Mary went into the kitchen and put the kettle on.In ran Annie wearing a  pink chiffon jumpsuit.Her lips were covered with a thick layer of “Deadly nightshade” by L’Oreal,  a strange shade of burnt heather such as can be seen near Stalybridge UK right now
I’m going out with Joe, she cried.
Where to, asked Mary softly her eyes widening
Up on the hills I believe,Annie cried
Well, is a jumpsuit so thin really suitable? Suppose you need to  have a leak?
Oh,dear,said Annie.A skirt would be easier.But do I have time
Take one of these,Mary ordered, holding out a  long thin cardboard box
Are they biscuits,asked her friend?
No, they are panty liners.I assume you are wearing knickers,Mary murmured as she approached with a large magnifying glass to check.
Delia’s Lights,
the box was labelled
Is it Delia Smith, that TV COOK? Annie asked
No, it is Delia’s Protection for older folk or indeed young mothers!
Funny how we need all these products all our adult lives.How about a loofah?
It might get loose and drop  out,Mary retorted.You mean a sponge?
Cakes and biscuits and Delia…. something odd here,Annie  whimpered.
Are you trying to make me feel old?
Well, you will feel young if you wet yourself,Mary teased her in a knight hearted way
Suddenly Joe walked in looking pale
I am hungry he said and picked up the box
May I have a biscuit?
Mary began to laugh out loud as Joe pulled his hand out clutching  a sticky white pad.
Funny looking biscuits, he shouted!
Are you a witch?
Not  yet, Mary said,but I am getting a Ph.D next week
Not in baking, he asked rudely?
No, it’s in Tautology and Magic Roundabouts
That’s a load of tripe, in my view.Not that I know much about it but as a man I   like to make a mark
How about a Vicious Circle? Mary queried?
Alright,I’ll take two, he shouted warmly
That will be £2.99 altogether
Is this a shop? Joe demanded.
In Capitalistic Economics, everywhere is a shop.
In that case, give me ten for nine!
As you wish,dear Mary answered.Don’t toast them now,my good fellow!
And so say all of us…..unless he is very hungry?

https://www.newcriterion.com/issues/2015/4/poetry-truth

Extract:

“For Winters, poetry—and, in its concision, lyric poetry, especially—is the highest linguistic form because, taken together, connotation and denotation compose the “total content” of language. It’s true that the two exist together in other kinds of writing, a novel, say, but poetry, by dint of its meters, lines, and highly wrought rhythms, modulates feeling with the greatest control. Connotation in poetry, then, acquires what Winters thinks of as a “moral” dimension. In order to render human experience truthfully, connotation or “feeling” must be precisely managed:

The artistic process is one of moral evaluation of human experience, by means of a technique which renders possible an evaluation more precise than any other. The poet tries to understand his experience in rational terms, to state his understanding, and simultaneously to state, by means of the feelings we attach to words, the kind and degree of emotion that should properly be motivated by this understanding.

The term “moral,” then, refers—at least in this instance—to a fairly technical process of selecting the best words in the best order for a given subject. “In so far as the rational statement is understandable and acceptable, and in so far as the feeling is properly motivated by the rational statement, the poem will be good,” he tells us.

Winters’s detractors—who feel that he, in his adherence to reason, quashes emotion in poetry—miss the point, I think. For Winters, emotion, expressed in the proper degree, is the whole ballgame. But this question of degree is crucial; if the feeling in a poem is either overstated or understated, the poem falls down. Excessive emotion, a form of sentimentality, obscures the experience under consideration, while the opposite of sentimentality—a kind of cold reportage—can also be a failure of evaluation. Understatement of the emotion robs experience of its humanity. The statement “Three prisoners were publicly executed in a detention center” crisply relates the facts, but in “The Shield of Achilles” Auden affords the reader some inkling of the feelings involved:

Barbed wire enclosed an arbitrary spot

     Where bored officials lounged (one cracked a joke)

And sentries sweated for the day was hot:

     A crowd of ordinary decent folk

     Watched from without and neither moved nor spoke

As three pale figures were led forth and bound

To three posts driven upright in the ground.

The mass and majesty of this world, all

     That carries weight and always weighs the same

Lay in the hands of others; they were small

     And could not hope for help and no help came:

     What their foes liked to do was done, their shame

Was all the worst could wish; they lost their pride

And died as men before their bodies died.

https://www.theatlantic.com/education/archive/2014/04/why-teaching-poetry-is-so-important/360346/

 

“Students who don’t like writing essays may like poetry, with its dearth of fixed rules and its kinship with rap. For these students, poetry can become a gateway to other forms of writing. It can help teach skills that come in handy with other kinds of writing—like precise, economical diction, for example. When Carl Sandburg writes, “The fog comes/on little cat feet,” in just six words, he endows a natural phenomenon with character, a pace, and a spirit. All forms of writing benefits from the powerful and concise phrases found in poems.

I have used cut-up poetry (a variation on the sort “popularized” by William Burroughs and Brion Gysin) to teach 9th grade students, most of whom learned English as a second language, about grammar and literary devices. They made collages after slicing up dozens of “sources,” identifying the adjectives and adverbs, utilizing parallel structure, alliteration, assonance, and other figures of speech. Short poems make a complete textual analysis more manageable for English language learners. When teaching students to read and evaluate every single word of a text, it makes sense to demonstrate the practice with a brief poem—like Gwendolyn Brooks’s “We Real Cool.””

I found the answer , what to wear in heat
Buy a cotton nightgown with some pleats
Throw a denim jacket    on and go
Wear some boots in case we get  that snow

Or wear a full length slip and  patent mules
I guarantee the air wil keep bums cool
We have to think outside the normal box
But never wear pyjamas without socks

Take some shorts and slash them with a knife
Combine with a man’s vest if you’re his wife
Dye your hair deep purple and take heart
We human beings can look  chic and smart

Oh,take a pinch of humour in your tea
Then strip off and swim   clothless in the sea.

From an online store for larger ladies [Elvi]

My wide leg  trousers sweep dirt from the floor
My  top is polyester, how I fry.
My underwear is nylon, and I’m sore
Deodorants give me eczema  as does dye

I note my denim skirt is stained with ink
My hands are black from making pencil points
My T shirt is in fashion but it’s shrunk
Sandals  show my toes  without their paint

I wear a three penny bit on a brass chain
if it were  made of gold, how thieves might blink
My hair has gone  but you can’t see my brain
I’m likely a baboon in female shape

In summer heat,  our clothes can cause us pain
So see us here all shopping nude, again.

Made from a photo of an insect bite  on my leg. Katherine

My husband  was a very kind man ; he did used to like me in bright colours.
Sometimes I even wore clothes.He never mentioned that, of course.Nor ask about how I paid for them.Or if I paid for them.My secret is I am  a criminal.I stole the clothes.Do you believe me?
No,it’s no good.I can’t convince people of my utter depravity.What do I have to do?
I’ve eaten many apples but  not the sort to make God angry. I am too old to suffer childbirth, besides I am asexual or  some other new category like resexual
.I am  not interested in the physical side of life.I even get annoyed  that I have to eat food.Can’t they come up with a Tablet?
I   did love my husband but I have never fancied anyone else.Yet only a month ago a man pursued me down the street and up to my house declaring
“You are too beautiful and charming to live alone.” I think he was a  dotty
I don’t live alone.But why should I tell him?Sometimes I try to tell lies but I can’t disrespect the truth.Even write an alternative narrative.I suppose in mathematics you have to be a genius to do that and  even then some like Godel went mad.It’s not worth it,folk.Better to have fun, love your neighbour  and wear clothes in winter.
What is irritating is, you  have to wash your clothes.At night we should get into the bath with all our clothes on, get into a tumble dryer then go to bed dry and clean.It seems so simple but it would kill us trying to get into a tumble dryer.There’s always a flaw.So far.

On the rug beside my chair
I saw a crumb, that wasn’t  there
I’d been up half the day before
So I could polish and prepare
And now my  squalor’s evident
I think I’ll  move into a tent

My lover is a transient cat
Who likes to sleep upon a bat
He loves my smell and my bare skin
As he sniffs the soul within
I dream of failing/  passing tests
And men who have those tender wrists

I  found some Xmas cards last night
Is this a broader hint to write?
My father drew upon the wall
Before he ended in  his fall
I saw them through the wall paper
I looked again but they’re not there

I liked the humbler  kind of folk
I am modest,I  just quote
I like to guess what they will say
So sit beside them every day
But  now it’s late and I’m not here
You will only see  my tears

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

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

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

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

http://www.poetseers.org/poem-of-the-day-archive/poems-on-sympathy/index.html

 

https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2017/07/31/can-poetry-change-your-life

Extract

Why did Macbeth not have a first name? And Hamlet has no surname
Hamlet McBeth… MP for Gomorrah, Sodom and Kensington North.Sirens a plently

King Lear, again Lear is an unusual name.It sounds like Fear.And then we have men who leer at women [ if only  that was all they did]
And Jesus  had a Spear in his side.I see plently of  rhymes here.

Of course Kings  don’t have surnames.Except William Wales
Since William  is in Israel maybe he should keep away from the sea.We don’t want him to be swallowed by a whale unless it  will produce peace in Palestine and all the Middle East.
Good Will,Good Will…… ?

My surname is Danish.But if I marry again I will choose  a man with a short name and I will change mine>Even though it’s 1,000 years since the Vikings even English people can’t spell it and as for poor Eastern European men delivering parcels…. it gives them the heebie jeebies

Basically I am a Nord on the outside but as for my skeleton… an orthopaedic surgeon tole me .You are only one step away from the treetops.My big toes  have rotated as if trying to be thumbs.If I lived in Africa I would be happy.I have Celtic feet so Celts are more lime monkeys than Angles and Saxons.Is it too late to climb a tree?

I wonder why some  of us are nearer to monkeys than others are?Still my mind is alright yet without a body what  use is it? Dualism again!

From Ynet

Prince William in the Holy Land,plays football with Jews and Arabs

The Fighting Temeraire

http://www.janandcoragordon.co.uk/

I recall that I first came across  ideas about gaps when studying art. Jan and Cora Gordons’s writing  mentions this.Even the best artists must have the experience of completing a work and finding that it is not what they had hoped.Certainly for beginners it can be very depressing and may be the reason why many people who did poorly at art in school never try again… as they felt this gap very  painfully.But as with many of the painful aspects of life,it is better to accept and honour the  gap.Strangely when we look back at some of our work we may find it has much more in it than we saw at the time.But wanting some pre-conceived notion of perfection we fail to notice the value of what we did in reality.

Turner’s late work was thought by some to be a sign of madness.This doesn’t mean our daubs are the next great advance in Art or Writing…. but we may need to be more tolerant of ourselves and our productions whilst also being genuinely critical and accepting criticism.

Failed
Failed again
Fail better

Samuel Becket

Oh,people whose dead words obscure our pain
Whose cliches ring like sand dropped on a beach
We  know well  your agenda’s not our aim

Cliches make your speech robotic ,maimed
Yet you cling to others  like a  leach
Oh,people whose dead words obscure our pain

As you are inattentive to the lame
So to the spies, dead letters you will teach
We  know well  your agenda’s not our aim

Wittgenstein said  that language is a game
We need not be imprisoned in a niche
Oh,people whose dead words obscure  again

Do not spread your fog on matters plain
We can use  expression to enrich
We  curse  your dark agenda and its aims

To  people their own language is a crutch
But self direction,instinct ,matter much
Oh,people whose dead words obscure,  defame
We  know well  your agenda, and its  crimes

175 choices of salad dressing in  the supermarket!
6.5 milliom stereo systems can be made from the  items in one store.

Do listen to this delightful  man.

A Tale of two Pities
Gulliver bevelled
A Christmas Barrel
Census and Sensibility,
My Shield Smarts
The Man’s Field Snarks
Whores of Humour with paper and scissors. [ voice acticated  typing]
Eight whores a day at work is wrong
The Oxford Roars
Minimum Rages Now!

Sinning with my own husband in the  trees

I’ll go to Sodom Gomarrah
I’ll get  some prayers ; rite after death
I went to Confession;it’s  smashin’
I wish we could still buy “Indulgences”
Oh,God, be fair to aged present!
Give me oil for my lamp, keep me burning.
Is desire a sin ,and for” whom”?
We should meet others without memory or desire especially in  a “brothel”
He asked for a whore  more in bed.He’s; hard, to; please.
I am now a ” sinner” having committed more than 11,000 sins right here.They are called posts officially!But we all know about mass deception and wholly disunion.

Put as,many, commas and semi;colons in your sentences as you, can;.
Never, use; ” obscenities”; on a, “blog”
Always be polite to; your follower,your lover, your cat, especially if ;they are all the same “being”
Never ?!!! disagree with, anyone who;” loves” “you”
Write: about love, and hate
Write: about love and hate
Write about hate, and love!
People like to; hear, about “crimes of r

Fashion”
Always shock ,your, self; or “soul” or ;be ;” good for “nothing””
.Begin with a full stop!:.”””:)* and end with a lie.In.
Never mention your bed or your under;wear,parts,carriage,pants,neath
Never make men sin, on purpose
Never make men sin on purpose
Men like, to be “embedded” or is it “embodied”?l;……?
Never tell a “lady” she must have been “beautiful”#####, when she was Jung;young, or hung!?><*^(((
e pi i ,,,,,,,,. don’t you just love maths:***? foreigners;Jesus.?
Jesus was a foreigner!

j
June in my so ;called “Garden”

I went through 5 bags of cables and cords looking for the charger for Canon batteries.No sign of it.So I put them back into the cupboard and stood back; there on the floor was a charger! I found part  of  another but I couldn’t see how to connect it to a power source.
I will never buy another Canon.They are the only ones which I have seen which can’t be charged via a usb cord.But I like them.

PG Woodlouse
Malcolm Flowery
Detective CUES Lewis,
Doris Blessing,
James Cog
William Smouldering,
Stella Ribbons,
John Bellsworthy,
Silky Lollings
Joyous Caring,
Elizabeth Shouting
Arnold Academic
Sybille Oxford,
Pet Barker,
Pat,Hark Her
Evelyn Awe
Anthony Wallop,
Paul Spotte
Barbara Gym
Barbara Win
Philip Pullperson
Willy Pull Larson
W Somersault Norm
DH Awed Sense
DH Passed Tense
Thomas Bawd
Jesus Said
George Belly Ache
Joseph Washbad
Where is   our Dock?
DH Torrents
George Delicate
Jane Lost-in
Lane Caution
John Bust In
Moses Noble Aim

https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/20140805002649-50578967-how-successful-people-stay-calm?trk=tod-posts-postall-ptlt&trk=tod-posts-postall-ptlt

Mark Twain’s work space

 

Extract”Research from the University of California, Berkeley, reveals an upside to experiencing moderate levels of stress. But it also reinforces how important it is to keep stress under control. The study, led by post-doctoral fellow Elizabeth Kirby, found that the onset of stress entices the brain into growing new cells responsible for improved memory. However, this effect is only seen when stress is intermittent. As soon as the stress continues beyond a few moments into a prolonged state, it suppresses the brain’s ability to develop new cells.

“I think intermittent stressful events are probably what keeps the brain more alert, and you perform better when you are alert,” Kirby says. For animals, intermittent stress is the bulk of what they experience, in the form of physical threats in their immediate environment. Long ago, this was also the case for humans. As the human brain evolved and increased in complexity, we’ve developed the ability to worry and perseverate on events, which creates frequent experiences of prolonged stress.”

Where are you, love?
I heard you in the  sea breeze
Where are you love?
Indifferent to me, to please
Gone away,death.
Going away tomorrow
Gone away death,
Gone away such sorrow
Where are you love?
Where, why’ve you left me?
Show the hand.I see
Show the hand in glove
Where  are you,love?
Why are the  trees crying?
Where are you love?
Why, your baby’s dying.
Come back,my love
I am still here trying
Gone away, gone away,gone,
A way, but which one?
The trodden or the new
Where love are you?
Love , where are you?
Love,oh my love
Gone away, gone away,gone away, away,away}
On your way,
I cannot stay
I cannot play
Gone away

Guardian news

What as hell is perfect; about grammar?
Can we learn; it while we “use” a scanner?
A semicolon; it is some;thing to for:get
On my oath;I never took a  cheque

What  is hot like? hell is your own structure.
Should I tell you at a formal;punctured…
Colon is a word , of double; meaning~
I don’t like  to see, men, when  have I been dreaming?

If you” love ” the English; language meets you
If you like the Celtic words,I do too.
If you prefer Hebrew;I will need glue
And mirrors to  reverse;the image blue.