Why does the one I want not love me too?
The order of this world does not console
Why does the one I want give me the blues?
God and Nature don’t leave me a clue
Why do we think God still has a role?
Why does the one I love not love me too?
He makes me feel like mental Asian flu
Viruses killed Grandad , Daddy’s cold.
Why does the one I love give me the blues?
I opened up my mouth and said,it’s you
You are more than thoughtless, came my growl
Why does the one I love not love me too?
He said,I do not hate you but it’s true
I don’t know who I am, that fairy, tale
Why does the one I love give me no clues?
If you hate me I shall go to Hell
They used to say that Satan told good tales
Why does the one I hate. not hate me too?
Why does the one my heart loves make me blue?
Elena,a baby wrapped in woollen clothes.
On the last train,Warsaw to Moscow,
[ change Niegoreloje.]
1939.Father,mother,brother
You passed through the Arctic Wastes of life.
Still as if travelling on a train
To an impossibly far destination.
As you left the German Army crashed into Poland
Lost,your aunts
Your cousins.
Your culture.
How does God select the damned?
You had your own baby,here in England,
Not lost like all those others.
Your father died by his own hand,
The hand of history;
The fingers twitching,
Not sure where to point.
Then settling into frozen grief
A sculpture only your mother saw.
You saw too,Elena.
You always saw,though you can’t remember;
The long journey, your mother’s breast,
Your father’s silence.
Only the dead know that silence.
Only the dead weep
With the rocks and stones .
And the ice in each eye
Fell like snow down your cheeks
As you held your own infant.
Warsaw to Moscow,
Moscow to Jerusalem.
Always journeying
Looking for what they can never find:
The home they left behind
The presence of the dead
Lying in gaunt heaps
Like rubbish
Your aunts, Elena.
Your cousins.
You never knew them.
But there’s a hole in your mind
Through which the Polish wind forever blows
Mary was reading a very interesting blog called London postcode by postcode They had reached London N9 and she had got rather bogged down there even though she had not fallen into the Marshes around the River Lea where once the Danes had sailed as Invaders. They would find it very hard to invade us now as the River Lea seems to have shrunk
So lyrical, there are parks and green space,s dirt and mud. Wright’s flour Mill in Ponders End and possibly a lot of illegal immigrants eating Canada geese according to folk myth and racist’ ideas.Canada goose do tend to breed rather excessively and anyway, why are they here in Britain without visas
Mary discovered that her favourite poets John Keats had been apprenticed to a doctor in Edmonton and here is the house where he stayed.There is also a house where Charles and Mary Lamb lived for many years; they are buried in the church graveyard nearby.The church is 15th century and is rather beautiful. there was a hero from World War II who lives in one of these quiet streets in a white painted suburban house.
His name was Charles Coward and he managed to rescue 400 Jewish prisoners from Auschwitz ;his name is on a memorial in Israel. there’s even a film about him with Dirk Bogarde it is called “The password is courage”
in this quiet little Street he lived for many years until he died at the age of 71
We never know who might have been living in our street or the next street. people who had done a very courageous things but had never boasted about them
Mary was so busy trying to read this blog and put away the groceries from Morrisons not to mention other household tasks that the day seemed to go by very quickly
How alluring Mary was looking in her pale turquoise and grey wool skirt topped by a turquoise roll neck top from Lands End and with that a rather shrunken jumper in cream with brown dots on it whether it was an accident or deliberate we will never know.On her elegant slim legs she wore some warm black tights and cream shoes
Mary was dressed up like this at home yet went out on Saturday evening wearing an old motheaten jumpe to meet some of the wealthy and members of our parish ;what’s the total mystery is this:did Mary want to look poor and downtrodden or was she was trying to signal her unavailability to be the wife of any men at the meeting only Mary knows. As a matter of fact even Mary doesn’t know. this is why life is so hard because we don’t know how our own motivations
Mary has spent several hours looking for a SIM card for a mobile phone which she never used and did not need and yet could not stop looking for it; however during this process she found that her gnt spray for Atypical Angina was 6 months out of date. so she had to ring the surgery and speak to the doctor Who quickly emailed the note to the pharmacist telling them that this was an emergency that Mary must have the spray as soon as possible or she might have a heart attack .Why Mary might even die like Jesus Christ, not for the same reasons as Jesus Christ and he was probably too young to have got this migraine of the heart as the most poetic language might name it
Mary herself had never known that she had it until one morning she had a terrible pain in her chest and was unable to speak.then she was whizzed off to the hospital to have all sorts of tests and her heart was totally alright except for this symptom which stops the blood from flowing into the heart
Mary went into the kitchen and took some things out of the washing machine wondering where God meant us to dry our washing in winter
When human beings were first created they did not need to wear clothes because they lived in the Garden of Eden surrounded by fruit trees and flowers. it was only after they fell into sin by eating a tomato that they became aware that they were naked and decided to knit themselves jumpers and trousers
Did you know it can be a long time before we learn to knit or, as needles had not yet been invented [come to that neither had wool]. Of course they did not have polyester or nylon or plastic. they did not have gas central heating. yes they were very happy bearing their beautiful family and eventually killing each other when they were not busy procreating .So the world has continued right up till now .We still knit jumpers and sometimes we kill other people because they do not worship the same God that we worship nor do they have as much money as we do. and whatever they have so others will try to take it away.Just like our own Empire of the Done
Mary concluded there has never been any peaceful time in human history and those who try to be too humble or too good or too kind will be the first ones to be slaughtered. Virtue may not always be its own reward .
if only we were descended from the apes, not the chimpanzees everything could be totally different but what is the point of that kind of thinking?
Mary brooded philosophically while washing the kitchen floor where she has spilt single cream. Mary very rarely eats cream and already she has wasted half of the Carton.
Emile came in: Mother why did you not let me lick the cream from the floor?
You might get food poisoning she cried happily you can have some of the cream from the carton on a saucer for your tea. is that good ?
Well said Emile I suppose there’s nothing else now since you have washed the floor but you know that we prefer to eat things from the floor .Cats don’t have China and cutlery
Neither did Adam and Eve Mary screamed softly
Mother ,control yourself anybody would think that you were a chimpanzee, Emile winked at her!
And they’d be right Mary thought to herself I am a chimpanzee and so are all of us humans beings
I apologise for the errors in this document I am using speech to typing on Google Documents I have tried to edit it but I may have missed some mistakes.It reads as if I need lessons for people whose first language is no tEnglish
Have you got a job yet?
I’ve got paranoid schizophrenia?
Is that a job?
It’s a way of life
But what do you live on?
The earth
You don’t sound mad to me
Why what does mad sound like?
You are so clever
Yeah, that’s why I got schizophrenia.I can see through it all,
And it’s even hard to spell
Yes panic attacks are for the illiterati
Schizophrenia is a deficiency disease
What, like anaemia?
Yes, thyroiditis can make one go bonkers.
We don’t use that word much
Anyway, boron is good for the mind
Do you mean boring?
Don’t bore into my mind please
But I might get bored
Or gored
Is there a bull in the house?
Only a pot one
Well, do the cows like that?
It’s hard to know.
A pot bull can’t make them pregnant
Maybe a wild bull came in the night
What and made fifty hens pregnant?
Do you mean cows?
I’ve never been to the Isle of Wight
It’s not too late
Will they let us in?
Well, we are British
But are they?
I never thought of that.They must be.They speak English and like boats
So do the refugees
A good point
They might be more English than the English
Well, as we are a mixture it is possible
Do I have more genes than you?
We can’t see them
So how do scientists find out all those things?
Rats
I say, that’s rude
No, they study rats
They must have schizophrenia
But are they paranoid?
They will be after the do the experiments
Why do they do it?
It’s all pretermined by God
He must be stupid.
Or cunning
Is he going to send a flood
He already has.. the media.
Where is the Ark?
We need a prophet.
I know , aye Noah
There’s just the two of us
The click and the clack of the shoes of us
Let us into the Ark
If it’s not double parked
The mind’s door swings, a sentence will emerge
What a friend has told me, what we felt.
Writing beckons, fingers feel the urge
Will it make me feel I’m on the edge
Falling off the track, dragged by its spell?
The mind’s door swings, a sentence will emerge
The bleaker ones I feel inclined to dodge
But they are stronger, fresh from mind’s deep wells
Writing beckons, fingers feel the urge
Writing is not for the disengaged
We do not choose the story we must tell
The mind’s door swings, a sentence will emerge
In dark times the inner mind’s enraged
And anger judders through each little cell
Writing beckons, fingers feel the urge
Who was writing when the Romans fell?
Who was writing in our later hells?
The mind’s door swings, the sentenced deaths occur
Evil runs while goodness is interred
“From 1945 until 1976, this was the home of a man called Charles Clarke (1905-1976) who was known for being a rescuer of Prisoners from Auschwitz.
According to a local newspaper report dated 21 July 2009 (http://www.enfieldindependent.co.uk/news/4504150.Edmonton_soldier_Charles_Coward_may_finally_be_recognised_by_British_Government/) he was nicknamed the Count of Auschwitz for rescuing 400 Jews from the Nazi concentration camp. He was a sergeant major in the British army and used his position as a Red Cross liaison officer in charge of escorting Jews to the gas chambers to bribe guards with food and smuggle healthy prisoners out. He also sent coded messages back to the British authorities detailing the numbers of Jews arriving at the camps and the moves of the German military, and was a prosecution witness at the Nuremberg Trials.
And this was the modest house he settled in after the war. The blue plaque was put up in 2003 according to the English heritage site.”
When Mary came out of the ‘chiropody clinic, she walked round the corner to the new cafe where she ate a piece of cake and had a cup of tea .The cafe was almost empty and the waitress seemed delighted to see her ;she sat gazing at the old Tudor wall across the road. The cake was delicious, indeed it was sinful to a normal person and deadly to a diabetic.
After drinking her tea she went into the Polish shop to buy some of their wonderful bread. The only problem with their food was that all the labels were in Polish and Mary decided that she had enough to do without learning Polish
As she approached the till by the door, a young woman seemed to be having some trouble with her groceries. She looked in her purse, she looked at the assistant she seemed to be trying to remove some other groceries but could not make up her mind which to keep and which to leave behind ; she took a credit card out of her bag but it was not accepted
Mary realised that this young woman could not actually afford to buy the food that she needed and Mary’s arthritis was very bad. Selfishly, she asked the young lady if she could not pay for her food.
No I can’t ,said the lady anxiously
And do you have some children at home Mary asked her ? Yes the lady said
Mary turn to the shop assistant and said “I will pay for this lady’s food and for my loaf. then she turned to the woman and said to her
“You can give this money to the poor at Christmas” thinking to herself that it would not seem so rude to pay the bills and assume that the young woman would do nothing in return
Isabelle, as this Polish lady liked to call herself, was amazed by this old English lady with excessively short hair standing on end like the head the toothbrush What ,you are paying for my food ?
Definitely said Mary thinking to herself that she had just spent 5 pounds in the cafe when she didn’t really need a piece of chocolate cake
Suddenly Isabelle came to Mary and asked her her name ;she hugged her closely and whispered I will pray for you as she kissed Mary’s cheek
Thank you so much, said Mary. She gave the shopkeeper a note then she took the bread and walked up the road past the shop selling baths and lavatories in amazing beautiful white china;there were lots of school boys standing in groups chatting and laughing
I’m glad you’re all having a good time, Mary said to them with a smile
I don’t think I’m going to tell Annie about this, she thought to herself ;she might think I’m stupid for paying somebody else’s bill but isn’t it nice to think that we can do these actions purely because we are suffering from arthritis and can’t stand in a queue
So it looks like illness does have certain benefits like making us more generous to other people
At the bus stop a crowd of wet and damp people were waiting and unfortunately it was quite dark as well
I wonder if I will be able to get on the bus, thought Mary. she stood there in her light teal coloured woolen winter coat from Lands End in the sale last year with a pink fleece hat meant to protect her from the rain and at the same time to completely ruin her hairstyle
On her face she was wearing a moisturiser which was also a sun screen and on her full lips she wore coral coloured lipstick from Reverend Makeup for ex Christians made with holy water blessed by the Bishop Bath and Wells. in the West of England as it ran down the road
Her mascara was said to be waterproof but eating the chocolate cake in the cafe had made her weep with joy so her mascara had run down her face making her look like a zebra in human form
Fortunately, Mary did not know about this and she stood at the bus stop or rather sat at the bus stop on a horrible plastic seat. Imagine how bl she looked…… rather peculiar but then Mary always has looeds peculiar even when she was a young woman with golden hair that ran down her back in ripples like waves breaking on the seashore except that they did not make any sound as they waved in the Breeze and had no deep melancholy roar,as Mattthew Arnold might have written
It is quite true that the sea of faith seems to have disappeared but maybe there is a pool of faith somewhere were some goldfish might be Baptised By the parish priest now that the number of people going to church had declined dramatically.Sexual misbehaviour and even rape had destroyed a lot of young people who had trusted the priests and so never were able to enjoy a normal sex life with a chosen partner
No doubt many people do not have much love and sexual pleasure and they may be too shy to approach anyone .Why is life so hard? Some people have luck and others have terror and hunger,even torture The bus drove up the road in the dark with a neon Street light flashing in a horrible manner; she did not like that colour and wondered if anyone might want to change it to something like silvery gold especially at Christmas time
When Mary got home she rang her old school friend Margaret.
Margaret, I am so selfish I paid a woman’s bill so I wouldn’t have to stand behind her waiting to pay or to come out of the shop without any bread at all
That’s a funny way of looking at it said Margaret it was very nice that you suggested that she give the money to charity at Christ.mas because then it’s being passed along from one person to another to the benefit of everybody
You are so clever, Margaret. I wonder what Annie will think. I wonder what Emile will think also being a cat he is not very expert at dealing with money or shopping ;he thinks that we should go out and kill something that we found in somebody’s in back gardens and then we can eat it raw and so we won’t have any washing up. If ever there was something other than snails and worms in Mary’s back garden maybe she would have taken the cat’s advice What would I eat Mary thought.. a fox, a hedgehog, a lion, a dog ? I’m afraid I could only eat the leaves off the forsythia and maybe some holly berries since it’s Christmas I don’t think that will be easy to digest. not much protein in that. Maybe I’ll eat Emile and then we’ll see what he thinks!
I think I might be getting dementia she thought to herself.
I’d better go to McDonald’s and have a cheeseburger and a large portion of chips followed by a large tub of ice cream I’m sure that’s better than eating things in the garden. I wondered Annie would like to come to McDonald’s? it will be a change from the kind of food we normally eat like roast beef and Yorkshire puddings or lamb chops on a bed of onions and tomato. Topside with green peas or Lancashire Hotpot yum yum I wonder if they sell steak kidney pudding anywhere in a restaurant?
When Mary hung up she was so tired she fell asleep on the sofa and when she woke up it was late; she had some Weetabix protein and went to bed where Emile was already lying trying to warm it up for her and to save her money from using the electric blanket too much
Emile is a very thoughtful cat ;perhaps he would like to go to McDonald’s as well in Mary’s handbag.
I shall ask him in the morning she thought and then she dreamt about the bottom of the ocean and all the beautiful fish that swim ; she saw Stan trying to explain social statistics to a mermaid.
What a terrifying sight. So that’s where he is, she cried not in heaven with Jesus .l I think Jesus would understand that some old men still love women even after they have died and any women around might be mermaids who have been living in the sea of faith for 2000 years and will be living there much longer we all hope
When the black cat hit the kitchen door
She was frightened I would be annoyed
I don't know where she comes from, what allures
A cat so rare she can't play with tomboys
I bought her catnip mice and jellied eels
She sniffed around the eels with her fine nose
She circled well, as if she were on wheels
I wish she'd stay all night and warm my toes
She seems afraid but hard frost brought her in
We have a cat flap where she comes and goes
She seems to feel existence is a sin
As if she has received too many blows
Be kind to all the cats that live with you
For otherwise they brew tea in your shoe
Half rhyme is one of the major poetic devices. It is also called an “imperfect rhyme,” “slant rhyme,” “near rhyme,” or “oblique rhyme.” It can be defined as a rhyme in which the stressed syllables of ending consonants match, however the preceding vowel sounds do not match.
For instance, in words such as “shape” and “keep” the consonance is very strong. The final consonant sounds remain similar, but the ending vowel sounds are different in half rhyme. Similar to these two words “moon” and “run,” and in the words “hold” and “bald,” the ending consonant sounds are similar, whereas vowel sounds are different.
It is generally used to give an inharmonious feeling in a rhyme scheme. Poets can bring variations in their choice of words by using half rhymes. It is also known as an imperfect, near, off, or sprung rhyme. Half rhyme is exclusively used as a poetic device
in the warm ocean
we frolic in
the sea of love,
our bodies turning
and turning
around an invisible centre.
skin touches skin
gently like rose petals touch.
how do we speak
except by gestures
of the heart?
how do we know
except by loving touch?
The sea, infinite sea.
trusting the depths
giving ourselves away
with hands reaching
to touch again and again
Our medium is fluid,
no boundaries ,no edges,
washed here and there,
we paint our love
into being
our fingers the brush,
our skin the canvas.
such impressions we make.
such laughter creating
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
We are broke , we can’t afford an oven.
What did they do with the ovens after Auschwitz..
give them to Charity or sell them to another evil Fascist country to pay for the re homing of the survivors ?
They were refused entry to the UK or USA .
Then we complained when they decided to flee to the Holy Land.
I bet Jesus wept all night.
Unless he was not a survivor
That made me blink.
Forgive us,O Lord.
Why?
Through the barbed wire fence, I saw a stream
Water washing down to river wide
A field of daisies and wild grasses green
Inside my pulsing heart, the blood did plead
That history and myth could take a ride
Through the barbed wire fence, I saw a stream
Lack of hope conspires to kill our dreams
And memories that lie can be no guide
To fields of daisies and wild grasses green
The silver birches light with sun’s soft beams
In their way, they are discreet disguise.
Through the barbed wire fence, I saw a stream
About the cruelty of human deeds
The library made is shattered and demeaned
Still fields of daisies hold wild grasses green
Few can bear to enter and to read
What the minds of sufferers could mean
Through the barbed wire fence, they saw a stream
While Icarus was falling, unperceived
Farmers tilled their meadows, blithe, deceived
Through the barbed wire fence, we saw a stream
The field of daisies and wild grasses screamed
Silver birches grew near Auschwitz at least in a film I saw
” I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. This is why right, temporarily defeated, is stronger than evil triumphant.”
– Martin Luther King
* He who permits himself to tell a lie once, finds it much easier to do it a second and third time, till at length it becomes habitual; he tells lies without attending to it, and truths without the world’s believing him. This falshood of tongue leads to that of the heart, and in time depraves all its good dispositions.
– Letter to Peter Carr (August 19, 1785)
Invest in bricks and mortar and barbed wire
Fences, wood or metal and good tools
Walls and fences keep us from the mire
Splitting off the people we can’t fire
Will banishing the Other make us fools?
Invest in bricks and mortar and barbed wire
Is he crazy; is he a mere liar
What he knows we do not learn at school
Walls and fences keep us from the mire
Will he burn when he is on his pyre?
Is he mortal,can he ever rule
With guns and bricks and mortar and barbed wire?
Is he someone children might admire?
Or his he like a thread from a dropped spool?
Walls and fences speak like did Town Criers
Well, in the old days some folk lived on gruel
Burned their fences,suffered drug withdrawal
Invest in bricks and mortar and barbed wire
Walls and fences hide our bleak despair
I hope you are keeping well.I have a favour to ask.My girlfriend Annie and I want to go away for a few days to Liverpool to see the Cathedrals etc.I wonder if you could come here to look after Emile.He would hate being in a Cattery and yet he needs company
My new book “Riemann’s Mouse” is coming out in December.It is a book of poetry I wrote in the staffroom in between my lectures on Diffusion and Differential Geometry.I do it just for my own enjoyment but if you would like to read it you can buy if from Amazon for £56.99.I wrote one called Riemann’s Cat so this is a more up to date way of learning Physics withour knowing it.
I am just baking a Xmas Cake as Annie is doing the dinner.We are having roast beef and Yorkshire Puddings and Emile is really hungry for it now.Staa never cooked a turkey and I don’t like it
I have some weird new neighbours but I will not write it down.I think a touch of paranoia is in the air.Fears of houses burning down.Mind you, with the world like it is I sam not surprised.It’s easier to fear that than the end of the world.
I wonder how God sees it all.If we could meet we’d die of fright
I would leave the freezer full of food if you were able to come.But don’t feel obliged.I’ve only lent you £50,000 so far and never asked for a payment…..if you have any decency do this for me and for Stan’s memory.You can use the washing machine too… you always look rather dirty unless it’s my spectacles… a metaphor!
Thanks for sending me your new novel. I am unsure whether the main character is meant to be me.I have worn Viyella nightgowns in the past but not when holding a dinner party.If I wanted to attract a man I would wear a dress from Artigiano and only speak about art and music not differential equations and quantum, theory .
As you never passed a maths exam after the age of 12 I doubt if you know what a differential equation is.It has no connections with bicycle gears.I think it was very bold of you to put that in.But I cannot deny it is fancified garbage which will be suited to only people who failed maths O level.
It’s mental effect effect has been akin to eating a bag of Worcester permain apples which are about to go mouldy in a park where there is no public lavatory
Please. refrain from sending me your next novel if you have the stupidity to attempt another.I would think a cookery book would be more suited to your writing style.. ……making lists and giving orders to all and sundry, to use a cliche….. that’s the other thing.Never have so many cliches been used by one author to such effect since Mrs Thatcher’s co writer wrote her St Francis special or Winston Churchill rallied Britain after Dunkirk and saved the world
I prefer lemon mousse to sour apples or grapes
All fondest love as ever
Adrienne Priorjki
.MA Ph D [Romania] MA D.Phil {Oxford] B SC [Birmingham] MD {UCH}
Nuts Cottage
87 Rubbish Walks
Stampedia
North Norfolk
NWe 0MG pi
Dear Mary
How are you getting on with your new book? Mine is going well as having grown up doing my homework while my brother played ” The Ride of the Valkyries” full blast, demanded I do his maths homework and Latin I find with the TV on some rubbish programme I can really concentrate well
.On the other hand I might be writing rubbish.
The main things seems to be to avoid writer’s block. whereas in the past it was to avoid writing rubbish,Funny how popular the word rubbish is nowadays.
When we believed in God we had Cathedrals,plainsong and Byrd.Now we have Malls.Coffee Shops and Muzak.And rubbish.We are rubbish too
Surely to get writer’s block would be an advantage as it would lead to reverie and dreams or maybe going on Tinder and seeing how many people in the town are looking for….Rubbish connections.
My optician said not to go looking for men.With my eyesight I’d no doubt be chatting up a traffic cone.I never did know how to flirt or chat up anyone. don’t think that’s what he meant.Real men don’t like women running after them which is lucky.I can’t run nowadays,. I could limp after one!
He said his mother did get married again but she wasn’t seeking it actively.So she said.Would she have told her son?
Definitely not.Well, that’s my view.Take it or leave it.Agree or argue.Talk or walk.Who can falsify his theory? Popper died.So they say.
I think I must be drunk with happiness.I’ll write again to tell you the plot of my novel.Basically,i t’s total rubbish dressed up with a few sexual innuendos.These days innuendo seems quite out of date.Old fashioned.Like courting and engagement.Now we start in bed and end up in Court.
Well, try phoning me or you’ll keep getting more rubbish letters
Mary was sitting looking at the execution of Mary Queen of Scots on TV while also mending some moth holes in her skirt.The only thread she got into the eye of the easy thread needle was blue but nobody was going to examine her with a microscope, she told herself gently
She also was thinking of her winter coat.Was raspberry really a good choice? Would dark grey not be more useful?After all she often sat down on garden walls while taking photos or even on old wooden benches.What she needed was a folding cushion or a small thick towel.No wonder women have such big handbags.
Annie her neighbour came in the back door with a bag of broken biscuits.
Look at these!We used to get them in the market years ago.So for old times sake I have hit these with a hammer!
What sort of hammer,Mary asked.
Why, are there different kinds?
Yes,but I expect yours is just the usual medium size.
Actually it was Ben’s.When he ran away he left it behind.
I suppose it was too heavy to fit into his suitcase.Where do he run to?
I don’t know,said Annie but as his sister in law went with him they might have gone to Australia.
Do men in Australia often love their sisters in law? Mary pondered
Who knows? The point is nobody would recognise them.Although if I went on Saga holiday I might!More people travel now.My friend Jim went to Borneo last yearm said Annie in a tone of wonder
So if we became lesbian lovers we could not hide in Borneo!Where could one hide now with all this travel?
Disguise might be best,Annie whispered.You could dress as a man!
You must be joking ,at my size.
Well, there are plenty of fat men!
But would they have a shape like mine?
So the two friends while away Saturday afternoon, both now darning Mary’s other clothes.
Why don’t you just buy new clothes,Annie murmured kindly.
I can’t afford this quality.I shall have to keep combing Emile until I get enough fur to make into a thread.Then I can knit a scarf!
How ridiculous,You’d need a herd of cats to get enough,Annie informed her with pity.
What a lovely idea,Mary cried,But Emile might be jealous.Or he might enjoy meeting a lady cat… or two.
I don’t think you could have more than six cats here and with food and bills it would be cheaper to buy wool
Still,a ball of wool is not so good to sleep by as a cat,Mary pondered slowly.And it has no loving eyes to look at when one comes in from the shops.
I suppose just holding wool in the hand might be very soothing,Annie retorted logically.
Otherwise we could join Soulmates she continued fluently.
Would men be attracted to a lady with darned moth holes in her clothing? Mary enquired humorously
Well, it would show you were economical and thrifty,Annie cried sensitively
Surely that is not the main reason men choose a woman partner, said Mary wonderingly.
I suppose they like a woman with a gentle sensitive nature.Annie screamed
Well.Denis Thatcher didn’t,Mary informed her delightedly
So true, but was she different once?
No, he wanted to be dominated.Mary decided.
I wonder if he liked being whipped,Annie thought having read 5o shades of whey
She could have used the Government Whips, Mary chortled.
Both the women burst out laughing so much that the sofa fell over and flung them onto the thick red and purple striped acrylic carpet
That sofa us unstable,Annie shouted.We could have died
Perhaps it’s us.Mary shrieked
Emile ran out into the kitchen and bit a piece out of the Xmas cake.
I can’t help it, he mewed.They are both getting madder by the day
And so say all of us
Emlle’s a jolly good yeller
So pray for all of us.
“If I were to try and put the two together, I would suggest that — especially in formal meditation — we want to non-judgmentally allow our experience to be exactly as it is. We don’t want to condemn, deny or avoid any element of it. But once we’ve allowed our minds to gather and receive all the available data, there is a critical transition whereby we act upon that gathered intelligence with judgment – the sort of judgment that is increasingly wise.”
I have seen so now I cannot doubt
But what I saw, I do not know its name
The laws of common sense it likely flouts
Yet it brings ripe comfort to the lone
A felt experience without any words
A brighter, stronger comforter declared
As swift as sunshine on a flying bird
There was a living being who their love shared.
Shared is not the best word I might use
For this was someone stronger than a gale
Stronger than the sun, could nothing lose
Would always be surprising, could not fail
How hard to here communicate my seeing
For we have different eyes and different beings
An ancient skill, the making of a rope
Twisting threads into a strong,tough form
Used for tying up a fishing boat
Or ancient ships where slaves rowed till deformed
Ropes of pearls would decorate a queen
Yet ropes were used to hang condemned men
Who knows what this rope above has seen?
Was it used by sailors now and then?
Primeval like the gift of flame and fire
Animals tied up so they won’t run
In the form of wool it has empires
Keeping warm in winter ,kingdom come
A skein, a rope , a thread, a ball of wool
From this sight, imagination’s full
Stan was feeling somewhat glum,nay even despairing,on Monday morning.
Mary had gone to work on her new folding 6 gear bicycle with own basket and an extra basket from Wells-next -the- Sea 1995
[the wicker basket now somewhat grey in hue.]
He was left at home sorting out all his art work and materials as well as doing the baking,cooking and bathing Emile,the delightful yet trying male cat.
Sunk in dark misery,Stan sat in an old uncomfortable chair in the darkest part of the room, while Emile snored on the rug by the bright French windows
.Stan went through all the possible reasons for his state of mind.Was he guiltyabout his flings with his alluring next door neighbour Annie?
Could it be his failure to toilet train Emile? Or his omitting to carry out the penance given by Father Brown after Stan confessed to stealing sweets on the way to Confession in 1956?
The longer Stan brooded the more reasons he found for his depression.
He could hardly get up to make a cup of coffee ..even instant seemed too much trouble.Would he even clean his teeth which somehow he’d failed to do?
The doorbell rang… it was a new cord for his laptop as Emile had been chewing the current one ,and 29 books in a sack from Amazon which his wife must have ordered,as he had no recollection of any such foolish spending.
How would they pay the bill on the credit card? he ruminated.
Later in the day.Annie peered through the window.She tapped on the glass with her well manicured blue finger nails.
Let me in she cried.
I’m too tired for any hanky panky he murmured lovingly as he ran his fingers through her thick red tresses.What is this delightful perfume,beloved,he questioned her.
It’s Poison! she replied.Oh no,sorry it’s Iris and Jasmine Eau de toilette from the Bodyshop.
Despite his lowly sunken state Stan loved this perfume.He sniffed rabidly at her well rounded form
.Well,shall we have some tea,she enquired.
Stan sat there hand on chest.I’ve been feeling a little gloomy,he muttered.She peered at him.
You look terribly pale,Stan.Where’s your angina spray?
I can’t recall,he said.Oh,here it is in my vest.
What a strange place to keep it,she responded.
Mary made pockets for all my vests.at one time you could buy vests with pockets
She’s good at sewing despite being so clever.In fact she loves doing things with her hands.
Annie got the GNT spray out and handed it to him.
Have you got a pain?
Well,yes,now you mention it,I do,he replied verbosely.
Well,in the name of God, use the bloody thing,she whispered endearingly into his left ear.
He opened his mouth,raised his tongue and with his hand resting lightly on his chin he pressed the button with his forefinger.
His head began to throb.
Annie appeared with a cup of Earl Grey tea and a biscuit.
Why,you look a little better.Do you need another dose?
No,I feel much better now.I’ve had it before.
He drank the tea but didn’t eat the biscuit which he threw out later in crumbs for the field mice in the shed.
His spirits began to rise.Why did he always forget that physical ailments can worsen a mood?He still felt a trifle glum but nothing a meringue wouldn’t put right.
OK,what shall I make for Mary’s supper? he enquired.
You sit there in the window and I’ll just make my special spaghetti,Annie replied gaily,as long as I can stay too.
Yes,I’ll open some red wine he said youthfully,and we can have fried apples and bananas for pudding with non fat Greek yoghurt.
What a wise choice she murmured gently into his ear………that will use up some of the newly picked apples,the bananas were from Lidl’s as usual.
Well,Stan you look better.said Mary happily,You’ve been pale all weekend.Was it Annie who cheered you up,not to put too fine a point on it?
Actually it was nitroglycerine,he said roguishly,but Annie made me use it.
But for us women you’d be dead,she replied equably.
But for you delightful creatures I wouldn’t be here at all,he moaned ecstatically.
Now then Stan,control yourself she urged,After all we have a visitor,Annie!
What a hoot,he thought as he twisted spaghetti round his fork in a careless manner splashing tomato sauce all over his new green acrylicjumper.
Thank the Lord for washing machines,Mary said.
I didn’t know Jesus invented them,Annie said with a tone of mild sarcasm but no-one bothered to reply.
As told by Emile to the local paper.
And believed by all of us
My eyes saw a dark tunnel drawing me
This might be my path as I felt dread
Near a slope as grave as ends can be
Hesitating. wondering what to do
When with such grief and pain my own heart cried
My eyes still saw the darkness drag at me
Shall I go or stay, what will it be?
Not the love entire my heart once craved
Rushing to unravel mystery
Then a fire, a cloud of gold I knew
My frantic rush had kept Love far away
My eyes desired the darkness beckoning me
Silent,warm , the Good caressed me
I recognised but had no words to say.
The warmth. the golden love from language free
A sheet of tears fell from my open eye
I felt the Love which saved me on that day
Rejecting the deep darkness and its plea
In despair we’re frozen , cannot play
In despair Love comes without our prayer
My eyes saw a dark tunnel beckon me
Down a slope as grave as earth might be.
![IMG_2273_filtered [1024x768]](https://i0.wp.com/words-cat.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/12/img_2273_filtered-1024x768.jpg?w=1096&h=1461&ssl=1 "IMG_2273_filtered [1024x768]")
Alfred by Kathryn
How my heart speaks 
