With this poem I thee truly read

With this poem I thee  truly read

With all my skilful blight I thee endow

I know not what your other lovers said

But will they lend you horses or a cow?

Without a handshake ,we are nearly dead

With all my mercies, joy ,I thee endow.

I know not what the judging angels said

We will get to heaven, some other how.

With this promise, I thee  truly take

To be my lawful and unlawful mate.

And after all, it’s for thy  kitty’s sake

I consent to eat my dinner from your plate.

For prayers and vows confused  have made me wild

But soon God’s mercy makes all  lovers mild

Hail glorious St Brexit.so  bad for our isle.

 

The Pope sings along.Or is it the poet?
Thank you for the rude remark.I have got you in my sights.
My husband heated my words
I made myself happy by studying a live sentence
Where are the men when we feel them?
They are waiting for our partitions.
It’s Purgatory.It’s cool
What did you say your game was?
Hail glorious St Brexit.so  bad for our isle.

Screen Shot 2017-09-06 at 10.30.11

Still,tarry a while…maybe you will tone down
Will Brexit convect it?
She got a master’s degree in  packing insults for export.
Did you get lit?
Say but the word and my sole shall be heeled
Who mends shoes nowadays?
Popes  don’t polish.No,they heal
And  says God ,thou shalt Remain.
Is God in Europe still?That is surprise.
England needs  a sovereign vagrant.
To God’s fear we will say naught.
My identity is being human.
I will wash your  torn bare feet.
Jesus wants  me to Remain here,
Far from Brexits so displayed.
Hail glorious St Spastic..dear saint for the Isle
That’s not pc.
How ironic can one get?
If I need to spend a penny ,
I agree  that I  have paid
Satire is dead.
And I  tell you in this country
You are free to get  eggs laid.
St Brexit, vexed it.
The Remains  are away.Just for the Day
We like St Elastic best.St George was a Turkish Jew or Roman
.Jesus was a Jew too. 160% or so.
What, a coincidence?
I have paranoia now.Is there a vaccine?
Hi,Maxine.Come on in, we are eating our words and our swords and anything else we can grab.

Elastic

Photo0060

I will love you like a big elastic band would,
Holding you but not constraining,
I will be like a giant paper clip
Keeping all your bits connected.
I will be a sheet of paper
On which you write your  thoughts.
I will be a curtain on your window
To shade you from the glare.
I will be a briefcase that you hold in your hand.
But I refuse to be a wastepaper basket.
To hold your garbage.
I do have my limits
Though they are elastic.
But even elastic is not infinitely stretchy.
And neither am I

She let his presence, alien, interrupt

A child was howling in the Coffee Shop
No-one looked  and no-one intervened
His mother let the hope he had be cropped.

In a cliche, she looked fit to drop;
Demented by the second child, who screamed
A child was howling in the Coffee Shop

The mother seemed about to  fall or flip
Until her friend came with a joyful beam
She  let him make  more noise , yet hoped he’d stop

Gesticulating with  both hands and lips
Her sentences  flowed out  like mountain streams.
A child was wailing in the Coffee Shop

The tears spread wide, until a mop
Was wielded by a waiter sent to clean.
She let his presence,  alien,  interrupt

 

Unrelenting is the care that women warps.
In such lives we  may turn mean and sharp.
A child was moaning in the Coffee Shop.
His mother  wiped his eyes,caressed  his lips.

 

Can anyone write poetry?

TS Eliot said that the greatest difficulty for a poet is to distinguish between “what one really feels and what one would like to feel”...

How to write poetry: Poet Wendy Cope explains what makes a really superb poem

The best poets read widely, says Wendy Cope. Of course this will influence their work – but how else are they going to find out what makes a really superb poem?

He was an elderly man and he had queued up with the people who were waiting for me to sign their books. When his turn came, he announced unapologetically, “I don’t read poetry. I write it. I’ve brought you a copy of my book.”

If he had been younger, I might not have been so polite. I smiled, took the book and thanked him. Later on a quick glance through the self-published volume confirmed what I already knew: the poems were no good. People who never read poetry don’t write poems that are worth reading.

It’s a free country, of course, and anyone can write whatever they like. However, if you are interested in writing well, in working at being a better poet, then the most important piece of advice that anyone can give you is that you have to read both recent poetry and the poetry of past centuries. That’s how you learn. The elderly gentleman must have come across some poems at some point in order to have a concept of what a poem is. But vague memories of a few things you read at school are not enough.

It seems odd to me that anyone who hates reading poetry should want to write it at all. Are there amateur painters who never go to an art gallery? Or amateur musicians who never listen to music? Sometimes non-reading poets explain that they are afraid of being influenced. They don’t understand that being influenced is part of the learning process. Some of my earliest (and unpublished) poems read like poor imitations of Sylvia Plath. Others read like poor imitations of TS Eliot.

The eye is not a camera

The eye is not a  camera taking shots
Our mind affects  the aspect we  perceive
And what it feels important it allots
Gives grace or  hatred ,causes us to grieve.

When we are afraid ,we see the worst
We see disgrace or ruin as our fate
As if our self  for horror has a thirst
So all the little details we collate

Yet when we  love we see before us joy
The flowers sing, the birds dance in  the air
We see no evil  nor with  hatred toy
All aspects of  our world appear more fair.

We see not what is there,we see our self
To learn ,we must employ our own mind's wealth

Mary tries to find a soul-mate

Dotty cats 2

 

Mary decided that, purely out of scientific interest, she would join an on-line dating service.Her main problem was filling in the form.You need an degree in  English to even understand the form
Shall I  put down my profession? she asked Annie her late husband’s mistress.who lived right   next door. which is  exactly why  he chose her as he was  very lazy except when he was in bed with a vivacious lady.
Just put teacher,Annie told her.Don’t  give any more  details,she went on unthinkingly
Why?Do you think men wouldn’t really  like female mathematicians Mary asked  tentatively.I think my optometrist does, but then he is Jewish.
Wait till they have got to know you a bit first,said Annie
Actually I can barely work out percentages now,Mary confessed sheepishly.I don’t need numbers any more.
But is it moral to deceive men? she wondered out loud
Well,it’d better to  go step by step with many things.I’ll take a new photo of you after I set your hair.It’s your face which is most important and your eyes,
You could have fooled me,Mary told her ,recollecting colleagues gazing at her bosom in meetings.
Well,we don’t know for sure,Annie admitted scientifically yet paradoxically.
Two weeks later Mary had met a very handsome art teacher called Bill.They went walking in the woods and took photographs of trees and flowering shrubs and had tea in the cafe.Later they went out for dinner in a  Chinese restaurant where Dave the wonderfully amiable  transvestite paramedic was by chance eating with his brother Peter,who used to be a sheep farmer in Dent,Cumbria .
Hello,Dave, she said.This is Bill,my date.He’s an artist.
So you like really  clever women,Bill,Dave asked him courteously?
I’ve never met any, as yet,Bill replied.
Mary’s face went bright red as she realised that even if nobody  told Bill her job, she could not carry on deceiving  him.
Well,how about Mary ? Dave asked naughtily.
She’s    fairly  intelligent I think, said Bill.But I’m ok with that.
Suppose she was highly intelligent then?
I don’t think she’s  so  much above average.
Did you pass your maths O level.Dave asked politely
No,I never was good at maths but I am very gifted at Art.Brilliant.That’s why I am puzzled I can’t sell a picture.
Mary and Dave began to giggle.
Maybe you could paint Scrodinger’s cat? Mary cried
Where does he live,asked Bill.If it’s not too far I can drive over.Are they well off?
No, he’s dead,Mary chortled.I want a dust jacket for my book and you could  do  the design with a cat in the middle.
Bill looked a bit uneasy.He then turned to Mary and told her he was feeling faint so he ran out leaving her to pay the bill with her Sainsburys’ Mastercard or  even with money.
Oh,Dave,she said,why were you here? I liked him.He is handsome and fit.
It was just serendipity,he murmured as he admired her gorgeous red face and wild  curly hair.Maybe I’ll take you out  one evening?If Emile is ok with it.Emile being a cat did not speak English but  he made his feelings plain
So Mary was not going to see Bill again but at least she had been out for the day in the fresh air.Perhaps online dating is more difficult than we think\\

And so say all of us

What photos make good subjects for digital art?

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A first I  drew with Microsoft Paint Program.I did cats,apples and abstracts

I found Microsoft Paint by accident.I had not heard of, knew nothing  such things.I spent about a year and a half playing with it  especially when I had a few months of illness.I  made some abstracts and then a great many cat pictures.It made me realize it o.k to simplify.to do so;you have no choice with Paint And that what I really like drawing is two objects in relation like two cats or apples.I tried three cats as well.It has that advantage… you discover what you personally like to draw.Ideally I’d prefer watercolor or pastels but I had no class I could manage then,

Arty party

cat2 alone

 

??????????

What will happen?

Naive art!

This is the family of three… a child has arrived

Cat is cross

 Moving on from Paint,I discovered Artweaver and Paint.Net both free.I experimented and found for transforming a photo  it’s good to use  photographss with  strong shapes and pattern  like trees,cracks in the pavement,gates,fencing,certain buildings,climbing shrubs  on a wall…..natural patterns

bus stop 6A tree trunk

Cracks in the pavement 3

Cracks in our pavement down the  end of the  street

Cracks in the pavement

Cracks in the pavement.It looks better in color

Cracks in the pavement 4

Here I used Paint to add birdlike shapes to the  previous image

The top image below is from a photo of a mosquito  bite on my thigh after I scratched it so there was a little blood

another insect bite 3

From my trees collection

6804453_22abec948f_a 2

6819924_f1126074c2_m   brighter

What not to use.. don’t use photos with a large area in one color…even if it looks ok as a photograph

Apple tree and sunshineThe light here is a problem for using this in digital art… but it’s intriguing as it is

I found ignorance quite helpful in a way as I had no expectations…..which is very important I believe.

Is Boris Johnson going to go back to Turkey, land of his fathers?

Is Boris Johnson going to go back to Turkey, land of his fathers?
Is “May” an English surname? Nuts,I say.
What about “Gove”,did they mean Hove or Grove both  of which are English? Maybe Grave or Wave?
Cameron is a Scottish name as in the song,”The Camerons are coming again,again”
Very vulgar people,they should be sent to the  Outer Zebedees.
Perhaps they spelled Camera wrong! Camera sounds Spanish to me.Don Camera.Where;s your hair-oh?

When you start considering who is a foreigner,I admit I am.My head is a Scandinavian longhead so like my siblings I find it hard to buy a hat.As we are not Jewish,as far as I know,we don’t need hats though I would like a wig for  Xmas.A lot of Irish people have Jewish blood because of the wrecks of the Spanish Armada.Many sailors were Sephardic Jews.No doubt they were looked after by the Irish, who were in fact Picts,Scot,Dots or Whatnots.I am sure mixing genes is a good idea.And what fun it can be for some folk.
Maybe some of us prefer sex without jeans and who am I to stand in my way?
The Selfish Jeans could be a good children’ story for adults.
The Selfish gene by Dawkins is a silly book as Selfishness requires consciousness and choice.But I  know it was for publicity.Should a professor descend to those depths?
I am flummoxed that someone like that is a professor.
Still, it’s a fair game.anyone in Britain could be a  professor if they worked hard enough.
Yet it would be hard to tun a country with 65 million professors and no binmen or women.
When you think about it, the refuse collectors are more important.We can live without Richard Dawkins unless we marry him but rubbish is a health threat.He is bad for me because his imagining all religion is fundamentalist irks me.
I can understand  where he is coming from  and what is wrong with self pleasuring?a woman stabbed her husband because he came into her bedroom while she was enjoying a bit of that.She had locked the door so he thought she had a man in there.
I would prefer a man’s company with no sex to sex by myself.Because friendship is more rich,But I don’t think it is wrong.Maybe if young people were taught about it they would stop joining ISIS and lie all day on their beds.Well,I don’t suppose it takes all day unless you are very old.If you die  in the attempt ,it is nice to go like that.BTW  older men are more likely do die having sex with another woman than with their wife!What does that tell us?
Not much really but don’t go to bed with someone with a bad heart unless you are married to them.

Velvet and leather,they’re my passion

North Korea is acting weird
Donald Trump is to be feared
A bomb went off on a London tube
29 burned,hearts confused

But I only  care about love and fashion
Velvet and leather,they’re my passion
If someone drops a nuclear bomb
I’ll  be dressed with my usual aplomb.

I would have my lover by my side
I’d have held his arm if we’d been fried
I’d be dressed in   wool Fair Isle
On my face a cute little smile.

 

It takes your mind off politics
What is broken can’t be fixed
So spend your money on new clothes
That is how the economy grows

Though if the end is nigh,dear God,
The economy doesn’t care a sod.

Making a fist

painted-my-books-and-home-010

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/54308/making-a-fist

 

Making a Fist

    We forget that we are all dead men conversing with dead men.
                                                                  —Jorge Luis Borges
For the first time, on the road north of Tampico,
I felt the life sliding out of me,
a drum in the desert, harder and harder to hear.
I was seven, I lay in the car
watching palm trees swirl a sickening pattern past the glass.
My stomach was a melon split wide inside my skin.
“How do you know if you are going to die?”
I begged my mother.
We had been traveling for days.
With strange confidence she answered,
“When you can no longer make a fist.”
Years later I smile to think of that journey,
the borders we must cross separately,
stamped with our unanswerable woes.
I who did not die, who am still living,
still lying in the backseat behind all my questions,
clenching and opening one small hand.
Naomi Shihab Nye, “Making a Fist” from Grape Leaves: A Century of Arab American Poetry. Copyright © 1988 by University of Utah Press. Reprinted by permission of Naomi Shihab Nye.
Source: Grape Leaves: A Century of Arab American Poetry (University of Utah Press, 1988)

With the monkeys, what a fine plaice to land.

I once had an email from a ghost.
I was eating a piece of white toast.
The message was clear.
It said,”I am not here”.
So I replied, “No need to boast.”

I had a text  from  the old one last year
After Xmas,I was full of black beer
It said ,Good4 U
I replied , &U2
Since then , I pretend I’m not here.

I had a letter from  the bank in my hand
When I slipped on a wide elastic band
It  catapulted me too
Regent’s Park Zoo
With the monkeys, what a fine plaice to land.

I forgot to keep my account book filled in
And I spent my last note on some gin
I like being tipsy
And meeting a gypsy
Or if not that one,I’ll make do with his twin.

 

 

The death instinct, the deadly Faustian themes

When you come back to me, my dearest one.
When you no longer hide away in dreams.
The golden  sun will rise for  us again

When all my work on earth is  past and done;
When I have felt the pain of what has been,
Will you come back to me, my dearest one?

Without your presence, I feel lost and pained.
But this is not eternal, though it seems.
The golden  sun will rise for me again

The last bell  rings , I’m silent and alone.
I am too simple to make cunning schemes
Will you come back to me, my dearest one?

Human life is brief; we share its pain;
The death instinct, the deadly Faustian themes;
The sacred sun will rise for us again .

I  live in  blackness  yet the angels lean
To shelter with their sacred wings my limbs.
Though  you  had to go , my dearest one,
Though loss may win, I still desire the sun

But in  new form, eternal come to be

Dried lavender shows us  death  in mystery
Not disappearance into dark cold  earth
But in new form,eternal come to be

Yet this lavender did not bear its fruit
Left no seeds to show the world its worth
Dried lavender shows what  darkness can allow

 

Cut down  now are the many by the few
So into darkness flows the bloody  truth
Leaves no  tragic fragrance to pursue.

 

Into the  sky, an  owl  and a curlew
Rise as if on wires from  central earth
The  heather filled with bees sent fragrance too.

 

The delicate wild flowers will rise anew
May no plodding foot prevent  re-birth
Only  humming  bees and insects see

 

Let no human blast them with a curse
Rather let  us will to love and bless.
The  lavender, the rosemary and rue
Leave a lasting  image   for the few

Mary’s skirt

photo0131

 

As Mary walked down the stairs on  Friday she felt her beautiful  skirt of many colours  slipping off her body and almost reaching the floor. Mary wondered if she had been losing weight but she could not see any difference when she looked into the mirror Maybe it has stretched at the waist .I hope it won’t fall off when I am walking down the street, said  Mary,  especially when I’m in the town
What are you doing ,mewed Emile her little black cat?
I’m not doing anything,she replied .I’m just trying to walk down the stairs and my skirt is slipping
Pull it up said Emile an unkind  tone.

The cat is watching you
She replied tactfully,yes I will when I get to the bottom of the stairs but before Mary. got to the bottom her skirt  fallen off completely and she was only wearing a brown silk petticoats and a pair of teal coloured tights.
You  look nice Emile said. Maybe you don’t need to wear a skirt you  can wear  a  petticoat instead,
Thank you very much ,said Mary but the weather is very cold and a silk petticoat is not warm enough for going into the town although I suppose I could put a very warm long coat over the top. Suppose I went into a restaurant and felt too hot then I would have to take off my coat and then everybody would see my petticoat.
Life is made up of Conundrums like this and the secret is not to start thinking this way in the first place;once you do this is very hard to stop.
Some of Mary’s friends say to her. Are you sleeping alright or how are you sleeping?
Mary never answers because  she knows that if you start  thinking about that this a lot it’s not good for you as you can spend all day worrying about whether you are going to be able to sleep that night.
We have no control over our sleep, she pondered , but we can’t afford ruminating  as it causes mental illness according to some scientists and doctors. Rumination cuts people off from the world as they are always looking inside themselves.
Similarly being a perfectionist is very bad for you because again you’re not thinking about the work that you’re producing and  enjoying it you are always wondering is this good enough or shall I start again oh I am so stupid etc
It is possible ,Mary has found,  to control what you allow yourself to think about.You can cut you thought off before it gets going.
Anything that makes you keep thinking about yourself all the time will create a wall around you and other people can detect this wall; it makes them avoid you.
In general, we should have a few  walls as possible both internal and external
Just then the doorbell rang. it was  Annie the ex-mistress of Mary ‘s husband Stan.
Hello she cried, how do you like my new coat
Don’t tell me you’ve got another one ,Mary  sighed
I didn’t buy it Annie  murmured. That  sweet lady who lives opposite told me that she has put on a lot of weight and she can’t wear this  anymore ; she asked me if I would like it
But you have already got about 20  Mary said, but I like this one .It’s a lovely colour; is it what we call teal or is it Kingfisher Blue?
I don’t know  but it seems to match  my other clothes and and you know I do like a change.You prefer just to have one coat and wear it all the time, unless you are going out to your special functions, hen you might wear your  best coat ,which is the brown one isn’t it which Stan used to liket because he said it hung well
Yes he did like that very much and I was wearing it only yesterday as it is very warm. I would like to have more clothes like you do but I seem to be too busy to go shopping
Annie gazed  up with  her large round eyes   upon which she was wearing turquoise  and magenta eyeshadow and bright  blue mascara which clashed with her purple lipstick from East Saint Lawless.
That purple lipstick  does not match your coat nor your eyeshadow Mary told her
Well I think that a perfect costume puts men off .So it’s better to do something wrong and anyway a lot of men are colour blind so they won’t know that it’s the wrong shade of lipstick. I think that coral would look better and I shall buy some next time I go into the term because teal and coral look very nice together .Purple is good with blues
Actually, Mary said ,purple make  you look as  if you’ve got heart disease or anaemia.
Thanks a lot , shouted Annie. What kind of friend are you
I am an honest friend ,Mary replied  in  a warm voice.I think that I don’t often say things which distress you but sometimes knowing that you would like to meet another man I  feel impelled to give you my point of view.
That’s very kind of you said Annie but I think now I am too old to find a man who wants a mistress because a younger man could get a younger mistress and an older man maybe past bothering about mistresses and love and such things.And where can I find one,anyway.
I don’t agree, said Mary I think if you look very nice   a man may be very proud to take you out and have you hanging from his arm like a trophy even if he is not able to proceed  very far  with bodily love. After all ,everybody likes someone to talk to and  some companionship ;someone to help them out when they are feeling unwell
As long as that is it is mutual I don’t see anything wrong with it.
The two women stared out of the window and saw a wood pigeon on the shed.Maybe it’s better to be a bird,Mary thought aimlessly before she put  on the kettle for a lovley cup of tea and some chocoate fingers
Tea is the best drink in the afternoon.
And so say all of us.

What an instrument

The dictionary,what an instrument!
Human beings spoke without its need
To gather up our words , define and count

Literacy, slow in its intent,
Began to spread and offer its rewards
The dictionary, what a fine event.

Yet  there are obstacles we must confront
As words  begin to rule and to divide.
So watch  your words , define and  always  count

Sadly language  turns malevolent
When those in power use  sentences  to lie.
This dictionary,what a grave event.

And more when it is used with ill intent
Orders sent to  murder the despised;
Gathering Europe’s Jews for death’s torments.

Elsewhere on our earth  more genocides
Scapegoats suffer,live our  suicide
The dictionary, what it represents:
Scholarship to murder  or  dissent

 

I am interested to see puns and allusions I was unaware of when writing  such as ” what a grave event” can refer to seriousness or to the graves of the dead which cover quite a bit of space in War Cemeteries.And in other places.

And  the last line is a pun on ” we murder to dissect ” I think.

Words rule or divide…. but someone must speak them

Words count.. words matter or do we just count them like abstract numbers?

The neo-liberalism of Thatcher and Reagan that functioned ideologically to to interrupt and incapacitate the operations of conscience”

33xv

“In the late sixties Lyndon Johnson’s “war on poverty” and  plans for  ” The great society ” stalled;what emerged instead was the neo-liberalism of Thatcher and Reagan that functioned ideologically to to interrupt and incapacitate the operations of conscience”

It’s in a book I am reading called,The still small voice”
The author says there are two types of conscience.One is based on fear and terror and is the Freudian super ego.We react with fear or panic and are likely to harm others or ourselves
The other  type develops as we begin to realise as small children and onwards we  can harm others and this distresses us and make us which to make reparation.So it’s a kind  of ” good conscience” We are not terrified by our conflicts so we can bear them and learn from them and apologise or try to do good to others.But it we had  a bad childhood we may never reach this stage.
Certainly fits my perceptions.

How to transition your wardrobe? Demolish it, more likely

topshop-khaki-denim-skirt

This is from the Independent newspaper.I wonder who they imagine reads it.Anyone  over 21 would look silly in it.If I were the editor I would not publish such an article although it is obvious to most of us you can wear tights and boots with a summer skirt when the weather turns chilly.It is not very original.

Quote:
“Something that you probably have in your warm weather wardrobe already, a skirt is a serious multitasking item. Not only do they look great paired with white tennis shoes or sandals but, come September, they promise to look equally as stylish with a chunky knit and some boots.

If you’re looking to pick up a new piece, we recommend this stylish khaki denim skirt with frayed hem detailing, which ticks all the boxes.”

Those escape who have  the wings to fly.

Diagonal streams now  stripe the windowpane
And in them, tiny insects drown and die.
Unexpected ,sudden rain  has come.
Those escape who have  the wings to fly.

No angels were seen peering  at my  room
No doubt they have their  Sunday wings to press.
No  camera ,even with psychotic zoom,
Can catch an angel while she is undressed.

Now the rain has dried and all is sweet
I tend to houseplants standing by the door.
By good luck these houseplants never bleep.
Only in the real world do they flower.

Bleeps and pings are not a natural sound.
But to the artificial   we  will bound.

A fur anklet

photo1408

To be or not to be is ok.What concerns me is to light the fire or not.I had to wash my hair in the kitchen because I was expecting someone to come to the door.I couldn’t see some shampoo I had there so I used Persil Silk and Wool.I am sad my hair was damaged by untreated  low thyroid but really all I care about is how my  head feels.After a couple of days  my hair looks lank and  feels dismal.Still itb is very short so I can wash it quickly.I am meant to have it cut soon but as the weather gets colder I miss the long hait I used to have.
I wonder whether to dye it brown as  men take you more seriously then.But what or whom would they be taking seriously? For what? Perhaps bottle green is better.
It’s like varnishing your nails/Once the hair or nails grow the  roots are showing in the natural colour.Mine might be blonde or it might be white.Like Helen Mirren’s.But she will have a good hairdresser.
I once went into Toni and Guy.The lady leaned over the counter and whispered.
It’s £.45
I know,I said.I wonder what I was wearing or whether my husband was ill and I looked grey.Anyway I didn’t like the music.They put stuff on your hair.I don’t like it.Maybe I will get the scissors and cut it off like a man I used to know [ not Biblically ].It’s easier for men although I could take to wearing a hat or scarf or some Muslim headgear.As my neighbour remarked:

You would not have got cancer if you were wearing the veil,as it were.

And I do think the clothes they wear are very sensible if you live in a hot climate with sand blowing about.Which it is getting like here.But it’s dirt not sand
I made a  list
1 Put socks on
2 Put lightweight padded coat on
3 Put heating on.
4 Get out the fleece sleeping bag liner… and get inside it.
5 Put feet in some hot water.

I found an imitation fur scarf thing and I have got that on.I feel warmer.I need a fur anklet set.

How is the world now ruled by the debased?

The empty tomb is here inside my house
Not entire and not destroying all
This space  where used to dwell  my  loving spouse

The consolation is   bitter excuse
The loss of  love, my future state appals.
The empty tomb is here inside my house

As I live, to whom am I of use?
Where is the voice that to my heart will call?
A space  where used to speak  my  loving spouse

There is no resurrection for  our race;
But from the nuclear threat we each recoil.
The empty tomb is here inside my house

How is the world now ruled by the debased?
Are we redeemed  ever from our  Fall?
I miss  exchanges with my thoughtful  spouse

Must we build  more iron  prison walls?
How bitter, Jesus,  is the human  bile.
The empty tomb is here inside my house.
This space  where we  mused,spouse to spouse

 

So dust to dust and ash to ash,oh lord
Let us mourn without more wrath,discord

 

 

 

Kiss me now

 
Trees so tall their
wind turned branches stroke the air.
leaves still green,
still stretching sunward
will burn red and gold soon.
 
Wood pigeons cause a flurry
by the birdbath,
as I pass they indicate surprise
with strange cries.
 
Look up at the sky,
it’s blue again
no clouds.
a silver plane flies north,
are people looking down at us?
 
If only love made time last;
would like this morning
to be longer,
for our turning earth
to pause for a moment.
 
How dear you are to me.
I stretch my hand
to touch you,
as if you are a leaf
bathed in light.
no shadows on your face,
no shadows in your eyes
but smiling with the beauty
seen by those who love.
come kiss me now ,my dove.

Radio 3 is playing far away.

Radio 3 is playing far away
Volume low enough to suit a mouse.
I look around the room,I think I’ll stay

The sun it shines,the wind with shrubs  still plays
I see it from  each window of the house
Radio 3 still playing far away

 

I’m writing with a pen from off E bay
Because the other pen  forgot to bounce
I look around the room,I think I’ll stay

Twenty five revisions just today
My mind is like a tiger fit to pounce
Radio 3  is playing far away

I see a denim coat that’s subtly frayed
Bring my mind back to the present joust
I look around the room,I want  to stay

To all the spirits of the house, a toast
For helping when this heart  felt like a roast.
Radio 3 is playing far away.
I look around the room,I think I’ll stay

 

 

 

 

The truth of grief is always in arrears

Early in the morning  I’m in bed
What shall I do  with all the time I’m here?
If time could stop,I’d live  outside my head

I hear  the footsteps daily of the dead
I  can see the face I love in tears
Early in the morning , I’m in bed

I need to get a  needle and a thread
To mend the rips  made by my metal tears.
If time could stop,I’d live  outside my head

I want  perspective on the stuff  I’ve read
About the winds of sorrow, how they veer.
Early in the morning , I’m in bed

I feel I am not whole  just glued up shreds
The truth of grief is always in arrears
If time could stop,I’d live  outside my head

The pain of loss is like an iron that sears
Over and again down all the years
Early in the morning , still in bed.
If time would stop,I’d live  without a head

 

 

 

 

Cyclamen crawl onto table… tweet,tweet.

IMG_0110.JPG

Did you know that a full bladder makes your blood pressure rise? I expect it’s the strain of not wetting yourself.Wish we were animals so we  could just do it anywhere we liked.
And excitement makes  BP go up.It seems lying in a bath all day and peeing into the water might cure your high blood pressure, but what is the point if you can’t lead a normal life?
It’s like my handbag.What with GTN, aspirin and  kleenex.Keys,purse, 3 mobile phones,camera and  lipstick,mobile phone charger,tape measure,scissors and nail  file I  can hardly lift it up.And luckily I can’t put  mascara on owing to my vision,so  that cuts it down a bit.At least now we can leave the photo album at home.
Anyway going back to BP , don’t drink much.You see blood is mainly water and  a full  bladder is bad for BP… so don’t drink.You can lick your lips but that’s it.And the cure for most other ills is death.
Strange isn’t it? Would they let you go on the NHS? My husband died in A and E so  he was not registered as being in the hospital A and E is like Purgatory.
It’ s neither heaven nor hell but maybe a bit like both of them.I wish they made better tea.And gave  wives food when they were with a dying husband.Mind you, they gave him a good meal one hour before he died.If it had not been fish /i would have eaten it myself.
It’s the eyes on dead fish I don’t like.And they lie there so vulnerable with no legs to run away and no eye lids either.And their skin is very thin.Why God made them like that is hard for me to guess.Not to mention  why the Holocaust, the British Empire, Donald Trump and sago pudding with no jam and   ball point pens.It’s a funny world, isn’t it ?

Did you know…..

one-forgives-to-the-degree-that-one-loves-quote-1Did you see that coats with very long sleeves are in fashion?I mean,like 18 inches too long!And then Victoria Beckham wa wearing a coat massively too big and I thought, “what luck.”
You see I bought a coat online and it is enormous.I was going to send it back but I see  I must wear it.The problem is I live in a pretty ordinary area where people won;t know about trends.So they will think I am crackers!
Unless I wear it with beige or light pink leggings and a crop top… and leave the oat undone.Otherwise I might be searched by the police in case someone from Europe is hiding inside it trying to get into  some place forbidden except to  Brits!
Let’s hope they don’t do some of the things we read about.I mean I am quite big but my sexual organs are not large enough to hide even a thin model who   is seeking asylum.If this goes on I’ll be in the asylum.It shows us how sinful  we really are, wearing over sized coats while people are having to listen to Mr Trump  and follow his tweets.
I mean,I could hardly believe all these politicians tweeting at 3 am.Why are they not with beautiful creatures like cats and dogs.Sharing their bed…I]Or even a teddy bear.It makes you think.Well I’d like to think but my mind is blank
We used to look up to some political leaders  but now Mrs Netanyahu is being tried for  not making the right sort of cake  for her husband.It’s very important, you know.A man needs cake every day otherwise he’ll go blind.Thinks…. is this the answer? Lack of cake.I know you can buy them but you don’t get to lick the bowl.I don’t know where I’d be if I hadn’t licked the bowl on Saturdays
I must be losing weight,my watch is too loose.It’s not trendy to wear a watch but when you keep your phone up your knicker leg  a watch seems a good idea.Where can you buy those knickers with pockets? They were really handy.I used to love threading elastic round the legs  with a safety pin.And to think if it were now I’d be on my IPad watching  Open University lectures on You Tube.
I am puzzled about how people afford iPads.Maybe my pension is smaller tham I imagined.Would you pay £700 for an iPhone? You could have bought a house for that when I was young.
It’s chick pea curry tonight.With pasta not rice.I am so contrary,I have fried bread every day and  ~I even buy it ready fried with mashed potato in the Supermarket.That makes me blink

As close to me as in a marriage bed

As on this foreign shore I stand and stare
Across the green and foaming tidal sea.
I do not wonder whether life is fair
Nor whether what’s to come is what should be
.
The hinterland is not a wishful dream
Whatever I meet there is all itself
So useless are past thoughts and present schemes
My courage,heart and spirit are my wealth.
Although alone,I sense some being close
Whom I accept as guide and friend to me.
To walk with otherness is not my boast.

It’s he who guides and shows me how to see.

Thus with this spirit,I my spirit wed
As close to me as in a marriage be