Tag: image

The face I loved to contemplate

The face I loved to contemplate is gone

The image dwells no longer in my mind

I once was sad to see it when I woke

Now I’m even sadder by mind blind

All perceptions fade if not renewed

The ones we loved the most still disappear

Perhaps when we’re asleep then they return

We are passive though our love’s sincere

As I grow old, I lose their shape and form

Yes I see the smile before he died.

I helped him to the river and the boat

Now he Is no longer by my side

Such loss includes the images as well.

Into cold dark earth his body fell

Sewing my soul together

Imagepoem,image

 

I get out my sewing gear

In the quiet times of life,

When I need to mend the tears

Torn by stress and strife.

 

I hold my soul so carefully

And look at every part.

I hope that light will come to me.

As I wonder how to start.

 

I take my needle out

With love thread through its heart

I scrutinise each inch

And then I start to stitch

 

In the quietness of the night

You heal me all the time.

You talk to me in dreams

And I write them down in rhymes.

 

Keep the cocoon whole

Till the soul’s completely there,

Then through its love sewn cloth

A butterfly will flare.

 

Wider vision

21686445_10212312128731777_8984201909203987371_n.jpgLight is the main factor in creating images.What we see literally or metaphorically depends on how we look and what  light there is.We can change the focus of our eyes.Relaxed,our eyes have  wide focus taking in a broader view

Narrow highly focused vision.like we use in ,for example.  some parts of mathematics or science  which needs sharp concentration  also leaves out a good deal if we use it to look at the world.Wider vision brings a feeling of joy.It is free from effort.Narrow vision is often goal oriented and so is not creative.for creativity needs to be open to as yet, unknown purposes
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What photos make good subjects for digital art?

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A first I  drew with Microsoft Paint Program.I did cats,apples and abstracts

I found Microsoft Paint by accident.I had not heard of, knew nothing  such things.I spent about a year and a half playing with it  especially when I had a few months of illness.I  made some abstracts and then a great many cat pictures.It made me realize it o.k to simplify.to do so;you have no choice with Paint And that what I really like drawing is two objects in relation like two cats or apples.I tried three cats as well.It has that advantage… you discover what you personally like to draw.Ideally I’d prefer watercolor or pastels but I had no class I could manage then,

Arty party

cat2 alone

 

??????????

What will happen?

Naive art!

This is the family of three… a child has arrived

Cat is cross

 Moving on from Paint,I discovered Artweaver and Paint.Net both free.I experimented and found for transforming a photo  it’s good to use  photographss with  strong shapes and pattern  like trees,cracks in the pavement,gates,fencing,certain buildings,climbing shrubs  on a wall…..natural patterns

bus stop 6A tree trunk

Cracks in the pavement 3

Cracks in our pavement down the  end of the  street

Cracks in the pavement

Cracks in the pavement.It looks better in color

Cracks in the pavement 4

Here I used Paint to add birdlike shapes to the  previous image

The top image below is from a photo of a mosquito  bite on my thigh after I scratched it so there was a little blood

another insect bite 3

From my trees collection

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6819924_f1126074c2_m brighter

What not to use.. don’t use photos with a large area in one color…even if it looks ok as a photograph

Apple tree and sunshineThe light here is a problem for using this in digital art… but it’s intriguing as it is

I found ignorance quite helpful in a way as I had no expectations…..which is very important I believe.

The windhover

 A window is the wind’s eye.

This article is by Carol Rumens

Poem of the week: The Windhover by Gerard Manley Hopkins

This time, Hopkins’s astonishing control of his wildly experimental form is as awe-inspiring as its subject matter

A kestrel

A kestrel in flight. Photograph: Shay Connolly/PA

Gerard Manley Hopkins wrote “The Windhover” in May, 1877. He had been a student at St Bueno’s Theological College for three years, and this was a productive period: the year of “God’s Grandeur”, “Spring” and “The Starlight Night”, among others. “The Windhover” is the most startlingly experimental of this gorgeous tranche of sonnets. Hopkins seems at ease, fully in control of the energies of his sprung rhythm and effortlessly folding the extra-metrical feet he called outrides (see line two, for example) into the conventional sonnet form. He recognised his own achievement, and, sending a revised copy to his friend Robert Bridges, declared that this was the best poem he’d ever written.

Much discussed and interpreted, “The Windhover” plainly begins with, and takes its rhythmic expansiveness from, a vividly observed kestrel. That the bird is also a symbol of Christ, the poem’s dedicatee, is equally certain. Perhaps too, its ecstatic flight unconsciously represents for Hopkins his own creative energy. When he exclaims “How he rung upon the rein…” his image might extend to the restraints and liberations of composition. The phrase means to lead a horse in a circle on the end of a long rein held by its trainer, and it certainly makes a neat poetic metaphor.

What a marvellous sentence Hopkins sets soaring across the first seven lines of the octet: I particularly like those cliff-hanger adjectives summoned “in the riding/ Of the rolling level underneath him steady air”. The diction throughout is rich and strange: “wimpling” (rippling and pleating), “sillion” (a strip of land between two furrows), “the hurl”, “the achieve”. There are resonant ambiguities: “buckle” for example could be imperative or indicative, and it could mean any of three things: to prepare for action (an archaic meaning), to fasten together, or to bend, crumple and nearly break (“buckled like a bicycle wheel” as William Empson remarked when analysing the poem in Seven Types of Ambiguity).

The metaphysics may be complex but the imagery of riding and skating are plain enough. The wheeling skate brilliantly inscapes the bird’s flight-path. It’s important to our sensation of sheer, untrammelled energy that we see only the heel of the skate, and not the skater. Empson wrote that he supposed Hopkins would have been angered by the bicycle-wheel comparison, but I am not at all sure he would have been: the poem welcomes ordinary physical activity, and a cyclist has his heroic energies and painful accidents like any other athlete.

Christ’s Passion is central to the poem, the core from which everything else spirals and to which everything returns. The plunge of the windhover onto its prey suggests not simply the Fall of man and nature, but the descent of a redemptive Christ into the abyss of human misery and cruelty. References to equestrian and military valour (the dauphin, the chevalier) evoke the Soldier Christ, a figure to be found in the Spiritual Exercises of St Ignatius of Loyola which Hopkins devotedly practised. The swoop of this hawk-like dove is essentially spiritual, of course. But the poem doesn’t forget or devalue the “sheer plod” of the farm-labourer – another alter ego, I suspect.

It’s remarkable how the sestet slows down without losing energy. Instead of flight there is fire: is this a reference to Christ’s post-mortem descent into Hell? The adoring “O my Chevalier” softens to a Herbert-like, tender “Ah my dear”. And now the great impressionist painter, having so far resisted any colour beyond that suggestive “dapple-dawn”, splashes out liberally with the “blue-bleak” embers and the “gold-vermilion” produced by their “gall” and “gash” (both words, of course, associated with the Crucifixion). Again, there is terra firma as well as metaphysics. The earth is broken by the plough in order to flare gloriously again, and the warm colours suggest crops as well as Christ’s redemptive blood. Beyond that, we glimpse some other-worldly shining, a richness not of earth alone. As always in Hopkins’s theology, Grace in the religious sense is not to be divorced from athletic, natural, often homoerotic, grace. In fact, it is fuelled by it.

The Windhover
To Christ Our Lord

I caught this morning morning’s minion, king-
dom of daylight’s dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his riding
Of the rolling level underneath him steady air, and striding
High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing
In his ecstasy! then off, off forth on swing,
As a skate’s heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend: the hurl and gliding
Rebuffed the big wind. My heart in hiding
Stirred for a bird, – the achieve of, the mastery of the thing.

Brute beauty and valour and act, oh, air, pride, plume, here
Buckle! AND the fire that breaks from thee then, a billion
Times told lovelier, more dangerous, O my chevalier!

No wonder of it: shéer plód makes plough down sillion
Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear,
Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermilion.

Meaning of “frenemy” in the English Dictionary

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“frenemy” in British English

See all translations

frenemynoun [C]

UK   US   /ˈfren.ə.mi/ informal

› a ​person who ​pretends to be ​your ​friend but is in ​fact an ​enemy:Her only ​friends are a ​trio of ​catty frenemies she hasn’t ​seen in ​months.
(Definition of frenemy from the Cambridge Advanced Learner’s Dictionary & Thesaurus © Cambridge University Press)

What is the pronunciation of frenemy?

Sonnets for all

  1. A sonnet is a poetic form which originated in Italy; Giacomo Da Lentini is credited with its invention. The term sonnet is derived from the Italian word sonetto (from Old Provençal sonet a little poem, from son song, from Latin sonus a sound).Wikipedia

You must read

When you are writing you will be using whatever you have stocked your mind with.So reading poetry and fiction and other writing is crucial.and of course your life and what has happened to you or your society will be present in your writing..I find keeping a l journal of things which make an emotional impact on me is helpful.Read what you like but not rubbish.Please.

Starting with the sonnet form

The first line of Gray’s Elegy has the right meter.for a sonnet.

“The curfew tolls the knell of parting day.”

So you must write a line to that music:

The clouds rise up and race across the sky

for example; then you need a second line.I find these two lines must be interesting.emotional ,deep or symbolic .After that the structure determines to some extent how you can develop your poem…Fourteen lines according to the pattern below.

ABAB CDCD EFEF GG

Sonnets are usually serious but it is possible to write a humorous one.Historically it was the metaphysical poets who wrote this way about love and death…John Donne is one of them..He wrote the famous poem

No man is an island

/Brightness
Brightness

Eve's temptation

Sonnet on writing a poem

Poetry is the art of shaping words

The structure contributes to make the whole.

And writing sonnets is not just for us nerds.

Creating structures helps to create our souls.

Yet many folk are frightened by the risk

Of imperfection,criticism and pain.

But for myself, I love this frightening task.

so gaily I sit down to write again.

Though what I write may not be alpha plus.

The chance to share my feelings lures me on.

And when I travel on a London bus

I write a note before my thoughts are gone

We each can be creative in  some way

And find  our happiness. from being gay

The creaks of loving:Stan gets a surprise

 Cracks in the pavement 3

A surprise

Stan and Annie have been having such a lovely time since Mary went off.Stan has quite given up his addiction to microfibre cloths and polishing the windows.He and Annie can now make love at night and go out for trips in the day time.
Emile’s diary is getting quite full although he is worried he may bebanned from sleeping on the foot of the bed soon as he may be in their way.How will he know what they get up to?
Luckily there is a gap at the bottom of the door so he should be able to see them in the mirror opposite the bed.They usually light the bedside lamp so as to see into each other’s eyes.
~Annie is a very bold,confident woman.Despite being rather plumper than is medically advised she loves her body and lives happily in it now she has true love.
One morning Stan goes down to make some tea whilst
Annie comes to.
“Stan,come here quickly!”
“What’s wrong,my little lamb chop?”
“I feel sick!”
“Was it those old sausages we ate up last night?”
“No,it’s a different sort of sick!”
“You don’t mean………..?”
“Yes,Stan,I’m afraid a miracle has happened!”
“But you are 55 and I’m 90.Surely we can’t have a baby!”
“Well,the ways of God are strange.” she murmured.
“I don’t want to bring God into it.” he riposted.
“Are you not pleased we are still fertile?” she asked
him humorously.
“Well,in the abstract I might be but in the concrete it
could be awkward.” he said furtively
“What do you mean?”
“Well,Mary will be coming back in a couple of months,you
know”
“We don’t have to tell her you are the father.I could
pretend it was the new Vicar at St Andrew’s”
“But he’s gay!”
“Not many men are able to resist my charms and skills.”
“I can believe that,”Stan answered lubriciously.
“But will you have to seduce him soon before he notices
you are pregnant>”
“I wasn’t thinking of actually going to bed with
him,”said Annie with a smile.
“Oh,dear.I was looking forward to that,”Emile murmured
under his breath.
“That would have made my diary into a best seller.”
“Gay vicar seduces middle aged harlot who is now
expecting.”
It sounds a bit like the old Bible stories except they
had no vicars in those days.But miracles like older
women bearing children did happen so…who knows?
Stan and Annie got dressed and went into the kitchen.
They were both looking confused.
“You don’t want an abortion do you?” he enquired
tenderly.
“No way.” she replied softly.
“I love you so much,I could not wish for more than to
“In that case,I’ll tell Mary.She is a very wise woman in
many ways,though a bit lacking in the earthjer side of
life.She has not slept with me for thirty years or
more.”
“Perhaps she thought you were too old?” said Annie.
“No,she never enjoyed it.She just put up with it as she
wanted a baby.”
“Maybe you did not turn her on!”
“I did my best,but she preferred reading Proust and
“I wonder of she has Asperger’s syndrome?”
“Well,they do find social life trying but I suppose she
can’t blame you for loving another?”
“No,she’s very broadminded.I’ll suggest we all move in
together.I’ll divorce her but she can have the big
bedroom and we’ll have the guest room with the en
suite.”
“I think this will be fun.”
“Well,not all of it but it will be intriguing,”
“So no need to seduce the Vicar,then?”
“We’ll leave him out of it.He might fall in love with
you and then what would happen?”
“God only knows,”She answered humorously as she went
into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee.
Read more about this next week or it may be too late!

Why do poppies cover the battlefields so politely

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We have to be breathing right to hear
the silence from which all song arises;
we have to be breathing slow
and gently
We have to be breathing right to feel it,
the tenderness in which we are held by nature.
We have to be breathing quiet
and soft
and to be looking receptively,

No desire for  objects

We have to be breathing right to recall it
the music we heard when there was silence.
We have to be being breathed
by the world
We have to be part of the whole..

and so,we forget  it as we are pounded

with  the noise of radios and traffic
and people talking loudly on cell phones
walking by the green fields and river
past the secret heron
and the coots nest
past the daisies

When I am dying I shall think,
Why was I not breathing right?
Why was I scarcely breathing?
Why did I forget those moments?
Why did I not live more deeply?
Why did i not sing more sweetly?
Why did I nor love more dearly?
Why did i not listen more carefully?

Why did I not sing more sweetly?
why did I not see more completely?

Why don’t we talk more gently?
Why don’t we look more intently?

Why were the poppies growing so wildly?
Why were the battlefields growing nightly?
Why did we murder  men so lightly?
Why did we not love more rightly?
Why are the poppies  covering the soil  so  politely?
When did the young  soldiers   leave so frightfully?

Why are we not here  more quietly?

Having to collect mail with underpaid postage; it is from a Charity.

bike by pub 4

On Monday I got a card through the door saying someone had underpaid postage so their letter was not delivered.I  managed to get down to the sorting office today.It was from Friends of the Earth.So I refused to pay £1.54 to take it.

I just rang FoE and they said it was a letter asking me to increase my monthly donation.I decided to cancel my donation as it’s the only way to stop this recurring.I  am weeding out a few of these donations as I will probably have less money in the future or even this month!

I shall continue ones like Medecin sans Frontiers

Do not give money to an appeal asking you to text a certain number because when I did this they phoned and demanded a monthly amount.The man was extremely skilful.This is really a serious problem for people especially older ones.

I have also got cunning schemes from supposed insurance companies on my mobile now…

I can’t answer the phone again

I have to iron my husband tonight.I have to feed the pig as well.

LegsI

I am washing the cat’s hair plus the other 9 cats all; need hair  conditioner washing out before bed.

The television needs a  new licence and so does my husband

The dog’s grave needs weeding and who am I to deny it?

I am dead now.Please phone in 3 days or  so. then call Dad.

I rue the day I set eyes  on your face.I should have used aspic jelly

i only answer the phone on Wednesdiays

i don’t talke cold calls

The bank manger is here

The washing machine is broken and I need money urgently.Send a cheque

The golden rule;oh what the heck

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My doctor thinks I am too fat
and advocates eating the cat
food from a tin
Or even the bin
what do all you old folk think of that?

Personally I do not mind
As cooking real food is a bind.
But visitors might
So keep the tins out of sight.
For cruelty’s very unkind/

Indeed sin is an offence to our race.
surely all humans can face
That harming and killing
Those who are unwilling
to recognise us has no case.

It’s a long time since God’s word had effect
The golden rule.oh,what the heck.
Selfishness pays
And nobody prays.
Nor do we pay our respects.

In the end we shall all be in hell
And God will send us the bill.
As the electricity’s dear
And so are our tears.
Yet we still fire our weapons and kill

Belated

  • Photo0688

    Belated thanks, long overdue,
    Are flying from me straight to you.
    So take heart and stand
    but not on my hand.
    Nor on Alfred who if startled goes “Mioaw”

    You see Alfred is a very hot cat
    He hates to sit down on my mat.
    He likes my warm lap
    And wears a small cap
    To show he’s real holy,howzat?

  • Merriam Webster word of the day:Belated

    Did You Know?

    Long ago, there was a verb belate, which meant “to make late.” From the beginning, belate tended to mostly turn up in the form of its past participle belated. Eventually, belate itself fell out of use, leaving behind belated as an adjective that preserved the original notion of delay. As you may have guessed, belate and its descendant belated derive from the adjective late; belate was formed by simply combining the prefix be- (“to cause to be”) with late. Belated was also once used in the sense “overtaken by night,” as in “belated travelers seeking lodging for the night.” This sense was in fact the first meaning of the adjective but it too fell out of use.

A very strange form of birth control.

P1000207 3

All I know is that diaphragms are a form of birth control.
I am puzzled by that because we all have diaphragms, yet some of us have no control of any kind.
If your diaphragm doesn’t move you can’t breathe so you can’t procreate.
No,you’d be dead!
A very strange form of birth control.
Maybe you can just faint and then your husband can have his way with you.
But would you want sex with someone unconscious?
It’s another case of a-symmetry.. a man can have relations with a faint woman but if the man faints that’s the end of it.
How disappointing.
I suppose you might use a carrot instead.
Well,it would be a form of birth control.
And girth control.
How come?
Sex is exercise,isn’t it?
Being alive is exercise!
Keep moving in any way you can,.however irregular.
Regular is better…
But anything goes today.
Even carrots.
Control..you love to lose it.

Occasionally, some of your readers may see a meat pie here.

Study in blue with limericks

  • Study in blue

    • A brilliant composer named Dvorak
      Decided to fold his front door back.
      But then Dvorak tripped,
      And so he was flipped
      Onto a carriage on an ill routed rail track

      By God, he wrote a new work
      As in that  big steam train he sat.
      A symphony unique
      With a diabolical streak…
      All in the key of C flat.

      C flat is more usually named B
      As B is much shorter, you see.
      But the key’s no concern
      For those who discern
      Dvorak scored best when at sea.

      Dvorak like horses and girls
      As they all wore a ribbon and curls.
      He wrote music which dances
      The way a horse prances…
      The girls felt real gay as they whirled

The little bird

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A bird taps on this window every day,
Fast as flying leaves flail  in a gale.
But now he perches on the potted bay.
He feels the weather as the blind do braille.

This bird is faithful and I love him dear.
He’s fearless as he pecks upon the glass.
I hope he has a modicum of fear,
For who knows when a sparrow hawk will pass?

I see him like a human soul forlorn
Struggling to discern his own true way.
For soon he may be taken by a storm
But blithely he will eat, and after play.

The smallest bird has trust in the Unknown
By his example, our right way is shown

You are my light

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You’re my lodestar,you’re my light.
You get me through the darkest night.
You keep me on the path I follow
I know you’ll still be here tomorrow.

You’re my companion, another self.
You have knowledge,spiritual wealth.
You have felt and you have thought,
In meditation, souls are wrought.

You are there when I’m in need.
You don’t allow my fears to breed.
Sometimes I catch a glimpse of you,
And you’ll be here when life is through.

We’ve been together since the start

And I know we’ll never part.

You are my soul,you are my love.

You are my own,my dearesr dove.

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I

My hand is lonely

13:28:14

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Sometimes my hands curl up,
and other times,they open.
Then I feel the air;
My fingers relax.
I touch your hand;
uncurl it and press it to mine.
Palm on palm,it’s no secret
that palms connect to hearts.
In your face I see a hint of melancholy,
I feel it in my soul..
as if there was a secret connection..
thought how,I don’t know.
Somehow,touching, we create another soul,
Neither you nor I, but we……
Touching,need to be physical..
We know how a story can affect us that way.
What a gift to know we have touched someone…
In the heart.’s. most tender space.The place of love.
Both true and false,my palm is lonely.
Then I feel the caress of summer air..
To touch is to be touched
as one soul opens to another..
Vulnerable,human,loving,
Painful and illusory,like those dreams of childhood.
Now I go,first gripping, then loosening our hands.
Goodbye,we say,Goodbye

Words and images

My sister is learning by copying a Lowry.Can one learn to write a poem by copying? Yes,copy the rhythm of a song or a ballad.That can be a help to start you off
My sister is learning to psint  by copying a Lowry.
Can one learn to write a poem by copying? Yes,copy the rhythm of a song or a ballad.That can be a help to start you off

At the end of my first few months of writing,and on New Year’s Eve 2010 ,this was the poem I remembered best and want edto share  then

If you prefer images to words I have put one of my sister’s first paintings here to show what a beginner can do

The theme of this poem is one that is very important to me.Actions change when vision changes.Actions are changed most by Imagination,not by force or will power,Actions change by seeing from a new perspective.

In a trivial way,sitting on a different armchair in your sitting room can be interesting if you usually sit on the same one.But don’t sit on Pussy’s favorite chair or she may scratch you!She will see you in a new  perspective as an  invader sometimes go outside in the dark, and look into the sitting room through the lit up window.I always find it more interesting and beautiful.I’d like to peer into other people’s windiws but they might get the wrong idea which is the right idea

These poems are my gift to you

They flow from my perceptions

I write them to discover truth,

And my preconceptions.

I write because I see and think

More deeply than I knew

And seeing is the first step

To imagining the new.

Changing perceptions changes deeds

Without the need for force.

Find out your hidden dreams ,and look.

You ‘ll speak with your own voice

My scheming heart

Sonnets

A sonnet has three verses of four lines each which rhyme in a certain way as you can read in mine.Then the have two lines at the end which should be succinct.Shakespeare’s sonnets are the most well known and rightly so
Source: Katherine

My error

I live a life that many would enjoy
My home and garden artists would admire
And yet my heart is sad and I feel flawed
As my real life fits not to my desire.
I married for the money that I’d gain
and for the house and garden of my dreams
Yet looking back my error is quite plain
That love cannot be found by she who schemes.
I gave birth to six children whom I love
My sons and daughters are my living joy.
Yet I fear vengeance from the One above…
I made my husband’s life into my toy.
And yet he seems so happy with his lot
Perhaps my traitorous heart has been forgot

Emile’s diary translated by Stan

what's this?Cat musing

I think Stan is having a nervous breakdown.He hasn’t cleaned the windows for a week and he says he hates the vista.
I know this vista well and to a cat it’s quite intriguing,though we have better vision than humans
He says he can’t do a back up…why can’t he park up front ?
Now he says there’s a virus in here.Well,I’ve seen some beetles on You tube and spiders in the bath but not a single virus….
He says the touchpad needs freezing………..well,it won’t fit in our freezer..it’s full of kippers.My pads are still ok despite my climbing trees.
Now he’s shouting “Bugs” at the computer but so far it’s not replied.
I said it’s time for coffee,to which he replied:
“To be or not to be”
So I said,”Measure for measure.”
Then he leered nastily
So I said,
I want to change sex for my name is Cordelia.
He said,you’ve got your own blog now,Emile.
I said,Lend me your ear.
He said,You have two already!
So I said,Much ado about nothing.
He said,Are you barking?
I whispered,It’s a dog outside
He said,Persuade me.
So then I did bark, just a little one, and he passed out on that old chair.
We’re waiting for the ambulance now.I actually dialled 999 and though they didn’t understand my miaows they did trace the phone number and then found the address from that.
Then tonight we’re all off to see
Timon of Athens
or is it
Timor of Athens?
It’s all Greek to me.
It could be Hebrew…the concept appeals to me.
Was it Aramaic they spake?Cats don’t have all these languages
One image is worth a thousand words especially if it’s of a bird or a mouse.
But in modern culture words are valued more highly.So only children had picture books.I like it when Lyra was a child because she let me look at cats in her story books.And mice as well.
I have to have a bath now so I shall end here

The why of the house

 

 

0114-0006The phrase “the window of opportunity” seems not wholly satisfactory
Admittedly you can see through a window unless you have thick net curtains but how many of us would be able to leap out of the window and seize the opportunity by the throat,if you see what I mean? And if you were in the attic you’d be dead before you got there…so what we need are “doors of opportunity”

The problem with that is you can’s see through a door unless it’s either got a window or is a glass door..So if you want success try living outside in a transparent tent where nothing will get in your way if anything passes by and your will get free publicity
I expect the phrase was made up by someone who writes speeches for politicians.
If you want a to succeed you must grasp the windows of opportunity as they go by and squeeze every last drop of rum out of them [try the tygers of wrath too]
She was only a little window but she was the window for me
Do not ask what your windows can do for you but what you can do for your windows.
Look through the windows and seize the day.Unless it’s a dark night in which case visit a brothel if they have windows
And one day all our children will be able to choose their own windows..red,yellow ,……………..mix your own…..free windows ..
Windows are the eyes of the house
Don’t be shy if opportunity peeks into your window.Peek right back at it…
Ich bin ein Window! Moi aussi.Ma femme!
Where is she now, the rich widow of my opportunity?
To look or not to look.Out of a selection
Never close the door in case someone wealthy passes by on the other side.and merely glances at your window.
Now is the Window of our discontent made gloriously plumper with our sunny walk
One good window deserves another.
I’ll be your window, if you open your door
Windows,they ought to be taxed I say.
Windows.. they give you an illusion of being in the sun but did you know we can see in…and we saw you and the mirror on your ceiling…anything to say in your pretence?

The Stan saga.. a letter from Mary,author of “Wittgenstein’s cats”

Source: Kathryn

A letter

The Pilchards.

23,Sweetnames Avenue

Knittingham

Near Nottingham.

England

Dear Jane

Hope you are keeping well in this unusually cold spring weather.

Stan has had flu.It made him so bad tempered and waspish

that I took up the Duraglit polish and got him to polish all the brass,

except the front door knob, as that doesn’t come off.

Mind you,it made the bedroom smell odd… a mistake,perhaps.. so I sprinkled lavender oil around.

He seems to get thinner and I seem to get fatter.

So our average w eight remains constant.

What a relief.I’d like to be weighed as a married woman.Can you believe this..

I’ve got chilblains! It’s those dratted blood vessels of mine.

Still,I polished some old plum colored leather boots  and wear them in the house.

We seem to be doing polishing frequently here.. boots,furniture,apples.

How is your new book “Nonsense:A.N.Whitehead and Lewis Carroll” coming on?

Hope it’s progressing….to a nonsensical but true ending

I’ve got a new book of poetry coming out in April [from Polar bears publishers]

It’s called,”An unpolished performance.”

My fourth book on Wittgenstein‘s cats is almost finished.

And the publishers can’t wait for the photographs…I’ll get a friend to do those for me!!

It gives me a change from all that polishing.

I’ve begun to talk to myself out loud…. in the street.Just seeing if I can still do my old Lancashire accent.

I suppose it might  worry people but no one has said anything as yet.They may be afraid.

“That which is unsaid can,nevertheless,still be heard.

Stan is still involved romantically with Anne, our next door neighbor.

I can’t blame him as chilblains and Wittgenstein not very romantic.

When I think of how we used to be,it makes me smile and feel sadness too.

I wonder if I can find someone new for a romance,myself… someone with Asperger’s syndrome

possibly…as I’ve just been diagnosed.It’s quite common in mathematicians.It may be an advantage in concentrating a lot

I need a boyfriend with weak eyes as my clothes are all full of moth holes and I’m damned if I’m going to buy new ones.

I can’t see well enough to darn but I’ve sewn the holes up neatly thus giving a strange pleated effect to my clothes.

On my merino wool knitted trousers, one hole was right on the ass.It looks now as if I’ve been shot in the rear…

but I can’t see it.So it does not exist.Sometimes in the past I would iron on those motifs like

butterflies…but I think it would look odd having a butterfly just there…. or indeedanything else like wild ros

I could make a little sign saying”Keep clear,from my rear.This is a hole where a moth scored a goal.”

Still,not many people are going to look there now I hope…. I seem to have stopped knitting but am still drawing.

Meantime I’ve just ironed some of my winter clothes as it’s dank and  chilly and am planning to iron all my pink and blue knickers now as I believe it kills any germs left when you wash at 30 deg.I got those colours in case I should

change sex or is it gender?I wonder if I should iron the sheets?Could I do it while they are on the bed?

I don’t wash them much as it wears them out and me too. I am going to take up baking again because Stan is getting so thin.

I fancy a Russian cheesecake as it had a lot of protein in it.

I have a genuine Russian cookbook and also am waiting for a delivery of a

Jewish cookery book as I have lost mine..no it fell down onto my head last week

God only knows where that came from.

but I believe there were good cheesecakes as Jewish cooking has much in

common with Russian,perhaps because once many Jews lived in Russia.I just

made friends with one here….he is charming and like me he hates golf.

I have got almost all the Penguin cookery books ever printed but mislaid a

few.In fact it’s quite hard to get into the kitchen

with all these books on the shelves.And a little food.I was comforted to read that the parent’s of John Burra,the artist,

had books piled every where in their large house….and he was very untidy too.

So all I need is talent and practice and I’ll be an artist.

After all,anyone can be untidy but not everyone will practice their Art.

I’d like to practice the arts of love.They say you should love your neighbor as yourself,

but personally I prefer the neighbor or even the milkman to myself.

Meanwhile I’m happy with Emile our cat and my 500 photos of Wittgenstein. I shall make Stan a lemon sponge pudding.

That is the love he wants…Food.”If music be the food of love

I’ll cohabit with a pure white dove.

And while he coos and sings for me.
I’ll try not to :fall out of the tree,
Get stung by a bee,
Have psychotherapy
Make more enemies,
Let my thought free,
Hurt my knee.
Let moths frighten me.

 

Well,time for some tea.

Now Jane, please write to me soon.

I love to see your so strangely beautiful handwriting alluring me to open the letter and to hear about Whitehead and Cambridge and all the weird dons. I hope it’s not too damp and cold there near that river.

Keep warm and make a note of any intriguing happenings to relate to me. And anything beautiful you can see or hear.I hope Edward is writing regularly..where is he doing his research now… did you say Stanford?Maybe you should install Skype..then again,perhaps not as you would have to wash your hair too much… and comb it too…perhaps we could wear wigs.

Do write soon,dear one,Love always,Mary.

 

Getting better each day

Ioulios_Palamaras_170_256_c1

Dr Ioulios Palamaras [an expert at Mohs surgery and other skilled techniques]He is not paying me BTW

World class dermatologist with a good sense of humour

Well maybe it was worth 22 injections of anaesthetic  to be cured [or is it healed ?]by God,nature and a human being with special skills

But which glasses to wear and how many pairs?

I have a fancy for teal coloured frames but I can’t go outside yet!

Meanwhile the cats seem to have no problem…wonder what they want?

images kits

photo big specs

Yes we used to wear big spectacles once upon a time… they were sometimes too big

cat-glasses-face-squint-hd-free-animals-wallpaper
It’s a cat’s life alright, they need no sunscreen nor hats..Why,I could wear the cat on my head if only she would keep still!Maybe two would be even better.cat-reading-book2_zpsac56a3ddMaking good progress here.She’ll soon have her D.Phil [Oxo] and then  her own office too.photo 3 specs

I wonder how many pairs of spectacles  I can wear at once and will they get me onto the right track in life?

p15

Life is sometimes very painful  but we forget when time passes and we are grateful for the surgeon who saves our life…but never put elastoplast over a deep incision… it took me an hour top recover from rcat-reading-a-book-with-glasses-600x384emoving this the pain was so bad…I put it on so I could wear my specs.Never again.I’ll just get a guide cat instead.She will know how to get to Cafe Nero…

Make doves want war

garden 2

I don’t drive as I fear I might thrill somebody on the road.

Then I worry about the pigeons… is it true that we can make doves want war?

The skittle has boiled  so where is the flea?

If God did die,where was the funeral?

Where is his grave?

Mourning is broken I think.

Love was oh,so long ago.

Waxy flowers poking through

Snow so white
Flowers bright.
Made me think of you.I see once more your dark gold hair,
Soft as snow,
On my pillow.
Now my bed is bleak and bare

,
Your face turned to me,flower to sun,
I loved you.
You were true.
Fear by love was overcome.

I saw the cyclamen in snow,
Pink and red,
Now frozen,dead.
Love was,oh,so long ago.

But never gone from in my mind.
Thoughts so deep,
Upwards seep.
Love was gentle,love was kind,
You’re always in my mind