http://www.literary-articles.com/2010/02/wordsworths-views-on-poetic-truth.html?m=1

0

Aristotle was the fist who declared poetic truth to be superior to historical truth. He called poetry the most philosophic of all writings. Wordsworth agrees with Aristotle in this matter. Poetry is given an exalted position by Wordsworth in such a way that it treats the particular as well as the universal. Its aim is universal truth. Poetry is true to nature. Wordsworth declares poetry to be the “image” or “man and nature”. A poet has to keep in mind that his end (objective) is to impart pleasure. He declares poetry will adjust itself to the new discoveries and inventions of science. It will create a new idiom for the communication of new thoughts. But the poet’s truth is such that sees into heart of things and enables others to see the same. Poetic truth ties all mankind with love and a sense of oneness.

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https://worldpopulationreview.com/country-rankings/countries-currently-at-war

If You Want to Understand Why Democracy Is Under Attack, Read This Book https://www.nytimes.com/2024/07/30/books/review/ellen-reeve-black-pill.html?smid=nytcore-android-share

https://wp.me/p1XvpO-7o1

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2019/jan/04/pat-barker-women-carry-the-can-long-term

In the afternoon god smiled at me

He took the form of great buzzing bee

He hovered over flowers and danced away

After that what could I do but pray?

https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/sarcasm-spurs-creative-thinking/

The problem with sarcasm or even irony it is that people don’t always realize that you are being sarcastic.

But in a small amount maybe it’s ok

Her little paw  was delicate to hold

I pressed the pads to make the claws come out

She didn’t mind but stretched luxuriously

A happy  sigh came from her mouth.

She  wriggled slightly all over

Then subsided back into the deep sleep

I think cats must dream the same way we do and for the same reasons.

https://www.thepoetrysalon.com/tps/2019/06/21/why-are-people-afraid-to-write-poetry/

Most people don’t realize that writing poetry is less about Allen Ginsberg’s, “ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,” and more about everyday truths, small happenings and fleeting human moments (which, when you feel them deeply enough, are equivalent to that ancient heavenly connection). In an age when telling the truth is a revolutionary act and face-to-face contact comes through a screen, just taking time to talk about something commonplace like, let’s say, “a narrow fellow in the grass” (Emily Dickinson) whom we spotted on our way to work, well. Damn. You’d think a writer with that much observational power must have a special pipeline to deeper, unfathomable mysteries.

I  thought I’d take a photograph of you.
You were sitting in the garden full of smiles
But now you’ve gone and I am sadly  blue.
I wonder if there’s any hint or clue
Even our policemen have no files
I thought I’d take a photograph of you
What’s a human being supposed to do?
Even copying this takes such a while.
But now you’ve gone and  I am feeling blue
The power that runs my mind has broken, fused
Sometimes even women feel quite frail
I thought I’d take a photograph of you

My brain is held together with some glue
I am well bewildered, I am riled
Everybody else  is gone so I feel blue
By your love this lady was beguiled.
And even now my love has never failed
I meant to take a photograph of you.
But now you’ve gone and I feel  sad and blue

https://www.theguardian.com/books/article/2024/jul/27/pat-barker-benjamin-myers-voyage-home-rare-singles-in-conversation-im-absolutely-intolerable-when-im-not-writing?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other

In my dreams I travel deep and low
Into the happy world of long ago
The jacket on the chair that smelled of smoke
The funny tales, he sang, he laughed, he spoke

So faint the memory yet ,strong are its remains
Security and love in our domain
The brushes and the stipplers all stood by
For noone told his tools that he would die.

On his shoulders, like a queen I rode
So safe and happy on the path he trod.
His voice was clear and he could whistle too
In those days men were used to do

And love shone from him on my mother dear
She laughed and made us cakes for Sunday tea
What tragedy to leave his children five
But in that distant space he is alive

The fire as red as any glowing rose
We were dressed so well in home made clothes
Too happy, needing no words to relate
Our sense of being in this generous space

I can’t get back to them I cannot swim
The passages too wet, the light so dim
Yet I feel it in my body faint and clear
Death is not the end of those so dear.

Deep inside our minds , ancestors live
And to out hearts a depth and breadth they give
Yet missing him,I hover near the place
Where I might dive into his lost embrace

The table where we banged our little heads
The chairs to close together like a bed
The teapot  always full, the sugar bowl
The fire, the kettle , pussy cat and coal

The fireplace had its oven nice and warm
Looking at red coals made me feel calm
The children seem to play in that far space
All around is love  am so on I gaze

https://simple.wikipedia.org/wiki/Irony

Extract

Irony is a term for 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:

• Dramatic irony, when the audience knows something is going to happen on stage that the characters on stage do not.
• 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.

Examples[change | change source]

• 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.

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/harriet/2010/04/humor-and-poetry

Extract:

In 1993, I took a left turn one day out of my MFA program and found myself at the National Poetry Slam in San Francisco. There I discovered several poets who were funny for the sake of being funny. Particularly Hal Sirowitz from New York (“don’t stick your arm out the window, mother said” and Matt Cook from Milwaukee (“it was easy to write the Great American Novel, back when there were only five American novels”) Both poets initially delighted me and confounded me: There are no similes, a voice in my head said. What would Tom Lux (my first teacher) say? the voice continued. Despite my resistance, I believe those poets gave me a kind of permission to explore humor a little more vigorously in my second book, The Forgiveness Parade (1998), for “I thought the word loin and the word lion were the same thing. I thought celibate was a kind of fish”. Perhaps in that book there were places where I was too vigorous in my pursuit: looking back there are a few poems that are just a little too jokey somehow, a little one-dimensional.

I am becoming aware of how some humor can set a roadblock for the poetic speaker, making it impossible for the speaker to get back to a serious place. And how some other (less frequent) uses of humor can leave that door open. I want to leave that door open

I remember all the  funny things we did
Peering into windows lit by lamps
Climbing cliffs then chased by geese and dog

Walking down from Redcar, sea so still
After Saltburn Pier, the cliffs high jump
I remember all the funny things we did

Wandering Whitby in a sea grey smog
Eating a pork pie cut into lumps
Climbing cliffs then chased by geese and dog

Old Hunstanton , white sands where we’d sit
The wild spikes of the gorse spread out unclamped
I remember all the colours,scents, and that

I feel the joy inside my heart is lit
Woe is leavened by old nature’s stamp
Climbing high then chased through mud by dogs

We see in shadows shades are not so stark
In Studland Bay astonished by skylarks
I remember all the humour and the love
Climbing cliffs then caught by geese and God

( We were chased by geese in Devon after climbing a cliff.No doubt chased by a man after we peered into his garden)

https://www.themarginalian.org/2017/10/11/a-life-of-ones-own-joanna-field-marion-milner/#:~:text=which%2C%20in%20the%20sobering%20words%20of%20E.E.%20Cummings%2C%20%E2%80%9Cis%20doing%20its%20best%2C%20night%20and%20day%2C%20to%20make%20you%20everybody%20else.%E2%80%9D%20Try%20as%20we%20might%20not%20to%20be%20blinded%20by%20society%E2%80%99s%20prescriptions%20for%20happiness%2C%20we%20are%20still%20social%20creatures%20porous%20to%20the%20values%20of%20our%20peers%20%E2%80%94%20creatures

Loneliness, the word’s not strong enough
For widows and their masculine counterparts.
Ripped in half, that’s more the phrase; like tough.

No arms left now, that never will rebuff.
No eager lips which whispering love impart
Loneliness, the word’s not strong enough

People say, of course, the going’s rough
The coming’s gone and nothing shall gestate
Ripped in half, that’s more the phrase; like, tough.

Never more to share cartoons and laughs.
Never more to be a chosen mate
Loneliness, the word’s not wrong enough.

Did we know the heart of what we had?
Did we learn the art of love. of fate?
Ripped in half, that’s more the phrase; like, tough.

You have gone and closed now is the gate
In a mad ball, I dance with love and hate
Loneliness, the word’s not strong enough!
Ripped in half, that’s more the phrase; like, tough.

Flowers by virtue of design
Appeal to both the heart and mind
First, perceive and then dwell on
Beauty, truth and thus reason

Inside the mother’s womb the baby turns,

Unaware of Earth and how it burns

The mother weeps, shells fall the baby cries

How many flowers and doves are soon to die?

What a waste of people,jewesl Wars

Human sacrifice.. what is it for?

We think that we’re more civilized but ,no.

We idle life away with TV Shows

Livelyz foolish wiilling ignorance lives

Glowing bodies, minds and hearts like sieves

Yet women have such courage in hard times

Knotting children’s worlds with nursery rhymes.

Sheltering little bodies with their own.

Singing ancient songs,oh blood oh bones

https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/article/2024/jul/25/experts-financial-advisers-18-foolproof-ways-spend-less-save-more?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other

Why am I thinking about original sin? No one talks about sin nowadays though nor about evil and yet in the last 120 years we had two terrible world wars we had the Holocaust we had Stalin not to mention the other more recent tragedies; you all know what I am referring to I think

That human beings can be involved in  evil matters. What original sin was meant to be something that babies were born with something to do with sex being evil according to Santa Augustin of Hippo.

. So what is the problem?

Well I have a different explanation. Someone born into the economic system presently in Britain will be better off the many babies are in other parts of the world.

Yet the staff in care homes are not able to do their job with 100% satisfaction because the prime purpose of this care home is to make money for the owners and in order to make money you’ve got to charge a certain fee but not so high that no one will those who afford it with high enough to make a profit.

Well you can do this by having the minimum number of staff and paying them the minimum wage which currently in London is about £10 an hour.

There are never quite enough carers to answer the people’s bells as quickly as critical would like them to. So sometimes the people who can’t walk and therefore are in the gracious need will start to scream and shout or cry and sog and this can be very distressing for all of  us to hear. Then they criticize the carers but it’s not the carers fault is it if you have say 18 people needing care with only two carers on duty then someone loses out. It’s like Darwin’s theory of evolution that the strongest will beat the weakest and the strongest of the old people even when they have dementia can dominate the atmosphere

They do get more attention simply because you can hear them so much. It can be tragic sometimes but it’s even more tragic to me to see the ones who have not got dementia but maybe  have got cognitive decline and they’re just sit there  half dead in the silence.

They are the forgotten people unless they have families close by and some families think that once their relative has got dementia they don’t need to visit them anymore but dementia is only part of what they are most of their personality is still intact. The name of the person may be forgotten but the familiar eyes on face and voice will be a great comfort

Where I see the sin is even with someone who feels that she’s got a vocation to be a carer to the elderly cannot be a carer in the full sense because she cannot look after anybody except the ones who are fairly fit she cannot look after anybody to the extent that they need. And there’s nothing in economic theory about a job being there to satisfy and genuine need for human caring for the old or disabled

.

The sin is not in the Carers but it is in the economic system of maximizing profits and minimizing labour costs.

If you look at a textbook for mathematical economics you will see the letters

L is labour, formerly known as people

C is capital. Representing money

To me it is dehumanising to call people labour and them in numbers which happens if you continue reading this economics book. Once you don’t see them as people then you can move them about do what you like to them make them part of an algebraic equation … So labor must be mobile and people cannot expect to live in the same city all their lives. Don’t worry about the elderly parents or their relatives etc they have to move elsewhere and while this is quite acceptable to some better off people if she’s not so good for people in lower paid jobs who are getting older. How many devices now we have so we can stay in touch with people far away because we can’t expect to stay near our friends or relatives for any length of time and that might be why our children use their phones so much as well.

What it means in a care home is that is it will be very unusual for all the residents to feel satisfied with their care but  they will criticise the carers or the nurse or the manager for those people do not have any control over the number of staff.

It’s possible that some homes are more flexible than others but you can’t be sure of that but you cannot be. sure of anything

The original sin is the economic system together w together with the flaws and weaknesses of human beings which are there in the rich and the poor. Sometimes there are saints as well

.

https://poets.org/poem/i-walked-out-one-evening

Emile woke  Mary up at 7am.It was a  Sunday in  late October, grey and damp though the sun was still not  too low in the sky
Go away, she told him.The clock has changed.It’s not 8 am yet.I have to wash my hair as well.Get the Observer out of the basket for me,please.
I can’t read. the dear animal replied.And why don’t you rebel and stick to Summer Time?
I know Stan wanted to send you to Eton but we couldn’t afford it.Yet you understand days and calenders, Mary joked  sorrowfully
She got up and found her fleece dressing gown; it was   conker brown covered in coloured spots.She went downstairs and gave Emile a Whitby kipper.Then she made some tea and took it upstairs so she could drink it while she came round from her dreams
Suddenly Annie ran into   her bedroom wearing a  long black vinyl coat and  red knee-high boots
You never locked the back door, she howled like a lost  leopard which has had no  food for weeks
I don’t suppose anyone wants my old TV as it is only 19 inches.And my Chromebook is not something worth re-selling.I do have a new coat.
How about Ray Monk’s life of Wittgenstein, Annie asked her defiantly, her apricot lips pouting childishly as the Riemann of Paris lipstick glittered uncannily like an imaginary number in a dream of Godel.
The people who might enjoy reading it are by virtue of that , not the sort to steal or buy it on the black market.
That is very racist, Annie told her.You should say:the beige market!
Then nobody would know what I meant, Mary said lovingly
Anyway, do you want to come to Marks with me? They have some beautiful coats in
I’d like a pink wool coat, said Mary thoughtfully
Quite right  ,said Annie.Bring back feminine colours
Actually, gay men might like pink coats, she continued.But if they go on the bus they might get dirty.Come to think of it, so will women’s coats
They will have to buy pink puffa jackets and we can wash them at 30 deg.Mary whispered
Using a special detergent, Annie asked?
I have never seen a detergent for washing gay men.I don’t think they will fit into the washing machine.On the other hand, you are small so you will fit in
Shall I get undressed first, Annie asked furtively.
Yes, I’ll try to put you on a  short wash for 15 minutes but it is your choice.Maybe a bath would be safer?
No problem, said Annie intellectually.Are you having one with me?
You’d better be careful, Mary ad-libbed.It might be sexual harassment.
Well, I am not gay , said Annie.
You never know till you try, Mary giggled ,like a child behind the school canteen
Why, we might become gender fluid and then who knows?
And so say all of us
Miaow

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

The answer is the misfortune of the question

I am not sure where this originates but it is very true.

Although if you ask the time of the train you do want to answer

But if you wonder about the meaning of life that stimulates discussion or thought or reverie.

https://theconversation.com/think-swearing-isnt-big-or-clever-think-again-71043

https://www.nytimes.com/2019/03/02/opinion/sunday/political-polarization.html

What we need is not to disagree less, but to disagree better. And that starts when you turn away the rhetorical dope peddlers — the powerful people on your own side who are profiting from the culture of contempt. As satisfying as it can feel to hear that your foes are irredeemable, stupid and deviant, remember: When you find yourself hating something, someone is making money or winning elections or getting more famous and powerful. Unless a leader is actually teaching you something you didn’t know or expanding your worldview and moral outlook, you are being used.

Next, each of us can make a commitment never to treat others with contempt, even if we believe they deserve it. This might sound like a call for magnanimity, but it is just as much an appeal to self-interest. Contempt makes persuasion impossible — no one has ever been hated into agreement, after all — so its expression is either petty self-indulgence or cheap virtue signaling, neither of which wins converts.

What if you have been guilty of saying contemptuous things about or to others? Perhaps you have hurt someone with your harsh words, mockery or dismissiveness. I have, and I’m not proud of it. Start the road to recovery from this harmful addiction, and make amends wherever possible. It will set you free.

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Finally, we should see the contempt around us as what it truly is: an opportunity, not a threat. If you are on social media, on a college campus or in any place other than a cave by yourself, you will be treated with contempt very soon. This is a chance to change at least one heart — yours. Respond with warmheartedness and good humor. You are guaranteed to be happier. If that also affects the contemptuous person (or bystanders), it will be to the good.

X3 f3vfwv

• e

Ll

The red leaves in the sunshine seem to smile
A pale blue sky, a silver aeroplane
I’m happy,I am warm, in your arms coiled

I  have no heater but the kettle  boiled
I made us coffee   then my  parcel  came
My face in the small mirror  had a smile

My love is deep, you never were on trial
If we quarrel, we both share the blame
I’m happy,I am warm, in your arms coiled

Our sorrow is, we have not made a child
Jesus cursed the fig tree in its shame
Yet red leaves in the sunshine seem to smile

Sorrow need not  madden nor make  bold
We do not know the purpose  nor the game
I’m happy,I am warm now as I toil

We need old fashioned virtues like restraint
We don’t see the whole  as life we paint
The red leaves in the sunshine seem to smile
I’m happy,I am warm, the sea sings  wild

Samsung and Delilah

If only Eve had not bought an apple  iPhone

Yahoo punished Adam severely

Was Asus the son of God too?

God said, why are you here, you liar?

Elijah invented Intel,computers and chips. but not pizza

I’ll be judge and I’ll be jury,said cunning old Fury

I have seen the Light on Google Drive

The Cloud of Unknowing is not a good place to save your poetry

He filed me under “wonder” on One Drive

One Drive,One G-d, One World

Where is Ogle Drive?

Yeshua did many lyricals.He was Leonard Cohen,we have found to our surprise

The still small choice

God did not dictate the Bible directly onto stone tablets.

What language would he have used?

https://www.bbc.com/worklife/article/20200827-how-self-control-can-actually-unleash-your-dark-side