Morale of the workers is lowered
by tales of accountants and lawyers
triumphantly finding new ways
of helping the affluentto evade
the normal tax payments
Morale is crucial to any nation undergoing a crisis.
Recall the“We’re all in this together spirit”of the war years.
But now,it’s disheartening for the 50%
living on less than the median wage of about £25,000 per annum
let alone those just above it
to read the stories of “Grey areas”
“Offshore accounts”
,”Charities” set up from which they take just a “low” wage.
To come through a crisis
We need to feel we are all working
And living together.
And we need to acknowledge
Very many people work full time
And are still in poverty..still needing Housing Benefit..
so we are subsidising the firms
which employ them on low wages like this.
Yes,the poor children do feel the cold,
They do indeed feel hunger.just like you and me.
And they do worry about parents whose hope
Is to win the Lottery.
Those children feel emotions just like all children.
Alienated now,we’ll not have too many chances
To grab them before they take to drugs..crime
Or worse,prostitution.
We are all in the same boat
But some are taking up more of it
And we want to know why

The body’s own soul is the face

Which often is lit up with grace.

So   I was  gentle when gazing

On  you when embracing.

And took care in your sweet sacred space.

They say my television is too small
It’s only19 iches wall to wall
But if I get a larger screen
I won’t watch porn, it makes me scream
I guess I’m nearly ready for the Fall

Seeing whips and gags and ropes
Was it wise we sold our souls?
Where is tenderness and care
Where the mystery de rigeur?
Imagination’s left with little scope.

I see the prices are now low
£200 for pick and go
The top brass hypnotize the mass
As I sit here feeling mad
I taught a few to think but it’s so slow

Well now the aerial will not work
A gale blew off the very top
The trees are frantic in the wind
Mankind commits its bitter sins
As God bleeds with the dying and rhe shocked

You were sitting in a chair beside your bed
You were covered at the top but were bare legged
Your face was black, you fell upon my breast
I thought you must be feeling quite depressed

But the oxygen was lacking in your blood
The sugar too was sinking in a flood
I had to help them get you to lie down
Put a glucose jelly on your tongue

I think you were resuscitated then
The ambulance had come as fast as death
They took you off to hospital ,oh God
Your lungs were floating in your precious blood

Do not let them take your dying souls
A rehabilitstion unit holds no hope
The place for passing over is no gym
They made you exercise your fragile limbs

I’m sorry I was ignorant and lost
But I was with you when you died at last

I noticed the people who are more aware of the reality of the condition are not the doctors or nurses but the people who do humble jobs

In nurse led unit, they had to wait till 6.30 pm to call 111 for a doctor
so when he got pneumonia it was 10.45 pm when he got antibiotics 12 hours
after I could see he was very ill

There is a place for exercise but it was not appropriate here.In fact they killed him
which may have been a good thing given the settings and desire to stop old people
filling hospital beds when younger people may need them
He died in A & E so would not appear in their statistics!

Faded like a pressed flower in a book
Once as vital as a flying hawk
I see your image wherever I dare look

The wallpaper has faces,kind,astute
Yet they cannot see, they cannot talk
Faded like a pressed flower in a book

Your mind was wide and yet your thouht acute
On Sunday afternoons we liked to walk
I see your image wherever I dare look

We liked to share our thoughts without dispute
Though nearby was the gap that ever yawned
You faded like a dying flower ,I knew

I got the China cups and made a cake
The anniversary was too far, it had no dawn
I see your image wherever I dare look

After navigating all the storms
You entered into willing, smiling calm
Faded like a pressed flower in a book
I see your image wherever I dare look

After seeing a comment in The Times that
“Going on holiday is a Human Right”
I was made more aware of how people with money
do not know thst many people can’t afford any holidays.

Also, did anyone ever wonder whether people and goods flying vast distances
across the world would have any negative consequences?
Apart from the fuel being expensive, it means viruses can be transported in the
same way

From The Times

Painting by Katherine.Copyright

Two whole worlds.
One small cut.
One little chink.
Hard to find.
Very,very hard.
One small place
Where a very little cat
Could slip right through
The geometrician ‘s cut.
Cat could slip right through.
Just,slip straight through.
Joining it’s own reflection
On the opposite side.
The mirror’s other side.

And if I caught that tail,
If I caught her little tail,
She could pull me through,
She could pull me through,
So she and I too
We’d be on the other side,
The wrong way round,
On the opposite side.

So when you looked in,
If you looked in,
You would see me there,
Looking out at you,
From the opposite side.
From the opposite side.
And the cat beside
Looking very small,
Very,very small;
But very,very real.
How do you think you’d feel,
If I was looking out,
Staring at you
From the opposite side?

I can’t get back.
I can’t find Riemann’s cat
and without that pussy cat
I can’t find Riemann’s cut.
I think I’m in a trap.
I cannot find that cat.
So she can’t find the cut
To get me back,
She can’t bring me back
To where I was before.

Oh,how queer,
To have two of me in here.
I hope I’ll get on well
With my other self,
Behind the looking glass.
No one looking in,
But two are staring out.
From that other world.

I am looking out,
I’m looking out
To see if you are there.
One of you’s with me
That makes the total three.
Oh,dear me,
I should not have grabbed
Little pussy’s tail.
I didn’t really know
Where she meant to go.

“Where have you been?
Where do you think you’ve been
To get so filthy black,
And where’s your pussy cat?”
She never came back.
Never came back
From the opposite side.
Mammy thought I’d lied.
I don’t tell lies,
But I can see my cat
Staring out at me.
Staring out at me
From the other side.
From the opposite side
Of my looking glass.
My lovely looking glass
Has trapped my tiny cat
On the opposite side.
On the opposite side
On the other side

The second photo is from The Times Newspaper today

Katherine  October 19, 2014 

And it came to pass that they ate their dinner
and that she did washeth up.
And she did leave the dishes to drain
Whilst she put on the washing machine.
and the man was very pleased.

And it further came to pass
that she gave the man some pudding
and he was more pleased.
And then it came to pass the he fell asleep
By the fire.

And the Lord God,said
Who is this man that sleepeth by his fire?
And He said,I shall waken him up
And the man awoke,
And God spake unto him

How is it that the woman laboureth in ye kitchen.
And that thou sleepeth here in an armchair.
And the man said,
But Thou didst order women to labour.
And the Lord God said unto the man
Why dost thou remember so selectively what I have said?
And the man said,
I knoweth not and therefore I will help this woman.
And the Lord God said,
Why dost thou not think of it thyself?
And the man said in reply,
It was Thou that made me,O God.

And the Lord God was displeased with the man.
so he called down a plague of butterflies
To prevent him from sleeping.
And when the woman came in
she was much pleased to see these butterflies
and so she fell onto the man
And he did make love unto her.
And the cat was very pleased.

For it thrilled a cat to watch humans loving
and gave him hope
That the Lord God would take his rib and make a mate for him.
And indeed it doth seem to have happened
Judging by all the cats staring in ye old window here;
And by their ecstatic yelps
That the Lord God was very generous with them
and made them many mates.
For truly there is no jealousy among them
And they mate freely and happily
and never have rows about the washing up..
as they eat straight from the can.Amen

Here endeth today’s lesson.
Be thou kind to thy mate always

See as phallic symbols ball point pens
They are thrown away like condoms used
In Cambridge they will float to watery fens
See as phallic symbols ball point pens
Wasteful use of plastic, rout of men
The sign of masculinty condemned
When once a handsome pen was not abused
See as phallic symbols ball point pens
They are thrown away like condoms used

Everything’s designed to throw away
From cheap gladrags to shoes of plastic made
A mobile phone is pricey for one day
Everything is made to throw away
It makes me very sad for who will pay
The world is rarely feeling bright and gay
Unless folk smile when I forgot I paid
Everything’s designed to throw away
From cheap gladrags to shoes spastic and greyed

Your face is map enough for me

Your gaze,your smile,your frown,your glee.

And if I want to know the rest

The shape your posture‘s made is best

For showing what your life is now.

A look,a gesture all this show.

Till who you are is then disclosed

And I am in your arms enrobed.

Love vanishes when analysed,

And thinking too

by Love’s despised.

Choose the means to fit the end

And then I’ll be what you intend

The harshness was a wish to cover pain
No more could piercing sorrow be expressed
The bearing of the weight came down again
The harshness was assumed to cover pain
The hope one could endure and take the blame
The wish that someone other might be blessed
The harshness was a skin to cover pain
No more could piercing sorrow be expressed

What sort of wall shall we build round our selves
To give us inner space and safety too?
Yet too much secrecy can harm our health
What sort of wall shall we build round our selves?
We need make a space for grace’s stealth
Who is wise and who knows what to do?
What sort of wall shall we build round our selves
To give us inner space,the sacred clue?

We can all learn from the writer E.B. White, who, in response to a 1956 letter asking him to join a committee, responded with two short sentences. The first: a thank-you for the invitation. The second: “I must decline, for secret reasons.”

Stan was very worried that the police had caught him.He didn’t realize that ,with the low  sun, the mirror in his pocket was flashing out coded messages to aircraft.He got out of the car and walked over to the police on the grassy verge of the road
I’m so sorry,it’s just my wife’s solid gold powder compact.See?
Have you got your marriage certificate with you?
Well,no.I didn’t know we in the UK needed to show them to the police. demurred Stan
It may belong to your wife but you are a man.Men don’t carry them.We never saw one before.Young women never use then,
Certain men might of course..actors or politicians.I know Tony Blair wore make up.
That’s irrelevant.Give me that compact.
Stan pulled the golden compact out of his pocket,still open.
The police man stared into the mirror.His face turned pale.He handed the compact to Stan and ran back to his car asking the driver to take him to the nearest boiling Tea Shop.
Stan looked at Satan and grinned…
What did you do?
I just held up a photo I have of him in bed with a sheep….need I say more?
Did you enjoy seeing that? Stan asked thoughtlessly.
Not much.~I prefer your flame haired mistress with her perfume of Araby.She’s something else again.
So you can smell then? Stan enquired.
Oh,yes,said the devil.Sure I can.I just can’t touch or be touched.
So Stan started the car and off they went;all the lights were green and not a single police car was on duty.
Soon they reached Upper Sheringham.The people here are very long lived.I know it’s the best place to live in the UK;then they turned down the old High Street and parked by a gambolling shop full of lambs.
Now what?
Will the sea cheer up a sad old devil or make him suicidal?The cliffs are not very high.We must await the next  piece of the story with interest and patience.
Email me with ideas at
merrymaryminds@h

Photo by Mike Flemming 2015 copyright.Published with permission

She wanted to come up with a mnemonic
For remembering the form of a sonnet
She cried AB twice CD
CD,EF twice ‘fore G.
For GH is the last couplet,innit? .

She wanted to write for the dummies
Whose speech veers from f*ck to cor l*mmy.
Vernacular they call it
to which we cry,no sh*t,twit
My eyes, like my cup, are now r*nny.

Mirth seems to rise from my studies.
As the breath rises up from our bodies.
Our breath mingles each day
From your way to my airway.
Our lungs, if not minds, are all buddies

Carrie’s manic
Pure gold walls
Den of Catastrophe
Spirit of well
Night layers
Bliss in
Golden rod
Still, small, wise
Eye of storm
Hurry,Cain
Ah, bell.
Original din
Apples cry
Snake in bladder
Prodigal sun
Stormy heather
Bless us ,oh Bard
Fore given, fore warned

Golden again,
The sky pleases
Its unity  comforts
Our bits and pieces

Gathers us up
A rich mother
Accepting hate
Whatever

Green attracts
To the holly tree
Where sparrows hide
To look and see

Berries lost
To feed the birds
Shining points
The leaves preserved

Israeli air and ground forces hit targets in Gaza Strip as death toll climbs

Don’t you think this is a strange sentence?To me it reads as “because the death toll is rising more Israeli Israeli forces are hittihg their targets”

Should it not read

My version

Death toll in Gaza strip rises because more Israeli forces hit their targets

If they knew there were so many hidden tunnels into Israel, why have they left them alone till now?
Ditto with important people
Can this tragedy for all people in Israel/Palestine ever end ?