Tag: love

We call it love

I run my fingers tentatively down your cheek,
asking you a question
with my eyes.

looking at each other,

you touch me too.

This is my skin
my boundary.

Yours is thicker,
like rubber.

I run my fingers down your chin.
what is this little bone?
I like it.

I like your skin

I like your bones.

I like you.

you please me.
you are tasty.
I like your taste,

your skin,your eyelids.

I like your eye here,
and your other eye .

Nice one!

I like the hair on your head.
May I touch your hair?
do you like hair?
Hair makes me laugh.

I have a fondness for laughing.
I love to laugh.

I enjoy laughter
I love your laughter.
If not, smiling is good also.
Or a gleam in the eyes,
showing the inside smile,
the smiling heart.

I like your inside,
Outside
and possibly
your backside.
your upside and your downside.
your side sides.

I snuggle you all around with soft wool.
I knit you into my scarf.
I’ll have to wear you round my neck now!

How unusual
How flexible.
How charming.
How alarming

How creative
How interesting.

What an idea!
what a notion

but you are too big for me to knit
So I’ll just touch your hand
with my fingers.
and you touch my hand
with your fingers.

What good hands we have
with such fingers.

fingers are for touch.
fingers are keen to touch.
I like touch.

what would we do
without fingers?

I like your skin.
skin is good
We love skin
We love.

We.

I want skin to be ours
and yours
is mine
and mine
is yours

where is the edge of the world?
skin has no end
it’s infinity
au naturel.
what order!
what design!
What wonder.
what awe.
where is the world’s skin?

tenderly we touch the world
as the world embraces us.

It’s called love.
Love.

It’s called love

Only the rose

You know there’s that little place in the inner wrist

where it’s so soft and tender?

Where I need your touch;

Where I touch you

Wrist to wrist,no-one will notice;

But we notice,

I feel your pulse beating,

Or is it mine?

Take the rose,

Take the rose for your table.

And when you see it

Remember,

Remember everything

What we said,

What we never said but implied,

And only the rose will listen

As you sing your song

The rose will be there

In the heart’s garden

Dreaming,

Dreaming us back into being.

As we fade gently away

With evening time.

Love is map enough for me

Your face is map enough for me ,

Your gaze,your smile,your frown,your glee.

And if I want to know the rest

The shape your posture‘s made is best

For showing how your life is now.

A look,a gesture all this show,

Till who you are is then disclosed

And I am in your arms enrobed.

Love vanishes when analysed,

And thinking too by Love’s despised.

Choose the means to fit the end,

And then I’ll be whom you intend

The sacred images within

When first I saw your soulful face,
Then wished I most to you embrace.
I wished as well to clothe you in
The sacred images within.

To find a home for love without;
To fold my dreams all round about
Your loving body and your face
Were covered in such joy and grace.

But now my dreams are cast aside
The world of meaning denied life.
What seemed most precious now is fled…
And I lie sleepless in my bed.

What is the world when unadorned
With all that in my heart I’ve formed?
There is no meaning I can trace,
As in a mother’s empty face.

On these grey rocks my path is hard.
From paradise, my soul is barred;
To struggle or to grief succumb
When this dark day of mourning’s done?

Into His dazzling darkness dart
My dreams and love like dying sparks.
Into His Mystery so fair
I’ll cast both hope and my despair.

Thus my dreams will be transformed
To show themselves in other forms.
What feels a loss may foretell growth.
On my hope,I’ll take an oath:

That nothing in my life is waste,
That I have not for phantasms chased.
And you are human,as am I.
Let’s live once more until we die

After he left me

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After he left me.I walked slowly and blindly.
Unknowingly, I  had entered a grey desert of rocks and stones
Not a person nor a house
Not a flower or a tree…..
Seemed like no-one else in this whole world was alive.
Inside my womb I carried our child.
Solemn with that weight and crushed by grief
I kept on my way.
Though my time had not yet come,
I realized the child was about to be born
I was aided by a faceless
doctor.who informed me
that my child was dead.
Casually he tossed it onto a heap of bodies
I am not Jewish ,but it reminded me of a Death Camp.
Deserted,I gave birth in a Death Camp.To a dead baby.
The doctor vanished and I lay inert like one of the grey rocks that were heaped about.
My heart felt like a stone
I had no food or drink but no desire arose.I lay unmoving
After a week I rose to my feet knowing I must leave or die.
Going over to look at my dead child at last,
I saw with astonishment,
he was alive.Alive!
I picked him up
And held him tenderly.
He’s alive,but what am I do to?
Still there’s noone around in this eery landscape…
But at least my child is alive.
Like the Israelites out of Egypt,I shall have faith in God
And I will keep walking until I die if need be.
My child is alive,is loved.
A miracle has  occurred.

I walk on

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.

 

From those lost lands of long ago

In the land which dreams dwell in
where love and hate and life begin;
where swiftly the deep rivers flow
from those lost lands of long ago.
I wander through wild poppy fields
Underfoot the dark earth yields….
I see the flowering fruit trees start
Their blossoms gather round my heart…
I hear the sparrows sing with joy
And bees their busy wings employ.
In those lost lands I saw your face
And now I long for your embrace.
Are you real, am I deceived?
From this earth we all must leave.
Earth to earth and ash to ash
Glory,pride and boasting pass.
Leave me now,my dearest one
Soon I too will be called on.
Nothing lasts but love is real
Remember that and your ideals..
Earth to earth, we rest in clay
We must give all self away
Softly on this earth I roam
Seeking still my love and home,
for until the very end
Love and kindness may descend.
Soft as wings of butterflies
Tears well up and wet my eyes.
My heart has melted into yours

And thus we live and die like flower

With tender puzzled eyes





A day of sudden changes.Clouds

cross the sky

like whales swimming North in rows.

The sun was bright,dazzled my eyes

with gold and silver.

Wind cut across my face

like a slap from an angry father..

Those who love can also seem to hate us too..

The lure of that small childish body

tempts them to divert their anger towards it.

When the ones who hurt you

are also the ones you love,

it’s hard to know which direction to run in;

but it usually turns into a circle.

Retreating turns into a new arrival.

Straight lines might be better. though

On a spherical earth

difficult to find.

Even parallel lines meet

In their Riemannian geometry.

So we can never get away

Sometimes the best we manage

Is to increase the circle’s radius.

Though how is hard to know.

Do you love me or hate me?

Do you want me to stay or go?

What do I want?Do I have a me?

The memory of warmth draws me back

Like a cold lonely beast leaving the jungle

To lie down with a what appears to be a lamb,

Surprising the farmer up early to milk his animals

Finding a strange new one

Looking with tender,puzzled eyes

into His Human Face.































	


	



			
				


			

			
I want a winter lover
		
	
	

		












New River












In summer time when  sun does shine


I’m  happy on my own


I gaze up through red maple leaves


All transparent in the sun.


But when winter comes I’m lonely


Sitting here beside my fire.


So I want  a winter lover


To make my  spirits  higher.


Oh,my winter love  come to me


And I’ll gaze deep into your eyes


The light that shines in there


Is so much warmer than my fire.


We’ll  stroll  through wintry  woodlands,


Where elegance  lies bare.


The branches struck  by sun


Now feel  the frosty grasp of air.


I’ll love you all  the winter time


i”ll love you in the dark.


I’d like dwell  within  your arms,


To love   in London Parks


When summer  comes I’ll disappear


To roam across the dales


I’ ll sleep on heather moorlands


And send you  loving  mail.


I can’t be tied  in summertime


I must be roaming free


But ,if  you accept   this need of mine,


Then how happy I shall be.


 


 


 













	


	



			
				


			

			
I’ll put you in my pocket
		
	
	

		
English: The National Champion Black Walnut (J...
English: The National Champion Black Walnut (Juglans nigra) on Sauvie Island, Oregon. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)






I love you like I’d love a black walnut.

You’re so rare I can’t eat you.

I’ll put you in my pocket

and take you with me

when I go in town

I’ll feel your crinkles and your wrinkles,

But nobody will know.


I love you like I’d love a comice pear.

I’ll put you in a golden bowl.

I’ll let the sun shine on you,

Till you are ripe.

I’ll put you in my bag,

Take you to a meadow of buttercups

And devour you.

And nobody will know.


I love you like I’d love a flower.

I’ll give you my best vase.

I’ll stand it in the window.

Then I’ll look at you all day

With my peripheral and my central vision,

Till your pattern is embedded in my brain.

I’ll sleep well and dream of you all night.

I’ll wake up and remember it all.


And nobody will know.




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The Promised Land
		
	
	

		






I have loved you and I’ve held you.

Many years,you have been mine;

If the time has come for parting

Let us embrace for one last time.


You know you have to leave me,

Though you desire a longer stay.

Let me hold you in my arms now

For just tonight and perhaps one day


Then I’ll watch you travel on,love,

We take this last step all alone.

I’ll be here beside you watching.

I shall feel when you are gone.


May you accept,may you surrender.

May you reach the promised land.

Into  earth my tears will fall, sweet,

As I recall your tender hands.







	


	



			
				


			

			
Love in Starbuck’s and the sequel
		
	
	

		


Photo2109Anita was sitttng in Starbucks drinking cafe latte.She gazed blankly out of the  window until her eye fell on a handsome man passing by.Thud!She ran out to retrieve her big blue eye and put it back into  its placeAre you ok,the man enquired suavely.Yes,I am fine she said. calmly yet thrillinglyAre you doing anything tonight?


Only washing my eyes,she answered succintly, But it won’t take me  long.


Would you like to have a meal with me?


She gazed pensively at his dark and mobile features.


I’ve not been to McDonald’s ever ,she whispered.


Very wise,I suggest that new Chinese place by the library.See you at 7 pm.I’m Tom.


Anita didn’t even  know his full  name but  she was  very keen  to  meet more men as she was 39 She went home and finished reading,”The Art of Loving” by Erich Fromm. should I also read .”The Joy of Sex” she ponderedor is it better to wait for it to happen and learn as you go?Besides she diddn’t yet  know and love Tom though he looked  beguiling. Then she wondered what they might talk about. so she watched a precis of the news. and washed her hair with a new shampoo.Oh, she realised it was for leopards but it seemed to do wonders for her  golden locks. What to wear?That was not a problem.She only owned one dress.It was amethyst coloured  and had a wrapover front,the style which is attributed to Diane von Furtensburg  though it was known in ancient Greece.Socrates may have worn one Anita  had got hers from “Lands End” for £13 in a sale.It was a little clingy but she had a most beautiful figure.Or should she wear a pashmina to hide her curves? I don’t know Tom yet she thoughtWhen she arrived  in  black jeans and a white Tshirt toppped by a beige trenchcoatthere was her beau wearing identical clothes.~And his hair was the same colour as hers.


What sort of shampoo do you use,?  she whispered seductively


Why,I use  one for leopards.I bought it at the vets.


Wow,I have the same one.Do you think we are two persons who may share a soul as well?


I’m not sure,but I’ll share a Dover sole with you.


Do Chinese restaurants sell fish?


I’ll ask.


Do you do fish?


Of course the food is fresh.


Tom gave up and went back to Anita.


Where do you work?


I’m in the Foreign Office.


Are you a spy?


No,I’m a linguist.I speak seven languages.


How useful.But it would be good for a spy too to know many languages


What do you do?


I’m in the Home Office.


What exactly do you do?


I’m a translator,Glaswegian to English and suchlike,dialects and accents


Wow, we do similar things.


They gazed furtively into each other eyes.


Do you come here often.?


No,not really but I’d love to meet you again.


Why,thank you.would you like to come back for coffee.


Where do you live?


Just across the road in that new block of luxury  flats near the train station.


OK,I’ll come.then.I live here over the restaurant.How convenient.How central.how residential.What potential They went into her flat and fell over the cat which was asleep in the hall.


What’s her name?


Apassionata Sonata!


That’s unusual.


I call her Pashy for short.


Not so good for shouting out if she’s in the garden.


They sat down demurely  on the mauve and pink  sofa.


Where do you get your jeans from?


I got these from Gap but sometimes I get them  from Topman


Oh,I got mine from Poetry by mail order


They are very atttractive on you.Or more correctly You look most attractive in them


Thank you.


May I caress your supine flesh?


Please do.How polite you are.


Where shall I start?


At the beginning


I don’t know your beginning.


Well,just guess.


He took her tapered hand and licked it with his tongue.Then he licked her lips.He could taste the sole.


Pass the salt please,he quipped. as he bit her ear lobe gently.


A tear of joy ran down her cheek and Tom licked it off very sensually.


How delicious, he muttered


You are so funny, Tom,she cried.I love you already.


Do you like being tickled anywhere and everywhere ?


No, but in your case I’ll make an exception.


Just then the doorbell rang loudly Anita opened the door of her flat as Tom hid behind the sofa with his jeans


and T shirt..


Hello,darling.Why are you in your underwear?


Hello,Mummy.I was feeling so hot!


Is that your wedding day  underwear ?


Yes,Mummy,but since I’m now 39 years old I decided to begin wearing it.


Oh dear ,Anita,Are you giving up hope of romance?


No,she’s not!,cried Tom springing up from the back of the sofa wearing only underpants and a vest.


I was just about to propose but Anita wanted my view on her underwear and I wanted to show her mine.


Hello,I’m Mary.I love your underwear.Is it all silk?


Yes,it is ,said Tom,it’s very comfortable. Still thus clad he knelt down and propesed to Anita.He said she should save her golden underwear for their honeymoon and gave her an amethyst ring for their engagement.


How romantic ,said Mary as they both got dressed. I never expected to be present to hear this proposal.I feel very pleased you


allowed me to be here. I must rush home to tell her father and everyone else. When will you get married?


As soon as possible,Tom cried.I can’t wait to see her golden underwear again.Promise to save it.Anita


Of course I will,Tom.I’m so happy you liked it.


And did you like mine?


You would look good just wrapped in brown paper,Tom.I love you just as you are.


And I love you,Anita.


Just then someone rapped hard on the door.Was it her father?Wait and see



	


	



			
				


			

			
We think but do we know?
		
	
	

		




8282959_f520I used to love my mother

but then I got too old.

She didn’t want to feed me

Because I felt the cold.

My feet and hands were purple

which she told me was wrong.

I couldn’t change the colour

so had to change my tongue.

I used to love my father

Until he went away.

They said he’s with the angels

and small girls ought to pray.

And then I loved the cat we had

And all four kittens too…

Until my mother got fed up

and sent them to the zoo.

I said I am disheartened

Life is far too hard…

or else I’m hypersensitive

and must become a bard.

I loved a Spanish waiter.

A young man from Peru.

I loved a lot of others–

No more than ninety two.

That is just an estimate

An average, a norm.

It’s what I told the doctor


When he filled out a form


He said to me,You err,my dear

And I mistook his speech

I thought he meant he loved me.

But he just meant to teach.

What he meant was quantity

is not what we desire..

One man is sufficient

Unless he is a liar.

And in the darkness of the bed

What matters is their smell.

Some men smell like honey..

much more I cannot tell

for though these men pursued me

I had such poor eyesight

I didn’t  see them properly

especially at night..

I was more keen on Wittgenstein.

and whether I am real..

Maybe I’ve gone crackers


And don’t know  I’m surreal


I don’t want any lovers now

for love brought so much pain

I’d rather be a jellied eel

than fall in love again.

But friendliness and welcome

Are what we humans need…

And cats and dogs and willow trees

Which don’t make our hearts bleed.

One man is sufficient

And necessary too..

Without my own sweet husband

whatever would I do?

He listens with his heart and soul

And he is never harsh…

He likes to hear me singing

Across of Southwold Marsh.

He likes to take the ferry boat

Across the River Blythe.

But now I hope the ferryman

will not yet arrive..

We have to cross that river

We have to let life go…

We have to be untied and freed.

We think,but do we know?

In the silvery moonlight,

Time gets her own  way

In the darkness of the night

Time will have her say.

Time has come and gone again

And so the hand descends

So I bid you fond farewell,

We have reached the end.

Oh,wrap me up dear mother

in my winding cloth

Take me in your ancient arms

for I have had enough.

I’ve loved and loved and loved again.

I’ve puzzled and I’ve pained

but all I want’s a writing tool

To write down words again





	


	



			
				


			

			
Summer of love
		
	
	

		
lighter tree


Shimmering light

The lily pond

The music of your eye

The touch of your arm

Your always honey smell.

I love.


Rustling trees in a row,

A wide green lawn;

People stoop to see small flowers.


A snail on the path.

The perfection of the shell.

I believe


Unusually tall dandelions

at the edge of this wood

Wave in the warm west wind.

We smile.


Sitting pen in hand

I wonder what I would have written

In all the letters I’ve not sent you.


Far away on the Ridgeway,

Cars, like ants,

Rush towards the motorway.

They make us laugh.

How green the meadows

How fresh the old trees.


I gaze at you.

I find I am.

It’s mutual.

We are.


It’s here.

	


	



			
				


			

			
Illness is a plot to slow us down
		
	
	

		
Illness is a plot to slow us down

when God sees we are about to catch him up.

His face is covered by a thoughtful frown…

till he bestows with love the poisoned cup.


For speed is alien to the human soul

we have to live as slowly as hearts beat.

If rushing on we may miss our life’s goal..

Running down some long and rain filled street.


Step by step across the dangerous flood

On stones placed there by patient long gone men.

With care,perception guides us to the good

but haste leads often to a tiger’s den.


Beware impulsive speeding in your mind

For out of this come many acts unkind

	


	



			
				


			

			
Rocks bestrew my path
		
	
	

		
When true love’s gone


              and doom hangs over head,


When life runs like a river to the sea,


Then, shall I take new lovers to my bed,


And with their carnal touch consoled be?


 


When true loves lie and break my woman’s heart,


When life seems grey and rocks bestrew my path,


Then, shall I my life of evil start,


And, on the world, shall I bestow my wrath?


 


When true loves lie and wreck all loyalty;


When puzzlement makes all the world seem mad;


Then I shall upend causality


And let myself do deeds which make all glad.


 


For I have love’s own child inside my soul


And I shall tend her till at last  she’s  grown

	


	



			
				


			
				


			

			
When he went away
		
	
	

		












When he went away


He said,”Lehitraot,mama.”


Do vstrechi.


He died, but I’m still here


Yes,in my heart I feel his love.


But why did I live,


And he did not?


Auf wiedersehen


Lehitraot.


Yes,darling,I’ll see you later,LC3_3932


When the sky turns black and all the stars blaze bright


I’ll see you shining in the night.


I’ll see you in my dreams alas.


Do vstrechi.


But why you and not me too?


Araka


I can’t understand.


Lehitraot,beloved.


A plus tard


Some where in this world,you fell


But no-one,not even God, can tell.


God was absent then or in some other place


He’s gone again.


They said He’s died too,


But He didn’t have a mother like you.


Do vstrechi.


My breasts ache and my heart and soul,


My breasts were made to make you whole.


To feed, give love and to console.


A plus tard


And now they ache with grief as my tears fall.


A bientot


My body trembles in the night


As dreams may bring my lost ones to my sight.


A plus


I’d walk across the roughest bleak terrain


If l I could find my loves and hold your hands again.


Do vstrechi.


The bell rings on the ancient clock


As time goes on as normal,  never stops.


Araka


I wish the hands of time could be reversed,


And I was not living with this curse.


People forget that I once had a son.


They think my grieving has been done.


Araka.


But grief and loss and pain will never end


Until the curtain of my death descends


Auf wiedersehen.


Meantime I look at flowers and birds and trees,


But it’s really you my deepening insight sees.


Lehitraot.


Th inscape of my heart is shown to few,


An artist of the lost would know this view.


I know I want to see just you.


Do vstrechi.


But for me there is no


Auf wiedersehen


Never again will you say


What you said that day


Lehitraot,


Mama.


Papa


A plus tard


Tot ziens.


See you later


See you soon.


See you.


You


 my beloved son







	


	



			
				


			

			
Embodied love
		
	
	

		
Let your lips meet gently,


the top one resting against the lower,


touching with tenderness


your own skin to skin.


Forefinger propped on chin,


I let the others dangle,


like leaves on a branch;


how softly gravity tugs them downwards.


Let heart beat quietly,slowly


as the blood circulates


carrying its music,


a river,


following the path of least resistance.


How the blood vessels receive willingly this flow,


touching it kindly as with tiny open fingers,


helping and being helped.


How the hair on the head


floats


on the breeze,


like tentacles of an octopus


waving goodbye.


Top eyelid loves the lower one;


as we blink they touch


like lovers kissing swiftly


behind a tree.


and how the light comes in


we see a world.


[mine may not be yours,]


but the blink of my eyelid


sends waves through the air,


so we’re all touching and being touched,


lips kissing each other,


kiss all living creatures.


skin to skin.


air to air.


And inside us,the rich darkness


of creative night


transforms,in turn,


these touches


into dreams.

	


	



			
				


			

			
We need to trust the world before we can see
		
	
	

		
tWeeds or flowers I have become interested in virtue and perception.It began when I read  a little Aristotle about virtue being a habit.That was quite recent.Before that for many years I believed virtuous acts would follow from being able to perceive well.But when we are fraught our minds and eyes tighten up and so we perceive only what may be a danger to us.To perceive others well we need to be in a position to trust others and we need to feel secure.How is this possible?From my studies I read that our ability to trust begins with a trusted caregiver in infancy,[See” atttachment and loss “by John Bowlby reference to come] We may be able to become more secure later by good fortune,friendship and love.If not,I seem to get the idea that if we are insecure and nervous we cannot truly perceive others and they may be in the same position.If we are very afraid then virtuous acts may be hard to accomplish. The reason is obvious… when. we are concerned with  mere survival as a person , in that state what we do to others  may be impossible for us to consider.We cannot truly see them and so we cannot act well towards them except by good luck.Or if we are able to tolerate great anxiety,we may see better…. if not we are incapable…. Those whom we cannot see properly we cannot truly consider with feeling  and act on this feeling.We see them partly or mainly in terms of the fearful fantasies in our minds and cannot see them as  other and interesting.When we make a friend online we may feel safer but in fact we are more likely to misperceive them. When we are from a sad a or difficut background it may help greatly if we have some friends who might point out our errors if we trust enough to tell them.Or we may pretend to be hard and tough.Neither leads to virtue.If we trust God it may help but I believe we see God through the lens of our parents.. which is not good…depending on the parents. When we live in fear,we cannot see what is there before us.We cannot let go.We cannot accept grace and love nor give it.We will try to live by will power.Ironically people who are fearful inside can develop a shell of toughness and pride and so are not seen as vulnerable  and/or lovable.Tbey may seem frightening to others. This account may help to explain why politics is the way it is and also  we see that arguing is not persuasive when the other is not able to open up and see things more broadly.Arguing makes us tighten up and see less well.And it can be frightening too though some cultures find it more acceptable than others.


Here are some relevant blogs and articles


This author had a lot to say about perception… http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/obituary-marion-milner-1163951.html   http://susannanelson.wordpress.com/2014/03/02/happy-go-lucky/


http://glimpsejournal.wordpress.com/2014/05/11/the-real-bees-knees-stunning-micro-view-of-the-workers-behind-your-mothers-day-flowers/

	


	



			
				


			
				


			

			
Behind glass… a defense
		
	
	

		
Have you ever felt you were behind a pane of glass? I did once many years ago after a friend committed  suicide.It must be a protective  condition but it is painful and odd.Everyone else seems ok ,you imagine,but you are not a part..In reality many people may be feeling like you do and putting on a performance while out at work or socialising.We are probably wiser as we grow older as we know more people better and see we are not  unique in our suffering and pain; we know that feelings pass,even the worst ones and we may have become better at judging others and knowing if friends die  by suicide it’s probably not our fault


When one feels that way it has to be accepted for the time being, like all feelings,I found reading poetry helped me and also being with others in a group where I could sit and listen without pressure to speak.I like this poem from then.It was a favorite  of Simone Weil,the mystic.


LOVE BADE ME WELCOME  by George Herbert


 


 Love Bade Me Welcome – from Love (III)


Love bade me welcome: yet my soul drew back.

Guiltie of dust and sinne.

But quick-ey’d Love, observing me grow slack

From my first entrance in,

Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning

If I lack’d anything.


A guest, I answer’d, worthy to be here:

Love said, You shall be he.

I the unkinde, ungrateful? Ah, my deare,

I cannot look on thee.

Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,

Who made the eyes but I?


Truth Lord, but I have marr’d them: let my shame

Go where it doth deserve.

And know you not, sayes Love, who bore the blame?

My deare, then I will serve.

You must sit down, sayes Love, and taste my meat:

So I did sit and eat.

	


	



			
				


			

			
Love
		
	
	

		
 


 


All love at first, like generous wine, 
Ferments and frets until ‘tis fine; 
But  when ‘tis settled on the lee, 
And from th’ impurer matter free, 
Become the richer still the older, 
And proves the pleasenter the colder


Samuel ButlerImage

	


	



			
				


			

			
We’d soon do that which men and women can.
		
	
	

		
The rain fell and the clouds hung overhead


As I walked on the moors to meet my man.


If only we had access to a bed..


We’d soon do that which men and women can.


 


The sun was absent anf the trees all bowed down


The wettest winter for a hundrd years…


Yet full of love ,my face displayed no frown…


My heart was  brimming,absent any fears.


 


Th moon too was watching as I ran


Her silver crescent pierced the clouds like joy.


I could not wait to meet my loving man.


And with his lips and face I longed to toy.


 


But when I reached the spot where he would be,


Nothing waited but a fallen tree

	


	



			
				


			

			
Please pass over soon with a helping foot
		
	
	

		
This love’s a disgrace to me and all women
Love’s a wanker  singing a duet with himself
I love you less than I love a sheep’s eye or a pigsty
Far more than your words distresss me,your body is a blot on the landscape of life.Are you ready for erasure?
My head is winning over my heart so run now while you have a chance
My heart is aching to believe you have gone for good,bad and are now indifferent,
My heart sings to a new tune.. I hate you., it cries
My heart must have lied about you so now I am a suspect in my own murder.It’s just  a plot for a new novel
My heart is a bony lump now and it’s turning to stone
My heart is very ashamed of loving such a pair of nuts.
My heart gave a bad start after you shouted and swore at me.Get out at once and shoot your foot then shoot your other foot
My heart is hiding in a burrow with Alice in Wonderland
If my heart is in my hand I’m dead.Howzat?is it not cricket?
I now believe my heart is a liar and my head is in charge from now on.Let’s use some iintellectual intelligence
My art is fiery and I smoke.I’m a dragon and I’ll kill you if i meet you.You know who you are.May you soon pass over like a grey cloud in a stiff breeze and water someone else

	


	



			
				


			

			
You are a notorious and naughty person
		
	
	

		
Image


You are a notorious and naughty person

You love both cursin’ and swearin’

You look like a crane.

Bei mir bist du shayn:

Because you’ve still got your hair on.


You have eyes like pools of  spring rain,


with a certain proud disdain.


Despite woe and pain,

Bei mir mist du shayn,

Because you’ve still got your brain


You have ears like small plates.

And you guzzle like a goat

Your hair is a mane

Bei mir du shayn

Because I liked how you wrote

	


	



			
				


			

			
Oh,John Joe Brown,you were my man
		
	
	

		
Oh,John Joe was a jolly man.
He was the one for me.
He had ten fingers on his hands,
And always on my knee,


Oh,John Joe was my husband dear,
He slept upon my bed.
He had ten toes upon his feet,
No man was better bred.


Oh,Dear John Joe did pass away,
Whilst he lay on the grass.
And now ~I have no one aside of me,
How slow the night hours pass.


I love John Joe with all my heart,
I’ll never love a man
The way I loved my dear John Joe.
I don’t believe I can,


I read a twenty dozen books,
And went for therapee.
But all I want is my John Joe
In bed aside of me.


Oh come back John,Oh come back Joe
Don’t you leave me here.
Oh,John Joe I can’t live without
MY husband lying near.
Oh,life’s so simple,life’s so clear,
We all need work and love,
I have my work cut out today
A grieving for my dove
.
Oh,John Joe Brown,you were my man.
I’ll not have any more.
I wish I lay within your arms
Were oft I’ve lain before.


I’ve never lain wi’ noone else
And never will again,
If I can’t have my sweetheart John,
I’ll not have any man.


Oh,come back John,Oh,come back Joe
Don’t lay down in the grass.
I’ll bake thee cake and mutton pies..
So sweet the hours shall pass.

	


	



			
				


			

			
True love’s vision
		
	
	

		






A rose






True love is not a feeling but a path

Discovered by a new perception of our life.

Our vision is less skewed by pain and wrath,

We see in true proportion and true size.






True love desires just vision of the good..

And asks for nothing but the eyes to see.

The violence in our bones and in our blood

Is less and with creation we agree.</p>




<p?But risking the abyss of love brings fear.

Just hope of satisfaction tempts us to progress.

To God or to a loved one we draw near.

And as we walk we find anxieties grow less .




Yet human life is always full of doubt.

Acceptance is a way to make this naught




 Continue reading “True love’s vision” →

	


	



			
				


			

			
Stan and Mary go shopping
		
	
	

		
IImage


 


 


Stan and Mary went in town
To buy Stan a new dressing gown.
But he wanted a woollen one
In march that is not on.


The shops are full of summer clothes
But Stan’s not warm enough for those.
Mary likes to look around
But see how old Stan frowns.


So Mary says,I’ll go online
I’m sure I’ll find some fully lined
Made of wool and acrylic…
Them you can make your pick.


Thank you,Mary,you are kind
despite that brilliant,anxious mind.
I am the best dressed man intown
And soon I’ll have my gown.


Would you like cafe au lait?
I have my pension,I shall pay.
Very nice,dear Mary said…
I’d like a piece of bread.


Won’t you have a slice of cake?
I know it’s not quite what I make.
No,just plain bread,sweet Mary said
She then turned very red.


Mary,you look very hot
Is it healthy in this spot.
The central heating is too high…
She gave a weary sigh.


They drank their coffee and made jokes
About old folk who never spoke…
They bought some fresh fish for Emile..
They alway shop with zeal.
..
When they got home.Stan dialled Dave
Who told him he was very brave
and not to stand near a bus door…
Or he’d fall on the floor.
.
Oh,how i’d like to lie down there
With my mistress Annie fair.
but Mary is at home today
So i’ll just have to pray.


If you’re in pain and can’t have sex,
They say that prayer is second best
Morphine is so hard to get…
and it makes me feel sick.


So tomorrow Mary works
Stan and Annie have their perks
Dave calls round to bath the cat…
How obscene is that?


If you would like your cat washed
Or if your shopping has got squashed
Just dial 99999
The service is divine.

	


	



			
				


			

			
Roaming through wild poppy fields
		
	
	

		
In the land which dreams dwell in,


where love  and hate and life begin;


where swiftly the deep rivers flow


from lost lands of long ago.


I wander through wild poppy fields


Underfoot the sweet earth yields….


I see the flowering fruit trees start.


Their blossoms gather round my heart…


I hear the sparrows sing with joy


And bees their busy wings employ.


In those lost lands I saw your face


And now I long for your embrace.


Are you real or make believe?


From this earth we all take leave.


Earth to earth and ash to ash


Glory,pride and boasting pass.


Leave me now,my ghostly one


Soon I too will be called on.


Nothing lasts but truth is real


Keep the faith and your ideals..


Earth to earth ,we’ll rest in clay


We must gi ve ourselves away


Softly on this earth I roam


Seeking my love and my home


and until the very end


Love eternal may descend

	


	



			
				


			

			
I can’t love you without
		
	
	

		


















I can’t love without


















































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  strands

We’re all one.


Life has begun