Weaving

The world is woven  in such different ways
Struts the vertical, the flat below
Oh God who weaves me shall by me be praised

Oh, shall the mystic reach what she may crave
When all  the strings release and she falls low
The world is woven  in its different ways

Timed by ritual Lady Lazarus rose
And all the eyes that gazed were burning slow
Yes, God who weaves me shall by me be praised

There is a hollow  only Ariel knows
As horse and rider as one being flow
The world is sensed  in  wholly different ways

The body ,home of mind, will   run astray
Oh, what seams of evidence forego
Fallen God  who unacknowledged knows

Beneath the sea of green the undertow,
Spirits sidle  deep like melting snow
The world is woven  in such different ways
That God who weaves me shall by me be praised

Questions in my mind

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Photo by kind permission of Mike Flemming  2020

Why?
Why don’t  hens boil the eggs before laying them?
Why are eggs oval?
Why are there holes in doughnuts?
Why is our bread usually  rectangular?I suppose elliptical loaf tins
have not been invented,Now is my chance to make a million!
Double entendre , as the Polish might have said.
Why do men like pies so much?
Or is it tarts?
Why has the sun set when I’ve not washed my hair?
I am not the sun,I guess.
I am not G-d
Good Night

They won’t fit into the fridge

Epimedium-Woodang-StarWe have too many eggs in the fridge
Well,  buy a hen and give her a nest,Then we”ll  have  some chickens
But they won’t fit in the fridge either!

Why do we eat eggs every day?
What else could we do with them?

Is it legal to throw eggs over the wall?
Not the iron wall

Some people believe they are good for our hair
Like hairdressers, you mean?

Just think.We can’t get our hair cut
Well, we can’t get our toe nails cut either
A bit dangerous in bed, then
Hair never harms anyone
If it were long it could strangle your lover
A nice way to die

I   curry eggs, I stuff them, I cover them in sauce
What’s wrong with that?
I am bored of them
With them?
No, they are not bored.
I am bored of you
Why?
What has reason got to do with it?
Well the Greeks liked it
But did the Hebrews?
I am sorry,  they never said
What did you want them to write? Is the Bible   not enough
For whom?
Showing off now that you knew Boris at Oxford.
Not biblically, thank  the Lord

Do you like souffles?
With eggs?
Well it would be  hard to make one without
Alright then.A lemon  souffle
I have no lemons
We’ll just have to pretend
Amen

 

 

 

 

 

 

Speaking the unspeakable with Sharon Olds

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Another of Mike Flemming’s beautiful photographs 2020

https://www.rebeccatook.com/all-essays/2018/12/31/speak-the-unspeakable-sharon-olds-unspeakable-and-the-confessional-mode

 

This  may appear paradoxical, considering the poet is necessarily ‘speaking’ [writing], however, even if the locus of the subject is ineffable, there remains space around it to speak towards the issue, even if this speech switches between negative and positive polarities. The compounding of the phrase ‘almost-no-longer’ illustrates how the poet is caught in an in-between state: neither truly married nor yet divorced, Olds is caught within a hyphenated world within which she still has desires, and yet is unable to act upon them. Furthermore, the use of this elongated phrase shows a reluctance to truncate their relationship into the simpler realm of ‘ex-‘: the phrase is not yoked to the noun ‘husband’, but stands distinct from it, demonstrating how the husband/wife roles are compromised.

However, despite the poem chronicling the loss of love, there is a profound tenderness in its images. Once again brought back to the experience of emotions in the moment, through the reference to ‘the alarm’(ll. 14) Olds writes that, ‘my hand feels like a singer | who sings along him’(ll. 15-16), bringing the attention to both the temporal and the physical. The verb ‘sing’ is articulated in three different conjugations across three lines, both as noun and verb. While it is her hand that is described as a ‘singer’, it is ‘his flesh that’s singing’, suggesting a transference of agency – she initiates the action, the noun is used to describe her body part: her identity is associated with singing, and yet it is his body that is ‘singing’. This association of female identity with the action of the male body gestures towards what might be at stake should ‘his flesh’ stop ‘singing’, and therefore leave the singer to sing alone. The extension of the metaphor into his spine – ‘tenor of the higher vertebrae, | baritone, bass, contrabass’(ll.18-19) – uses musical terminology to trace the path of her hand down his back, her hand going lower in accordance with the descending vocal ranges.

Bitterly sweet lockdown

drawing-genrleman
I confess to doing this funny little drawing ,Katherine

We  loved each other lately  life was sweet
Till lockdown ,isolation , iron walls
So we’ll have to speak .oh we’ll have to speak
From the opposite side of the street

We  hoped we’d live a while   before the grief
As we said on our long  video calls
We  loved each other, we loved to love each other
So our lives were  bitterly sweet

We longed to touch, to hug , to kiss at least
But unlike cats  we would not caterwaul
Now we’ll have to  feel , oh, we’ll have to kneel
On the opposite side of the street

We may be wrinkled with  bright yellow teeth
It has been known for  both of us to fall
We  love each other, yeah we love each other
For old age is not a defeat

We  loved   our neighbours, even those deceased
We’ve had  hard times but none that bit so deep
How can we   feel ,oha how can we feel
On the opposite side of the street?

I wanted you beside me when we sleep
I’ve even bought us fifty five new sheets
We  love each other, yes, we love each other
So our life is succulent, sweet
But how can we   touch, how can we  keep in touch
From the opposite side of the street?

 

 

 

If your aim is good

 

Scilla-greilhuberi-2020Why do people  boil eggs?
They need to keep getting into hot water

Why do others fry eggs?
They want to make sure there is nothing live in there

And furthermore, why poach?
To annoy landowners.

Why are eggs so popular?
They can’t speak.

Eggs are used in baking, why?
They need to be useful

Can one egg be enough?
Yes, if your aim is good.

Can I live on eggs for a few days?
If you are  very small  and light

Can I eat just  a few eggs for all my meals
Not the same ones.

Is  bread a good idea for  egg sandwiches?
It’s essential for any sandwich regardless

Is an egg good for the  old?
The old what?

Can I polish the floor with eggs?
Dropped them again?

How about the chest of drawers
Who was he?

Why do people throw eggs at politicians?
Because they look so underfed, I imagine

But it’s a waste of money!
Views differ but  rotten eggs will do or ones  more than 5 weeks old

Can eggs last longer if coated in vaseline?
Longer than what?

Do hens grieve for their eggs?
I can’t take any more
Anymore what?

 

Even in  the rain, light gave him joy

The first warm days, the birds sing in their nests
So brilliant is the sun it seems new born
In the shady green I take my rest

The art of living cannot be a test
Nor can it leave a lover all forlorn
The first warm days, the birds sing in their nests

When surprised by joy, we regain zest
Despite the costs of living and its storms
In the shady green let’s take a rest

Before he died,  he sat,he gazed  out West
Even in  the rain, light gave him joy
The bright, warm days, the birds sing in their nests

I remember Arnside, green and blessed
The hills across  the bay where we  have climbed
In the shady green let’s  dream and rest

In our childhood there the patterns form
Hope  to harvest now the rich, ripe corn
The clear blue  days, the birds  keep warm their nest
In the shades of Arnside  let me rest

 

So poignant

When you gave me that last smile  I knew
You were on the way to Paradise
My  singing voice had brought great peace to you

Sitting in a place in A and E
Quietly waiting, watching your closed eyes
You gave me that last smile  and winked at me!

You never changed, your humour was not new
Winking at the ladies undisguised
My   little voice had brought great peace to you

I felt embarrassed by the crowd I drew
In Suffolk  I could  have sung till I near died
When you gave your  smile I  guess I knew

Inside I felt a pain that pierced me through
I  felt it poignant like a bird’s first flight
My  singing voice had elevated  you

In  old Hunstanton  we walked  sands   near white
In Wells  we saw   both  dawn and sunset’s light
For   confiding with  your smiles,  may I thank you?
I wish we were on long pale sands anew

 

 

 

Another misfake

I  keep making  spelling misfakes
At least you only made two there
Why, if we have fakes we also  have misfakes
I see what  you scream
So a  genuine painting by Picasso is a misfake,I say
But you can’t just invent words.
Why not?
You’ve caught me on the  hop
We do have a bathroom
Is there a WC?
Well, we don’t have earth closets inside a house
Why not?
It would ruin the foundations.
That shows building houses was the biggest mistake after eating the apple
To cut a long story short
Very short.
Meaningless in a very  surreal sense
Well, that is the end of Today  the Lockdown
They had no radios during the Plague
And so say all of us

From the dust

Power and love, two ways that we connect
One is often hateful, one respects
The Other is a person , I and Thou
Two words, two worlds , which  love could well endow

Power has many guises, most deceive
Talking  big  but wanting to receive
Men of power who long for even  more
The Jaguar, the palace, the gold door

A select   few  took risks to save the cursed
The Jewish baby, Amsterdam, the fist
The parents on a train,  like cattle crammed
Death  was not the end their  love had planned

Hurtling into darkness, when all’s lost
A still small voice shall  whisper  from the dust
 

Love, glue and hot water

Paeonia-suffruticosaWhat do you say to  a  new teapot?
We’re  both going to be in hot water soon

What do you say when you are thirsty?
Show me a photo of Warren Beatty.He makes my mouth water

Why don’t we drink sea water?
Fish pee into it.Whales drown in it

What do you say to a  coffee mug?
Won’t you at least try this tea?

What do you say to a rabbit?
Have you no warren of your own to go to?

What do you  feel  for when you get a  text message at 3 am
My husband

What kind of flour do you use?
It depends on how strong the bombs need to be

Why  do you like hand writing?
We can’t afford writing paper

Which pens are the best?
The ones with ink inside.

Is it hard to write a poem?
No, it’s only 5 letters.Maybe A should be capital?

Are you autistic?
Is it so black and white?

Why do you like maths?
It stops me  turning schizophrenic

Did you work  on differential equations?
No they were too  dirty for women to stand on

How about topology?
I prefer jam doughnuts to actually eat.

How did you find   the University?
We had  maps then ,much cheaper than  android phones

I mean  how did you feel?
With maths you don’t need to feel

So what does make you feel?
Love, glue and hot water

What advice would you give to a   person now?
Never give advice.

What do you think of the Corona virus?
It makes no difference what I think.It’s what we do that matter

 

 

 

 

Hens  don’t see the point

What do you say to 21 eggs?
Where are the other three?

Why do eggs come in boxes of six
Because hens can’t count past six!

Why do Sainsburys sell eggs in fifteens?
Their  hens are more intelligent than the others

Will egg boxes be decimalised?
Hens  don’t see the point

Why are eggs good for rubbing on the hair?
Because it takes longer to shampoo them out

How many eggs are in an  omelette?
None,they are on the outside.

Is it a sin to steal eggs?
Yes, if they are human.

Are eggs used in warfare?
Their atoms are.

Can we measure the velocity  and position of eggs?
No, but we feel it when they hit us

 

Dusting  books and washing garden gnomes

I  am saving money  locked at home
Whenever I go out I buy a drink
Not to mention  books and garden gnomes

No bubble baths to cover me in foam
Lots more  time to write and  truly think
I  am saving money  locked at home

While I sleep, the elves and fairies roam
Putting dirty mugs into the sink
Dusting  books and washing garden gnomes

Is Pope Francis locked down while in  Rome ?
God looks down and even he  might flinch
I  will send  the cash to help folk cope

Wisdom lies in libraries uncombed
Digital security’s a bitch
Not to mention   research   into gnomes

 Might I disguise myself and  be a witch
Can I do some magic and get rich?
I  am saving money  locked at home
Surrounded by my  books and garden gnomes

Wondering, I wander underground

In my dreams I wander round  and round
Searching for that car park   by the lake
Wondering if  the lost are ever found

There is often silence or birdsong
I wonder which new footpath I shall take
In my dreams I wander round and round

Haphazard  as the  footsteps of a clown
Looking for  the works of William Blake
Wondering if  the past   will  ever hound

I see you  struggle ,walking on wet  ground
You’d like some coffee and a piece of cake
In my dreams we wander round and round

Darling, shall I  never hold your hand?
We got into rhythms pure and strange
Wandering  through the past  we  never found

What was  the space of love   that made us ache
Fragile like  the    crystalline   snowflakes
In my dreams I wander round  and round
Can I change my ways, can I be found?

 

 

Anthem preceded by Yeats

 

Leonard Cohen’s songs have been a great  help to me in  the last few years
I’ve seem him as a young man and a very old man.I’ve seem him at every age
Maybe that is what I needed.. to see someone  go through the stages of life

Who are we?

Photo1660
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To fulminate against the hands of fate
To vent our anger on  beloved friends
Will not repair our ills and our mistakes
But may bring friendships to  a bitter end.

For who are we to know what is the best?
Who are we to choose when loved ones die?
And  do not think this is a needed test.
As if on us God wastes his time to spy.

Once  we were a joining of two cells
The lively sperm, a salmon riding high.
The egg awaiting without  need for bells
Is fertilised and grows that which  shall die.

Astonishing that we should live at all.
Unsurprising, that a loved one falls.

 

Ironic lockdown

The irony of lockdown is  unique
More painful for the folk who live alone
Everyone’s at  home but none can meet

On the telephone , my friends can speak
I   want a conversation, not to moan
The irony of lockdown is  unique

I long for voices, even bleats from sheep
A conversation is  our human home
Everyone’s indoors but none can meet

The price we pay for safety seems quite steep
The poor may be more blighted, seeking loans
The irony of lockdown is  unique

Will Boris Johnson  get back on his feet
Do his best for his sins to atone?
Jesus  left his  home the outlook’s bleak

From the graveyards skeletons will roam
Their souls  as restless as the waves  that foam
The irony of lockdown is  unique
We’re not at home, we’re alien as this leaf

 

 

 

No gowns for NHS staff

If you are ill the nurses have no gowns
The doctors  neither, nor a dressing gown
Don’t let them borrow yours ,all’s upside  down
We can’t have naked people in the town

The government  will   rue this nudity
When Boris Johnson flies into a tree
We’ll see his valorous organ on TV
Whatever can the matter really be?

Why can’t the textile trade make us  nighties
On the NHS most stuff is free
The towel laid across your aching knee
My BT Hub is dying can’t they see?

Oh, I feel shame I live in Sodom here
Gomarrah can’t be far behind,don’t leer

Emile’s in ecstasiulation

15977118_846858878787325_6294777997997974550_n

Oh,Emile got up, he yawned he stretched
It was  cat pandiculation
For cats get stiff and cats get  tense
But they won’t write  no dissertations
Emile called  to Stan and Stan got up
Pet manipulationion
Stan made tea and fed his  cat
Emile’s ecstasisulation
Mary came  and she saw  Stan
Oh,  a manifestation?
Are you real,she , called to him
What impertinentication!|
I like your cheek, her husband shouts
Show me  your appreciation
Where is that, his dear wife said
Does it dwell  under my apron?
Well,Leonard Cohen  has mentioned this 
I’m damned by my own veneration
Oh,Stan get up and  get  some gin
This is  pure excruciation
Calm down,Mary.I am back
This is a  mere notification
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 both 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  tribulation
The doctor told me you were  dead
Is it  conspirification?
Send  a code to my   android phone
That will  verify  my  restoration

Is it “non-essential?

img_20191201_185820489-effects

My own photo

https://www.merriam-webster.com/words-at-play/essential-nonessential-inessential-unessential-usage?utm_campaign=newsletter&utm_medium=email&utm_source=wotd-wir&utm_content=secondary-left

 

Extract

Origin of ‘Essential’

Essential has been part of English since the 14th century, and may be traced to the Latin word for essence (essentia). The earliest sense of the word in English was, unsurprisingly, strongly connected to its Latin origin; essential first meant “of, relating to, or constituting essence”. The common modern use (“of the utmost importance”) began to be used in the 16th century.

Words for “Not Essential”

Nonessential, unessential, and inessential appear to have entered use in the first half of the 17th century; all of these words in early use carried the meaning npt essential

Ain’t no police

The geese no longer fly past at sundown
They’re eaten by the “immigrants”  folks say
Who also kill and murder every day
The English are so perfect  in my town

That man is not an alien though he’s brown
He was born in Bradford  near the mills
His parents worked there till it made them ill
And now he is a graduate with a gown

My ancestors came to fight and to invade
They killed the  men and made the women wives
What chance that some  few English might survive
Are they now on benefits or aid?

The nesting swans have killed or maimed the geese
In their natural world ain’t no police

Their grace

After hail and storms I see the snails
On the rubber doormat and the stones 
Encrusted shells the blind might read as braille

The shell made to protect is very frail
I trod on several, cracks like breaking bones
After heavy rain I see the snails

The lion  whose   fire and strength will   never fail
The sea creatures so large , they look like drones
Compare them to the perfect broken snail

In  the Bible  read  the warning tales
Temptation,,murder, envy, honeycombs
God our Lord a lion or a snail?

Come to that, how can God be a male?
How can God approve the gold of Rome?
She  is a perfect   sacred sweet shelled snail

On the beach are empty shells, washed foam
Abandoned. they survive their use as homes
After  storm and tempest ,here are snails
Encrusted shells their decor and their grace

What we most fear

Hepatica-okesabayashi-2020 (1)

Written by: Katherine 

How like a monster is my fear of pain
Expanding to fill all my heart and mind
Swelling like a  giant sponge in the rain,
This fear begets  new  feelings more unkind.

For humans being chased by lions fierce,
Fear gives us the strength to  dash away.
But when by inner turmoil we are pierced
We cannot run  yet need  not be its prey.

Most strange,we need to do   what we most fear;
Walk towards the pain with curious calm.
As else we may be maddened like King Lear
With no Cordelia to bring us balm.

To  feel in proper ratio to our   pain.
We need perception,grace and all their gains.

No internet since last night

Photo by Matan Segev on Pexels.com
Photo by Kaboompics .com on Pexels.com

After waiting for BT and their bots to  solve my problem

I have done it myself combining parts from 2 different routers

I hate waiting and waiting and then they say,oh we’ll send another when it was not hard

to do it.No wonder they charge so much… it’s  lack of knowledge of how these things work