Eclectic’s a very fine word
I love it and even feel care.
It might rhyme with dialectic
Or maybe forensic
So here are two more we must air. .
Eclectical students are rare
Because the tutors are rude and unfair
They say, concentrate!
And I hesitate
Because my interests are wider than theirs.
If you just want to get your degree
Then focus on what tutors agree.
But leaving out other topics
Can make one myopic
And most of the world we won’t see.
Love unlocks doors and opens windows that weren’t even there before.
Mignon McLaughlin
When wanderings take my restless mind
To places peace can never find,
When imaginations linked to fear
Push tranquillity away.
To my green garden I must go
And let my mind and thoughts go slow.
I look up at maples in the breeze,
See sunlight dappled through their leaves.
I see the apples hanging down
And blackbirds peck them on the ground.
I see the hawthorn berries ripe
Upon the hedge in gold sunlight.
And then my soulf is brought to earth
Peacefulness is given birth
I feel at one with nature green,
And all that is just now unseen
So back to everyday routines
Without “what for?” and “might have beens”
All is well and shall be so
Wherever we may chance to go.
Peter Fried,the Bionic psychoanalyst ,who had recently arrived in the fine midland town of Knittingham, had noticed that whilst he was practising “free floating attention” with his patients an image of a cat peering in the window behind the couch was troubling him.He hoped it was not some hallucination transferred from the Unconscious of one of his patients into his consciousness.
Still,having a black cat looking in the window was by no means the most unpleasant optical illusion he had ever suffered.In a way,it was quite sweet.
He was back in his “home” flat boiling some eggs for his supper when the doorbell rang.He opened it cautiously with a sort of excitement. mixed in.There stood a strikingly attractive woman wearing a purple coat and a red hat with matching red ballet flats and a bright green designer handbag from TKMaxx.[£29.99 and well worth it]
Hello,I thought I’d introduce myself,I live across the street next door to Stan and Mary..my name is Anne..How are you settling in?
She walked confidently through his flat and into the new dark teak kitchen with its gleaming work surfaces and marble pastry rolling strip…. though Peter never made pastry himself.
Eggs!Are you a curry lover?By pure chance and serendipity I have a tin of vindaloo sauce here.I could pour it over these eggs.
Should we not remove the shells first?Peter asked with a just hint of humour.
Definitely,leave it to me.I’ve brought some naan bread and some brown rice too
How did you know I was boiling six eggs?Why Emile told me,of course!
Emile….is he black?
Some people call him black,others say he’s mixed race.
Let’s not argue about semantics or political correctness,he replied discourteously.
I don’t even know what semantics, are she screeched softly into his left ear.
Well,that is no barrier to arguing about them,he replied diplomatically.
Well,it’s senseless, she answered kindly.”I am not a person who enjoys an argument.Go and sit down,read the paper and I’ll finish preparing the curry dinner.
Is it common around here to have an unknown woman come in to cook your dinner?Peter asked Anne.
No,it’s the height of sophistication,she said judiciously.It’s just with you being new I wanted to meet you to see if you need any assistance in your work.I don’t need money,I like to serve the community in some way.Of course I am Stan’s mistress but as he’s in a bad temper today I’ve not seen him.I suspect he is growing tired of me.
Are you married,Peter asked her.
No,but I was once.My husband ran off with his brother’s wife,so we decided to pretend they were both dead.
That’s intriguing,said Peter,I am married but my wife developed an allergy to my skin.She could not bear to touch it so it became awkward… very awkward.
Fancy, and you a therapist too,she murmured softly,So where is she now?
Oh, she lives on the Isle of Man,near Peel.I do go to see her now and then… and there are lovely sunsets over there… you can see the Mountains of Mourne.
Are you lonely, she asked him very emotionally.
No,I see seven patients a day..
But that’s not the same as having a wife or a friend.
Since my wife’s allergy,I am afraid to touch another woman.
How sad,cried Anne…I have very thick skin.Would you like to touch me? she said seductively
Perhaps another time,Peter said in a kindly way,But thanks for being so generous.I am touched by your amiability and femininity and your kindness in introducing yourself.
Let’s eat the curry before we die of hunger.
They sat down at the kitchen table to eat the egg curry when they saw some amber eyes gleaming at the window.
Oh, dear,There’s Emile again.
Will he tell Stan?
Probably,but actually Stan no longer wants me.Yet Emile adores me.He will be jealous… he’s a cat,but he has the feeling of a man.
And indeed Emile’s eyes were gleaming like those of a tiger… he began to speak through the window glass.
Would you mind if I had some curry? Stan never makes it… I love spices
Why not? said Peter.
Emil’s plan was to get near Anne but first he had to eat the vindaloo egg curry.He took a mouthful..my,it was hot.His eyes began to water and his nose ran…. all round the room.He mioawed piteously
I need a hanky.
We shall have to ring 999,muttered Anne.
What! Do they tend to cats?
They usually have some hankies for cats….
So without any further ado,she took out her Samsung mobile phone and rang.
I don’t know how I shall get on living here,thought Peter.
He ran across the room and jumped into the washing machine with the tea towels and kitchen cloths.
Will he escape?
Buy the next chapter…only three shilling and sixpence or free with the Daily Wail tomorrow…order now for next life delivery!
Bite on my leg
When I say bad I mean when your hand shook or the photo is blurred.
I say this because I have found such photos can be very good for using digital art software on… sometimes far better than your top photos… something about the nature of the image is good.. blurring contains some different shades of colour.
And photographing things that may seem odd like an insect bite on your leg can give a good basis for new images.Of course,when we think we can see the blood running out has a shape similar to a river estuary;because of the way fluids run.The fact that a leg is much smaller than a country and the bite is much smaller than the sea… it doesn’t matter.. you can get very interesting shapes.
Bite on my leg
My own hand
I am no authority on art of any kind but these are ideas from ways I have found images which please me
Gladness of the heart is the life of man
and the joyfulness of a man prolongeth his days
Ecclesiastes 30;22
I saw a shadow on my wall
Cast by the setting sun
I turned around to see a face
That made me feel dead glum.
“Twas but a man in a very large box
He seemed in a foul mood.
He’d lost his head while logging on
But now it’s been re-glued!
He likes windows and doors as well
He likes his Vista wide.
But Windows Eight is just alright
As his little cat has spied#
.
She looks in one,she looks in two
She looks in seven and eight
She sees nothing but smoke and flames
Oh,what a nasty fright!
Ronald comes out and sniffs the air
For he is feeling bright.
He’s fixed all his new purchases
He’s set his world to rights.
He nibbles hot jam tarts and beets
He drinks his brandy neat
He daydreams as he sits and smiles
with the striped cat by his feet.
When thy song is shield and mirror
To the fair snake-curlèd Pain,
Where thou dar’st affront her terror
That on her thou may’st attain Perséan conquest
Francis Thompson wrote those lines.. se below
Cat got your song then? I thought you’d licked it once or twice then mioawed all night
I am Miss Taken.How do you sue?
She fell head over wheel and got the handlebars into a brand new formation before dying of boredom
I always read above the lines of lassitude as I long for your trembling touching timidity to pass by on the other side.
Laughter is the best sedattive not invented by man.
Waking up on the wrong side of the body is disconcerting if you are not dead yet
I wanted to dither on the dotted line but he read me the riot tact and that was the end
Butt clenching strain made him feint in a lively manner with a spanner from the works
Heart-stopping dearness made me love him
I love you more than strife and health
And hence they all lived happily ever dafter
The quiet before I was born was delightfully calming.. like being dead could be in the womb of God
When I was at University I spent 6 years studying mathematics.But I always liked poetry and novels.My school thought I should study English Literature,but to me that was not a creative activity.The way we were taught was to criticize books,plays,poems by many famous writers [mostly men!]
Praying
I didn’t want to criticize only.I wanted to write but I never thought I could.I followed my career as a mathematician until my vision deteriorated.I could not read mathematical symbols anymore.Still it had earned me a living
I began going to an Art Class as I wanted to see as much as I could. in case my vision got worse,I was so very embarrassed because all the others were very good whereas I had no idea what all the terms meant [Even for pencil drawing ].I was afraid but I kept going and did learn to look at the world differently.At that time I .I had not got a computer.Later I could not get to the class but did more here at home
Two cats
I bought my laptop and after some time I discovered digital art.I had no books about it so I just played.I found Microsoft Paint inviting and simple.Later I found Artweaver and Paint.net which I used to manipulate my photographs
Lily pond
I only took photos because by error I bought a phone with a camera on it.Next time I’ll tell you how I wrote my first poems
I like blue
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
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’are fat or boney thin.’
Beware the man who never can adapt
For in own lone wishes he is trapped
by Katherine Marmalade
Please leave the Church when the bull rings.
Please keep off the yawns
Please sleep in your own ruins
Please deceive the women kindlily
No men followed here
Men must lift their nits as a mine of university.
Please do not lust after sinning.
Sex is not work on Sundays.
No sex until you join the union.
You must pass a breast before driving in the UK
The Government seem very refused over child poverty
Do men love bugging women?
Free blank cheques for billionaires given out daily.
I just can’t scalp it.
It’s chicken or quiver with dumplings.
Do you leak any languages properly?
Protect your mattress,Sleep on the door.
Why not hang yourself tonight?
She kept men in the wardrobe and clothes on the floor.
It wasn’t until late in life that I discovered how easy it is to say, ‘I don’t know.’
W. Somerset Maugham
Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/w/w_somerset_maugham.html#phqQOWqumPSIzJ8c.99
Dwelling on these thoughts about thinking,and knowing much thinking is blind and cut off from the people outside us is it valid to compare they say it to different kinds of talk’conversation?
Free thinker?
With a trusted friend or teacher we may open our hearts and ears.We may talk and listen .We may learn and give our friend new ideas…but also this conversation may be risky.So more frequently we gossip,talk about the weather or argue over trivialities.We may chat with a friend simply to show we are with them or as they say,To touch base…in other words to comfort and give security.
When we are alone,we might worry for hours.Some people used to worry a lot about their sins.Or whether they had enough money.Or some daydream and fantasise about,Fifty Shades of Grey.Maybe actual thinking or thought is rare.
I am not proposing we should be thinking all day.We would go mad!But were we to think,would it be like a conversation with the Other within?So we’d be listening as well as talking silently?A kind of internal conversation may be taking place.We all know that our unconscious mind may be thinking while we are woolgathering or taking a a bath.Eureka..Archimedes famous cry.And dreams are also a kind of thought in images.They are a communication.Some people have had dreams which they felt were a message from God.
In a real conversation something new might be born…And why is thinking associated with tension and effort?
Pray it will not be so for ,the fragile,loving human
now waiting and living,hoping for what you took for granted…
a “normal” life span Or maybe just three quarters of one
would be satisfactory;would be a beneficence
such as trees feel when the sap turns and begins to flow back.
bringing life out of the darkness of earth and soil.
And another Summer comes at the right time
and we find it,shall we say,satisfactory?
I firmly believe we all have the right,even the duty,to invent new words but if we do so,they won’t enter the language unless we can get other people to use them too.So here is one of mine suitable for someone who has limped to the town and got into Boot’s but then been unable to find the prescription she’s been carrying about for days.Then found her mobile was flat and the mechanical charger brought on a wasp like pain in her wrist
Exwasperated
Having been unable to achieve your objectives for the day because of the weather,people being awkward and the buses being cancelled
you are then
1.Stung on the nose by a wasp
2.Stung to the heart by a friend’s rude remarks.
3.Stung by a demon that was hiding in your bed
They lay down in awe and fear,
Of what their love was bringing near.
They gazed into each others eyes
And so did tantalise.
They lay down to gaze into
the eyes and soul of one who’s true.
They gazed until ,when overcome,
They were united into one.
Their souls and bodies were conjoined,
And thus their hearts were well entwined;
As honeysuckle on the walls,
In joy’s sweet arbours does grow tall,
Their loving lips and eyes and hands
Gave pause to time’s soft flowing sands.
and as they touched and gazed and longed,
The birds sang out in glorious songs.
Which is me and which is you?
Are we one or are we two?
I give you all myself today,
So this shall be our way
The sky looks like a Turner painting.
At the high point it’s brighter,even golden cream
Like the top of a bottle of Jersey milk;
then it dims down to a bluey gray
with a slight threat in it
like a blacker gray…It’s
Too warm today for snow.
I swept brown dried leaves from the step..
Had to move my bike.
Then I hid them under the hedge
So they can keep some insects warm in the winter.
But mainly I don’t want to bend down to collect them,,
I’m tired or lazy after the weekend.
I still have a dress here I was ironing just a week or two ago.
Now it will be put away till next summer.
Here’s a denim jacket with flowers all over…
I did wear it but it won’t look right now.
I washed my hair.It feels soft and pleasant.
I like that feeling.I am wondering what you are doing.
Are you listening to music or resting?
Or sitting looking down the road at wet fields?
I think I’ll make some tea.
I need a focus for the day which also has a feeling
Like those late watercolors
Everything merging
Until one thing dissolves into an other.
Some people like it but today
I need some edge,some definition.
I need someone to give me boundaries.
Time 4 pm
Kettle boils and a neighbor’s cat peers by the locked cat flap…
Wondering why she can’t get in.
I turn away.
Now the sky is without any gold
It’s sixty shades of gray.
It’s clouded dark and soft
Like your hair might have been
But I could never have touched it…
You were always too far away and moving.
I use photos I take myself and I use various Art software programs such as Artweaver and Paint.net.I love color and shape so trees play a large part in my collection of images
I’m sitting under the coffee table.By rights I should be given some cafe au lait in a traditional French style wide cup with a silver brim plus a matching saucer.I am shocked that Stan has never asked me to partake.I need a coffee break..it’s hard work spying all day!
I heard Anne talking on her mobile while Stan was looking for the graph paper.She must be talking to another woman…. she said she’s just bought some Revlon primer lotion to put under her light beige mousse foundation.Ye Gods,it sounds as if she’s painting the wall.She was moaning she can’t afford Lancome any more.Mousse foundation..that sounds tasty! She wants some heather coloured lipstick but she couldn’t find any.She’s put a new one on anyway and Stan came in to give his opinion:
Congratulations,Anne.You have found lipstick that’s exactly the same colour as your own lip .She was mortified.I could see tears in her eyes but luckily she had her waterproof mascara and purpleeyeshadow on.
Well,it makes me glad to be a cat…we have no need for skin products
and we have no lips as such.Why do humans have lips?Is it mainly for kissing?
And perfume………we like the natural odors but I’ve never seen Stan go up and sniff Anne’s netherregions…though I admit I took a sniff and she smells very intriguing… probably some musk she’s bought.
I envy Stan in a way.Because I’d like to kiss Anne but my lips are too small….I could lick hers with my little raspy tongue!
Maybe if she falls asleep i’ll have a go.i love that woman so..
A cat may look at a king,but can he lick a lady’s lips?
Well,must go and take a walk around my territory and sniff out who’s about….face primer.What next.Paint stripper? What a waste of time and money.I could be chasing dandelion clocks round the garden
Sometimes I have found when talking to friends or neighbours some people feel life is predetermined.. not in a religious way;they feel nothing will change.That they run along a track and cannot turn off.
Major change can be hard…. so I am doing simple things like not always sitting in the same armchair.Changing my routines and if the weather is good I am going out and making the most of winter sunshine.
I take a camera and get some intriguing pics as I wander about.the seasons may return each year but they are never quite the same.This year we had snow.Now it’s autumn but we had a good summer…after a prolonged winter
Are limericks poems or not?
What kinds of mind think they’re rot?
I am unsure
whether they will endure.
Meantime what have I forgot?
I forgot to get up from my bed
I dreamed last night I was dead
But when I drank some tea
I needed to wee…
So I got up and tidied my head.
Are nightmares of use to the mind?
What makes our peace start to unwind?
If I feel insecure
Can I endure,
When my friends seem to become so unkind?
I’ll draw a graph of Mother Earth
I’ll need a lot of paper.
It won’t be easy,I know that,
But Geo’s my alma mater.
Geo came into our maths class.
We had to find her metre.
If we did then we could write
A poem with which to greet her.
With ologies and eulogies,
The earth is deep in waste.
Give me some green graph charts
I’ll do some cut and paste.
I’ll rearrange the entire globe,
Without a deal of fuss.
If anybody notices
They won’t know it was us!
I’ll put all the mountains in the world
Into one continent.
And if I am that way inclined
The globe will look quite bent.
Ill put the lions and tigers too
Into Parliament.
Let them eat not cake but men
And don’t charge them a rent.
I’ll paste all the seas that I find
Onto my washing line.
With less water around the world
The weather should be fine.
Oh Geo was a darling child,
So promising and bright.
Mixed up with the graphs and charts
I hope she’ll see the light.
I’ll put all the stars into a box
We have far too many.
Yet only one sun and one moon,
So,would you like to buy any?
Geo return,I love you so.
I’ll give up cut and paste to show.
That you are all I ever know,
and i do love you so
As the last rose dies
My heart,too,seems to fail.
Yet, when a sparrow flies,
It,fragile,beats the gale
Standing together,
We lean forward touching foreheads lightly
Eyes closed for a moment
Tenderly we respect
The other’s boundaries.
Yet I feel your heart beating too,
As it it were me.
We lean for a few more moments like this.
Wordless.
Holding the broken places,with love.
Then we turn and walk away
Such moments last forever
In the eternity that Love creates
Foreheads touching,
Skin to skin..
Boundaries of the inner and the outer
You are another;
A real human person
Wanting nothing;wanting everything
I shall remember your smile.
You were with me once
And now we go our ways
Our own difficult journeys.
One meeting of souls
Creates its own symbol
May you be blessed
May the fire not burn you
Nor the water drown you
May the Lord keep you always near him.
May He protect your spirit.
May he give you strength always.
Oh,I see the wolf listening..he’s so gentle or is he mental?
Oh,Ah,kerbumplof.
Shrieks,calling for mate
Bang my soul up
In your bedroom
Ker pluf
Thor.War
Storms of lightning
Hail you
AAAAAAhhhhhhhhh
Me,oh,me oh,me stuck here in my groove
Give me electric shocks;the silent treatment.Sulk for me, please,Argentina.
Screech,scream,I felt you watching.
Touch me with a feather
Dust me!
Glug!
I see the wasps round your coat
They hug you and nip your neck
Bong!
Don’t cocme near me again
wolves are not
Well come!
I sigh for mein mutter
she’s a nutter,
utter
Sob
Scream
nightmare
Thud!
You hate me!
Never call again when you’re already here
You are not welcome.
I close my door
on your foot boot
Oh,yes.
Thunder and lightening
Go home now
This is a poem as likely
ill conceived
Eagle flies while I am
Falling down a mountain…
Scree burning.
I never want to see you again,babe.My duck.
Please be a love and leave me.Cheers
That’s ok.I understand you.
Asp,gasp
Per bot fly!
No thud
No dach
sunds whimper.
It’s time for my tea and biscuit
I cooked it twice
but you were
ab ab a aaab aa absent aahaa
sent!
No.No.no
I can’t believe you!
Cut this string and let it all hang out again
Oh,bloggers.Go to bed
Now
How
Mein eschreitschzung.Flightschzung.Nachtschzung
blung.blung
blot me out
I’m an ink stain.
I like your fingers, so clean and curving
I’ll mark you and give you homework
Och,aye
It’s well come
Crooning mouse traps
See Rockefeller
drop out and
Bring a bag of sylvia plath’s
scrap paper.
did she know?
Did she k now?
Did she sweat
Bang?
Thud.My sky fell in onto the millpond
Don’t smoke near me
I’ll get burned
For I hate you
Or just want your hat and an E for
flatness
Droom,droom
Dee
Bag
bug
Ted went to bed
where he spent his honeymoon
with another woman
Not with the second one
Mathilda
It’s finished us all off
Brang.Blong
Eschreitchzung
Fleightschztung
Herr Meightschrung!
I have written many stories about Stan.Time goes backwards and forwards.Ages fluctuate.But the main characters always come in somewhere.”Double entendre” and exaggeration are some of the humor tools which I use.I chose the name “Stan” for the main character as a tribute to our English novelist,Stanley Middleton
Sometimes I give a little instruction about e.g. when to call out the Emergency Services and when not to such as when the cat scratches you or you break a chair leg.You’d be astounded to know what trivial reasons cause people to phone Emergency….. then again,perhaps you are one of the culprits!
I take my photos mainly with a mobile phone,sometimes with a Fuji camera.I use Artweaver Free3.1 software,Paint.net and Microsoft Paint.Also Google Pixir.These are all free software available on the Internet.Why not try?I find it fascinating.A crack in the pavement or a gnat bite on your leg can make a great image!
While Mary boiled the kettle in the new greenish blue painted kitchen,Stan smacked his thick red lips.
“I thought we said, we’d have no more corporal punishment,” she murmured loudly.
“Why did you smack your lips just now?”
“Well,I can hardly smack yours” he said politely
“But we said no more smacking at all yesterday”
“I just like the noise” he confessed, turning as red as a stalk of ripe rhubarb.
“Sado-masochism may be fun, but after reading,Fifty Glades of Fray,I thought we said we’d abandon it”
“Well,why don’t we abandon ourselves to our bodies or divine providence?” he answered curiously.
“I am unsure if one can do that on purpose or if it just happens whilst doing something else.”
“Elser than what?”
“I dunno” the Oxgrudge educated woman replied sheepishly .
“The Government didn’t give you a three year research grant so you’d say,I dunno” Stan told his slender and silver haired wife and lover.
“Well,that’s their problem.Three years studying Searat’s equation did nothing for my spoken English” the brilliantly brained brown haired and eyed lady told him shrewdly.
“Well,are there rats in the sea?
“I dunno”
“So who wrote the equation?” Stan asked her.Immediately in a peevish tone
The door bell rang.
“Hello,Mary,It’s me” cried Annie their naughty neighbor and man magnet
“No,it’s not”
“What do you mean?”
“You never invented Searat’s equation”
“Pardon me for living,”Annie answered rudely.”I prefer peeling potatoes to this noist argument.”
“I never knew potatoes pealed”
“Yes,it’s like little bells ringing” Mary informed her kindly
!Oh,for God’s sake,”Stan shouted quietly,”that’s Emile’s bell ringing so the birds can escape from him”
The women went red all over with shame.Annie ran into the kitchen and poured a bucket of cold water over her head.
It’s this hot weather;it’s too much.I need a man now!I am mad with desire.
No,it’s just that mid life madness coming too late,she told herself gently
It’s too hot to make love anyway.
Why you must be getting old,she remarked to herself confidently
Heat never turned you off before.Why you once said you’s lie down in the road and sleep with the next man who passed by.
Unfortunately he passed by on the other side,just like in the Bible.
But in my case no Samaritan came to my aid.
“Am I having a mental breakdown/” she shouted pensively
“No,it’s me” Stan told her,I am trying to stop Mary smacking her lips but it is hard work. and it has create a bad atmosphere.”
“Is it wrong to smack your own lips?Can you morally smack someone else’s?” Annie said wonderingly
“Why do you ask me that?”
“Well,it seems lots of things are wrong if one does them alone but are moral if you do it with someone else or to someone one else”
“I just have no idea what you are talking about,”Mary called valiantly.
“Make me some tea.My lips are parched!”she continued
“No wonder,”said Stan vivaciously
Well,thought Emile,I am glad cats have no lips.That’s one thing less to worry about.He sat up and drank some tea from his china saucer
Stan and the ladies sat quietly on the patio watching the birds flying about.
“Do birds ever get obese?”Mary asked.But answer came there none.
Night fell and they all went to bed together,Emile says there is safety in numbers and I find thirty is a safe number to share my bed.I write30t on a postcard and pop it under my pillow.With my dentures and my hanky and four mobile phones
Sou
I can’t love you without loving the whole world too.
I can’t open my heart unless everyone can be part.
Wait for me.
I’m not afraid.
Wait for me.
I may be delayed.
I see you in my mind
Smiling, sad and kind.
I can’t love you
Unless I love the lost too.
Give me your hands
Outstretched across the world.
We’re all one
Love has begun
I once fell in love with a book.
I was unable to eat or to cook.
It’s cover was blue,
That’s my favourite hue too.
I kept giving it meaningful looks
I bought it and carried it home.
I wrapped in white plastic foam.
Alas it expired,
After I had retired.
So I buried it in a bucket of loam.
I never even read my blue book.
What a pity I didn’t take a look.
The attempt to preserve
The love object served
To make me a real neurotic freak
The moral of my limerick is this
We are alive now,so now we must live.
Don’t keep love back,
You are on the wrong tack.
To live is to love is to give.
The brightness of the summer light,
The songs of birds whose brood take flight,
I love to take in these earthly pleasures,
And so to fill my mind with treasures.
The conversations with my friends,
The closeness only death will end,
To share my life with those who care,
How could we have better fare?
Those who suffer pain and grief,
From whom love’s stolen by a thief,
Let us take them to our hearts,
So their healing path can start.
Those who fear friendship and love,
Who set themselves at too low worth,
Do they know how courage grows
Through acceptance of our woe
Life is tragic comedy.
Love may be the remedy.
Though if we give our hearts away
We shall have grief and pain to pay.
But if we lock our hearts up tight,
And keep all feeling out of sight,
We will wither like dead leaves,
Falling down from autumn trees.
How my heart sings 