We drove across the Pennines  East to West
Hoping to extend our  holiday
Snow fell down till once black  crags were dressed

Imagination should foresee such tests
Fierce as polar storms ,as mad as prayer
w drove  across the Pennines East to West

We passed through Bakewell did not stop to rest
Buxton was far worse with snow like may
Snow fell strongly ,oh wild crags were dressed

See these visions, travel if you must
See the sea freeze .see ice in Lyme Bay
We drove  across Great Britain East to West

Now it’s North to South as Brexit asked
Hear the people swear and curse and bray
Snow fell till the people  lost all zest

Now my love has gone, the car’s not here
Crushed to a flat metal I can’t steer
We drove across the Pennines  and we laughed
The sheep stared out, the crows cawed at half mast

A meta- poet who writes about the art
Who wonders if  we need a special gift
A better poet who writes from their deep heart

A problem is the first line where we start
Do not  try to make that writing swift
A meta- poet who writes about the art

In my mind the little fishes dart
I try to focus on the ones  bereft
A better poet who writes  from their own heart

In  live  writing there’s no graph or chart
No wondering whether we go right or left
A meta- poet who writes about the art

There’s little to be gained by being  smart
We need slowness though we must be deft
A better poet who writes  from their own heart

Slowly we   combine the warp and weft
The sentences of God  are hard to match
A meta- poet who writes about the art
A better poet, a universal heart

Can anyone write poetry if they try
Or is it a vocation for the few
Inherited by  feeling how  words lie?

Is there new equipment I can buy
With  sense and music writing to imbue
Can anyone write poetry if they try?

Ambitious how  the people   each will vie
To be the first in any kind of queue
Undisturbed by   knowing how  words lie?

For a  talent, who can multiply?
Compound interest shows a startling view
Can anyone write poetry if they try?

Transcendental number start with e and pi
I wonder, shall I eat my words for you
Undisturbed by   knowing how  they lie?

I feel  so bright, I  seem to have turned blue
Throw me in the ocean,  let me stew
Can anyone write poetry if they try
Unknowing  how, not  seeing that  words die?

How to write a poem  that  gives you joy
Write one line on those you once adored
A villanelle’s a song the French employ

Write a poem  that gets us  damn annoyed
I recall I may said all this before
How to write a poem  that  gives you joy

Writing poems makes me  get very high
I vowed to love a  man forever more
A villanelle’s a song the French employ

If I could sell then someone else could buy  
I want a man  but, if not one, then four 
How to write a poem  that  gives you joy

Writing down the letters  in alloy
I wanted to be loved but it’s a chore
A villanelle’s a song the French abhor

I saw a symbol on  a heavy door
Do not  enter ,God knows you’re a bore!
How to write a poem  that  gives you joy
A villanelle’s a song ,the French   destroy

‘

After Xmas many people part
The bills appear, the credit card is maxed
Divorce appeals to those with strangled hearts

Is such action foolish,will it  smart?
Do you really want your true love axed?
After Xmas many people part

The ghosts of Xmas past may seem to taunt
As if from some old wardrobe they’re unpacked
Divorce may leave us all with mangled hearts

Crude hate with its afflictions hits the charts
Can’t we focus more on  love than lack?
After Feasts too many people part

Unlike the worms so humble in the dirt
We have faces angry and alert
Divorce may leave  the hasty with  sad hearts

Forgive  but  if you can’t,  can you forget?
We expect so much of Xmas that it hurts
After Xmas many people part
Divorce appeals, oh, cheer your strangled hearts

If I wrote the perfect poem this week
After  musing on the style and words
The world would end and no-one else could speak

How would the voters feel if this news broke?
  Election Day would be no doubt absurd
If I wrote the perfect poem this week

From the Mail, God seems to be a freak
The journalists  by such endings  are  deterred
The world would end and no-one else could speak

What is perfection, when does  judgment cease?
Here in Babel   which tongue will declare
If  I   write   the perfect poem this week

My pen leaks, now my paper sheet is creased
Is this war or love, block eyes that glare
The world may end then no-one else can speak

As we bite the apple or the pear
We leave the milk for infants  and their tears
If I wrote the perfect poem this week
This world would end then God might  find life bleak

I  am angry he has died and left me  here
He hated my intelligence unwise
Yet while he lived  our love contained our fear

He loved whiskey even more than beer
He loved my skin and  even my great eyes
I ‘m angry he has died and left me  here

He did not have much money that was clear
But oh he sees a bigger car, then buys
Yet while he lived  our love contained our fear

He drove too fast when angry, I was scared.
He brought me  lovely gifts as a surprise
I ‘m angry he has died and left me  here

He woke before he died and uttered  here
You are a brilliant presence,Katherine, wise
And while he lived  his love contained my fear

I was a trophy wife, what will men  try?
He liked my looks but  not  how bright my mind
I ‘m angry he has died and left me  here
Though while he lived   he drank  my nectar dear

I have nightmares, is that a surprise?
The time is coming for the new bright Ark
What one  might love another one might  hide

My husband drags me  out  so we can fly
To  where he chooses,I have made no mark
I have nightmares, is that a surprise?

I resist,I fear  more UTIs
I’m unwell but he is in the dark
Where one  might live another one might   die

Some fiend attacks us,   danger is no lie
I cannot fight, my weapons are too sparse
I have nightmares, is that a surprise?

Another night, it’s insects dark, malign
Then my husband leaves me ,won’t converse
What one  might show another one might  hide

Is my life a list of times adverse?
Of sleeping and of waking, which  is worse?
I have nightmares, is that a surprise?
Where one  might laugh another one might   cry