Mary was feeling very unwell when the phone rang. It was a former colleague of hers who asked her how she was. But she didn’t want to tell anyone she was ill with covid-19
Oh I am grieving for my sister, Mary told her untruthfully but firmly.
You have never mentioned your sister before.Were you close to her?
Oh no. I wasn’t close to her I just like grieving for people that I’m not close to, don’t you?
Mary I think you are being sardonic. I’ve never heard you speak like that before. What has come over you?
Am I really being sardonicJust think that you can be sardonic without even knowing it.
I don’t believe you Mary You know what it is I am sure you do.
Well you can know something and practice it without necessarily knowing the name or knowing that there is a name for it
Suddenly she realized that everything that has a name now must have been experienced by human beings before the name was given to it and it was they who had invented a name for it
We don’t know what it will be in another language like Italian or German either
Annie came running in lb into the kitchen wearing some green trousers and a purple top. She had no makeup on at all which is very unusual for this dear lady.What was wrong with her? Could you be about to change gender?
Mary are you feeling better? Who are you talking to? Anything exciting?
Oh it’s Leonora do you remember her? She used to teach in Huddersfield polytechnic where I took a course in algebraic mythology.
Don’t be ridiculous if you wanted to learn algebraic mythology you would have gone to East Barnet University. How Annie got this idea is a mystery since she is a very uneducated and thoughtless person but who knows? Some people become more intelligent as they get older especially if they wear a lot of makeup filled with dangerous chemicals.
Well never mind I can’t remember where I met her but she is very clever and she’s just come back to this country from Australia
Well she must be short of company if she’s phoning you now after 20 or 30 years of absence. Was she in fact a colleague of yours?
How can you say something so rude to me? I am stunned
Oh I’m sorry Mary. I am feeling depressed at the moment and sometimes that can make me cruel.
I forgive you because I’ve known you for many years al. I know chronic pain can make people behave badly as well in fact there’s a higher risk of suicide for those people. But in the current political climate we’re all at a higher risk of suicide or murder.
Why are you feeling so depressed, do you know? Of course that is the thing we often don’t know why we are depressed and that is what is so horrible about it because we don’t know what to do.
Is it just a chemical reaction that’s gone wrong in the brain or is it some indication that we are locking for a deep meaning to our lives or maybe we just hate the society we’re living in especially the newspapers.
I’m not sure perhaps it’s the spring sunshine that can bring on seasonal ineffective disorder.
Well I will say goodbye to Leonora and I will make you a lovely cup of tea in the kitchen with Emile. He will be thrilled to see you with your purple lipstick and your green eye shadow which had mysteriously appeared by themselves on Annie’s face. Free at the point of contact just like the nhs
Mary I’m so fortunate to have you as my friend.
Some people would never speak to me again if I was rude to them
Well we should never jump to conclusions especially . And this is a very minor offense that you have committed compared to what politicians do every day but even our politicians here are nothing like so bad as Ronald Stump
According to the Times readers we have to become resilient and not let things affect us but unfortunately they don’t say how.
Well we can talk about that while we have our tea
I’d rather talk about fashion really I believe yellow is the color for this year
Oh for God’s sake Emile cried. I hate the colour yellow except on flowers and the sun but I do not like women wearing yellow clothing.
Emil you are just a cat but you are very wise so we will talk about something else altogether namely what we shall have for our supper.
I’d like sardines on toast,the cat purred
Then I will do the washing up for you
I want to wash my fur tonight
Your wish is my command Mary cried
Thus it did transpire
What the two women ate is a total mystery
Send your ideas on a postcard. You might win 10 pounds for the the best suggestion on the other hand you may not win anything at all because I’m too tired to think about it
To be sardonic is to be disdainfully or cynically humorous, or scornfully mocking.[1][2] A form of wit or humour, being sardonic often involves expressing an uncomfortable truth in a clever and not necessarily malicious way, often with a degree of skepticism.[3]
Irony is a term for aaa@A figure of speech.[1] Irony is when something happens that is opposite from what is expected. It can often be funny, but it is also used in tragedies. There are many types of irony, including those listed below:
Socratic irony, when someone (usually a teacher) pretends to be stupid in order to show how stupid his pupils are (while at the same time the reader or audience understand the situation).
Cosmic irony, when something that everyone thinks will happen actually happens very differently.
Situational irony e.g. Mr. Smith gets a parking ticket. This is ironic because Mr. Smith is a traffic warden.
Verbal irony is an absence of expression and intention. Sarcasm may sometimes involve verbal irony.
Irony of fate is the misfortune in the result of fate or chance.
The difference between of things seem to be or reality.
In Shakespeare’s play Romeo and Juliet, Juliet takes a potion that will put her to sleep, making her look dead. She does this in the hopes of being reunited with Romeo. He incorrectly learns of her death, and kills himself. This is an example of dramatic irony, as the reader/viewer knows she is not dead, but Romeo does not.
A common example of cosmic irony could be that a child wants some kind of pudding, and misbehaves to try to get it. The parent withholds it because of the child’s behavior.
Verbal irony can be found in sarcasm, but not just that.
In Sophocles‘ play Oedipus Rex, Oedipus acts out based on the knowledge of his fate which in turn leads to the fulfillment of the tragic fate. This is an example of how fate plays on irony.
You stabbed my heart when I was left alone Telling me my writing was like porn Now you give me nightmares, be my pest We all need one or two,and you confessed
My writing is so bad, you envy not Did I hit you on a painful spot? If others have a gift, that is their call You have yours , get out a net and trawl
Ambivalent in love which turns to hate We wound ourselves in making this our fate Talking overmuch lets such thoughts out As tea will pour down from a tilted spout
The ancient virtues,patience and restraint Shall be our wise protectors when distraught
I’m in deep now,never been this deep before The world’s hollow like a shell and I’m out its door. In so deep, the ocean has its own startled floor. I’m down,down.down.never been so dark , so more
I can’t rightly tell how I got where I am I think I had an accident,fell over, then I swam. Sometimes it’s a loss, be times it’s my man. I guess I only do it cos I know some folk can.
I don’t know if the joy is worth the pain Would I choose to relive if, I was born again? The deep joy is the amazing gain. But the sorrow is damn sad, let’s admit it plain.
I’m in deep and it’s over my head What was I thinking of,when I fell out of that bed? I look up and the sea’s so turquoise like that mist is red When we get good and mad and wish some loon was dead.
At first, it was all just black,black pain But from the bottom of the well, I looked up with awed love again. That’s when I recalled,feelings are deep and sane Joy is much greater when we’re in the deep,deep zone.
I dunno if I’m ever comin’ out. We can’t control it,ain’t that what life’s all about? I’ll never love with innocence again,nor not feel doubt. But I’m no teapot and the devil ain’t got my spout.
I’m swimming and the ocean’s so mysteriously bright Down here we don’t have no day nor no night Fish nudge me with big grins and teeth white Sea flowers fondle me and whisper,turn off that light
The tulips pushed the primroses away They took the pot from these innocuous plants Nature is not kind in such display The powerful plants can do just what they want.
However, I admire their flowers of red The shape is elegant, the colour clear. And had they been in a much bigger bed Both flowers would give us pleasure without fear.
And now magnolias pink my eyes adore Two of them I see from off the bus. A visual parable, a story for The short sweet life of all including us.
We deceive ourselves in order to survive. But shallowness makes trivia of our lives
London is bewildered by its roads The Circular, the North,the South, th da wase QCodes The Morse and the Enigma, Turing broke So now we have new bicycles with spokes Once we had the A to Z in hand Turn it upside down and you’ll be grand New technology has made great strides Carrying us to Eden ,what a ride The motorways are empty for tonight God decided we had too much Light He taught the bare cheeked Moon on Jesus’ Mount To turn the other side when love’s about I liked to use a compass and a map But now, my dear, most everything’s on tap I crouch beneath my sister as she drives In the dark on the M 25 But if it’s closed, we are completely foxed We left the old Road Atlas in a box Along with all my ex’s underpants And naturally his principles of Kant We may be in Watford or in Bucks I often wonder what will rhyme with luck We may be near St Albans, we can’t see The car ran up the trunk of an oak tree We rang 999 and they are here A fire engine filled up with Kentish beer A ladder for the ladies to climb down Now they are just women on the town London exists no more as a real spot MI 5 are joining all the dots
I tried to draw this from a photograph when I had only just begun to learn joy so it’s not at all realistic but there’s something about it that my sister likes and so because of that I have helped her she is the one on the extreme left.
I’m the only one still alive now
It’s the cancer. I’ve not long left
You’ve been a good sister
For several days I was able to send messages to comfort her and help her and once you could no longer speak one of her sons read out one of my poems to her and a little smile came on her face.
She was still a devout Catholic I never believed that I would consider giving anybody some rosary beads or that it might help anybody but in fact she told was she was using her fingertips because she had no beads to pray on and so I sent her some rosaries and she was holding them in her hands when she died.
I asked if I could have them then but they had left them in her hands.
So I have to get some more because it’s a sort of link to her and to my mother and others. I don’t think it’s idolatry. People need something to touch when they had no longer speak properly or at all and she knew when she touched them that I had sent them to her so it was all I could do since she was 160 miles away from me.
In a way hearing the diagnosis was worse than when she actually died because at first she was in a terrible mental state and was suicidal but she lived long enough to see her daughter’s second baby born and the baby was one month old when she died
Now the babys 10 months old and very lively and full of interest but of course she won’t remember my sister that is what is so sad for her mother.
Soul making is a phrase from Keats.{ link to article by Jeffrey C. Johnson in Paris Review]
We saw Wolf Hall on TV recently and it is so wonderful.I am just writing down a few of my thoughts not about that but about Anne Boleyn… I meant it to be funny but I could n’t manage that after seeing the play.
ANNE BOLEYN
Anne Boleyn withheld to win
As Henry lusted in his sin.
Once a virgin,sweet Madonna;
Henry turned in rage on her.
She bore him but one living child,
For her quips,she was reviled.
Henry knew not the fault was his
It seems the king had syphilis.
Or Anne was rhesus negative
then just her first born child would live.
We women make our worst mistake
When power for love we wrongly take
Our strength lasts but till we submit.
We need less love and far more wit.
Whatever lusty men may say,
their “love” dies when they get their way.
And they will take their wife by force
As cannons pound on oaken doors.
As for women,we must not
Promise gold we have not got.
Conception is a game of chance;
We come to be by happenstance.
we sin in pride in promising
What only God or Nature bring.
We deceive and trick and charm
At last our hearts bang in alarm
The man who begged upon his knees
Chops off our heads when we displease.
For Emperors and Kings and Lords
Wield fearful power by the sword.
Yet when for judgement they shall stand
How will point the knowing hand?
And just like us they’ll ashen be
When true majesty they see.
Into dust and crumbled ruin
they will go by their own doings.
Each day create with grace your soul.
Cracked shall be the golden bowl.
Keats wrote this extract below [read all by clicking on soul above[ and he died when aged only 25 years:
I will call the world a School instituted for the purpose of teaching little children to read—I will call the human heart the horn Book used in that School—and I will call the Child able to read, the Soul made from that school and its hornbook. Do you not see how necessary a World of Pains and troubles is to school an Intelligence and make it a soul? A Place where the heart must feel and suffer in a thousand diverse ways!
It seems that our friends are part of our immune system in a very real sense to coin a phrase. If you see what I mean etc
We don’t need an excuse to hug our friends
Find a friend or family member and ask for a hug. That warm squeeze will give you a lift — and could even make conflict less upsetting, according to one study.
Hugging could also help your immune system, another study says.
Don’t put a comments box on your post because if people put comments on you’ll have to reply to them and that will take up your precious time.
Never read blogs written by other people. You have read all the great writers so why bother?
Don’t allow “likes” either because people might “like” things that they’ve not read
Then the only statistics you get will be the number of visitors and their countries. You don’t even need to bother to look at that
So why would you continue to blog once you put all those restrictions on your blog?
Well you just have to try it. You are still writing and someone might read it possibly but you will never know and you’ll certainly won’t know who they are or whether they are interested in the same things as you etc
Maybe you want to show your friends or your family that you have a blog but you don’t want anything negative written on it although as a matter of fact most people are very courteous and dont write really horrible comments like the following
Do you consider yourself to be a poet? You must be very conceited.
These poems are getting worse month by month so this is my duty to tell you that you’re wasting your time here. You’d be better off going for a walk.
Do you consider these to be short stories? Even children wouldn’t bother to read them and they normally like stories are some cartoons as well it might help but I can’t guarantee that unless you improve the quality.
Well if only you would stop writing it would free up 45 minutes of my time every day and I could stay in bed longer in the morning looking at the clouds go past my window.
Of course I could ignore your blog but you might think that was rude
Perhaps you could write an article about why people like to stay in bed longer in the morning. And is it true when you are getting older?
Personally I’m sick and tired of being in bed and I’m in bed because I’m sick and tired.
I am sorry that going to the pain in my hands at the moment I cannot do copying and pasting but this article is very worthwhile and it includes a video
It’s hard to find something at the right level and it does not make you have to memorize lots of long names that you will never really find useful in your writing
Because what matters is to write not to fast examinations about writing although it’s obviously very useful to know as much as you can manage of techniques even if you don’t want to use them.
Saturday was shopping then a walk Epping,Ongar,Finchingfield by car Reading book reviews and chewing stalks Buttercups and meadows,Henry Moore
Driving back from Chelmsford, cornfields flamed Smoke and fire and earth, the sun dismayed Farmers working hard, a harvest, grain The sky through mist a cobalt blue displayed
Standon with its fords and wandering cows Little rivers,Essex, flowing down The Stort joins with the Lea,a gurglimg sound Water for the Thames and mossy ground
The earth feels like my body sacrificed An artist’s canvas stretched , a matricide
Oh, lidded kettle boil me water fast I cannot live without your heated blast Your spout is small but perfect for its use And, as your lid is hinged. it can’t get lost
An electric kettle made by Russell Hobbs A teapot with a spout and lid with knob Are what the Britons need in times of storm If crisis comes, we need tea hot,not warm
I don’t object to diverse kettle brands. We had a coal fire once with kettle stand. Its metal black from soot and burned by coke We made our neighbours tea which seemed to smoke.
Ah,kettle ,instrument of civil life We cannot boil our water on a knife
Are bring and buys considered decorous,Emily fretted.
Give help immediately to Jackie’s kittens,Lorna.
My name often passes quotidian testing.
Why X-rate your zoom?
And buy cameras down Eastside for Greta.
Have I Jolted Klaus’s lot?
My number often precedes quantities rendered silent.
To understand videos we x-ray your zapper
As boys create dens essential for growth ,her inner Joker laughed merrily
Need often precedes qualitative results so theory uses watery.X rays
Yonder zodiacs are better counted down each Friday given her inept jangling locks.
My needs often pessimistically quell roosting turkeys.
Use version Waterman.X, yes,zero.
Amwell ,because Christmas Day exists for gaging her inner judge.
Lend me no open papers,questions rated summarily tested when?
Your X zapped Anna.Be clear,darling,
Enjoy framing geese,hens, joked Larry,
Men need only present quarry sent to Wigan.
X Y Z
Shall I miss the journeys that we made
Up sheer cliffs and through deep muddy yards
Chased by geese and then in heather laid?
I cannot catch you now, it is too far.
You cleaned my boots back in the cottage sweet
On the bed, you covered me in coats
Tenderly you stroked my crooked feet
And hot and sugared tea you once more brought
A dog stopped by and held out its clean paw
It shook your hand and gazed with amber eyes
Remote and cold, the Hartland Cliffs we saw
Where have you got to now, my love, disguised?
Danger and delight then drew us on
I cannot find your face, where have you gone?
You may never have read a poem in your life, and yet you can pick up a volume of Mary Oliver say, or Neruda, or of Rumi, open it to any page, and suddenly find yourself blown into a world full of awe, dread, wonder, marvel, deep sorrow, and joy.
Poetry at its best calls forth our deep being. It dares us to break free from the safe strategies of the cautious mind; it calls to us, like the wild geese, as Mary Oliver would say, from an open sky. It is a magical art, and always has been — a making of language spells designed to open our eyes, open our doors and welcome us into a bigger world, one of possibilities we may never have dared to dream of.
This is why poetry can be dangerous as well as necessary. Because we may never be the same again after reading a poem that happens to speak to our own life directly. I know that when I meet my own life in a great poem, I feel opened, clarified, confirmed somehow in what I sensed was true but had no words for. Anything that can do this is surely necessary for the fullness of a human life.
Autumn rust,red,gold,so gay.
Drystone walls, edging fields,
Apples gathered,holly berries
Flash so brightly
Look like flowers
Sun shines sideways,shadows long
Of trees appear I dwell among
Woods of gentle beeches sing
Swaying with the sideward wind.
See their roots, all intertwined.
Feel their geometry in the mind.
Look up now into the sky,
See the V formation high.
Geese fly home at end of day.
My heart is moved by patterned dance
In this peace and great silence
My mind opens like the sky
And in this moment I would die,
So I could stay with this still vision
Of geese set out on autumn mission.
Snails in rain pools slither near
My feet upon the terrace here
And look,upon their whorled backs
All the sense of life is packed.
And yet so easily Life’s destroyed,
When blind foot steps into the void.
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/roger-housden/importance-of-poetry_b_884319.html
How my heart speaks 