The ghosts of failures past make tears flow down They run inside the wrinkles of my skin The faces of the old and savaged ones.
The child teased for her foreign accent frowns. Does she have the strength of mind within? The ghost of failure now makes tears flow down
We thought the old were wiser, never conned. Yet we ourselves feel bombed by thinner skin. Our faces old and ravaged, tortured ones.
For the poor in money, loss abounds They blame themselves, they did not ever win The ghost of failure past makes tears flow down
The poor in spirit to their Lord will run Is this world of terror caused by sin? Their sorry faces traumatised, undone
The crucifix will be uncrossed again. The Holocaust in nuclear fires may come The salt of failure’s cost make tears run on The faces of the living, savaged ones
Wurt’zmicat= where is my cat Wurzmidinner= where is my dinner Midadsmokes= my father smokes Deyelikekippers= are you a maths teacher?
Avityeroanway= have it your own way Amgointechurch =I am going to church Yecanseesatanin’t mirror= one can see Satan in the mirror Izzitrainin= is it raining? adoantwant t’ gotoskool=I am menstruating pizeanirrationalnumber=I am going to Confession Izzgodtranscendental= can we pay the rent? Amgoint’etbuzzstop=I am leaving home Alostmibuzzfairmam=I am a thief
From the miles of flatness and the fens Comes . the hill where this Cathedral stands Everyone can see this floodlit site When the moon is out and there is night. I saw it through the window as I turned It’ struck me down with beauty never learnt. As I lay surprised upon the stair I absorbed the beauty I saw there Should we worship beauty such as this? It strikes us with a hammer not a kiss
We saw the view from Langdale to the sea Windermere, a riddle ten miles long Coniston a question of degree Old Man standing like a God to sing
The risky climb, the tough hand that saved me The energy of youth and the unknown The boldest child, the future poetry By the shape of hills ,I’m overthrown
The shock of beauty and the cliffs of rock The slope as sheer as ecstasy, the poem The sturdy heart that startled with its knock The pensive soul that brought these wishes home
On the highest peak’s edge, we lay down~ Closed our eyes to hear the sheep bells sound
I wonder why laptops are usually black or grey or silver.
I would like mine to be blue,
Do you think I could have it spray painted?
Similarly why are raincoats beige? I’d like one in blue and red stripes but please don’t make it the Union Jack as a shan’t feel safe going out in that.
Nationalism, fascism,war and civil war.
It’s not very amusing at the moment is it?
Why can’t we have civil love?
Why can’t we have civil arguments?
Why can’t we listen to each other?
We have our neurotic defense mechanisms which is Which actually make us selectively deaf or .blind
This is quite worrying how different people perceptions are of an event.
Recently I have some visits from a physiotherapist. The first time he came he said I will not give you any exercises to do because walking about the house and up the stairs is enough exercise for you. With certain conditions too much exercise is worse than too little.
When he came the second time he said, you told me last week that you don’t want to do any exercises
I was very surprised that he had a memory so different from mine. And this is a non-contentious topic.
No wonder there are wars.
I didn’t argue with him because I could not see any purpose in it but I was very interested that he had such a different recollection of what was said the previous time.
However he did say that they were amazed at what I have achieved
I hope that if I see him again he will not say
I tell you that we were very disappointed in your lack of progress m
This is quite possible so in future I shall write down everything such people say to me. Even then they may not believe it.
Fortunately the man who came to put a handrail in my porch remembered exactly what I wanted.
The driver of the bus lives far away His home is mobile,but not smart like our phones He lives in a small caravan, he says Yet of all the drivers he’s the one.
He always waits till I ,crippled, sit down Advised me to sit until he stops He has a smile and rarely makes a frown Though sometimes in his words some anger’s wrapped.
Alas, he unsurprisingly believes That all the money goes to foreign folk By the tabloid press he is deceived Yet due to pain, his hidden fires must smoke
The least men are the kindest to the weak Believe me,I know well what I here speak
Mary was washing her rug on the patio watched by Emile who had pondered over the notion of leaping into the warm water in the big bowl.Fortunately, he had seen Mary was using biological detergent, What will happen to my fur if that gets onto it? he asked his human mother It will kill all those bacteria on it, she replied.And if you lick it then it will taste nasty, Mary’s new boyfriend was coming for tea and she wanted the house to look clean. I will give you a bath too Emile as Ron wears linen trousers.He will be angry if you leave footprints on him. I am not interested in Ron , Emile replied.I wanted a lady cat to canoodle with. I am sorry Emile but there are no websites for love deprived cats.You will have to run around the town until you find another lady friend.You are very handsome and your amber eyes are a true beauty to behold Emile sobbed.I miss Stan, he cried. So do I, Mary murmured, but we have to move on How can you have found another man so soon.You are still grieving Well, it’s just chance, Ron fell over a brick on the pavement and landed in my arms.I didn’t know about the brick and thought he was an acrobat like Norman Wisdom.I imagined he must like me and invited him to have coffee in the Mathematical Symbols Cafe otherwise known as the Pie Shop. Ahaha, went Emile.That’s a good one.Who paid the bill? The manager was so pleased to see me look happy he didn’t charge us a penny That is unusual, Emile purred.I bet he was not English I believe they are Turkish, Mary told him.They are very kind and polite And how about Ronald? Did he like them? He thought making pies was unusual for Turks.He has been all over that area and seen the wonders of the world. The doorbell rang.It was some secret Catholic missionaries asking Mary if she read the Bible. Of course not, she said, Catholics like me can’t read the Bible.It’s full of sex. Is it really, an elderly red faced man exclaimed.Can you give me the references? Try the Song of Songs she said and then look up Sodom and Gomorrah I’d want something easier, he told her.I am still a virgin. Well, that is a surprise.Did you never get married? Being married does not always lead to sex, he informed shyly.My wife was very timid Why did she marry you then, Mary said anxiously I am very rich, he said and she liked my car That is a silly reason for getting married.Did you never cuddle or canoodle on the sofa? No, her mother always came with her wherever we went Did that not tell you there was something odd about her? I didn’t know what to think. I hope her mother did not share your bed?That would be a sure way of making sure you were both virgins.Although her mother was obviously not one.She sounds what we call ” Intrusive”.If you marry again, make sure her mother is dead first! You seem a very charming lady.Are you married? I am not but I have a boyfriend. Are you engaged? Do people bother now? Yes, he cried as he knelt down and offered her a large diamond ring he had in a little box Will you marry me?You have such beautiful eyes. You don’t even know my name, Mary shrieked. Does it matter, he responded hopefully Just then Ron arrived with a big bunch of red roses. What is going on, he asked Mary plaintively This gentleman wants me to become Catholic, she said politely Do they give everyone a diamond ring? Ron enquired softly Well, actually I am Jewish, the man told them.But my mother never arranged a marriage though I did marry once and it was annulled.We never consummated it, you see. You seem to have left it late, Ron said nicely Do you think you might be gay?You can get married now if you find the right man who might be the love of your life. I might annoy the Rabbi, the man said.We Jews are keen to increase in numbers after the Shoah Did you know there are only 13 million Jews alive now?If we compare that to the number in the Roman Empire, then proportionately there would be 200 million He began to sob. You’d better come in, Mary said.What’s your name? Sol, he replied Well Ron, bring Sol through and I will make the tea. As Emile had been listening he ran into the drawing room and jumped onto Sol’s knee What’s your name, asked Sol impudently? Emile Tangent-Turnip, the cat replied. Wow, a talking cat.What next? Annie, Stan’s former mistress came in.She pushed Emile off Sol’s knee and sat there herself. What do you think of transcendental numbers, she piped up? I never heard of them but if you like them I will like them as well.Tell me about them,he demanded ardently I am afraid I don’t know, said Annie.I am a complete idiot.I thought men preferred that No, most Jewish men like educated, intelligent women, he solemnly informed her. But do you like large bosoms and makeup? I think you are getting impertinent, he screamed. into her ear.Most men like bosoms but we don’t like women who talk this way. Oh, dear, said Annie.I’m terribly sorry.You see I am a virgin and don’t know how to deal with men. Do the two things always go together, he enquired. It’s not being a virgin that stops you talking to men, it’s not knowing how to talk to men that keeps you a virgin.Though no man likes women who talk too much. Ron laughed.Who defines what is too much , he asked, like a professor of logic? Surely it depends on the topic.He winked at Mary who was carrying a large iced chocolate cake into the room. Emile ate a piece of cake as he watched the humans talk.Now if they were cats, he thought they would not all still be virgins at the age of 108.So being human stops people enjoying their bodies because they think Adam would still be a virgin if Eve had not offered him the apple.Then where would we all be?Nowhere, that is the answer. Ron got up and said he was going to ring 999 because Sol was looking peculiar, Do you mean he is looking at you peculiarly or he looks unwell or mad, asked Annie nervously? Do you want to go to A and E, she asked Sol. Why not?It will make a day out,he replied wildly. The thing is,once you get there you could be there for hours,Mary said. I once was there with Stan and at midnight the nurse asked me if I wanted to be admitted.He was still lying there with his eye bleeding,his nose broken and feeling weak owing to lack of food.He had passed out because of low blood sugar but they gave him no food.Very odd.I am not going to come with you. Sol looked anxious.I thought you might like caring for me, he told her petulantly Do you really think women like serving men all the time?Well, we only do it for men we love and as I’ve only known you for an hour in a non-biblical sense it seems a bit much to expect.Why don’t we play a game instead? Ron came in, what sort of game? Consequences,Annie cried! Too out of date. I think I’ll go to bed,said Mary And so say all of us.Except Ron.He doesn’t know what to do.Like the old lady in the shoe.What do you advise?
A villanelle is like a cable knit The lines repeated twist ,make strong ,make warm My mind is held by pattern as I sit
How can we find a subject that is fit To spend our time to make this unique form? A villanelle is like a cable knit
1 and 3 repeat while 2 rhymes with 1 and 3 make strong the cabled arm My mind is held by pattern as I sit
For few escape the glimpsed abyss Patterns,repetitions, keep us calm A villanelle is like a holy knit
Who hurts whom and why did Judas kiss? King David knew the darkness ,wrote his psalms My mind flows with the patterns as I sit
From life and death and injured pride we learn That noone who repents will suffer harm A villanelle from chosen words is knit My mind dwells in the pattern and the wit.
2. Return something that you recently bought from a large online store if you have not used it and please don’t be dishonest
3. Do something that you don’t like to do but it’s important that someone should do it
It could be the washing up or it could be writing an email to someone to whom you owe one but for some reason you are rather lethargic about doing anything
4. Get some playing cards and play Patience.
5. Pay a bill.
6. Phone an elderly neighbour to see if they would like you to visit them or get them some shopping
7. If you can walk go to the public library.
8. See is there any eBooks on a special offer. Not everybody can get to the library.
9. Do some exercises to strengthen your leg or arm muscles which is very important when you’re getting older.
10. Stand up go to the kitchen and try a new recipe if you are able to do this.
11. Why not change the sheets on your bed?
12. Write down five experiences that you remember from your childhood as being either very sad or very happy. Then meditation on this and see whether you can do any of these now.
13
Read your favourite book again. I find Nicholas Freeling very re- readable
Before you send that email,stop and muse Do not shoot the arrow poison tipped Why gravely hurt a friend with differing views?
The vulnerable, the lonely,those we choose To pass the suffering on, in words encrypt Before you send that email,stop and muse.
When we do evil, we our virtue lose. See mouths down-turned with narrow tensed up lips. Why gravely hurt someone with differing views?
You may have a match,don’t light the fuse. Might you be more gentle, less abrupt? Before you send that email,stop and muse.
Earth may burn and politicians freeze Does that mean that we must be corrupt? We’ll stretch our minds instead to hear all views
For our dear heart,our own sin will corrupt We will suffer from our own descent Before you send that email,stop and muse. Why gravely hurt yourself when you can choose?
Dandruff, menstruation ,acne , scent Posted on September 23, Dandruff, menstruation ,acne , scent Deodorants,shampoo and strange new thoughts The anxious adolescent in torment
Tampons,towels. skin care and defence Confession, absolution, count for naught Dandruff, menstruation ,acne , scent
Wet and dry the dreams are wryly bent We wake confused from what we never sought The anxious adolescent in torment
The virtues and the vices must be learnt The will and the desire cannot be bought Dandruff, menstruation ,acne , scent
Parents’ words our own strength can augment But for the nervous, it is much too late The anxious adolescent, the torment
“Civilised”. we might just kiss a date Until we lose our heads and challenge fate Dandruff, menstruation ,acne , scent Poor adolescent in this crazed torment
I slept right the centre of our bed Instead of in that mouldy sleeping bag I slept so near the edge it wore away And I slid to the floor one night last May
In the middle all alone the space seemed large No-one there to hold me in their arms I did not read a book,I was worn out Pondering on the means and on the doubts
I’ve been lonely like a little child That mother sent to Office in a file Waiting for the “open now” command Will I get to heaven or be condemned?
The file is cold,the Word has little shame Not guilty of my lack of love and name I got Office 35678 I can ‘t make attachments , it’s too late
The world collapsed upon me like a cliff I fell down this dirty yellow rift Nobody could hear my screams and yells Perhaps being truly dead may be less hell.
I crawled into my bed as into arms Solid reassuring, warm and calm I lay there in the middle , tried to pray I can’t believe you’ve really gone away
I pray for all my family by name My sister, brothers,cousins and the lame I pray for readers who send notes to me And for that random apple on the tree
I pray for friends who don’t believe in God I pray for others ,mentally down-trod Then I feel at loss and dream of you Polishing my old black boots anew
Still I feel the emptiness inside When I wake I think I feel your smile Yet it’s not the same as being enrobed In the arms of one who has great love
I guess we change but slowly and with pain Like the folk who marched, their hope Remains
It seemed the fires of Grenfell Tower had spread A hear oppressive like the fires of hell London smothered in air dull and dead.
Flames that slobbered with a passion red Water that the sun burned up too well It seemed the fire of Grenfell Tower had spread
God permitted Satan with his dread Britain quarrelled, split , prepared to kill. London smothered in air dull and dead.
A referendum showed us all ill-bred. Neighbours spoke in words that I call vile. It seemed the fire of Grenfell Tower had spread
By what person is our nation led who fills our stomach with acidic bile? The PM spoke in words both dull and dead.
Tempers raged like fires all fresh and wild Evil was to emptiness beguiled It seemed the fire of Grenfell Tower had spread People smothered in the fire lie dead
Everything that I have written for the last two years has been written on my phone including another blog which I have on blogger. That is not about poetry or literature
I would not have believed it possible to do this on a phone and it’s just a Motorola cheapy.
I have learned a lot from that but I’m hoping to be able to use a computer again soon. I would have been very surprised it was possible to do it.
And thank you so much to my regular readers whose efforts have kept me going and catch me writing through this time.
So in my house technology has been a wonderful help
It seemed the fires of Grenfell Tower had spread A hear oppressive like the fires of hell London smothered in air dull and dead.
Flames that slobbered with a passion red Water that the sun burned up too well It seemed the fire of Grenfell Tower had spread
God permitted Satan with his dread Britain quarrelled, split , prepared to kill. London smothered in air dull and dead.
A referendum showed us all ill-bred. Neighbours spoke in words that I call vile. It seemed the fire of Grenfell Tower had spread
By what person is our nation led who fills our stomach with acidic bile? The PM spoke in words both dull and dead.
Tempers raged like fires all fresh and wild Evil was to emptiness beguiled It seemed the fire of Grenfell Tower had spread People smothered in the fire lie dead
The vivid scream of neon lights on snow Harassed my senses made me feel I’m blind Vulgar is the street in giant’s glare
Who invented neon and what for Could this colour not have been disguised; The orange scream of neon lights on snow?
As for coming winter I prepare The sunlight slants and gets into my eyes Vulgar is my street ,oh do not glare
Is this light a key to metaphor Seeking out the haunts of Putin’s spies? The orange screams of neon lights hurt more
Reading John le Carre, I defer. I am naive with both truth and lies Vulgar is my street ,oh do not glare
The mystery of nature and its blight When humans add to this with senseless fights The orange screaming of the lights on snow Smack my eyes and ears as North winds blow
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.
We are little leaves upon the tree We never did control our tiny worlds The tree of life; its power, its mystery
With metaphor, it’s easier to see Life is tender, see each leaf unfurl. We are tiny leaves upon the tree
Singing in the sun we seem to be Full of joy until the storm winds swirl The tree of life; what power, what mystery
Extinguished candles smoke at Tenebrae We are blown to death however bold We are hapless leaves upon the tree
Thus we sacrifice to God uncertainly Yet as the wars continue, we grow cold The tree of life; what power, what mystery
Who has dropped us from the hands that hold? Who has stolen certainty untold? We are little leaves upon the tree The tree of life; what power, what mystery
How my heart speaks 