When you write you find you are a different person than you believed you were.The topics I find coming up in my poems are worms,dust,earth,ashes,snails,blindness of human beings, humour,funny ideas,creativity,snails,tree roots and  the world we cannot see yet depend on,the value of love,creativity,death,loss

This is not what I expected

Posted in Thinkings and poems | Leave a comment

The least men are the kindest to the weak

The driver of the  bus lives far away
His home is mobile,but not smart like our phones
He lives in a small caravan, he says
Yet of all the drivers he’s the one.

He always waits till I ,crippled, sit down
Advised me to sit until he stops
He has a smile and rarely makes a frown
Though sometimes in his words some anger’s wrapped.

Alas, he unsurprisingly believes
That all the money goes to foreign folk
By the tabloid press he is deceived
Yet due to pain, his  hidden fires must smoke

The least men are the kindest to the weak
Believe me,I know well what I  here speak

Posted in Thinkings and poems | Leave a comment

A barrier to grace by C.Fred Alford


One more barrier for the intellectual elite  



There is one more barrier to grace.  An impoverished culture among intellectual elites, some of whom take pride in the destruction of “grand narratives,” as they are called (Lyotard).  Poverty comes in at least two forms: deprivation of love (including the love of neighbors, who fail to notice and care for those in need), and the deprivation imposed by an intellectual culture that destroys the spiritual imagination.

Posted in Thinkings and poems | Leave a comment

Then, shall I my life of evil start?

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 my love lies,so breaks my tender 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 love lies and wrecks all loyalty.

When puzzlement makes all my world seem mad.

Then I shall upend causality

And let myself do deeds which make me glad.

For I have love’s sweet child inside my soul

And I shall tend her till at last she’s whole
Posted in Thinkings and poems | Leave a comment

The weight of loss breaks down the soul to earth

The gravity of loss brought me to earth
Beneath the rotting leaves, I lay with worms.
I wondered if I were of any worth

No more to be enchanted by love’s mirth,
I  with unnamed particles was turned.
The weight of loss bears down the heart to earth.

I could not rise alone but saw a path
While I slept  new unity had formed
I learned I need not think of what I’m worth

My sorrow brought no guilt nor fear of wrath
I am both  eagle and  a twisted worm
In my little grave, I  loved the earth.

Like the adder, shocked into rebirth.
I from silent underworld had learned
Not to judge my soul to be of worth.

I shall not  fear the flames of hell that burn
When blackness is accepted, may one learn?
The weight of loss breaks down the soul to earth
With dusty shredded leaves, we then converse
Posted in Thinkings and poems | Leave a comment

A blog by a distinguished writer


“We are not in God’s hands.  We are God’s hands.  It is our job to take this world as we find it and make it better.  In general, I think those who are inspired by God are more active than others, but there are many, many exceptions.  Oxfam, my favorite charity, is thoroughly secular.

What is God doing in the meantime?  I like the answer ofCharles Hartshorne.  God rejoices in our joys, and sorrows in our sorrow.  Lots of people seem to think that a God like that is hardly worth worshiping.  My answer is that if you want a God of infinite might, then you are worshiping power, not goodness.

Jesus Christ

I’m a Christian, and so I’m expected to think that Christ was a great event in history.  I do, but not for the usual reasons.  Jesus Christ is not my personal savior (whatever that means), but I don’t think he was just a wise teacher either.  The story of Christ is the story of a God who allowed himself to become human and suffer as humans do in order that he might know more about us, his creation, and so that we can imagine a God who is not all powerful.  In other words, God became human so that he could know us, and we him.  If so, then basic human standards of good and evil must apply even to God.  It’s good to worship God because God is good. Just not all powerful.

Lots of people, probably the vast majority of Christians, believe that Christ was never fully human, for he performed many miracles.  The Nicene Creed says Christ was both fully human and fully God, which doesn’t really help. The Gospel of John treats Christ as though he was just pretending to be human.

What’s so great about Christ’s journey is his vulnerability, his willingness to be forsaken and humiliated as only a human can be.  The Old Testament, as Christians call it, has most of the great Bible stories, but the story of Christ is a really great story, particularly if we read it not primarily as a promise of salvation, but as a story about God’s limits.  “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me.” (Mark 15:34; Matthew 27:46) Who could say this but a God torn in two, doubting even himself for a moment?  As all of us, including the most tenacious, have doubted God.  (Christ’s cry is not just a reference to Psalm 22; he was not teaching Bible studies.)”


Posted in Thinkings and poems | 2 Comments

Shall part

You who with your serenading
Won my love and took my heart
Come now to the assignation
When   both you and I  shall part

You who with your humour loving
Gave affection and delight
Oh, now let me see you  coming
Just once more,to then depart

After birth and after losing,
We must grow without insight
Nothing knowing , nothing choosing
We are led to darkness bright.

Posted in Thinkings and poems | Leave a comment

My Xmas Round Robin continued

IMG_3821Dear All

I have to write this as and when.I have just found I can do hundreds of courses free on Open Culture.So I shall not send any presents this year just a guide to which courses you might like.
Well.I went out this morning and caught the bus.Not in a fishing net,ahah.The driver was very nice.I can’t recall much more.Anyone Robert has asked me to buy some more makeup.Either that or he will leave home for ever.The problem is finding the right colour.The lady in Boots thought I was Ivory but it made me look like a ghost.So we settled on beige.Bloody beige.Pardon me,I hate beige but had to agree it covered up the many strange spots and marks I have acquired.If only Rob had bought me a silk pillow case 20 years ago,how different I might look.He said he’s never heard of them
I propose 2018  should be the year when all married men  or lovers are forced to study fabric,sheets, and other niceties.That will give me a chance to steal Rob’s tools and his models and see what I can invent.
To  give you more news,my son is going to Russia for a holiday.Better than the West Bank,ahaha.I hope.I see that WP uses the term Palestinian Territories as we have the honour of a couple of readers from there.I may write bad letters but it takes their minds off the Bedouins’ schools being razed to the ground,as it were.Why should Bedouins go to school? They were in the Negev before schools were invented.Oh,dear.
My daughter has just got a Ph.D in Anglo-Saxon.I wonder what  kind of job she will get? Serving in Lidl’s? Washing fruit in Holland.Who knows.Maybe she will publish her thesis and it will sell like Harry Potter.Though few people in Britain can understand Anglo-Saxon despite that they are English [ so they claim].So I guess she will have to write a novel about bondage like Shifty Shades of Mauve.I do like mauve very much.It looks lovely with my blue lips and eyes.I have a mauve dress and some pyjamas.I judge by what I see here in the Town that pyjamas are acceptable for shopping in when topped by a fake fur coat or a faux acrylic biker jacket.
I don’t know what my husband would think if I wore those kind of things.He bought me some blue tights once.He said there were no blue stockings.I was glad as I hate suspenders.
It was hell menstruating with those and the gigantic brown knickers with irremovable hard bits where blood refused to come out of the fabric.Of course, the Bishop forbade us to use tampax as we would lose out virginity.How daft can those men get?Alas,very daft indeed.How can a Bishop know what it’s like to bleeding menstruate when you have to hide all the rubbish till the men go out and then we had  rush in and put them on the fire.They didn’t do much good to the fire.I ask you! It shows that Christianity is nothing to do with Jesus.It’s concerned with blood,death,virginity and secrecy.What does that tell us? I don’t know either.It was hard washing those knickers and we only changed them once a week.In those days we still had pubic hair and as baths were bad for us,we could lie in bed picking off the dried blood clots unti day 7 when we had a bath.

I seem to have wandered away so I shall leave you here waiting for more thrilling feasts of words… look in the free dictionary.
I have to polish the kettle and kill some flies now.Then decide on my pudding. Yoghurt, tinned fruit or a walnut whip.Or rice pudding with raisins and cream set with gelatine in a mold and turned out onto a big plate.Until we eat it.It won’t last long here.Not like that boring old tinned custard and prunes.Who ever ate a prune willingly? The constipated pain wracked patient, that’s who

Kristy and cat

Posted in Thinkings and poems | Leave a comment

The little flower

Where do we draw the line, who has the power?
The man who offers actresses a role
If he can take them and their little flowers

Or is the  beauty of a woman  soured
If she thinks men ‘s behaviour rather droll?
Where do we draw the line, who has the power?

As from the magazines, dour faces glower.
As women all across the Western world shout “foul”
He can’t possess them or their glorious flowers


We like to blame the victims,girls not ours
They should beat men off with metal trowels
Where do we draw the line, who has the power?

And in the background, secret rapists cower
They live by proxy hearing victims howl
They can’t love  or  touch the  hidden flowers

All across the world, men like to prowl
If only they were dogs that merely growled.
Where do we draw the line, who has the power?
Here is the daftest man who self devours!

Posted in Thinkings and poems | Leave a comment