Lost

I saw my house uprooted like a tree

Great roots were severed, how I ached to see

And all was tossed without my love and care

Bits of earth fell from the roots. now bare.

Barbaric in its mad intensity

I wept the tears of grief for you, for me.

Our home attacked,destroyed and I lie here.

Putting out the flames with profuse tears

Lamenting for my love who died within

The collapsing of my world now with no sun

The house a symbol of our marriage true

Cannot stand without a me and you

So my vision passed and I am here

My memories are my only souvenir

Marbles

Rolling marbles made of coloured glass  
Skipping rope and learning ancient rhymes
Filling inkwells , polishing the brass
With dip-in pens we  wrote  upon the lines

Licking out the bowl where cakes were mixed
Running wild with brothers  and their  friends
Wonder at those fireworks Daddy fixed
Catherine wheels  rotating, transcendent

Mother  smiling in her   flowery dress
Little rocking chairs  where we placed dolls
Daddy saying,Good night and God Bless
Teddies with no fur left, ask our Paul

Little sisters, brothers’ cricket balls
Hot coal fires where kettles used to boil
Old gas cookers, scabbed knees from our falls
Fuses blowing, making light bulbs   fail

In our bed , we whispered little tales
In the morning  feeling warm and dazed 
Love was  in the air, the baby wailed
Dad  so pleased with Mother’s  happy face

I see the cobblestones  all hot with sun
The Street Party , the Coronation

The magic of words

There may be other meanings to your words

The words you keep the words that you discard

The one you meant to write, the one I heard

The way you punctuate, the way sound blurs.

The ones that might be soft, the ones so hard.

There may be other meanings to your words

Some pierce like swords, some are   diamond hard

The words you meant to write, the ones I heard

The way the kettles sang, the way cats purred.

The words that open doors, the ones that bar.

There may be other meanings to your words

The way the cookie crumbles, paper chars

The ones you meant to write the ones I heard

We don’t know what we say,l when life’s absurd

My recipes from books, how mother stirred

There may be other meanings to your words

Why write poetry when your phone’s not charged?

Can patience be alluring in our age?

There may be other meanings to your words

The ones you meant to write the ones I heard

To lose yourself

I lost myself in books and in wild flowers

I lost myself in you,oh joyous hours.

But now I cannot lose myself, I fight

My presence to myself,  a heavy weight.

My skin became like armour, my defence

No flowing into others as was once.

The joy of losing  all my sense of self

Now I see this as a source of wealth.

I became all others yet still me

I felt the human kinship I could see

To feel yourself and not an alien thing.

How is life renewed how shall we sing?

How long the day seems

How long the day seems now you are not here

Without your company how shall I steer?

I feel your absence like a pain, like grief.

When death has stung, it then becomes a thief

How long each day seems when I am alone.

I understand the beetles under stones

Your presence was a blessing, was delight

Whether in the day or in the night.

Now I mend the cupboards and the doors

Nothing seems quite like it was before.

I miss your presence and your company

Since you died I feel feel that I’m not me.

I do not feel myself, I feel estranged.

Ranging through these rooms I miss your gaze.

Freud was ‘misunderstood’ and wasn’t so obsessed with sex, new analysis of work suggests

https://www.theguardian.com/science/article/2024/jul/27/freud-was-misunderstood-and-wasnt-so-obsessed-with-sex-new-analysis-of-work-suggests?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other

The value of drawing

https://www.thetimes.com/article/0248b92b-9184-4656-be66-bb47123bc344?shareToken=221eb830cba240e9e77288ba498348cb

‘To be able to draw from observation, he believed, was “the foundation for fine art, for applied art, for architecture, for thinking, for coming up with ideas, for opening our minds through an intense process of really looking at the world around us”.

God tries therapy

I think this artwork was done by me on my computer

what brings you here
Not literally?            [ could be autistic]
No, you are always here in a sense.
Well, you know English is not my first language [ excuses]
No,  you were here before language.How hard to imagine.
I have come here because of my guilt   [ trying to be human ]
I’ll be judge, I’ll be  jury, said cunning old fury

Very adroit [Shows off his skills]
What’s  that?
The opposite of maladroit
Why did you send the Flood over the earth\~
I pressed the wrong button.                [Teases me]
That is absurd. There were no buttons then
Not even on coats?                    [Pretends to be ignorant]
Well you should know
I don’t like little  details in my creatiity           [ Thinks he is superior]
Come on, tell me whatever comes to mind
I like playing with water and fire as well          [ Melanie Klein  come here]
You tell me
It’s such fun                         [ emotionally stunted]
Like War?
It was not so bad to start with { always an excuse…. lacking in adult responsibility]
What, even Cain and Abel?
Very sad but it’s just a story      [ Derrida,Levinas, Enid Blyton]
Don’t tell me you are a post modernist
I can be what I want , for  fun you know    [ repeats himself]
I didn’t know God has fun
Well you do now           [ Humour]

Right that is £120

What, you think I should pay?           [ feels superior]
I have to live,Lord.I have a family [     childish plea]
So  did I once             [Sarcasm and grief]
Well,  any alternative?
I’ll  give you  an indulgence/
How about Martin Luther?
Should he have one?
Why not, he’s just human like you.
But Hitler?
I retain the right to silence        [ knows the law]

Well when you stop sulking make another appointment
Can no-one help me?
Don’t give up hope.
Goodbye for now.

Psychological pain and problems with CBT

https://wp.me/p324Wa-sNS

https://www.theguardian.com/science/2016/jan/07/therapy-wars-revenge-of-freud-cognitive-behavioural-therapy

CBT embodies a specific view of painful emotions: that they’re primarily something to be eliminated, or made tolerable

Psychoanalysts contend that things are much more complicated. For one thing, psychological pain needs first not to be eliminated but understood. From this perspective, depression is less like a tumour and more like a stabbing pain in your abdomen: it’s telling you something, and you need to find out what. (No responsible GP would just pump you with painkillers and send you home.) And happiness – if such a thing is even achievable – is a much murkier matter. We don’t really know our own minds, and we often have powerful motives for keeping things that way. We see life through the lens of our earliest relationships, though we usually don’t realise it; we want contradictory things; and change is slow and hard. Our conscious minds are tiny iceberg-tips on the dark ocean of the unconscious – and you can’t truly explore that ocean by means of CBT’s simple, standardised, science-tested steps.

Where the power lies in the therapist-client relationship

Letters: Feelings of powerlessness as a constant – as is often the case in one-to-one relationships – are the root of much mental distress

Read more

This viewpoint has much romantic appeal. But the analysts’ arguments fell on deaf ears so long as experiment after experiment seemed to confirm the superiority of CBT – which helps explain the shocked response to a study, published last May, that seemed to show CBT getting less and less effective, as a treatment for depression, over time.

Examining scores of earlier experimental trials, two researchers from Norway concluded that its effect size – a technical measure of its usefulness – had fallen by half since 1977. (In the unlikely event that this trend were to persist, it could be entirely useless in a few decades.) Had CBT somehow benefited from a kind of placebo effect all along, effective only so long as people believed it was a miracle cure?

Psychoanalysts contend that for one thing, psychological pain needs first not to be eliminated, but understood

December 30, 2023

April 1, 2020

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Emile falls off the roof

Mary was on a step ladder in the bathroom spying on her husband Stan,through a hole in the wall…which he had drilled for spying on women sunbathing nude in their back gardens. Although I would have been there for 30 years he had not yet seen a nude woman.
To her surprise she saw husband was climbing over the fence with Emile, their cat  on his shoulder.

I think it’s ridiculous, she muttered .
Surely Emile, a cat, can jump over the fence by himself.

But Emile was very limp,she saw with horror
He can’t be dead, she whispered to herself fearfully.She jumped down off the and hit her head on a tap… a dangerous event for a human with weak retinae or retinas
Oh,my! That hurt…I’d better be careful.She flew down stairs and met Stan in to the kitchen
Emile has got concussion, Stan said unhappily
Is he not dead,she wondered anxiously.
No, he only fell off Annie’s roof.I am sure he’ll come to.
Good Lord.What made him go up there and more important,how did he manage it manage to climb up?
You’d better ring 999,he informed her graciously yet boldly

If you say so ,my dear.I’d do anything you ask..
Don’t put on that act! he said wantonly
I mean it.
A bit too late now.
What do you mean?
After 40 years with your mind on Wittgenstein,Dirac,Pascal and Kierkegaard,do you think I don’t know you made a mistake marrying me
But whoever I married,I’d have read those same writers…
Umphh,said Stan dolefully.
Just then Dave,the bisexual transvestite paramedic ran in.
Poor Emile,what have you done?
He fell off Annie’s roof, but we have no theory as to how he got there,said Stan.
Well, there’s no need to think of that… deal with reality.That’s my modus operandi!
He gave Emile the kiss of life.

Emile came to…but was not pleased
Why did you waken me up?I was having a lovely dream of walking down a silver path where I saw a big cat with shining fur and tender eyes looking at me.He just began to miaow when some fecking idiot woke me up… was he God?
I can’t say,Emile,dear.But please do not swear.
I’ll do whatever I fecking well feel like,he said.
Good heavens, what has happened.Has he been reading dirty books?
No, he was watching East Enders on TV… they all use the f word constantly.
Well,Emile.God will have to wait… he’ll be glad if you do some kind work here on earth.
Up yours,said Emile.I am sick of living here.I’ve been hoping for years Stan would mate with Annie but he has only managed a kiss.
Perhaps it was the kiss of life,said Mary hopefully as it pained her to think Stan no longer desired her.
Well, in a sense,you might have hit the snail on the bed said Stan thoughtfully.I know any further mention of philosophy will drive me mad!
Now,Dave said,shall I make you some tea?
Thank you Stan responded.I am half crazed already.Tea may save my sanity.But for what?
Annie came in
Did you know Emile was in a hot air balloon,she said in tones of wonder.How has he got down so fast?
I fecking well fell out,the cat yawned proudly.Then I had a near death experience until this loon here brought me round.
Emile,I’ve never heard you swear before! she whispered in a strange manner reminiscent of almost silent films starring unnames and forgotten beauties of long ago.
Do you like it,baby? Emile asked.
No I don’t. I’ve never said Feck in all my life.
Well you have now,the cat informed her with a naughty smile.
I think he’s possessed by demons.We’ll have to have him exorcised.
But I like demons,Emile bawled .I’ve been good all my life and I am bored and depressed.
So you believe swearing will help more than therapy?
Emile got up and lit a cigarette nonchalantly with a certain ,je ne sais pas.
Good grief,he’ll be having sex on the sofa next said Stan.
What a good idea,said Emile, but I want my own room and an en suite..I mean to impress the next girl friend I have.
Dave drank some tea and watched these old folk ponder.
I am wondering where we went wrong,said Mary.All these years we’ve educate you privately and even had you baptised.
Well.I am going to be a Jew,said Emile.
I don’t think a cat can be a Jew… and you never ever had any interest in the spiritual before,why this?
Well,when I was unconscious I realised that God exists….
But why a Jew?
Well,they were the first to see God in a Burning Bush..
And the last too, thought Annie nervously.
Well,said Stan.You want to smoke,swear ,make love and possibly enjoy wine and song.Is that not enough?
Does God smoke and swear?
There was a long silence and Emile answered
Well,you see,Yes he does.
I’m off said Dave.I have to ring the Pope.
Why? asked Emile.I’m not going be a Catholic….
Well,said Dave,he ought to know that God is a cat.

The Amygdala

The Amygdala likes to sleep all day

His glowing eyes were made to see at night

Evolution is such wondrous play

God him self enjoys the sounds and sights.

.

The Amygdala is a joyful pet.

He will not bite and scratch nor scream with joy.

He sometimes swears and curses when he is wet

The Amygdala laughs until he cries.

Give your pet a name that he approves

Ezekiel, Elijaha,John or , Paul

Give him food and give him warmth and love.

Then he will reward you when you call.

Give  love and  receive  love and enjoy

Creatures such as this are no one’s toy

Mary and the marmalade cat

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

When Mary opened the door she found a large marmalade Maine coon cat asleep on her porch I’m surprised that the scent of Emile has not deterred this marmalade cat from taking up residence on the porch in the early morning sunshinezl she melurmured to herself

The cat opened his yellow eyes and glared angrily at Mary.

Alright then be so horrible if you want to be  she cried out almost silently in an angry whisper

My goodness I must be getting cognitive decline to speak to a cat like that she thought to herself. I  had   better not tell Annie or she will be worried that I might say something like that to a human being

She left the door open and went into the kitchen to make some tea and then she noticed that the cat was walking through the front door into the hall walking on her new blue shaggy wool carpet. She could not ask him to take his shoes off as  cats don’t normally wear shoes. Would a cat wear slippers if requested? Perhaps she could start a shop selling slippers for cats but then when we have to think about the claws. The problems that women have to deal with now or so enormous it’s a wonder we manage to do anything at all

Hello, she said, what do you want?

That’s not very friendly, said the cat. My name is Francisco and I live next door to you. I’ve only been there for a week and I don’t like it but I thought that you’ve got a very nice cat and so I wondered if I could come and spend some time here?

Of course you can send Mary. Would you like some tea on a saucer?

Yes replied the orange cat, and by the way my name is Marco. Changed your name already?

Marco began to drink the tea when suddenly Emile came in from the back garden through his cat flap

Is this orange cat a visitor mother he called out to Mary.

How many times do I have to tell you that I am not your mother Mary told him sincerely with a toxic severity.

It depends on whether you’re taking it literally or metaphorically Emile called out affectionately

Well well said Marco I like you Emile you sound very intelligent.

I am living next door but the people are   dull and boring.

We don’t know them said Mary because they’ve been living there for a few months but they’ve not been round and when we went to welcome them they didn’t answer the door

Perhaps they’ve got social phobia Marco said.It’s not unusual now; men and women can earn a living online without leaving the house at all and they can have their groceries delivered and so on so it’s easier for them to live with their neurosis than it would have been 40 years ago

You can only cure your phobia when your desire to go somewhere or your need to earn money it’s so powerful that you are impelled to leave the house and travel while taking your fear with you in a small bag or even  a very large bag depending on how afraid you are.

For example one of my friends wanted to go to Compendium bookshop in Camden town.

She was so keen to go there that she traveled for more than one hour on a bus to do it and she was rewarded by finding the novels of Carol Shields before they were published in this country. Because that bookshop imported them from North America.

After she made the journey 10 times she began to feel less frightened and eventually she lost her fear altogether. Probably somewhere in Camden town!

That’s very interesting  the two cats said in unison

Then they both ran out into the garden while mewing and purring simultaneously

Mary sat down on her kitchen chair and thoughts about what Stan her late husband would have said about the advent of another cat. So she didn’t need to feed the marmalade coloured arrival. He would get fed in his own home and he would just come to her when he wanted some tea or possibly coffee although I’ve never seen a cat drinking coffee yet she thought to herself

Suddenly the doorbell rang and in ran Dave the paramedic. Mary had not seen him for a long time.

He was wearing a beautiful green dress covered in impressions of shapes of leaves and flowers

Is that you your new uniform Mary asked him punctiliously?

No I’m not working today so I thought I would call in because I’m not seeing you for a long time. Does this mean that you’re no longer need the emergency services?

Well you might just have thought so but no I’ve got an extra cat coming in here it’s possible that he might need the emergency services because he’s living next door with two withdrawn isolated technophiles and he is very unhappy.

Well who do you want to help the cat or the people Dave asked her thoughtfully?

I think at the moment we’ll just stick to the cat.

Here you are Dave have a cup of tea it’s nice to see you again after so long and I’m sure I’ll soon be needing to ring 999 I can feel my bladder contracting already at the prospect of another attack of cystitis.

Please don’t get that just to keep me in employment Dave shouted nervously.

I would prefer it if you were well and if I just came in to you socialy to show you my new clothing and to see whether you would like a dress like this?

Oh well that’s very nice of you Mary told him surreptitiously and wildly

I wish that Stan were here. He was always delighted to see you and he was very glad that you were there with him at the end

Yes it was a privilege said Dave. I always remember the last thing he said

So many  lovely friends.

A tear came into Mary’s eye.

And so cry all of us

Thoughts on the elderberry tree

The elderflowers are turning into fruit

12 months must pass before trees flower again

I wish I  had spent more time in that deep scent

Time goes fast, to know that gives me pain

The days of childhood seemed so long and full

We knew the road the pavement and the park

In the houses women worked all day

The love of mothers could light up the dark.

The shape of elderblossom is the same

Yet little berries do not look like flowers

Soon the berries swell and fall to earth.

The changes in the child take more than hours

Live while you’re alive, enrich your time

Don’t die before you’re dead, I end my rhyme

Helpful ideas about poetry writing

https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/9654fee1-d2ad-4da4-ad2f-e32082086f5f?shareToken=7fb47abf7b2786e25aabdb1d704b

Th is my goodbye and thank you after almost two years of writing my Times poetry column. I have loved reading the piles of poetry books – thank you to all the publishers who sent them; I have also loved reading your e-mails and letters. You demonstrated how a poem in the column could go off and have another life; comments, discussions and readers’ poems abounded. And I have loved writing about the poems, trying to relate them to our hopes and anxieties as human beings in my belief that there is a poem for everyone – even a trucker on the M1 who reads nothing more challenging than his sat-nav. Because to say “I don’t like poetry” is like saying “I don’t like music”. It’s a case

In Praise Of Limestone by W H Auden – Famous poems, famous poets. – All Poetry

https://allpoetry.com/In-Praise-Of-Limestone

If it form the one landscape that we, the inconstant ones,
     Are consistently homesick for, this is chiefly
Because it dissolves in water. Mark these rounded slopes
     With their surface fragrance of thyme and, beneath,
A secret system of caves and conduits; hear the springs…..

Read more using the link above

Poets need to know a lot about the world from limestone to The Great wall of China and from a baby in a pram to kings and dictators

From a priest to a Pope….

How can you see the world afresh if you have never seen it in the first place?

On steroids I went crazy, I had the urge to kill

I found it very hard to be on the geriatric ward

They filled me full of steroids it made the going hard

I screamed and cried all night, I screamed and cried all day

I could have killed the doctor if only they had stayed

Then I knew  how wars begin and why they never end

After 7 sleepless nights in there I went round the bend.

They said that it’s not you my dear, it’s all these steroid pills

The arthritis pain went better but my mind was feeling ill

If IUm could walk I said I would kill all the staff

I never knew such rage before it kept me up all night

I used to be quite beautiful but now I’m not so bright

Suddenly I went downhill and I became depressed as hell

I said let me go home right now, I’ll kill myself as well

I thought I’d killed the doctors, I thought I’d killed the nurse.

I used to feel quite guilty but now I feel much worse

But they said I was not guilty it was all a waking dream

If I had got some paper I could have made a scheme

Steroids make me crazy I feel psychotic still

I feel the anger strongly it’s stronger than my will

Send me to the Bethlehem, or else I’ll surely kill

I went in there for treatment for arthritis pain

I went down on my knees and prayed

Don’t send me there again.

If you’ve never felt this rage  then you cannot ever know.

That rage that makes you want to kill  The terror never goes

Dear Ron

From Stan to Ron

Dear Ron I’m writing to you now as I had no time at Xmas with Mary wanting shopping and Emile having measles again. I I’m glad we don’t live in the USA because they might say that cats can’t catch measles.

Since Christmas life has calmed down a little.We had a party last week which went well,I believe though,don’t tell anyone,I had my mistress here doing the drinks!

I know I’m 98 but I still love women. Mary has been a good wife but she’s not glamorous enough for me.She wears a twinset and flowered skirt from Artigiano but she will have  a pen clipped to the front neck, her mobile in her 46H bra and a pair of pliers hanging from her belt and as well as that her nails are rough. What puzzles me is, and again,keep this secret, when we married she was as flat as a pancake yet she’s now got a front like the prow of a ship. I guess the ample cleavage is appealing to some men but I prefer skinny women…She blames me as she never ate until we married and she got the Jewish Cookery Book…

God knows why as she was a Catholic then [but they have no cookbook].This book haseverything,cheesecakes,sponge cakes,puddings,meat loaves and we have eaten all of it. I wonder why I am still thin and she is so fat when she rides a bike to work and I drive the car….scientists don’t seem to know. Still,I have my mistress who is quite slender and Mary seems to be elsewhere mentally…She reads Philosophy in bed.Is it my fault?I am so old I can’t change… but can she?I don’t mind her doing maths but I wish she wore a pearl satin nightie with lace all over it and some perfume… she smells of bike oil and Algipan heat rub.No wonder we never have any sex life now .

Do you think maybe I should wear a nightie like that and see how she reacts?Have you ever done anything like that?We could have a chat on the phone.

It’s not so much the sex,it’s the cuddling I like and whispering in her ears.Too late as she probably is reading a manual for her camera and checking the screwdrivers and the files. She has even stolen my camera…nary a word. Still,there we go…life is hard.

Emile had a very bad bout of measles and I kept him in for 3 weeks resting in a box.I wonder if he will catch chickenpox,I find him a worry though he is funny too and can swim!He is very rare. I fear owing to the cat etc I have no real news.But I’d love to hear yours and remember,don’t tell anybody what I have confided in you.I hope we can meet in the Spring time Till then,keep well. Adios amigo Your friend Stan ps I must tell you about Satan next time,you won’t believe it

The reply

Dear Stan I am answering your letter immediately as I am very irate about your behaviour. Muriel ran away with an artist but it was all above board; we had none of this deception.Can’t you speak to Mary?She seems quite charming to me.And your fantasies of wearing silk nightdresses seem odd in a man of your age…By all means try it if it will help your marriage.Will Mary wear her tigerprint house dress?I loved it.In fact I’ve been in love with Mary for many years but backed off on moral grounds but if you are consorting with Satan and this female neighbour,I feel I ought to help poor Mary…if you divorce her.. let me know! Why does she carry pliers in her belt?Is she afraid of being attacked?As for her size,she does have a severe thryroid problem and that can play havoc with the weight. Most men would be delighted to be engulfed in her delightful bosom and to kiss her plump yet elegant neck and to embrace her with love and passion.

Apart from Xmas,the old dog Gip died and Sally has had twins so Muriel is up from St Ives.I miss her but no longer so painfully and we want to be there for Sally and Ben.He’s only two and Malcolm travels so Ben will be quite hard hit by the twins coming. So I see myself being a helping grandad doing manly things with him.I’ll soon have him changing fuses and backing up his laptop.I may even show him how to make plum wine in the autumn.Sally is breastfeading Jill and Milly so she’ll get tired out. Has your Lyra never got married?That would occupy you.Emile is sweet but he is in fact just a cat. Can you not go to the pub like other men?Play darts or gamble,smoke cigars and discuss politics… Leave that neighbour alone or I shall swoop down to protect Mary like a giant owl on LSD.I’ll kill you.

We had a roast goose for Xmas.It’s now recovered as it was only half cooked and I’ve dug a pond for it.I am mating it in the spring,I hope.. where do I buy a female goose?I am fond of goslings Now,just heed my words or I shall be very irate

Your old friend and moral adviser Ron.

Every garden has a song

Every garden has a song, a song beyond all words.

sit in silence there to hear cheeps from distant birds.

Every garden has its silence, special to that place

.stand beneath the maple tree, gaze up the crown’s wide space. 

Every garden’s part of all, linked through heart of earth stand in one, you ‘re inside al

l, your spirit takes new birth,

Every garden wants to sing, green calls out so sweet,

shows us Eden, long ago, where Adam kissed Eve’s dear feet. I gaze up through bare winter trees, the song is softer now.

No golden finch,no sparrow cheeps. All’s covered by the snow. Deep in the heart I

And if dark ,life sparks again and the green shoots come.

so we wait in harmony till our garden sings out then

The heart that touched my heart

The heart that touched my heart I feel no more
Alone in some great space. I feel afraid
Like a conductor who has lost the Score
The soul that touched my soul I feel no more
As other orders that soul did obey
The heart that touched my heart I feel no more
Alone in the abyss. I feel afraid

At least it did not do them any harm

I’d like to write a villanelle today

There’s something satisfactory in that form

But do I still have anything to say

In the past old women used to pray.

At least that did not do them any harm

I’d like to write a villanelle today

For every wrong we do we have to pay

My doctor said that I should feel more calm

Is that all that I have got to say?

I wish I were more virtuous  every day

I’ve spoken about nature and her charms

I’d like to push a villain off today

Even an old donkey wants to bray

Give up poetry write a few more yarns ?

Have I got a purpose, what do you say?

Everybody’s got a lot to learn

Don’t tell the teacher when it is your turn

I’d like to write a villanelle today

I don’t know if I’ve got a word to say

Love is not one single thing

Kieran Setiya

Love is not one single thing, in distinguishing attachment from concern. I see that there is room for loving-kindness, wanting the best for someone, without being attached to them, unable to let go. There is a way to accept mortality in which there

In Dorset again

The hill rises as steeply as a horse’s neck

And the hill itself is Marked with limestone like a horse’s spine

When you reach the head you can see the other side

Poole harbour beautiful, blue and sweet as a berry

We have wooden walking sticks which seem to help with the hills

So you can walk right along to Corfe Castle

I am caught with wonderful surprise after all this is not a mountain not even the real hill

Nearby on Durlston Head there are many many butterflies and the land ends in startling cliffs

The birds and the butterfly can fly out over the sea but we can’t

I don’t go too near the edge because my legs tremble.

See  all the wildflowers in bloom.

More modest than our cultivated gardens but strong

What flowers did they have in the holy land when Jesus was alive?

Consider the lilies of the field and I stand there and I do consider them

They will never be as rich as Donald Trump or even me

And Elon  Musk would not be impressed by a daisy

They would dig them all up not knowing they would destroy the world that way

Yes without the butterflies and insects

Without the bees and the bugs the crops would die

And so would we  the powerful human race.

There is no race for the wild flowers. 

Why are we called the human race anyway ?

Yes the strong will win the race but the weak with inherit the earth

Because they already possess it

Love of Dorset

I thought I would try writing a poem which rhymes the same throughout. Well it is possible but I don’t think it’s successful I think you need at least two different rhymes to make the poem work so I shant do it again especially as there are a lot of words which have that many rhymes unless you’re very very skillful thinking of esoteric words and I dont that’s what poetry is about

I wish I were in Purbeck now with you

The hills that are the spine, oh what a view

The harbour there of poole the sea so blue

I lost my breath in wonder that’s the clue.

We see at times s this world as if its new

I want to worship colour and its hues

And by the ancient church the ancient yews

The baptism font the coffin track unused

Clambering up the limestone path amused

Of joy and humour I will now accuse

You the one I loved,oh where are you ?

Embrace the whole

Cleaner required for short sighted woman and cat.Well prayed daily   Aroused  by any other meme, brains weep Do they MOT  easily?   Abandon lips.Suck toes How about eggs?   About menace,I don’t feel it. But do you see it.   Above, what Lord? God   Anti-wrench mends sprained wheels easily How about ankles?   […]

Embrace the whole