I am unsure why I’ve got interested in using gadgets for other purposes You can make a sandwhich.Wrap it in tin foil and then put on a table.Get the hot iron & press it on one side for a few minutes.Repeat with the other side [check the times on google]T To boil an egg, fill th kettle.Put the egg into a polythene bag tie the top and dangle it into the water Boil the kettle then leave for 5 minutes for a soft egg Repeat if you want a harder one
Now I wonder if I could cook a steak with the iron…. well we don’t iron our clothes much so we can use it for other things I see that jeans should be washed only twice a year [The Times] in between the washes an hot iron pressing should kill the germs! Short of cereal bowls——- use a small pan or pie dish
Could we boil our underwear in a kettle? Oh,no, my underants have shrunk.Still they are clean.Give them to the cat To be continued
My fingers have turned white like chicken breast My toes are blue,I need a woollen vest Tomorrow snow and ice will come again Alas I have no gloves,I need my man’s He has two hands as warm as toast is brown He’s familar with the layout of the town I hold one to keep warm and feel his pulse We never speak , we breathe each other dulce
Come back,dearest, do not leave me here Why not try again,I’ll persevere Can’t we go together, hearts unseared. Dad left me at the end of Southport pier
After 15 minutes or less it will give off a noise like a siren
Omelette pans are very small But they can cook two eggs till they’re fraught Just perfect for one My Eden is come I need sliced tomato in oil
If I have a man needing food A tin of corned beef is so good He can show off his prowess With the little key harassed I just hope I shan’t see his red blood.
My husband like gravy and sauce He had a mellifluous voice He liked roast beef on Sunday And Cottage Pie Monday On Tuesday,I cooked a sliced horse.
Now the weekend is no longer fun Bitter chocolate mould makes me feel glum The nutmeg tree died I did not cry But now and then I try to hum
My book awas criticised for its lack of appendicitises and spelling terrors My Irish accent perforated Ulster I had de Gaulle stones but they passed I have very nasty onions on my feet.My big toe is like a thumb My arches have elapses The book was ok but the appendix was cursed Well having 7 miscarriages saves a lot of money.Why don’t I shoot myself in the butt? I said I’m going to Killarney, not barmy With joints like mine,I’d never smoke one Why do people smoke food? He’s bought some new brutes for lockdown Lose weight.Have a nervous breakdown
We’re not taught wisdom in a school We’re taught notation as a rule When we cross a road we know Just how fast the cars can go To write that down in formulae Takes much longer than a day First we need symbols and signs Arab libraries, our gold mines Numbers counted ancient sheep Goats and reindeer upward leap Connections, patterns shapes and forms Cold as glass and clear as dawn Then the Plague and Newton fled To a country farm and bed Sitting by the apple tree One fell down and hit his knee Another one fell on his head It would be worse if it were lead His thoughts turned onto gravity Thus his inner eye could see Maddened by his locked down state He saw a way to break checkmate Calculus was his way out It’s hard to say what it’s about Tiny numbers dance on pins Demons minute wave their sins Come and go in waves or balls They throw light on the great Fall Use them now or let them go They’re not real, yet they act so After many hundred years We can tell the speed of cars Accelerating they go far Ever changing like love’s eyes Ever true like a sunrise. But if you want to cross the road Better use the Highway Code Thinking too much on the kerb What if s make our minds too scared The body and the senses cry Take good care and you’ll not die Who knows if Covid 19 Will make another genius dream?
Our toe nails grow more slowly than do weeds We do not use them for defence like claws And if we tear the skin, our toes will bleed
Take care of fingers, toes,give what they need If we were tigers, we would have great paws Our toe nails grow more slowly than the weeds
On a dirty toe, do not plant seeds Grow no runner beans, though you enjoy And if we tear the skin, our toes will bleed
Do not grill your digits, please give heed I give my commands for this is War Our toe nails grow more slowly than do weeds
Fortunately toe nails do not breed Lions have got big teeth, that gives me pause If we break the skin, our toes will bleed
On my shin, a lion might love to gnaw How strange a world where killing is a law Our toe nails grow more slowly than huge weeda Do not kick the bin, your feet might bleed
Mathematics A+ What can we say? English Literature:A [ she’s read it all and more] Whatever it is! Sarcasm: Could do better if she didn’t try so hard & was willing to hurt others Anxiety A+:Must trust in God if possible or if not tremble all day Honesty: Ought to get less honest if she is to survive in our Society Kindness:Too much for her own good.We hope to put her into Special Needs soon to learn to be more cruel and how to tell lies Physics B+ : she is obsessed by mercury and so are all the class Chemistry D:She doesn’t know what this is yet Biology: C- The less said the better. Latin A+ : The best pupil but will it be of any real use? French A+: Definitely likes languages and patterns.Is it autism? Concentration A+ : Needs to decide where to direct this now.Seen looking at maps of Lake District under the desk when the English teacher was talking about Thomas Hardy.He never went up North Ambition: lacking any ideas apart from writing a book about Topology [ whatever that is] She does like doughnuts though Thoughtfulness: must do worse Virtue: Ditto.Jesus mixed with sinners I tell her. Greed:Judging by her extreme thinness she needs to develop this rapidly {oh,happy time]
ArtC+ Just look at these cats.Would you agree they have human eyes?
The nuns are scared of her and so are the boys.What to do?
There’s no rule that says every person who writes poetry must read poetry. Plenty of poets write for the sole purpose of personal expression. Poetry writing can be therapeutic, cathartic, and enjoyable. Nobody needs to read in order to write such poetry. But there’s a difference between writing for oneself and writing for an audience of strangers.
When you don’t read or study poetry, it shows in your work. There are identifiers that expose a lack of readership; here are some of the most common clues:
Forced rhymes: You can only think of one word that rhymes with lonely, so you force it into your poem even though it makes no sense or interferes with the poem’s focus.
Meter mishaps: You can’t find a way to arrange the words so that the meter remains intact. Oh well, you decide, and break the meter pattern for that one line. You hope nobody will notice, but everybody does, because that one line throws off the entire flow of the poem.
Square pegs: Similar to meter mishaps, this is when the language is forced to meet the meter, resulting in phrasings that sounds super awkward because the poet is trying to say something in five syllables that simply cannot be said in less than ten.
Word blizzard: Probably the most common mark of an unread poet is the sheer wordiness of a poem. There are often tons of unnecessary words, and the poem reads more like natural speech or choppy prose than crafted poetry.
Art has no editor: This is the mark of many amateur writers, not just poets. But it’s especially common for poets to think that a poem must remain pure, existing in its first-draft from for all of eternity. No editing! These poems are unrefined, peppered with typos, and often display all the other hallmarks of poets who are not well read in their form.
Hello Mary. what are you doing today? There stood a vision dressed in a teal jumpsuit it was Annie, Stan’s mistress,[ when he was alive.] Quite what her status as a former mistress can be is unknown,but she remained on friendly terms with Mary ;she had helped Mary a good deal while she was grieving,mainly by being present yet undemanding not to mention making frequent cups of tea and putting out the washing
I’m going to stay with the Pope in Rome ,Mary cried out from her pink armchair
Are you being sarcastic, ironic, or have you gone mad? Annie replied politely
Well I was trying to be sarcastic but I am not very good at it yet I hope to improve as time goes by because research shows being sarcastic improves your creativity
But can you be sure which part of your life will become more creative, Annie ask her thoughtfully with a little grin
For example you might become more creative in the way you trying to attract men
Well that would not be difficult, said Mary ,as I do nothing to try to attract them at the moment and on the other hand it could be rather time-consuming
Would it improve my ability to write in a creative manner or to be more creative in what I cook?
I have no idea Annie told her. the only problem is is that if you practice on me it might affect our friendship
You are far too childish, Mary told her. Is that sarcastic?
Tell me, the ex mistress of your ancient husband!
What do you mean ancient, he was only 23!
23 what? said Annie
Are we being sarcastic?
Well if we can’t know the answer then we are not being sarcastic because I am sure we would realise if we were
I am glad you can express yourself in such a brief manner
What have briefs got to do with it?
I just found a bag full of dry ones and I have been folding them and putting them into the drawer
Do you mean knickers?
Yes, I do, but I couldn’t remember the name
You’re pulling my leg
No I’m not. I’m nowhere near your leg
Don’t tell me that you are not familiar with the expression meaning “you are joking”
Why do you assume I am not familiar with anything?
I am giving you the benefit of the doubt
Doubt is a very dangerous State of Mind
Shall I wear the pink knickers or the blue ones I spend all morning trying to decide so it is best not to doubt anything but to believe that what you do must be correct and everybody else is wrong
That’s alright as long as you’re not stealing people’s husbands
If they can be stolen so easily what does that tell us about the state of the marriage? Nothing nothing at all, men are so easily beguiled that is in the best of marriages they’re not be enough to keep them faithful for ever
Don’t be so horrible I was trying to be sarcastic Should it not come naturally like loving?
What kind of loving do you mean? If you mean physical loving it doesn’t always come naturally to human beings’
.many couples go for help in having a baby and the doctor discovers they didn’t realise what sex was
They thought by sleeping in the same bed, the wife will get pregnant
It seems very hard to believe but compared to thinking about Donald Trump
and his lies, it is nothing
Shall I put the kettle on, said Mary
That is sarcastic Annie said because you know that I always put it on when I am here it is more like dropping hints Mary cried All these things are very hard for scientists. You don’t solve mathematical problems by dropping a hint nor does anyone drop hints to you whereas in interpersonal relationships it is very important to be able to drop hints and to be able to take hints when they’re dropped in front of you Mathematics and physics much easier than everyday life because they contain no sarcasm no irony and no hints whatsoever I wonder if Wittgenstein would agree with you.
As he is dead we cannot know but I am almost sure he would agree
I was just being sarcastic,that’s all!
It seems like that Mary and Annie are going to have to spend much longer practicing sarcasm before they were able to go outside and be sarcastic to neighbours or Friends
well Emile’s view is that he will not accept sarcasm from anybody
He will bite the hand that feeds him if necessary because he knows that Mary will forgive him when he apologizes
On the other hand it would be easier if he didn’t bite anyone And God might be angry with Emile for being a trying animal to live with
Lying in the heather with you,love The world below,the cliff edge of the hills Swainby,Stokesley, Stockton,Saltburn sea Happy, free, still unaware of bills
The butterflies, the little flower bells The scent of honey and the Yorkshire bees I see your face as clear as it was then But you have crossed the Styx and not the Tees
Yet still I feel your arms that held me near I see you smile , so happy to be wed We hitched a lift right to Osmotherly The entire hill seemed like a marriage bed
There is a place where that sweet day exists I take your hands and kiss your inner wrists
When the pain of grief and rage abate We grieve again,more conscious of our state The sharpness of the anguish was a cloak That made the world of others seem remote
Now like a shadow come back from the dark We feel what we have missed, the vital spark We see a broader view, we see we’re small And little seems of interest,nothing calls
We wander on through mud and sharp thorned briar Scarcely hearing wild birds in their choir Giving up the one we lost, we seek, An open heart, remembrance and peace
Thus layer by layer we grieve and we don’t know Is there a fine ending to this Show?
Embraced entire , your sacred smile held me Until we both were one deep in our souls As still as a white dove held tenderly
For a little time so warm and free As if your smile contained me, made me whole Embraced and loved , your sacred smile touched me
As we cross together the dark sea I wish this sacred love could always hold As gently as a dove ,as tenderly
And if I felt the brilliant light touch me My eyes would weep,my tears would turn to gold Embraced and loved , oh sacramental tree
Would that humankind were truly free That in the darkness, we could find our home As dies the fragile Word on Calvary
We fear the Tempest and we hear the Storm The still small voice will whisper , not perform Embraced entire , your smile encompassed me As still as a white dove, as tenderly
Never now to be embraced and loved Even touch or kiss is disallowed I see a sparrow bathe in my old tub Does a bird desire both touch and love I might believe that of my collared dove But who will touch me now,my heart is mad Swollen,with emotions well endowed Never now to be embraced and loved Every touch or kiss is disallowed
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
They knew what we moderns learned this year When deprived of company and touch We need to feel, we need the hands that care
As cats will sleep in heaps beside the fire I would warm,caress you, humans must Cats knew what we humans learned this year
I remember when you brushed my hair When you held me close your skin was musk We need to feel, we need the hands that care
Even touching gently your skin bare Gave me solace, made my world seem just Cats knew what we humans learned this year
Crying babies,nursing them’s a prayer But refugees lie restless in the dust We need to feel, we need the hearts that care
They knew what we moderns learned this year When deprived of company and touch We need to feel, we need the hands that care
Poor in money, yet in loving rich Glue my broken heart up lest it cracks Ancients knew what moderns learned this year We need to feel, we need strong hands that care
“Why might sarcasm enhance creativity? Because the brain must think creatively to understand or convey a sarcastic comment, sarcasm may lead to clearer and more creative thinking. To either create or understand sarcasm, tone must overcome the contradiction between the literal and actual meanings of the sarcastic expressions. This is a process that activates, and is facilitated by, abstraction, which in turn promotes creative thinking.Consider the following example, which comes from a conversation one of my co-authors on the research (Adam Galinsky, of Columbia) had a few weeks before getting married. His fiancée woke him up as he was soundly asleep at night to tell him about some new ideas she has for their upcoming wedding next month –many of which were quite expensive. Adam responded with some ideas of his own: “Why don’t we get Paul McCartney to sing, Barack Obama to give a benediction and Amy Schumer to entertain people.” His comment required his fiancée to recognize that there is a distinction between the surface level meaning of the sentence (actually signing up these people to perform) and the meaning that was intended.”
I once had a doctor called Woolf He was well acqainted with wealth He cut a lump off my arm I felt very calm Yet he was alarmed by my health
He would get extra pay, what a path I bled,he was alarmed by the gush He cried, your blood’s too thin I’ll give you some gin I said,I don’t drink, just a splash
I came home alone, it was hot July,oh, the memory of that Then I made some fresh tea And was stung by a bee All that I want is a cat
Mary was trying to find an online shop where she had once bought a red winrer coat~ Instead. she landed on Amazon Oh, there’s a nice frying pan,she thought. She enlarged the screen and saw the words,Amazon Echo That’s a strange name for a pan, she muttered Then she realised it was a new fangled device which may be collecting messages& images for MI5 I wonder if my email has anything suspicious in it? I have written to two people weekly then my sister and my six brothers Are any of them under suspicion? Soon,Mary realised that the Echo would not collect anythbg unless you had one installed in your home I suppose it’s a bit like God.We can read about him, go to church or pray but meeting him would be totally different But Jesus hinted that if we fed the hungry or washed the feet of a beggar we were meeting God In Knittingham all the beggars have shoes, she murmured Maybe I could wash their hair? God may be right here,but just as the blind can’t see colours we may lack some sense that would enable us to see God or even angels. Annie knocked on the window. Shall we have a cup of tea? Oh.I say, are you getting an Echo? I don’t think I need one, unlike a shadow.I thought it was a frying pan I recall you have burned two plus 7 milkpans Don’t keep going on about it,Mary begged Annie made some tea and Emile wandered in Would you like tea,Emile? Only if it’s green, he mioawed I thought green was mould on food,Annie said But tea is not food, is it? Emile cried Only the milk and sugar,Annie mumbled I’ve never seen green milk,Mary said nervously There’s always a first time, the cat uttered in a manner resembling the Oracle at Delphi. But can you even buy green milk? They all sat quietly meditating until the door bell rang Mary picked up the phone Hello,I am your door bell She put the phone down and told the others about this new kind of crime where non-human objects would try to persuade you to wash them or put oil into them. I can’t believe it ,Annie said as she stared round the room wondering which gadget might phone Mary next. Her mobile rang, Would you like to pay for your Funeral? I’m not even dead yet, she replied.When I am I’ll call you.Do you do 3 for 2? Do you think Trump might phone? Yes, he needs money to pay his lawyers Well.I am not going to give him any? Yet Jesus mixed with sinners They were thieves & whores…. just ordinary people, not like Trump I wish you were a whore,said Emile How horrible,said Mary, why did you say that? Well,I long to see Jesus, Emile smiled to her He will let you know the time,she informed him.Meanwhile just keep living the best life you can
Did anyone believe blind rage expressed Could benefit the agent without harm? Did anyone read Freud and then digest?
Feelings need the heat of blacksmith’s fires Held inside until they find their form An image worthy of our right desire
As well as rage, we should mistrust love too Be backward in expression till more’s known Or risk an avalanche of cruelty.
Take care of others, they are not our fools From sacred meetings all mankind has grown We misuse folk to test our worth and tools
Holding in the inner fires our wish The blackness of the heart can turn to gold No contradiction hides such sacredness
Take your love and in your arms enfold. The future of the world is growing cold We liked to have the choice for rage and death Until we found the charred remains of bliss
The future unpredictable as gas Its fictions must be written by our hands On tablets with the clarity of glass Which crack like bones dried out on foreign sands
The prophets’ meanings , unnnamed, cannot pass The sentences bind stories till they blend The whispers and the excess of his blasts Till all are crucified by loss of sense
The arches of the heavens will surpass The golden eye ,the mind its telescope Then all at once humanity is trash The microcosm, a particle escaped
Will Evil change our hearts till blood is brass The valves are closing, polished into death
The Times declares that Johnson is obese Distract us from the politics of gain Wandering round the buffet we will eat The Times declares that Johnson is obese The readers joke he has a strange disease Can he go on benefits and claim? The Times declares that Johnson is obese Distracts folk from the way they can Remain
How my heart speaks 