Shakespeare would be   hardpressed to  conceive
The story of the Presidents’  deceits.
Of a   telling plot he’d be bereaved
To  emphasise the massive self conceit

It’s certainly post modern in its style
The story changes even as he speaks
There is no truth at all  just what beguiles
The father of the galleons of leaks

No expert can advise as there are none
Everyone can tweet and will be heard
We are all now equal  and we’re done
Most stupid thoughts of humans now are shared

When the experts and the scholars   tell
More important is, will stories sell?

How English became English – and not Latin

“Despite Webster, the Latinate model survived into the twentieth century in the English classroom. H. W. Fowler, whose Modern English Usage (1926) was the most influential guide of the 20^th century, read Classics at Oxford and spent some time as a Classics teacher before turning to lexicography. His linguistic prescriptions are soaked through with edicts derived from Latin grammar. The Latin use of the nominative case following the verb to be prompts Fowler to condemn English constructions such as it is me; according to Fowler, this ‘false grammar’ should properly be it is I. Fowler’s prescription continues to find loyal adherents today (if you are one – try saying it out loud); ironically, it is probably to blame for the widespread overcompensation (or ‘hypercorrection’) which leads to the preference for incorrect I in phrases such as ‘between you and me’.”

https://www.thoughtco.com/prescriptive-grammar-1691668

“According to linguists Ilse Depraetere and Chad Langford, “A prescriptive grammar is one that gives hard and fast rules about what is right (or grammatical) and what is wrong (or ungrammatical), often with advice about what not to say but with little explanation” (Advanced English Grammar: A Linguistic Approach, 2012).”

Have you ever used voice to typing and seen what a terrible mess you can produce with this tool well I am using it because I have got pain in my hands  and shoulders so I thought it would be a good idea

I don’t think writing poetry like this is sensible but it might be alright for writing a story. alternative lyric alternatively you can buy some software which may very well be better than this but since I use a Chromebook I cannot download any software onto it iIf anybody else has used these kind of tools I would be very pleased to hear from them about their experience and what they’re considered to be the best tool. thank you so much if you can help me

it is very hot and very humid today so it took me an hour to get home from the Chinese clinic where I am having treatment I thought I would never reach my house from the other end of the street and I was in a lot of pain but now the pain is easing off and I have drank a lot of lemon barley water and I feel better but I will go to bed soon I think

I wish that I still had a cat because I had one for 6 months after my husband perished or died or disappear and it was a great comfort to me until the owner decided to send it to live in Welwyn Garden City, can you believe it?

At least it was not run over buy a car which is my first fear which I missed it very much I called it Alfred Alfred used to sleep outside my bedroom door where are the hot water pipe going from the tank to the bathroom and so is AYA got up in the middle of the night I would see him full stop he was very clean and very loving no if there was a man with a similar nature and who could pay his way then I suppose I could adopt a man instead of a cat full stop come to that I could have dropped a woman if  I adopted a man and a woman they could be my parents and .. could look after me and make my dinner   and my bed
I am very lazy by Nature and the fact that I have written 5000 posts on my blog is an indication of this because I have been doing it for 9 years so that is less than 600 here or less than 50 a month or 12 and a half a week that’s nearly two a day
I should have written twice as much but possibly the readers would not be happy but then that there is no compulsion to read my poems because I do not wish to cause suffering to the human race and I hope that my poems will not make you unhappy and indeed there may amuse you or enlighten you they’re certainly amuse me but Donald Trump would not like them for sure
Well I think I will stop now before you all get terribly bored I hope you all sleep well if it’s night where you are and if you have just got up I hope you have a lovely day in front of you and that you will be helped by tiny people wherever you may wander or that your work will not be too arduous or boring so goodnight my children this is your blogger Katherine 

Good Night

The voice that called my name is heard no more
Of  knowledge  and  of love I am deprived
We ask ,if love  must  end ,what is it for?
Eternity enraptured  is its core
The space of love takes all dimensions  far
We recognise  the moment  and its life
The voice that called my name is heard no more
Of  being known,  of love, I am deprived.

Did we never think to say,goodbye
To say  our special words like,”nutmeg tree”
When life was ending and you soon would  die

No tears, no theatre ,no long  haunting sigh
No lost illusions, nothing  there to see
Did we never want to say,goodbye

I heard  a sound like distant sea gulls’ cry
Did that remind you of your cold North Sea?
Your life was ending all mankind must die

I wonder why the heavens are on high?
The mind is valued with its poetry
Did we never get to say,goodbye?

The lower organs procreate, are shy
Without these hidden parts nothing would be
Your life was made and then you had to die

My heart aches  like a migraine God decreed~
Some have said they feel their hearts will bleed
Did we never think to say,goodbye
When life was ending,one of us must  die?

https://www.huffingtonpost.com/edward-hirsch-/10-terms-you-need-to-know_b_5153884.html?guccounter=1

Extract

“Here then are 10 key terms that can enlarge your understanding of poetry:

rhythm: The word rhythm comes from the Greek word rhythmos, “measured motion,” which in turn derives from a Greek verb meaning “to flow.” Rhythm is sound in motion. It is related to the pulse, the heartbeat, the way we breathe. It rises and falls. It takes us into ourselves; it takes us out of ourselves. Rhythm is the combination in English of stressed and unstressed syllables that creates a feeling of fixity and flux, of surprise and inevitability. Rhythm creates a pattern of yearning and expectation, of recurrence and change. It is repetition with a difference.

line: A unit of meaning, a measure of attention. The line is a way of framing poetry. All verse is measured by lines. The poetic line immediately announces its difference from everyday speech and prose. An autonomous line makes sense on its own, even if it is a fragment. It is end-stopped and completes a thought. The first line in Keats’s “Endymion” is end-stopped: “A thing of beauty is a joy forever.” By contrast, an enjambed line carries the meaning over from one line to the next, as in the next four lines of Keats’s poem: “Its loveliness increases; it will never / Pass into nothingness, but still will keep / A bower quiet for us, and a sleep / Full of sweet dreams…” Whether end-stopped or enjambed, however, the line in a poem moves horizontally, but the rhythm and sense also drive it vertically, and the meaning continues to accrue.

iambic pentameter: A five-stress, roughly 10 syllable line. This fundamental line, established by Chaucer (1340?-1400) for English poetry, was energized when English attained a condition of relative stability in the late fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries. It might be the traditional formal line closest to the form of our speech and thus has been especially favored by dramatists ever since Christopher Marlowe, whose play Tamburlaine (1587) inaugurated the greatest Elizabethan drama, and William Shakespeare, who used it with astonishing virtuosity and freedom. John Milton showed how supple and dignified the pentameter line could be in Paradise Lost (1667): “Of man’s first disobedience, and the fall / Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste / Brought death into the world, and all our woe, / With loss of Eden, till one greater Man / Restore us, and regain the blissful seat, / Sing, Heav’nly Muse…””

We are little leaves upon the tree
We  never could control our  entire world
The tree of life; what power, what  mystery

With metaphor, it’s easier to see
Life is tender, see each leaf unfurl
We are only leaves upon the tree

Singing in the sun we seem to be
Full of joy until the storm winds swirl
The tree of life; what power, what  mystery

Extinguished   candles   smoke at Tenebrae
We are blown to death however bold
We are little leaves upon the tree

Thus we sacrifice to God uncertainly
Yet as the wars continue, we grow cold
The tree of life; what power, what  mystery

Who has dropped us from the hands that hold?
Who has stolen certainty untold?
We are little leaves upon the tree
The tree of life; what power, what  mystery

A howling bone dithers none the less.
What can’t be lured must be indifferent
It’s a song way to Tipperary.
Silent Plight,Holy Quite.
Have you  ever seen above my ploys?
Too many rooks rolled  up the bypass to caw.
See amid the sinners flow here on  earth we sing,oh,no.
I don’t know where I’ve seen you adore more
Send me a  twitter soon and I’ll be on board  sound.
Come into these belly sands.
This is the end of the code for me
I shan’t slope on.
God test thee very mental men.
I embroidered a meal on hessian but was unsure how to cook it
Now is the month of praying and by gum we need it

Mary wandered in a dazed heat down the high street until she came to a shop she had never entered before.Gathering her nerve, she dashed in and saw a  big pack of 6 Pairs of Marigold Rubber Gloves

She  put them into her basket as she absent mindedly picked up a big pair of salt and pepper grinders.There was no queue so  she was back in the street in no time.
See, shopping is not that hard, she said yto herself.
Mary came to the bus stop where her friend Annie was waiting.Annie was dressed in a pink silk dress and had no makeup on.
This is a nightie,she informed Mary.
Have you got any underwear on?
Of course I have.I wouldn’t come out here with only a nightie on
Well,looking at all the other women , you would be  better covered than them!
What  have you been buying,Mary continued.
I decided as it is Emile’s birthday this week I’d get him a card.That newsagent by the market as some lovely ones.I spent 2 hours looking at them alll
Here,look at it!
The card had a photo of a  ginger cat smoking a cigar
I bet that’s a tom cat,Mary said,Emile would prefer to see a lady cat doing some embroidery or knitting.
I’ve never seen a cat knitting, cried Annie.
That is not a proof that they never knit.Maybe they do it at night
Mary got home and opened the  box where 6 packets of rubber gloves were resting
She tried to open one but in the end she  had to use  the scissors.
These look good, she said to Emile
But look, one has got  no finger top.It will let the water in!
Shall i ring 999 and get Dave,.asked Emile.I don’t want yoiu to have a panic attack
Just a mo,Mary said…..I think I must have done it with these scissors, so the others will be ok
She found one old rubber glove in the drawer and turned it inside out as otherwise they were both for the left hand.
How about the salt and pepper grinders, asked Emile.Shall we try those
I’ve done enough.I shall make some tea
The bell rang and Dave the paramedic rushed in
Annie said she heard you scream, he said anxiously
Well, it was a rubber glove with a hole in it,Mary murmured
Well,  gloves are not alive and so they cannot die, he responded~
What would Wittgenstein have said
That which is never alive can never die!
And so say all of us!

https://www.tomleonard.co.uk/online-poetry-and-prose/100-differences-between-poetry-and-prose.html

“you don’t get prose in anapaestic dimeters

nobody publishes their first slim volume of prose

aristotle never wrote The Proses”

When are you going to breed?
What would you like for your flea?
Do you prefer sea or toffee?
Do you take rugger?
Where is your top?
Are  you getting harried soon?
Are you a receiver?
Are you anti-erotic?
Are you anti-sights?
Are you day shift?
Are you slack or tight?
Are you fixed race?
Where are your hairnets?
Do you love your other?
What kind of bob do you do?
How much exactly do you yearn?
Are you   pneumatic?
Are you sarcastic?
Are you a quit personality?
What crooks do you like?
Do you go to the bribery?
Where do you get your woes?
Are your woes new or  reckoned bland?

http://www.irr.org.uk/news/turkish-speaking-communities-in-britain-a-rude-awakening/

“On a global level, these issues remain unresolved and Turkey finds itself in a precarious position. It is not totally accepted by the ‘Christian nations’ of Europe, partly but not entirely because of its notorious human rights record and repressive policies towards the Kurdish population. Neither is Turkey accepted by its Muslim neighbours, whom it has made such a big effort to distance itself from. The delay in Turkey’s accession to the European Union (EU) has many causes but one is the fact that it is one of the largest Muslim countries in the world. Helmut Kohl’s description of the EU as a ‘Christian club’ is a perfect reminder of this. These debates on the international level have both a direct and indirect effect on Turkish speakers living in Britain; both in terms of how we perceive ourselves in relation to others and in the way that others perceive us. Thus, most of us are aware that, although we can be called ‘Mediterranean’, we are not as acceptable culturally, politically and religiously as others who come under this category, such as Greeks, Italians, Spaniards and the Portuguese. And we are, therefore, more likely to face both overt and covert forms of racism.

STEREOTYPES

As Turkish speakers, we are constantly aware of and affected by negative stereotypes. On a day-to-day level, we are repeatedly reminded of the fact that organised crime, and criminal activities related to drug use and selling, are there in Turkish-speaking communities. But of course the majority of us are not involved in such crime and have no wish to be. And we want to avoid a situation in which all members of the community are labelled as drug suppliers and our young men are pathologised as gangsters and thugs. “

I mentioned a few days ago that we can know what the virtues are without becoming virtuous.Sometimes intellect can be an enemy.Now, after reflecting I think that the people we mix with and become friends with can be a very big influence on our life and the kind of person we are
It might be quite simple,like:I will not do this act because it would let X down if my friend ,X ,knew I had done it.She might not want to be my friend any more
I do not mean we should change to fit in with the views of our friends just to curry favour.I mean if you have a friend whom you admire for their behaviour and their ideas that you would not  keep the friendship if you told lies,seduced married people deliberately,stole watches when you went to dinner with a family friend etc
We might be wrong.May be a friend would not mind if we told lies… it would depend on the type of lie.But we all influence each other and do we want to be a bad influence?
I know it’s inevitable we will not live up to high ideals.There will always be a gap but maybe  that too is something a friend might help us with.To tolerate our failings and failures withou despairing.
I suppose we all do stupid things now and then!
Leonard Cohen got up and looked in the mirror.Then he said,Lighten up Cohen.

Do you know Rex?~
We  have seen many wrecks near the coast.
Do you mean Rexes?
Wreckses! What are you saying
Will, did you know Rex himself
Who wrecks himself?
Is that pidgin English?
How can I tell if a pigeon in English?Don’t tell me they have passports now because of Brexit
Brexit hasn’t happened yet
Who can Fix it?
Me!
Me too!

Oh,take me hold me,love me like you do

With kisses sweet commend me to your heart

Love me like a tea of finest brew.

Love me like a cox’s pippin tart.

oh,dance me,swing me, let me feel alive.

And let me feel your melody anew.

We get what we desire yet don’t deserve.

When one is made from love between the two.

Oh. lend me your maths textbooks for a while

I love irrational numbers like a child.

and transcendental pies do me beguile

i feel tonight my numbers dancing wild.

So ambiguous is my attitude to men

I wave and then I particle again

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/43973/dejection-an-ode

Extract

https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/text/poetry-101-resources-beginners

“Reading poetry well is part attitude and part technique. Curiosity is a useful attitude, especially when it’s free of preconceived ideas about what poetry is or should be. Effective technique directs your curiosity into asking questions, drawing you into a conversation with the poem.

The goal of careful reading is often to take up a question of meaning, an interpretive question that has more than one answer. Since the form of a poem is part of its meaning (for example, features such as repetition and rhyme may amplify or extend the meaning of a word or idea, adding emphasis, texture, or dimension), questions about form and technique, about the observable features of a poem, provide an effective point of entry for interpretation. To ask some of these questions, you’ll need to develop a good ear for the musical qualities of language, particularly how sound and rhythm relate to meaning. This approach is one of many ways into a poem.

Getting Started: Prior Assumptions

Most readers make three false assumptions when addressing an unfamiliar poem. The first is assuming that they should understand what they encounter on the first reading, and if they don’t, that something is wrong with them or with the poem. The second is assuming that the poem is a kind of code, that each detail corresponds to one, and only one, thing, and unless they can crack this code, they’ve missed the point. The third is assuming that the poem can mean anything readers want it to mean.”

I lost my kindle paper white today
So searched through all my things in my dismay
Here I found my reading glasses,phone
I found a broken mug and cracked a tray

Then I found the kindle on a chair
But the reading glasses had gone off
I found a plate beneath a book or two
Iris Murdoch   you found  life this  rough

I found all four black handsets to the phone
Then wondered where my office glasses are
It seems my mind is playing little tricks
Thank the Lord I don’t possess a car

Amazed by all the fluff I have swept up
I must  make  my tea in a china cup

Politicians are a dismal group
Where’s the Attlee where’s the Wilson keen?~
Their main aim now is for us to be duped

Where are those lost minds once so acute?
Beveridge and Carrington had dreams
Politicians are a dismal group

The minds of most  have  turned into a soup
Ideas are not connected to good schemes
~Their main aim now is for us to be duped

Many of  the public have turned mute
We won the vote but as yet we’re unweaned
Politicians are  a much loathed group

Yet surely one or two must be astute
What does May say when she meets the Queen?
Their main aim if they have one is dilute

What  is democratic in our strain?
When we all go mad, who takes the blame?
Politicians are a dismal group
Their method’s now the poor to persecute

https://www.newstatesman.com/politics/june2017/2017/05/did-your-personality-determine-whether-you-voted-brexit-research-suggests

“Even when voters were able to interpret statistics, their ability to do so could be overcome by partisanship. In one striking study, when voters were asked to interpret statistics about whether a skin cream increases or decreases a rash, they were able to interpret them correctly roughly 57 per cent of the time. But when voters were asked to interpret the same set of statistics, but told they were about whether immigration increases or decreases crime, something disturbing happened.

If the statistics didn’t support a voter’s view, their ability to correctly interpret the numbers dropped, in some cases, by almost a half.

Before Remoaners start to crow, this study is not an affirmation that “I’m smart, you’re dumb”. Further research could be done, for example, on the role of age and education (young graduates were far more likely to vote Remain). But in the meantime, there is a question that needs to be answered – are political campaigners deliberately exploiting these personality traits?

Chris Sumner, from the Online Privacy Foundation, warns that in the era of Big Data, clues about our personalities are collected online: “In the era of Big Data, these clues are aggregated, transformed and sold by a burgeoning industry.”

“In our view, part of what makes language artistic is that we have to explore it actively in order to appreciate it.  We may have to look beneath the surface, and think harder about what images the author has used, who the author purports to be, and even how the language is organized.  These efforts can lead to new insights, new perspectives and new experiences.

Poetry is a form in which this reader engagement is particularly striking and important.  It’s a good illustration of the way philosophical work can help awaken us to the richness of the language that surrounds us, even in the seeming cacophony of the digital age.”

How beautiful it was when the sun shone
And I walked with you,my dear husband,
through the gardens.
How happy I was to sit with you by the lake
and to hear the water from the fountain splash. I
It’s our our favourite music now we cannot visit the sea
To hear the tide rush in,then fall sucking on the shingley beach.
But I see it in my minds eye.
Aldeburgh,the fishing boats go out at sunrise.
I awoke early and saw the sun across the sea and the boats setting out in the soft light.
Dunwich,the heath filled with birds the cliff
and the beach where sometimes one can find marble
from one of the many churches washed away by the encroaching sea.
And Southwold,the marsh so quiet I heard crickets.
We went across the Blyth in the rowing boat
And saw the place from which our picture of Walberswick was painted…
If only life could be captured,slowed, for a few minutes
for us to receive the beauty and hear the sound of the sea
The everlasting music of the heart

No woman ever can be what he dreams

Nor can such give comfort on the road.

Yet every night he plots and thinks and schemes.

And rarely does he ever go abroad.

No food he eats will satisfy his tongue.

The best wine is as naught to mother’s milk.

He grumbles and will not admit to wrong.

I ‘ve known more men than him of this same ilk.

No bed can be the right one for his sleep.

No sheets and pillows suit his wary skin.

He often has made gentle maidens weep

Crying out they’re fat or boney thin.’

Beware the man who never can adapt

For in his own lone wishes he is trapped

Please do not view  your smartphone whilst on a stretcher going to the theatre

No selfies allowed during surgery.

Do not take photos of the doctors and nurses or they will leave,

Do not send your private part photos to anyone on the ward.They can see them when you get out of bed if you are wearing our wonderful split back gowns

Please do not fall over after rising from the bed.

We do not have a whistling kettle, it’s the night porter.

If you smoke, we will  pour water over your cigarette

The screams are cats mating, not patients on the next ward

Kindly do not tell the doctor he is stupid.He knows.

The doctor is only a pest to some

Kindly pretend to listen to the Consultant on his round.He is human,we presume

Kindly do not eat cream buns  or meringues in front  of the Consultant.He is on a diet.

Kindly avoid catching any bugs belonging to or emanating from this hospital.

Kindly do not sleepwalk whilst here.

Please do not swallow your Kindle before lights out.

Keep yourself clean.Take a bed by the open window during a storm.

Kindly avoid dying when we are busy or indeed at any time.Wait till you get home,please.

https://www.writersandartists.co.uk/writers/advice/971/dedicated-genre-advice/writing-poetry/

Extract

“We are busy—so very busy nowadays; we are assailed by the images that tell us how flawed we are; ……….

t. Why not be swept away by Porphyro’s extraordinary feast in Keats’s ‘The Eve of St Agnes‘? Find yourself utterly absorbed by epic simile and astonishing breadth of imagery and allusion in Milton’s ‘Paradise Lost‘? The middle English of Chaucer’s ‘The Canterbury Tales‘ is not as difficult as people may think to read and, in trying, a whole new world comes to a life. As it touches us, might we feel less alone in a world where we are often always ‘on’ and yet potentially more isolated? …………….

………..And an awareness, young or old, that poetry, as Dylan Thomas had it, ‘ is what in a poem makes you laugh, cry, prickle, be silent, makes your toe nails twinkle, makes you want to do this or that or nothing, makes you know that you are alone in the unknown world, that your bliss and suffering is forever shared and forever all your own.’

Poetry is always there; always important. For a challenge for us or a challenge to the status quo; to bring us joy or relaxation; it is that cordial handshake which brings with it words to surprise, delight and chronicle. It will always have its place and always be important. And maybe, as Shelley had it, poets are, after all, ‘the unacknowledged legislators of the world.'”