As the sadness lightens we feel guilt
We live on, enjoying being alive
Our lover for the long time was not built
As the sadness lightens we feel guilt
Even shame,our stony hearts don’t melt
Our effort is the wish that we survive
As the sadness lightens we feel guilt
We walk on, we want to be alive
Wisdom divine
Eat your breakfast as the sun goes down
Like a cannon ball fired with no aim
In the morning eat your own packed lunch
One that needs no heated grill or flame
Always take a thorough wash at night
In the morning,dress without delay
The early bird will miss the stolen worm
So open its account now on Ebay
Sleep in summer in your dress of voile
Then get up ready for another day
Washing takes up time when we might read
Or with a naughty lover we might play
With a little wisdom, change your ways
If your mind’s unclean then you must pray
The less you wear
Oh,woman it is not your long gold hair
That draws the man into your little lair
It is your independence and your mind
Your morals and your dignity so fine
Never worry if your looks are plain
Do not suffer anguish,mental pain
For if you know the ten commandments well
You know men cannot worship you and tell
lIf your hair is thin and full of grease
Men will come to you on bended knees
For they fear too much beauty will engross
Illusion binds the heart and mind once foes
Do not be so anxious to be fair
Men will love you more the less you wear
The grit and then the pearls

When God came down , the rivers overflowed
Great trees were floating ,angled and exposed
The houses broke up like whole loaves to crumbs
The hearts of humans trembled till they hummed
The winds deceived, the gusts unmeasured stung
The churchbells shuddered then untimely rang
The power was cut and all our screens were dark
Where were the rulers, where the saving Ark?
The women giving birth were paralysed
The babies in the womb took ill and died
Their cradles rocked the world, they swung so fast
And in a moment all of life had passed
In the void, God started his new world
Rich and strange, the grit and then the pearls
Rumination
Constant rumination kills the soul
Restrain your thinking and so become more whole
I write the sentence down, just like I speak
I find my native tongue lets symbols leak
My mind is like a small holed metal sieve
I hope I shall be kind and will forgive
What remains is worthy of a place
As for my mistakes, I beg your grace
Some minds are deep,clear streams their thoughts like fish
Other minds are tortured ,spin and crash
Keep on swimming like the drowning frog
He turned the milk to butter as he trod
Do not linger long on cruel thoughts
Scruples come from Satan, he’s worth naught
My tree

Blossom blows away

Cracks in the pavement Look like rivers approaching an estuary. Natural beauty, the shapes and forms wandering, sanctifies the road. Cherry trees branches, A wide canopy of leaves. Blossom blows away Sung geometry, held still and made eternal, Catches at my throat
Blossom
In the North, a blossom tree was rare
The rhodendrons never had a flower
But in the South the trees are very fair
In the North a blossom tree was rare
Mad people broke off branches with great tears
The trees were green with sun and soft swept showers
In the North a blossom tree was rare
The rhodendrons never ever flowered
Trembling with anxiety will circulate your blood
They say we ought to exercise
Walk up and down the stairs
Never use a Lift instead
Despite the tear and wear
I think I’ve found the answer
It’s as simple as can be
Just shake your limbs and head about
While you watch TV
But if you’re very nervous
That will do you good
Trembling with anxiety
Will circulate your blood
Or if you see men following you
Then run until they stop
They might be a fantasy
So do not call a cop
Agitation’s terrible
But even that’s ok
You won’t be able to sit down
Ot even kneel to pray
So have a nervous breakdown
You will live to ninety nine
You may not enjoy it much
But it fits my little rhyme
I suppose the answer is now plain
We have to choose our way
Loose and happy on the sands
Or shivering all day
When you die the Coffin men
Will thank you if you’r slim
Maybe a nervous breakdown
Is better than many a gym
My husband is so funny with his epileptic wit

My husband is so funny with his epileptic wit
He gives me fine convulsions on this armchair as I sit
He sees such charming visions, he does not need a drug
When we are in bed at night he makes me feel so snug
He throws me out of our big bed when we’re both asleep
He thrashes all the bedclothes, is it a lover”s leap?
He sees the angels dancing, they only have one pin
They are like infinity, uncountable and thin
He wakens in the morning and finds me on the rug
He remembers nothing, he asks if I’m a dog
Then he brings me tea and toast, he’s very kind and good
He’s as a witty as a clown can be, he never sheds his blood
He is hiding from me now,I can’t find him anymore
Yet even though he’s gone away,I still hear him snore
Sleep,sweetheart,sleep

Sleep,sweetheart,sleep I am still here
Holding you as close, as close can be
Let your mind be free of any fear
Sleep,sweetheart,sleep I am still here
Now and always, I will keep you near
Angels will be singing, you are dear
Magnificent the hosts yet few can see
Sleep,sweetheart,sleep I am still here
I hold you close, though soon you will be free
The ending of the Play
Where are you now, when I am here alone?
I cannot feel the truth, you’ve gone away
Is this my punishment, must I atone?
Where is love , when I am here alone
With heavy heart,with warm flesh turned to stone?
Though grief has made me anxious and I moan
This must be the ending of our Play
Why have you gone, when I am all alone?
I cannot be relaxed, you’ve gone away
Chew these words
Please do not eat your own words at the table
My eyes rolled like marbles in the gutter but how could I see?
She was full of smart bones and loose joints but it was a bad idea to give her
a date or ten
The doctor seemed to put blue rubbers into my ear but they were a thermometer
Since I was the only patient, I could not mate in the hospital
Her eyes nearly came out of the bed
Her eyes were like sharks teeth
She muffled her cheeks in wool
I did not suffer from my hallucinations.I found them very moving
We used to meet at dawn or 8 am whichever was later
I do wish he’d put his clock back.
He swallowed my words.
My voice was strangled by a wolf
He stole my vice and was transformed into electricity
My eyes were so big he fell in
Then we all fell out
I’m feeling very loose

I can’t wear no trousers cos my bladder’s gone to pot
When it leaks and flows my face goes red and hot
So wearing skirts is easier, as noone else will note
My bottom’s hidden gorgeously, halleluja, a teal coat
My feet have got three arches and now all of them have dropped
My toes are twisted sideways and get into tightish knots
My shoes are on a stretcher and I am in a chair
My feel look really horrible when like me they are bare
If you despise this poetry, blame it on my jab
My head is reeling wildly, the pain is like a stab
My hands were once so slender, my sister was annoyed
She thought I’d get attention from the handsomest of boys
My eyes are large and beautiful but they are not much use
But I have learned insouciance and I’m feeling very loose.

So sorrow’s ale brings memories of joy
The art of musing isn’t hard to learn
Instead of tablets,screens,electric toys
A spacious mind may entertain the spurned
We each learn this when we need to mourn
As companions leave, of sympathy devoid
The art of musing isn’t hard to learn.
As milk ‘s transformed to butter when we churn
So sorrow’s ale brings memories of joy
A spacious mind may entertain the spurned
The art of living is one art we earn
By patience and with tempers un-annoyed
The art of musing isn’t hard to learn
As life goes by,how greatly we may yearn
For lovers lost in wars akin to Troy
A spacious mind can entertain the spurned.
Unlike that mistress tempted to be coy,
We open up our our minds to marvelled joy
The art of musing isn’t hard to learn
A spacious mind may entertain the spurned
Like butter in the sun

My heart is soft like butter left in sun.
Much more heat and it will melt and run
Oh, why do we have feelings,why engage
When friendship turns into such bitter rage?
I do not wish to live remote and stern
As if I am so perfect I can’t learn
Pain too deep can mortify the flesh
Turn us into robots fit for trash
All I need is an enormous fridge
Which will make me harder than sweet fudge
I’ll go inside and pray for peace each day
If I freeze to death,I shall not say.
Oh, be of merry heart,my friends and foes
When love comes in, a little hate will go
Thank you for messing with my life
Thank you for telling me I have won a million pounds.I can’t send money to you as I have no bank account.
And I didn’t buy a ticket
Yes,I was in a crash last week but it was my computer
No, my husband did not take a woman to an hotel last week.His ashes are here
My husband did kill a spider but only because I dropped the urn when dusting
If you were the Tax Office you would speak English.
I did not enter a competition for a 67 inch TV.We use centimetres now
I do not want a visa for the USA.I have no passport.And no money
There was an accident here, you are correct.I trod on a spider and I am still weeping.The spider is too
Make the words fit the metre

·
Oh,Emile got up, then he yawned & stretched
Cat pandiculationFor cats get stiff and cats get tense
They won’t write no dissertations
Emile called to Stan and Stan got up
Pet manipulationion
Stan made tea and fed Emile
Emile’s ecstasisulation
Mary came and she saw old Stan
Oh, a manifestation?
Are you real,she called to him
What impertinentication!|
I like your cheek, her husband cried
Show me your appreciation
Where is that, his dear wife said.
Is it underneath my aprion?
Well,Leonard Cohen did mention this
I’m damned by my own veneration
Oh,Stan get up and get us gin
This is pure excruciation
Calm down,Mary.I am back
This is a mere notification
Well,I have got myself another man
What a pestification
Does he sleep by you in bed at night?
There may be an evacuation
Don’t be rude, we thought you had gone
I’ll drown in my own perspiration
I feel such shame at seeing these men
It’s torment and it’s a tribulation
The doctor told me you were dead
Is it conspirification?
Send a code to my phonionion
That will verify my restoration
And om
The Delicate Beauty of Spring

Saturday night

Thanks for calling to tell me I am owed insurance money after that bus ran over me in Uxbridge Road.However,I have died since.My funeral is today at 6 pm
Thanks for asking me what I think of your telephone service.I prefer Westminster Cathedral.
Thanks for saying I have a beautiful voice.However you may not realise I am 87 and no longer date strange men or indeed women or other human beings.
Thanks for the offer of three pairs of shoes for the price of two.I have 50 pairs of shoes now so I must turn down your offer or buy a new home.T
hanks for sending me the Sun.If the Guardian is not there I’d prefer nothing at all to come or if you are desperate for money send The Telegraph
Thanks but the LRB is too much for me already.It gives me a certain je ne sais pas or qua or da da as I walk into the Turkish Cafe for my coffee.It keeps men at bay.And women,I hope.I love Jesus best.
Please stop writing to me.I don’t speak Russian.I don’t even know if it is Russian.And I do not want to be your wife.Or a spy
Struggling to stay human

Of the evils,,devil, world and flesh
The world is what is worst of life and death
We may pray in chapels with stained glass
Then let migrants drown while we’re at Mass.
Christians desired to convert this world
That ended when the atom bomb was hurled
The Jews and Muslims lived in Spain in peace
Till Christian Monarchs killed them with no grief
The flesh is not an evil in itself
Coercion of another makes ill health
Abandonment of children and the weak
Disillusioned, insecure we break
Now I’ve lost my faith I face the gulf
Struggling to stay human above all else

Cruel world

The fearsome wildness of the natural world
Where tigers kill and sharks drag up their prey
Where viruses destroy both friends and foe
And cancer kills young children every day
The world was never made for our demands
Creation and destruction seem to be the way
Evil men can love a Schubert song
While better ones kneel down but cannot pray
Can we imagine God in our own form
Who could take pleasure in psychotic rage
Could listen as we say our night time prayers
Could cut and paste to make their own collage?
Touch your loved ones with your tender hands
Beggars can’t be choosers,understand
Morecambe

Morecambe
Revolution
A strange comingling of the mills and moors
Green of nature,smoke from chimneys glowers
While sheep graze their wool is touched by smoke
But higher up the ground is bare of hope
Peering down I recognise the view
Rows of terraced houses share a loo
Women wear their aprons with panache
Boys are playing,give or take a bash.
Miners walking home with faces black
Painters with their ladders and their sacks
Little girls are skipping with their ropes
Cats are watching idly, kittens mope
Which way shall we go, we must decide
The green hill with no walls, the red brick eyes?
The Burren Ireland
Hallucination or dream?
While I was ill recently with a UTI I heard a cat running then jumping onto my bed and resting against me
for a minute or two.I thought it was real,Whatever it was it fled after 2 minutes and I am missing the dear animal,I had heard a loud noise rather like the army helicopters we have flying over us today
Is it preparation for the Funeral on Saturday?

They could not hear my mobile phone

My mobile phone has been a trial
The other could not hear me
I could have run a million miles
Carrying tote bags filled with files
My mobile phone has been on trial
It seemed ok what e’re I dialled
I bought a plastic case,you see
It covered up the microphone
And turned all humans into stone
Hardware problems it cannot be
My mobile phone has been a trial
No foe or friend could hear me
The gypsy’s wife
Triolet
Oh who can see into our hearts
And make them safe in grief
Catch all our tears in rivers dark
Oh you who see into our hearts
Let love be shared in vital sparks
In golden flames that burn no leaf
Oh you who see into our hearts
Oh make them wise with grief
The first triolets were devotional I believe.
Talking may make you feel worse

After a trauma it often makes the person relive and be retraumised
One week after my husband died I shed a tear and was advised to have counselling but is it bad to cry?
And you can do a six week course and get a certificate to become a bereavement counsellor so beware.Always ask your friends and contacts for their views
I spoke to a psychoanalyst who advised me not to see a counsellor.Crying helps us.Surely we can comfort each other?

