Ancient yew trees grow without a plan
And in each little bird a heart still beats
Concentrating on the green and ancient views
Ignoring the red buses as they pass
Ignoring strident music , find the clues
Down comes peace and joy, our Holy Mass
Reversal of the figure and the ground
Brings out a new world where love is found
An ancient skill, the making of a rope
I was struck by your words
The chiropodist said she liked my feet.If only we could unscrew them, she could replace mine.
I painted this then altered it with Artweaver software.Looks like a Xmas card 
