The darkest fortnight of the year has passed

The sky was violent red, that was the dawn

I knew such vivid colours could not last.

I gaze up at the sky so broad, so vast

I see a hungry fox across the lawn.

The darkest fortnight of the year has passed

Where is this world going, will it crash?

We need a saviour no one’s yet been born

I knew such vivid colours could not last.

Now by thoughts of power, I am harassed.

What is this grief for those I cannot mourn?

The darkest fortnight of the year has passed

By the sunrise and the skies we’re blessed

Christ will rise as Easter, a sheep shorn

Despite such vivid colours might not last.

The day begins and ends with sun sunk down.

I sink into myself, a study brown.

The darkest fortnight of the year has passed

I guessed dawn’s vivid colours might not last

Mary picked up her mobile phone to ring for a cab..On it,there was a message
.You have missed a call from home.Mary shivered.
Has Stan come back?
Then she recalled she had rung her own mobile before coming out.Her mind sagged like sheet of rubber suspended between four tall trees in the jungle..
Hello,It’s Mrs Tan.Can you do a me a cab from the dental surgery to my home? It’s right by the doctor’s surgery.
She stepped outside into the warm air which felt like a caress on her poor numb face.
When she got home she found Annie in the kitchen looking at her collection of cookery books.
Do you want to get rid of any of these, her friend queried.
I am thinking of learning some new recipes so I can invite those awful therapists across the road for dinner.But I have to be sure that what I serve has no hidden meaning especially aggressive or sexual.
Well,Mary said,don’t you think that people differ in what they find sexual?
Beats me,said Annie meaningfully.I fancy doing beef in beer with French bread and mustard baked on the top.
I used to do that,Mary said.Why did we stop doing that cooking? Penguin brought a new book every month.I have most of them and ,at the weekend, I’d study them for ages looking for things like apple mousse and different stews.
When we first got married I used a kind of cheap women’s magazine approach and most often as a pudding I did tinned peaches with cinnamon sprinkled on grilled till hot and spicy.Eventually, Stan got fed up with it and so I got into cordon bleu and using real cream not Carnation milk
Her blue eyes gleamed in excitement and were rendered even more remarkable by the teal and turquoise eye shadow Annie had forced her to wear which matched the sea blue mascara she already had.Annie said.
it will be good for us both to meet new people especially educated ones
Mary disagreed.I like ordinary people because a certain amount of education makes some people very conceited and only real scholars or mystics realise that the more we know the more we realise our own ignorance.Will such folk like makeup?
Perhaps one of the psychoanalysts will be a mystic,Annie retorted loudly.
But would such a person want to visit us? Mary bleated childishly.
Why not? They have to eat and they may need a new love interest or someone sympathetic who will know how hard their job is.Someone like me,beautiful funny and willing to look after a man when he needs it.
How about a man who might look after you,Mary said brightly
Well,it’s not quite the same.I like looking after men whereas you prefer reading about Fourier series and infinite integrals.And knitting patterns,she added hastily as if omitting that interest would severely anger Mary.
I think we’ll invite two men and two women ,all single.They can bring their cats for Emile to play with if they want.And we’ll eat in the kitchen to make it more relaxed.
Thank God,said Mary as the dining room was full of paper and books.
Why don’t I have a study,she pondered.Or ,if I slept in the dining room, my bedroom has a lovely view and I have an old desk somewhere.
Mary ,in her younger days, had often moved the furniture around and had even slept on a camp bed on the lawn one summer but she no longer did this as looking after Stan had worn her down to a shred of her former self.
But beds do take up so much room.Without them ,the house would be quite spacious.And how about tables and chairs… her mind ran on as she quite fancied a new start without moving house.
With fewer clothes ,she could ditch a wardrobe… on the other hand ,she could not afford such quality clothes again on her widow’s pension.
To think she might have to stop wear Bowlands of Wrath was a rather painful thought.Still most of humanity have got hardly anything so maybe Mary will think more deeply about donating some to Oxfam.
Suddenly the doorbell rang.Dave the paramedic was outside
Are you both ok?I’ve not heard from you lately,he remarked as he powdered his nose.
Well,I do have an old desk that you can carry upstairs for me,Mary told him thoughtfully.Then we need the floor scrubbing.I’m sure the NHS will pay.After all dirt might make us ill!
And so pray all of us

A beautiful photo Mike Flemming

On Monday morning Stan had to go to the shops in the centre of town to buy some special easy threading needles for his visually-other wife Mary.Somehow,most puzzlingly,she had lost all of the eight packs he had bought for her in the last year.He had suggested letting his mistress next door do the hemming and stitching.But Mary was determined even though sometimes she took 14 minutes just to thread a needle.But she was very patient.One might almost say she was saintly but he did not want her to get conceited so he kept his thoughts to himself. Now what will I wear.Stan thought over-anxiously.. People no longer dress up to go down town instead they dress down to go up to the town,in a very real sense. The art of living is to choose the most simple solution to any problem and Stan recalled he only had some navy trousers,some white and a few coloured shirts and one light teal colored jacket. He chose a coral coloured shirt and looked in the mirror.. I look wonderful, he thought very humbly. Why has God kept me so youthful? Surely not so I can seduce more women? We know God may be merciful to scissors,or is it sinners?Well,let’s just say God can be merciful but for some reason,we never know till it’s too late whether it’s to us. More haste,less speed,he conjectured. Or is it, More paste,guests feed? He stood in the hall combing his hair with a tortoiseshell comb and brushing it with a large nail brush He looked again at his image. His amber eyes glowed like neon lights on the main road to Knittingham in winter. His dark hair looked very full for his age. His teal jacket had been well pressed by the dry cleaner, Jacob Weissmann. And his coral shirt was new as Mary had been out buying him more clothes lately.She had grown tired of seeing him in one solid color,especially grey or brown. His navy trousers were a bit old but quite alright for Knittingham. As he gazed into the mirror he began to feel odd.Then he saw Emile who was standing on the chest of drawers behind him performing a dance.. solo! Why are you dancing,Emile? Stan asked politely. I am amused by seeing you gazing into the mirror for so long, If you don’t hurry it will be lunchtime before you get to the Needle Shop. Alright,growled Stan hoarsely.At least I don’t wear make up! Now there’s a thought…maybe I’d look better…what shade of foundation would suit me?Would I need lip balm and perfume? Hurry up,said Emile unkindly.More taste less greed. What does that mean?asked Stan. If you taste the food and eat slowly you will enjoy it more and thus need less. Very clever,Emile.Shall I buy you some cough sweets in the pet shop. No,I want some codeine linctus,Emile answered. I want to go high,high. I want to reach the sky. what will I do when my love is away Will I be happy on my own? Lend me your ear and I’ll sing you a song I’ll try not to sing out of tune! My God,Emile.Whatever has happened to you? I blame the old chalk and opium medicine someone spilled on my breakfast. Well,go and lie down but drink some milk first.At last Stan got out…it had taken him two hours to get ready At the bus stop there stood Anne their neighbour. Hi,Stan,where are you going. I’m buying sewing needles for Mary. I can lend her some,she shrieked. Well,she has to use special ones nowadays. Oh,so she does.I forget as she looks normal but is in fact suffering constant trouble since her Vitreous-vasectomy.. or was it hysterectomy or vivacity?. Well,never mind.You know she’s not normal. Who is normal? Let’s just assume we will recognize it when we see it,he whispered warningly. This bus is very late.I wish there was a proper seat here..my knees hurt. I hate this plastic seat.Why has the wooden one gone? Apparently the council are afraid of homeless people sleeping on them. Well,everybody is at risk of homelessness with this economic crisis, Anne shouted in a fury. No,beggars can’t be losers,he responded. Very true,she replied, As they have nothing so they can’t lose it.The more you have,the more you fear losing it. This bus is very,very late,I wish I had a horse or is it an horse? A goat would be o.k.Speed bonny goat like a word someone flung.. Over the page to Fly.Anne burst out laughing so her face was as red as her coat from Artigiano.Her blue tights were a perfect contrast and also matched her lipstick uncannily.Where she bought it was a mystery. At last the bus came.They got on board and the driver called out, You both look very merry! Too many looks create more wrath,Stan replied warningly. Well, why dress up if you want no attention.the driver gloated. Hello,darling, he said to Anne,Are you free tonight,babe? Why? she murmured. I have two tickets for the Rolling Stones and no woman to take! he replied boastfully. Now,if it were the Rolling Bones,I might be interested. Your wish is my command he muttered, I have my smart phone here,I’ll see what’s one elsewhere. He kept trying but the virtual keyboard was playing up again. Eventually the passengers got annoyed and asked him to start the bus. As I’m half an hour late,I should be coming back now so I’ll do a U turn and go back But we want to go into town,every one howled. There’s many a blue word spoken as a jest,sang the driver. Stan said,Please open the door,we shall dismount here. Crikey,you don’t half talk posh,said the ,driver. He leaned over and gave Anne a French kiss. Now look here,Stan said,leave her alone.She’s my mistress. Cor blimey said the driver,who are you,King Henry the Eighth? I say,Stan,I can see Mary.It must be tea time. Stan ran into the house and put the kettle on..then he made a pot of tea. Hello! said Mary. Did you get my needles,Stan? I’m so sorry,Mary.I ‘ve had such a busy day,I never got into the town. And where is my supper. In the womb of time I see,it’s chick pea dahl and brown rice again or egg on toast. But I’m not complaining.Keeping house is a big job.I know it only to well. So they sat with Anne and Emile,who even had his own cup and saucer now.They were weary and soon ,despite the tea, they were all fast asleep. Like you.

Snow clouds hang like canopies forlorn,
Tinged with grey from lack of proper care,
While from the Channel sing the dread foghorns

Sailors in the night long for new dawn
Fear boats of refugees may still sail there
Snow clouds hang like canopies well torn

A dinghy holds the Saviour lately born
There is no space on earth safe from great fear
From the Channel sigh the families drowned

From maternal space, Jesu is torn
His father holds his arms around those dear
Snow clouds hang, are lacy wings no more

The hearts of British ” natives” have turned sour
Into Jesu’s side we thrust our spears
Tune the channel.Requiems need scores

All lives now, and all of time is here
Do not mistake the song of silent choirs.
Snow clouds hang like canopies forlorn,
While in the Channel, stuttering are the horns

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2025/dec/27/the-books-to-look-out-for-in-2026?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other

How poetry can sustain us through illness, bereavement and change https://share.google/KRpQNzfsa8b8svI2x

D

https://archive.philosophersmag.com/susanne-k-langer-a-snapshot/

O

In her Philosophy in a New Key (1942) her intent was to authenticate a new notion of the “rational,” but how she does it is of fundamental importance. The classical tradition, Langer claimed, generally identified the rational with the “logical,” with discursive thought and objectivity. It then had the difficult task of explaining, or explaining away, such important human concerns as art, ritual, myth, and religion. Langer showed that these forms of meaning-making were embodied in vast sets of symbols and symbolic practices with their own distinctive “logic,” a non-discursive logic, quite different from the discursive logic of language and mathematics. They belonged to the domain of “presentational forms,” not “discursive forms,” a key distinction of her work. Presentational forms, Langer showed by an examination of their logic, are not mere effusions of an irrational subjectivity but articulations of the felt sense of things to which they give us unique access. They orient us in the world in the deepest existential manner, effecting participation in vital values and giving us visions, embodied in symbolic images, of our place in the cosmos. Langer, prior to extensive developments in semiotics, showed that they are worthy of philosophical study in their own right. Her work compares favourably in heuristic power with, and complements, C S Peirce’s great attempt to avoid logocentrism. We are a symbolic species at every level and not just language-endowed animals, although Langer held discursive symbols in the highest regard, as did her intellectual companion, Ernst Cassirer.

Langer was a devoted lover and practitioner of the arts, especially music, which she had studied in detail in Philosophy in a New Key. In 1953 she published Feeling and Form, a masterful generalisation and application to all the arts of the theory of music elaborated in that book. Its key idea was that feeling had a distinctive “morphology” that is exemplified in different ways in the different genres of art. Art works, she claimed, give us knowledge of or insight into ways of feeling the world in every shade of its expressiveness. They articulate feeling and are not mere expressions of personal feeling. They are presentational symbols and their meaning-contents are the “primary illusions” peculiar to each art form: virtual space in the pictorial and visual arts, virtual powers in dance, virtual experience and virtual memory in literature, virtual time in music, the ethnic domain in architecture, and so on. Langer showed art to be an authentic symbolic form and her notion of a “morphology of feeling” exhibited in the artwork is a permanent contribution to aesthetics.

In the last twenty-five years of her working life Langer attempted to develop the notion of feeling as a term to cover all the manifestations of minding. The result was Mind (1967-1982), published in three volumes over a fifteen year period, and which remained incomplete, due to her advancing age. It anticipated many of the current concerns in neuroscience, cognitive psychology, and philosophy of mind. Its central idea is that feeling is an emergent property of natural processes but that its paradigmatic manifestation is the rise of symbolisation and the proliferation of cultural forms and their attendant conflicts and permutations. Central chapters in this book carry out and reformulate Langer’s central insight and claim: symbolisation and the power of abstraction are the keys to what it means to be human. In a return to and deepening of her initial proposals in her first philosophical work, Langer distinguished between generalising abstraction and presentational abstraction, the two fountainheads of all those frames of meaning in which we live out our lives. It was the working out of the implications of this distinction, present at the beginning of her intellectual journey, that forms the connecting link of her whole remarkable philosophical career.

Robert E Innis is professor emeritus of philosophy at the University of Massachusetts Lowell and author of Susanne Langer in Focus: The Symbolic Mind (Indiana University Press).

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Across the road I see a Tudor wall
In its cracks defiant flowers grow
The modern traffic sounds out a loud wail
From the East a freezing wind still blows

In between the natural world and man
The space provides a habitat,retreat
Ancient yew trees grow without a plan
And in each little bird a heart still beats

Concentrating on the green and ancient views
Ignoring the red buses as they pass
Ignoring strident music , find the clues
Down comes peace and joy, our Holy Mass

Reversal of the figure and the ground
Brings out a new world where love is found

The pain and beauty of the wild North sea

The coast of Norfolk where we used to be

The grief that rips the heart out from its cave

Throws it on the sea to ride the waves

The loss of you and love and all it means

With my inner eye I see these  scenes

The snow that fell on Cromer Easter Day

The lifeboat on the pier, the words to say

Ancient churches guard the holy place

Hidden in the lightest inner space

Eagles do not live here but the birds

  Sing  from yellow gorse and know the words

What names might small bird  call us as they  watch?

The world is re created in a snatch

Stan was polishing the windows again with his blue cloth.The computer was on and as soon as he finished the sitting room windows he planned to look at a google document he was co-writing with his girl friend Annie.She only lived next door but they both liked sharing new techniques of various kinds .He sat down in front of his computer and looked at his mail.
There was an email from Annie.
“Hi Stan
I didn’t really want to keep some of those remarks you made at the bottom of our documents when we were both online having a chat,so I have deleted them. They were not related to the topic we were discussing so I know you won’t be interested.
with my love,Annie
Stan felt angry and cross. He went very red.What was so dreadfully wicked about his remarks?He had only asked Annie if her dead husband George might have been bisexual.Stan had once seen him kissing a man round in the park.Annie didn’t seem bothered last night.She never gave the impression me she didn’t like it.
Anyway she should not have deleted it completely without asking me first.
He sent her an email saying he was very angry with her for attacking his freedom of speech.It was unethical.It was too powerful .He must assert himself
So he was not going to work simultaneously with her on any more documents ever again nor chat on IM or Google chat
.
When Annie got the email she was stunned.She apologized to Stan immediately but her refused to accept it.Nothing she said could change his mind.So they were both feeling utterly dreadful.
Why did he want to know if George was bisexual?She wondered.Was he saying it to try to turn himself on or me?Or is he just interested in sex of all kinds like most people secretly are?
But it was not concerned with the document which was about ill treatment of prisoners in India under the British Empire
We have so little time together, with him being so busy.I wanted to talk about us,not poor dead George.Whatever George’s sex life,he’s dead now.So leave him in peace.
Meantime.Stan was thinking about how women were always interfering in his life,correcting him and improving his grammar.Making him cups of tea when he wanted brandy.He liked talking about bisexuality.
It made him feel a sense of wonder at the differing habits and desires of humans.Why couldn’t she just go along with it or at least say something then rather than deleting his words secretly when he was off-line?
He was a man .He was not going to let a woman ride over him like a steam roller. Annie must learn her place in the scheme of things.
Where is that,asked his tom cat Emile.
I’m not sure but it’s not above me.It’s either the same or lower.
Can’t you forgive her.she may be in another dimension,another space,another universe of discourse?
Certainly not no way.Stan answered,
But you love her,you said many times in here.I heard you
All the more reason to maintain some boundaries!Love is not the be all and end all of life
Next she’ll be cutting bits off me with her pinking shears,he cried in horror!
She’ll castrate me.She’ll turn me into a woman.
She won’t,she’s a woman,said Emile.She wouldn’t ever harm you.she’s very gentle.
She has invaded me,she has crossed my boundary.
Some people would be glad,mewed the cat.He was always hoping a lady cat would come by.
Meanwhile Annie was sitting sobbing wetly in her bedroom.She really enjoyed co-writing documents and letters with Stan.Now he won’t do it anymore,she whispered softly to herself
She had not cut anything from the document,just the little chatty remarks they had been indulging at the end, but still he was really mad at her.He must be feeling truly upset and aggravated beyond human endurance.She had assumed too much and now she was paying the price.She cried and sobbed loudly for a while.Her eyes were bright red and bloodshot. not attractive at all.She was so sad she had unwittingly distressed dear old Stan.Life is so tough she thought reluctantly.I wish I were somewhere else.
Still,there were those new neighbors who had just moved in across the road.Two brothers,both very handsome.I wonder if they like writing on the computer,she thought.That cheered her up a bit,though she was very fond of Stan.In fact she loved him greatly and had kissed him gently yet thoroughly many times though she had never actually gone to bed with him ;never known him in the biblical sense.Was that the problem?Too late now either way,she muttered balefully
So in her mind she was moving from loving and adoring Stan to being puzzled by him.Was he afraid of being dominated by a woman?What would he be like as a lover?
But why try to talk about bisexuality?Could he not have thought of something else?
There was a new book by Betty Dodson teaching women how to have orgasms.Would he have enjoyed discussing female anatomy and pleasuring her naked female body and its organs of love and all the rest,[she always liked a kiss on her throat]?
Well,she would never know now.That was certain.Definitely.
Thank God I’ve found out what he’s like before things went any further.He might be a little too dominating or perhaps not enough?
In fact she was so upset her thoughts began to turn towards women.
Would it be better all round to love a woman.Especially as I could show her how to have an orgasm having being studying this book for some weeks?Though she may already know,I guess.Still,a change is as good as a rest!
How do I find a woman who’s into other women, she thought.Can I find one on the internet?Will there be a club we can go to?How exciting!
So Annie grew more optimistic.A woman wouldn’t mind a few words deleted from a chat either.So a feeling of mild joy came over her and her sobbing died down.
Stan was sitting in his kitchen feeling superior and dominant.Except Annie had not come for coffee so it was hard being dominant all by himself.He began to feel depressed and morose.Should he change his mind?Would he lose his window of opportunity
Why is life so trying.Why are women so manipulative, why do they all turn out fakes,he asked Emile.
It’s partly one’s own character,Emile replied.
Hearing this Stan lost his temper and threw a cup at Emile.Luckily it missed but Emile stalked out and went off to the shed leaving Stan more alone than ever.
How hard life is Stan shouted. I feel like topping myself. i”ll jump off the roof.I’m going to ring the fucking Samaritans.
Just then his wife Mary walked in.What’s up Stan?
Nothing dear.I just dropped a brick on my toe
Why have you got a brick in here,in the lounge?
I was playing with it.
With a brick?
Well,it has a certain cold masculinity,he replied.
Shall I make some drinks?
Yes,please.
Oh,look there’s Annie walking past arm in arm with a woman.
I knew George was bisexual but now I see she is also or maybe she’s gay!Were they both gay?Is that why she only kissed him and never went further?
Well,it’s not our affair,said Mary quietly.
Aha,thought Stan.That’s what you think.If only you could see inside my mind.
Inside his mind though ,he was wondering if Annie would ever see him again.But I will not forgive her,I won’t.I won’t!
What he might have said more truthfully was “Can’t”
For indeed,it is hard to forgive people for trampling into one’s sacred space even if it is an accident or misjudgment not a deliberate attempt to dominate.but if not ………
Such is life,alas.
We are such fools as dreams are made of.

Iced water falls from the sky in beads

Leaving  just the space

for fragile butterflies to court between the drops.

The geometry of love

fits any space

The butterfly is  braver than the tiger.

.  From time and place and season I feel lost,

Disorientated , missing tracks well worn.

Do not suppose I’m unaware of cost,

Nor label me with adjectives of scorn.

For usual paths lead to the usual place

. The safest way to live and perhaps to die.

But wandering through the woods I find new space

And in wild grasses with the fox I lie. Through distant trees, i see a way to go

as narrow as a slit in pallid stonm

This is my destined way, I seem to know And courage rises even as I moan.

Remember when we’re lost , we may then find

Another way,a place,another mind

Art by autho r

Mary went upstairs to the bathroom to wash her dirty hands after she had been repotting two spider plants. When she looked at the pale blue sink, she could see a bar of soap but she could not see the nail brush.
Mary felt cross because Stan did not like nail brushes and he would hide the nail brush in different places so that Mary could not find it
In fact they now had 13 nail brushes but despite that, Stan had managed to hide all of them.. Stan himself did not care if his nails were clean or dirty, although Mary cared a great deal .He could not seem to understand the connection between using a brush and having clean nails
Of course there are other ways of getting clean nails; for example handwashing your underwear in detergent or shampoo would also get the nails clean at the same time. however Stan did not wash clothes by hand very frequently. In fact the whole subject of washing and cleaning seems alien to his mind
He said to Mary one day, “my jumpers smell funny”
That is why we have a washing machine, she told him kindly
All clothes get dirty either from sweat and bodily fluids or from dropping tomato sauce onto one’s lap while dining.
She could have said “if your jumpers smell funny, why don’t you laugh ?” but she was no longer a school girl unfortunately.
We may not like being school girls, but when we look back we realise that playing with balls and mercury in the physics lab was better than cleaning the kitchen floor or even one’s nails. If you are a school girl you’ll probably have someone at home who will make your dinner for you and maybe wash your blouse while you concentrate on writing an essay on the uses of the past irrational tense in Hamlet ,that great play by William Shakespeare.
Mary looked round the bathroom, where is the nail brush she cried to Emile her cat
Why, Mother, it’s on the window sill next to your deodorant
My deodorant ; how do you know that’s what it is, can you read?
Not yet purred Emile but I saw you putting it underneath your arms I mean in your armpit mother
I don’t think that you should come into the bathroom when I am getting washed, Mary told Emile in a kindly tone of voice. Why I never even knew you would have heard of deodorant
Actually I have also heard of antiperspirants, Emile told heer graciously but I would not like to use an antiperspirant because the sweat or the odour from our bodies is what attracts other cats to us for mating ;well actually, it’s usually a female smells lovely and then the male cat is attracted by this beautiful scent and with a bit of luck they might mate and a produce a family of kittens
So see what you are missing ,mother
I don’t want to smell beautiful and then have 6 kittens to look after.
No you would have human babies to look after
But would I have to have 6 said Mary I don’t think my body is big enough to carry 6 innocent babies.
Well you seem we cats are superior because we can have 6 or even 8 kittens at once and we can soon build up a large colony of cats in any neighbourhood and it’s all down to sweat, really
That is fascinating muttered Mary as she took the nail brush and put it under the hot tap before getting the soap and applying it to her fingernails
Can cats have nail brushes? the cat asked her
What, you don’t have nails!
Could we have claw brushes?
I suggest that when Stan comes home you ask him to give you a bath and put some fairy snow into the bath and then your talons or claws will be cleaned as you soak without you exerting any effort
I want to make an effort, cried the cat ,I want to look very good tonight
Why asked Mary ,it will be dark when you go out so the female cats will not be able to see your claws
I’s a bit like you cleaning your teeth before you go out in the evening I know it’s not just for hygiene it’s in case you want to kiss somebody and you don’t want them to taste your Weetabix from your teeth
Good heavens, are you into French kissing, Emile?
I’ve never heard of it ,he said. I didn’t know there more than one way of kissing. You see cats don’t kiss very much so we don’t know a lot about it
You should consider yourself lucky said Mary as there are very unpleasant men who will offer me a lift home in their car after a meeting and then before I can get out they plump their large and ugly lips on my lips and seem to think I will enjoy it
Yes it must be very difficult so then especially as you can’t scratch them because they will probably call the police
I doubt it now ,muttered Mary they will be afraid of being accused of sexual harassment
My goodness that’s another thing that cats don’t have, we don’t have much choice really our Feelings come over us and if there’s a willing lady cat nearby then we will enjoy ourselves no wonder there are so many cats in Knittingham how many of them are you the father of?
I have no idea
Just think that if I walk down the street and see 6 cats they could all be your children Mary told him
And on the other hand, they could be the children of any tom cat within 5 miles
Yes you are right said Mary it’s a pity that you can’t write and keep a diary so that you would know roughly how many female cats you may have impregnated in the last 6 months
Why, is that what you put in your diary, the cat asked her with a naughty expression in his eyes
You know perfectly well what I put in my diary

went to the dentist with a broken tooth

went to the chemist to buy a nail brush

Went in coffee shop and had a cup of tea

struggle to the bus stop and onto the bus

crossed on the zebra crossing

came home and burst into tears

Yes I do understand this,mewed Emile,lt is very difficult for you now with all the pain you suffer but you are very brave and you don’t complain a lot but when Stan comes home I shall tell him and ask him to buy you a beautiful silk scarf and a necklace from the Royal Academy gift shop like he used to do in Times Gone By.He must have forgotten lately

So he must , murmured Mary

What a very lovely man Stanley is.

Yes but we haven’t seen him for a while ;has he gone on holiday?

Well that’s one way of describing it. Mary said

. We never know whether he might be on his way home or if there’s someone else who has a prior claim on him

It puzzles all of us!

The sea has frozen off the Isle of Wight
So we don’t  need boats to get across
It’s just that there’s a shortage of street lights.

In the day time it’s been very bright
And on a cold,cold sea there is no moss
The sea has frozen off the Isle of Wight

There is a problem on a moonless night
Walking on the sea with thick ground frost
Because there’s a dearth of  yellow neon lights.

And there are no cafes  for a bite
I got a  dreadful feeling,I am lost
The sea has frozen off the Isle of Wight

My wellingtons  have turned a dirty white
Walking free, the fresh  air is a feast
It’s just that there’s a shortage of street lights.

My face with vaseline I have well greased
On a lead I have my wildebeeste
The sea has frozen round the Isle of Wight
Why are there no glaring neon lights.?

Too old for cold,I stand, now ,against the hedge,
Watching the snowflakes in the glare of neon street lights.
Darkness has come early,and I think of country uplands and huddled sheep.
On Salisbury Plain,shepherds watched their flocks
Just as in Bethlehem two thousand years before,
And then,exactly when?
“Between the wars”,it stopped. Now we know there is no “Between the wars”.
And who decided
To cull the sheep and shepherds and the space for kindness ?
Now that same Plain still exists,but banned
And closed to human-kind,
For bombs ,not wombs
Nor for birth of lamb ,nor gypsy child ,nor Saviour
Where would He go today?

I have a wife, now male,I’ve been expecting her.

  I dreamed I lived up in Uttoxeter Near the Peaks and Pennine landscapes high

I have a wife abroad, I have just texted her

I married but never yet had sex with her

For she is cold and frosty ,can’t say why.

I dreamed I lived up in Uttoxeter She said that she was moving down to Exeter..

She’d changed her gender, good grief so must I have a wife abroad, I have just texted her.

Since I turned a woman.I’ve detested her She’s a man but tell me, does he lie?

I dreamed I escaped to Uttoxeter

I got my phone and told her, so bizarre

I’m a woman, hot with sultry thighs. I have a wife, now male, I’ve been expecting her.

I rarely tell the truth unless I lie. In the Peaks I love the Blakean sky

I want to liven up Uttoxeter

I have a wife, I feel much taxed by her.

I dreamed I lived up in Uttoxeter
Near the Peaks and Pennine landscapes high
I have a wife abroad, I have just texted her

I married he

R but never yet had sex with her
For she is cold and frosty ,can’t say why.
I dreamed I lived up in Uttoxeter

She said that she was moving down to Exeter
She’d changed her gender, good grief so must I.
I have a wife abroad, I have just texted her

Since I turned a woman.I’ve detested her
She’s a man but tell me, does he lie?
I dreamed I escaped to Uttoxeter

I got my phone and told her, so bizarre
I’m a woman, hot with sultry thighs.
I have a wife, now male, I’ve been expecting her.

I rarely tell the truth unless I lie.
In the Peaks I love the Blakean sky
I want to liven up Uttoxeter
I have a wife, I feel too stressed by her

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2025/dec/23/the-guardian-view-on-the-festive-season-a-suffering-world-needs-messages-of-peace-hope-and-goodwill?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other

A silver tear rolled lonely as sliced moon
Down my pallid cheek  to wet my lip
Your loss turned me to sadness and damp gloom

My future  seemed, not promising, but doomed
The icy nails of death gave me a nip
A little tear rolled lonely as lost moons

Yet, in my mind, I heard L Cohen’s tunes
“There ain’t no cure for love” on this our trip
Your loss turned me to sadness ,clouds of gloom

Yet soft, deep darkness  need not lead to doom
Come,I’ll take a lover, board a ship
A starry tear rolled lonely as   new moon

I will  love, I ‘ll seek  for new  hope soon
Will I descend to stealing from a skip?
Your loss sent me to sadness like a room

I  need no LSD to take a trip
My open senses give me what I miss
A silver tear rolled lonely as cruel moon
Your loss turned me to beauty, life resumes

https://www.loc.gov/programs/poetry-and-literature/poet-laureate/poet-laureate-projects/poetry-180/

I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide
                  
or press an ear against its hive.
                
I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,
or walk inside the poem's room
and feel the walls for a light switch.
                  
I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author's name on the shore.
                 
But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.
                 
They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means.

—Billy Collins

Dear Annie

I am so sorry that I have to email you rather than writing a letter by hand and since I have to dictate it it is probably going to be full of arrows.

I will try to edit it before I send but one is often blind to one zone mistakes.

It is like when I dictator poem I don’t notice the areas in it until I have published it on my blog which is most unfortunate for my reputation of meticulous care and precision although to be honest that’s not really suitable for poetry is it?

It shows that we don’t see what’s there but we only see what we’re expecting to see and in some cases this can produce a terrible result

Ironically now I’m hoping for some humorous mistakes to come into this letter it’s being done much more accurately than normal I wonder why that is question mark is it because I’m speaking more rapidly or is it just shake her incidents?

Sheer coincidence

When there is an area like the end of the last sentence it’s interesting that the line that’s typed rhymes with the one that I own dictators but it does not come out the same as what I have dictated usually

So this translation this is not done word by word but by the overall meaning of this paragraph even sometimes you forget to the end of a paragraph and then you look up and you see the first sentence you wrote is being changed even though that’s the correct one

So then you have to go back an older at the beginning and then you don’t know where you will end up do you when you change the beginning will you have to rewrite the entire thing?

I am disappointed because there are not enough mistakes no and I was rely on the mistakes to make this letter numerous but still what is humor two and the numerate?

Well if only all the population were literate things will be much worse because the people who can’t read at the moment are prevented from reading the sun the daily mail the telegraph and any other newspaper you like to mention and if they can’t read then they can’t read online so they can’t look at Facebook not that I hate Facebook but it depends on what you’re doing with it xxx

It’s very sad that people use Facebook to get the news not realizing that the news is not the news it’s a selection of news or all of lies who knows but when something is in print people believe it

There’s something about the written word that seems to have more authority than the spoken word is that why people think the Bible is the literal word of god?

Practices the little word of god

Perhaps it is the little word of god or the literal word of god or the little word of somebody else who is not named m

I can’t remember now why I began to write you so I think I better stop for the moment and I’ll do this tomorrow morning when I’m fresh. At least I’m with freshfield and I am at the moment

I sent him a sleeping a lot now I seem to be sleeping a lot but I don’t know why unless it’s the winter or perhaps I’m beginning to recover from my serious infection at last but whatever sleep we get wood we ever be satisfied

Because we can’t control it or at least if we try to conserve it it makes it worse

When I was young I never thought about it I would get into bed and go to sleep then I would woken up and it was time to get up

But nowadays some people start thinking in the afternoon I wonder if I’m going to sleep tonight and what will I do tomorrow if I’m tired and even if they’re waking up one hour earlier than usual but then start worrying about the fact that I’ve had one hour less sleep and they would like

We can’t control most we can’t control most things in life especially with regard to our bodies so we have to trust them

If you have good parents and you feel secure then you will see sleep will be welcome to you and it will be easy to get but when you are older and you feel more insecure then you want to be sure or something but you can’t be.

Search for the better not even to think about it

Sincerely

A well wisher

From funny google street view images

All’s Well That Ascends Well.
All’s hell that pretends swell
As You Make of It
As you strike it
Comedy of Terrors
Comedy of Worriers
Love’s Labour costs
Love names the cost
Leisure for treasure
Merchants who Menace
Merry Lives rinsed here
Midsummer Night’s Schemes
Much to do about Laughing
The Taming of the Crew
The blaming of Doctor Who
The Hen Pissed
The Hens kissed
Gay hens play
The Twelfth Delight
Two Gentlemen who keep roaming
Winter Failed again
Winter trialed again

MYSTERIES

Henry IV, Farts 1 and True
Henry Jived!
Henry Returns
Henry comes again
Henry VI keeps coming
Henry goes Straight
Kings Gone
Chariot Keys
Richard came too
Richard Revived.
Richard got blurred.
Kings Reunited

TRAVESTY

Scant on in my pantry.
Hoary old anus.
Corio Lane is Us
Symbols and dreams
Symptoms are schemes.
Symbols have means
Jam tartlet
Sam startled
Julius teased her,
Julius pleased her.
Julius Wheezer
Bling Here
Fling here.
MacDeath
Homeo and crueller yet
Simon who baffles.
Simon who deafens.
Timon and again
Tight arses anonymous
Toilets are blessed for her.
Men all get kissed by her
King Dear.
Kings’ Tears.
Cling here
Fling Beer.

Shake your sphere!

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Mary sat in her dining room listening to Sir Michael Atiyah on the Today programme where he was talking about very advanced Group Theory .Many years ago she had known this great man, though he had scarcely noticed her despite her big blue eyes and skinny legs displayed beneath her home made mini-dress.That was very fortunate as she was there as a tutor not as a tart.

Why her mother had supplied her with such mini dresses, she had often wondered, Going online, she saw a sale on at Welvi, the store for larger ladies.There was an orange culotte jumpsuit made of polyester for £10

Look at this, she called to her friend Annie.A real bargain in my view.

Well, said Annie, suppose you were in the country climbing a hill and you needed to have a wee. I never thought of that, Mary said shyly. Moreover polyester is too clammy for summer and not warm enough for winter, besides it looks transparent.I don’t think Stan would like it.

Well, he’s not here now, said Mary sadly.And transparent plastic trousers are in fashion.Do you wear plastic knickers underneath? No, you’d have to wear a jewelled thong, said Annie.I bet that would make men look at you.

Well, not your face… I’ve never worn a thong.Do they hurt, asked Mary politely.

Yes, I’ve got one on now, said Annie nervously.It’s really hurting me.I’d better ring 999 and ask Dave the paramedic to advise me.

Hi called Dave as he got out of the ambulance, what is wrong today? Annie is in pain from a thong, Mary cried .

Where is it , Dave asked gently Where do you think, Annie shouted? She lifted up her chambray skirt and showed him her pink lace knicker substitute. Can you take it off, he asked tenderly?

I have run out of clean knickers, she informed him scientifically.

Well in the past women wore cotton petticoats but no knickers.It was more healthy.But with short thin skirts if you fell over all the world would see your mound of Venus

That’s an exaggeration, Annie said.All the world is not looking at me

Ah, but someone could have a video camera and you might be on the News.You’d better go to Marks and buy some more proper knickers. Now, shall I make you a cup of tea?The NHS is here to care for you. Lovely, cried Mary.

Annie go upstairs and take a pair my knickers then put that thong in the laundry basket.I will wash it for you and you can hang it in your bathroom to give an impression of your taste to visitors.

On the other hand, men would be disappointed to see you really wore cotton high waisted pants and not a sort of mini star spangled banner. 

All right, said Annie but Stan would have liked them. 

I like them, mewed Emile.I love you, Annie.I wish I were a man, I would go to bed with you right now.I have got a French letter from Soraya.She’s been in Paris and wrote to me on real paper.

Wow, a cat using the subjunctive and reading French letters said Mary.That is a surprise. 

I don’téven know what  a subjunctive is, screamed Annie rudely And so say all of us.