In the silence, trembling

Freed from her trap
Bird soared into air,and hovered
And floated, resting;
And flew higher, singing as she flew,
And higher again,
Till there was only her song,
Left in the silence,
Trembling.

Up on the wide,stump topped hill,
I felt the lark inside my heart
And heard her singing.
And flying up with her,
I saw gold sun and silver moon,
Moors of heather ,and sheep grazing
Green hills,
And shimmering lakes,
Clouds ,sun and sky in watery mirrors.
And sang ,and dipped,and dropped,
And curled
Up the blue
Bright heaven, and rested
On the wind.
All that day
I was a lark singing.

I shall always have a vision of
A bird
That flew upwards,
Rejoicing and free
Into a deep blue sky, and high
And higher
Beyond high
Into a place, beyond eye even,
But music still sending.

I wish I were back on that heathery moor,
With the nibbling sheep and the bees sweetly humming,
Hearing again
The poignant song
Of the skylark,
A prisoner,freed by a magician,
From her trap,
So happy to be free,
So wonderful to see.
Do it again,
For me.

The blue eyed witch of Knittingham

Mary opened the door as the bell kept ringing.There stood a clergyman in a grey wool suit and baseball cap coordinated with his Nike trainers
Hello,madam,he said suavely in a mellifluous voice
Hello,Mary answered kindly.What is your mission?
To convert the entire world to Christianity.
I am sorry,I meant what was your mission with me.But anyway, you can’t convert me.So you are a failure.It’s called a counter example in Maths.
Why can’t I convert you, he asked the blue eyed witch of Knittingham standing there in her dark Artigiano jeans, Dash striped top and a red wool stole
I like choice, she cried.I do not want a creed.
Anyway, the man told her,I just came to say I am buying a flat across the road and I wanted some opinions on the quietness of this area before I finalise my purchase.
Mioaw,went Emile in a loud shriek
Oh,Lord, what is that, a demon,the poor man asked?
It’s only my cat, she told him,why not come in for coffee and I’ll tell you about the nearest neighbours.
That is very kind of you, he said.But I might be a burglar
Oh,good,Emile purred.I’ve always wanted to meet a burglar.
Why, asked the man as he entered the beautiful hall full of spiders and Picasso prints.
You can tell me how I can get into other people’s houses, the cat told him boldly.
I want to be a cat burglar!
Come into the living room, said Mary.The room was full of books like the Encarta English Dictionary, Stanley Middleton and “How to talk so cats can hear” piled in tidy heaps.
My name is Jacob, the visitor said.I have just retired but am keen to keep converting people as Christianity is the best religion ever
I don’t really want a religion and I am unsure how you prove it’s the best
I am keener on the Hindu religion, she lied impertinently just to see if she could carry it off as Aspies can’t tell lies
Suddenly the kitchen door opened and in ran Annie, the neighbour and one time Mistress of Stan,Mary’s late and dangerous old husband
Hello,Jake, she cried as she kissed his aged cheeks fondly
I am buying a flat but I didn’t know you lived here he said politely
We met on Tinder, Annie told Mary.
What is that, a hill? I know Kinder Scout.
It’s a dating website,Annie said gently, her curving lips covered in wine coloured lip glaze which almost matched her burgundy eye shadow and purple hair.
Why did you not ask me? Mary said shyly
I didn’t think you wanted another man,Annie said pertly with a twinkle in her gorgeous red eyes.
And Jacob said he came to convert me but is it true?
No, said Jacob.I saw you in the front garden and you look so beautiful I wanted to meet you.
Thank God you are not going to shower me with Biblical quotes,Mary said.
I suppose we should admire you going straight for what you want.Although when you know me better you may not find me so attractive.
Jake’s eyes bulged with emotion.
Well, you may not find me so attractive either, he cried wiping his streaming eyes on a kleenex tissue.
Mary ran upstairs and collected Stan’s hankies
Here, use these, she told Jake soulfully
Annie brought in some hot coffee with cream
What do we older people want, she murmured quizzically.We have loved and lost but shall we love again?
Well, I shall mioawed Emile.I don’t keep thinking,I just do it.If I get a chance
Love is more than sex,Emile.We want someone who shares a few interests and likes conversation.
What are your interests, she asked Jake?
I can’t remember, he admitted.I’ll have to look on FB at my profile.
But what do you do all day?
I read the Guardian and the Independent then I go out looking for women.
Women of the Night?
No,I just like to sit in the Mall and admire women as they pass by.I don’t want to cause suffering to women.And I am diabetic so I get erectile dysfunction sometimes so it would be a waste of money in any case
Well, if there was a National Wage or better benefits these prostitutes might give up their dangerous work.They all sat looking glum as they pondered over the political scene in Britain
If we were Jews we could live in Israel
Yes, you’d have seriously think of that to as the number of anti Semitic hate crimes has gone up by about 70% this year.And what that has to do with Brexit is hard to know except all people who are of different ethnicity are also being attacked.Some people seem to think it means black people will have to leave despite the fact nowhere in Europe is there a country mainly made up of black people.And during the Empire all people in it were British citizens.
Still,I feel too old to convert.Can we get false documents to prove we are Jewish?
That’s not something I know about, said Jacob, though my name is Jewish.It is Disraeli!
Hang on a minute,cried Annie.Let’s not be too hasty.It looks like Israel is on the verge of war.Yet Jake. if you married both of us we could get in as your wives as you must be Jewish.
But we are not meant to marry Gentiles.
Well how about us being servants?
Alas, that country was never truly accepted and it has become very,very fierce.I find as well that they love arguing ,which I don’t said Mary.
Well many other people love arguing,Jake said.But it’s true it is dangerous there especially with Syria at war so nearby
Why don’t we all go out and have a salt beef sandwich and some chips instead?Or how about ringing 999 for advice? They will know about getting false passports.
Is that true,said Mary
And so ask all of us.

c hac

The heat will slow us down, and that is good

They know everything

When I returned up home when I was grown

The whole street seemed so small, it puzzled me

Adults need so much, we cannot see 

The richness of this tiny world forlorn.

A little child will love each stone and crack

Attention and desire are never short

Even to the sweets our pennies bought

We know our little world from front to back.

When we hurry on and do not breathe

We cannot see the world but we don’t know

On and on and on our sick brains go.

We do not lie but yet we are deceived.

The heat will slow us down we droop like flowers.

I know again my childhood, such sweet hours.

The cafe by the sea in Kent

I remember how the heat felt down in Kent 

The flowers beside the cafe gleamed like dawn

How I see the colours  smell the scent

All was new and fresh the world reborn.

Sometimes sun and heat may make us still.

We cannot hurry on in search of more

And acting from our nature, not our will

We feel at one with weeds and small wild flowers.

The blind man closed his eyes to see the scene.

He smelt the nectar, heard the little bees

And life was then as real as our best dream.

Floating with the small birds on the breeze.

I’m happy bto be slow and feel embraced

By nature and the sun with golden face

Dream like memories

Hollyhocks,delphinium and phlox
Foxgloves,cat mint, nettles,near by docks
The blind man breathed in air full of wild scent
His daughted named the colours now absent

High up on the Kentish cliffs we sat
Capel-le -Ferne I found it on a map
We listened to this girl, we did not speak
Absorbing by our senses,proud and meek

Now I recollect the details very well
In those dream like memories I dwell
Snapdragons growing just beside my chair
I smell the scent as if I were still there

I may be blinded by the tears of loss
But I remember, love, our happiness

The cobbles and the tarmac

We lived in an end of terrace house. From the top of the street to our house the road was covered in tarmac and from our house downwards it was cobbled. My mother said it was because it was three different parishes but secretly I thought it was because  our house was very important

I like the cobbles because there was tar in between them and in the hot weather the tar would melt and we could pick it up and play with it.

In the summer we wore bathing suits.Sunburn was not regarded as bad

There was still quite a lot of TB and also polio. So sunshine was healthy although we often used to get burnt backs. Not to mention damage to our faces.

1953 was a hot year and my father was dying. I was outside playing on the cobblestones or playing with my skipping rope etc

I think we have the coronation as I remember a party at the bottom of the street where the cobbled part of the road met the main road going to St Helen’s.

None of my siblings came with me so I felt lonely not knowing what a coronation meant in practical terms apart from the Queen being crowned

Now the brickfield and the clay quarry has been filled in and they’ve built new house is over it

They used to be allotments prices were some men kept hens

Then as people got cars they closed the allotments and built ugly garages them

The convent and  the school that I went to closed and now this is a housing estate so my sister told me. She was very happy that the school was knocked down. So was I

Stitches in my face

On my face you see the surgeon’s scar

You see the holes where stitches were put in.

Above my eye, blue bruises decorate

And yet the work is sacred, is no sin.

The blood hung from my jaw, its skin a bag stitches connected my new face

Jagged stitches  joined up my new face

My eyes were black as ink, what have they done?

Where is that fine embroidery, where the lace?

25 injections were my fate.

To let the surgeon do his kindly work.

I’d rather be a postman or a nun

And yet to take the cancer knives must hurt.

Mother,father where are you, I sigh?

Oh brother  sister husband, down I lie.

How I make myself feel better..

https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/d841ff52-49bf-460e-bcac-4bf19d8f6a94?shareToken=20d171d4553337834a6ffe88d5ae92e7

Words can help buoy you up. Making every minute count. Making memories. Only the snobbish and arrogant, the ever so healthy, mock aphorisms as trite. When things seem impossibly gloomy, when I don’t think I can take much more bad news, I turn to another wicked old friend. In the past I called her the emphysemic pit pony, because she has short legs and used to wheeze when she pushed my wheelchair uphill. That was long ago, before getting old became unavoidable and before I bought a power chair for going any distance. Now she’s over 70, still has short legs, still smokes one roll-up a day and employs the most dogged, brilliant, multipurpose saying of all:

Every day above ground is a good day.

The rusty old dog

In our yard, we had a dog on wheels.

Its fur was almost gone,it was so worn

I sat upon its musty back,my steed.

I thought that he looked sad, he looked forlorn

In that house my grandma lived and died

My father was a child it was his dog

Rich as grass in meadows was its fur.

The rusty wheels were bright and pierced the fog

I see the yard the coal shed and the lav.

The green back gate my grandad coming in

The shed where bikes were piled up in a rush.

The cat jumped  up so fast on the ash bin

Dad went off then grandad went off too.

I see them coming home in polished shoes

You might be poor but still you could look neat

A Sunday coat,best shoes on polished feet

God has been replaced by our machines

God has been replaced by our machines

We worship them all week, no Sabbath day

No need for leisure nor  the fallow field

No unconscious mind, no grace, no play.

No wonder little children want their phones.

They need to worship like their parents do.

Unlike God, machines can be controlled

Everything is fine, till dogs miaow.

Before the metal and the wire bow down.

Clean your Lord with disinfectant blue.

Keep all his brethren clean no need to pray

Meditations just another clue

Give your washing one more spin tonight

Eventually you’ll see that glowing light

The cobbles in the road

My bonsai beech has blended with  the yew
And in it   little wrens have made a nest
A robin, so much  bolder,passed by too
In late spring the birds make us feel blessed

As a child I had no garden home
The  girls and boys  with balls and ropes make play
I laugh to think we went out with no phones
The cobbles in the  road held marbles stray

We had no trees,we had coal mines and mills
My aunties’ faces lined and worn  still smiled
With their sugared tea were bitter pills
Each a  single tear shed  by   the  Christ

Arsenic and opium combined
Which will win the contest for our minds?

 

Twinkle now oh little car

Hello Katherine are you going to Mars on Sunday?

I was wondering about an evening bath.

Are you going listen to Beethoven’s trial in sombrero?

What about Mozart’s clarinet twin set?

I want to get a new sinful coat in the gales

Where is your mouse truncated?

He says who wants to paint your balls?

I hope he will change the sea lion.

What about the Hunt bore,

It’s illegal to count boxers.

Is your dog a large warrior?

Have you possibly exams on your whores?

I guess I was tight 

What sort of fear do you like?

Who wrote about the finality of evil,?

Can I have my own Korea?

What do you think of speech to vexed in 5 words?

What do you think of a bird being banned?

Could the Red Sea divide again?

What about Solomon’s twinkle?

Through the fields

More complex than our mind is nature green

The River Lea still murmurs as it flows

Waltham abbey, Eleanor her cross

In the sun, the kingfisher still glows.

Through the fields the river sings her song.

There are grassy banks where we once rolled.

Where is now our innocence of heart?

The shepherd guides the flock into the fold.

In the abbey crypt the sacred dwells

Near the yew trees and King Harold’s grave.

Once there would have been the sound of bells

And in-our hearts we felt that Jesus saved

Let the world receive the humble child.

Who can see the gods in,this world wild?

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

A triolet?

The pure in heart shall see their God one day.

With  love’s intention clear they offer prayer

Yet God will not talk big like Donald Trump

God will whisper what he has to say

Is no one listening for that voice today?

God is tramped on as the high priests pray.

The bombs to stop all future bombs are stumped

There is no future where no children play

In the land that dreams dwell in

In the land that dreams dwell in

where love and hate and life begin;

where swiftly the deep rivers flow

from those lost lands of long ago.

I wander through wild poppy fields

Underfoot the dark earth yields….

I see the flowering fruit trees start

Their blossoms gather round my heart…

I hear the sparrows sing with joy

And bees their busy wings employ.

In those lost lands I saw your face

And now I long for your embrace.

Are you real,am I deceived?

From this earth  we  all must leave.

Earth to earth and ash to ash

Glory,pride and boasting pass.

You have left me, dearest one

Soon I too will be called on.

Nothing lasts but truth is real

Keep your heart and your ideals..

Earth to earth, we rest in clay

We must give all self away

Yet softly on this earth I roam

Seeking still new love and home,

for until the very end

Love and kindnss may descend.

Soft as wings of butterflies

Tears well up and wet my eyes.

My heart has melted into yours

Thus we grow and die like flowers

Guilt in Eden

Digital art by Katherine
By Katherine

For three weeks I had a virus so could not exercise.I was concerned because my muscles are not in the ideal condition

I mentioned it to someone who said

But it’s not your fault

That is true but our muscles will get weaker if we don’t use them for ANY reason.Whether it is our fault or not

The body does not know why we don’t move It just reacts to how we use it

Oh for the happy days when we could fall over and get up again

With no injuries

Xmas 1946

I remember Xmas ’46.

the glowing coal,the sugar bag,the sticks

The boys had fairisle jumpers in pure wool

The golden cup of happiness was full

In the flames I saw bright dancing shapes

oh happy infant ,love, oh happy state.

on a Xmas tree were hung the chocolate coins

in the crib I saw Lord Jesus born

My sister too was soon to leave the Womb

Next time she would be there in the room

Her Celtic face was round her eyes were green

Rarely did she cry,Allanah, Queen

This was Eden,this was all our joy

Come back Love,do not our lives destroy.

Ice on the pavement

I could have spent much time in studying ice

The thin pools  on the pavement froze like stars

Reflecting light from street lamps would suffice

I  was late for school, it wasn’t far.

I  knew each crack, the depth of pools, the shape

Like the mother’s body, studied, loved.

When the water froze my eyes would gape

Along would come my brothers with a shove.

I knew each brick each stone, each clean doorstep.

There was no time for me to stop and stare

I feared the rage of teachers and the priest

I neglected life, took no time to rest

Adults seemed much worse than ravenous beasts.

The little world is spoiled when they “know best’

Potential pleasure and the painter’s joy

Sacrificed to “learning”, love destroyed

What I thought they were saying in church when I was little

Ray Queer’s cat’s in parquet

Request cats get parts t’.

I forgive you your twins. But you must be a virgin when you can.

All unmarried versions please report to the press bitterly

Guardian angels leave heaven on sight.

Cheerio, Elaine’s son

Hail glorious St Hat Trick.
Lord, it’s hearsay.
Lord, I’m worser
Forgive all dear trespassers.
Blessed is the foot of thy broom.
Pay for us now and the whore at our death.
I believe in none,God.
The communion of tyrants

Criminals will be persecuted in rhyme
.
Jesus wants me for his angels.
The Ten Demanding Torments are here.
Have you paid for your wrecks yet?
For all the saints who laboured at their tests
For all the painted ghosts
Remember man my heart tart is frost
Ash to ash,dust if you must
Forgive us an hour’s trespassing and we shall be in heaven
Please do as you would have fun by.

Do you resent both your sins ?

You are not allowed any descent from the church.

Why do we have to start by saying 

prey Father?

I have committed five mortal sinners  to the asylum. They will be put on rhythm if they are bipolar magnets.

What does it mean?

Why can’t we use table salt instead of lithium?

Alternatively we could put lithium on the table instead of sea salt.

I say, I think that’s really disgusting.

I said you’ve got the wrong adjective.

How do you know when you’ve got the right one?

One by one they fall

The Northern Pennines taken by my brother-in-law

Like skittles struck by well aimed iron balls

One by one, my friends, my siblings fall

Who will be the last to meet their death?

The great wheels of the engine grind the path.

The young will not desire to meet the old

And so we lie down sick and grow more cold

Everything is taken every cell

I hope with gratitude I shall die well

Expand with happiness

Remember how our breathing slows right down

When we see a small bird close at hand

We want the happy moment to expand

To feel the greenness, and in that greeness drown

Our breathing is much faster in the town

Our hearts will beat as fast as Previn’s hands.

We lose our mind and body, their demands.

  We walk through traffic like damned clowns

See the human faces as they frown

They each update their phone,a thousand pounds!

They will park and ride the underground.

To Mayfair with a credit card and crown.

We need to create new memories that last.

In Dedham Vale the wild geese still fly past

Lost

I saw my house uprooted like a tree

Great roots were severed, how I ached to see

And all was tossed without my love and care

Bits of earth fell from the roots. now bare.

Barbaric in its mad intensity

I wept the tears of grief for you, for me.

Our home attacked,destroyed and I lie here.

Putting out the flames with profuse tears

Lamenting for my love who died within

The collapsing of my world now with no sun

The house a symbol of our marriage true

Cannot stand without a me and you

So my vision passed and I am here

My memories are my only souvenir