The beginning of August 2012 From my notebook

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  • I loved him for his straight dark hair.
    I loved him for his gaze.
    I cooked his lamb chops every day,
    And made an orange glaze.

    I boiled potatoes every night.
    I even cooked some sprouts.
    But when he stayed out many hours,
    My glum heart filled with doubts.

    I had a big Le Creuset pot,
    It hurt my back to lift.
    But I never threw it out
    Because it was his gift.

    He was suspicious of my moves,
    He thought I had a lover.
    So as he thought that anyway
    I went and got another!

    I loved him for his strength and charm,
    I loved him for his tact.
    I could think of only one virtue
    That he truly lacked.

    I loved his eyes,I loved his face,
    I loved his melody.
    but what I did no know for sure
    Was whether he loved me.

    So I ran off one dry cold night
    with a friendly tramp.
    And now I lie here in a ditch…
    I wish I had a lamp.
    Suffering from cramp.
    My pants are feeling damp.
    I think my bike’s been clamped.
    Well,not every tramp’s a champ.

    Long for red hair?

    Did you ever have a lover
    with long red hair?
    For long red hair
    I long to care.

    Did you ever have a lover,
    and then another lover?
    For there’s added gain
    if you feel no pain.

    Did you ever have a lover
    who loved your eyes
    and never ever lied,
    and let you cry?
    Whatever was the trouble.

    You’ll never have a lover.
    if you have no time for others
    for love needs care,
    As well as hair!

    Here and there are many lovely people
    who live with their lives with scruples;
    if you’re scruple free,
    then let it be.

    Oh,let it be is fine,
    Except for the divine.
    I want to be involved
    For I can’t please all the folk,
    Who touch me with their talk.
    My heart has melted down…
    and now I’ve grown a world
    completely on my own.

    Were you ever quite alone
    Like a toad under a stone?
    Did you ever hear a groan
    as you wrote your own poem?

    For you’ll never write a poem
    that makes me laugh..
    Because my feet are in the shower
    but my body’s in the bath.
    My head is on the shelf…
    and I’ve lost all of my stealth…
    Yet you will love me
    Evermore.

    Evermore and evermore
    You’ll be standing on the shore;
    Watching the horizon,
    wondering how the world’s gone.

    Oh,you’ll never be a poet,
    Unless you make notes..
    They take you to the limit…..
    Love,whatever is it?

    Evermore,evermore…
    The words seem like a roar…
    I love your heart’s deep core..

    Let me write you more..
    And more,

  • I love men,but not the Toffs,
    Nor the ones with hacking coughs.
    I would like an artist most,
    Especially if he eats hot buttered toast.

    I love men,do men love me?
    There’s only one true way to see.
    Do your best to put them off,
    Wear flat shoes and never laugh.

    Study Wittgenstein and Kant,
    Study all that’s difficult.
    Parse Quantum theory as a hobby.
    Learn long words from the dictionary.

    Dance with Riemann,flirt with Joyce;
    Read Ulysses in a Rolls Royce.
    Enjoy some Chess and Trigonometry;
    Weigh down your mind with Solid Geometry.

    Look around and see who’s left.
    That’s the man who loves you best.
    Once you’re wed and have a home,
    You can free your mind to roam.

    Throw away your library,
    Let your senses all run free.
    Wear bright clothes and enjoy some fun.
    Your second life has just begun..

  • The current comes in sideways as if
    The waves want to surprise me.
    Their foam edged slices of sea
    Roar up from the bay like small
    Children hoping to win
    the egg and spoon race
    and ending up all in a heap, and the water
    Ebbs just as fast
    Away.

    Across the bay I see the Pikes
    to which I will lift up mine eyes.
    I feel their shapes like some friend
    coming back from abroad
    with something to tell me
    but it’s wordless,
    Like love,as if it’s part of my soul.

    The sea sweeps over my feet,
    I’ll have to run fast now to beat the undertow.
    Tempting to let go
    and float out losing myself
    In the surge and backfall
    And the grey,green water swelled by the river.
    It’s high flood,and spring tide.
    The water is calling
    And now falling back, turning .
    As ever,returning to the deep ocean,
    always swaying and running back over itself

    The sea entices me with its rolling voice
    then turns away.
    The loose shingley sand murmurs under green waves,
    then cries out
    As it scrapes itself on rock.
    I’ll come with you one day,
    I say.

    I am trembling on the edge.. or is it the hedge?

    I was on the phone for so long this mourning trying to reach the North Middlesex Hospital that our local hospital [who were trying to call us] reported a fault on our line
    It’s not the line… it’s me…I have used up all my Vim and Vigour and am afraid of Rigor or Obsessions setting in so am going to bed with a nasty look in my eye…unless I can shut it.
    Otherwise I’ll have to do study the Foundations of Calculus again as that is so rigorous it will fill my mind…

    Nerves R 4 Us

    Kindly email me at
    shredsoffemale marmalade@femmesfatales.net

    or
    madbeginners@lunaticsasylum.mail

  • I blog so good,I won a golden adjective.It’s creepy.

    See if I can weep..my eyes are as dry as a bog in Ireland in winter.

    I sucked my wine bottle in the hall..I pretended it was milk and honey.

    I shall laugh your mocks off.See if eyes stare!

    My mind’s knocked up..I’ll be delivering Eros in the spring I guess.
    k
    To see or to deny… that’s my defence mechanism… and it’s not even a sin….as it’s all unconscious.
    Though it can’t be totally unconscious… who’s deciding?

    I gave him my knickers,only one pair though… he’d wet himself watching the female hurdlers leaping over their heads

    It was a frock up to the waist…I remember now.I skirted round it manually… it was elastikated anyway.

    I know cruel men love to kick my ass..butt why?

    I know the Pope is still in a Lauren cassock..where’s his St Laurent hassock?

    Frauds lower mortals morals.

    I know he’s washed up…the can’s are clean,the pans are dirty,the plates are in the bin.

    I know where you land after lover’s leap…. in a deep river;one might almost call it a torrent of abuse.

    You know which bride your bread is buttered for so dwell on that for delight.

    He knows it except the last few curses.

    You might chuckle at my nouns but I’ll always love your adverbosity in the classroom of life.

    I love chuckling in the wet ditch.You are my own waterproof lovebird.

    Doctor,my legs buckle under when I see him.
    Wear shades over your why’s,your eyes,his lies…now do be wise!That’s all for the lay man or woman.

    Doctor my legs crackled last night…can I have an X rated film on the NHS?

    Why is it always these X rays.I can’t even see them…What fun is there in the invisible…it’s not at all risible.Humour heals.

    I feel a bit quizzical….. almost biblical,if you catch my drift.

    I just went along for the bride.

    If the surprise is ripe,I’ll do anything I can for you.

    How did so many hooks get into my broth?

  • If you can’t stand the seat start hitching lifts

    if you embrace two men you’ll never escape from a clutch.

    if you don’t have anything sweet to say,just bawl.

    If you get my sense,you’re not so dense.

    Why am I so tense?Is my grammar inflamed?

    I had an sick idea… why not let the virus get away?

    He’s got old blood… the hospital sold it to him.. they said it was ex Cathedra!

    I fine cattle… for existing.

    For just a penny I’ll buy a round…where’s King Arthur?

    Let’s just say he puts himself in charm’s way.

    More taste,less greed.

    I like mathematics by degrees.

    I like topology when I smell a doughnut.

    I like horology at the weekend.

    I feel sad on the seashore…all those empty shells and so many bones.

    Where the bee sucks,there she lied.

    What if seeing wakes sense.

    My one regret in life is never meeting the ancient Babylonians,the Greeks,the Hebrews and the best Romans.

  • Each day,I love you less and less.
    Each day I want to ill confess..
    But when I see the roast potatoes,
    And you grow those gold tomatoes.
    I’m so hungry I can’t leave.
    And so I continue to deceive.

    Each day your faults annoy me so.
    Each day I wish that I were free go.
    But all the clean shirts hanging there;
    You did them all and never swear,
    Though,in labour, you once shrieked,
    But only when the fierce pain peaked.

    Each day,I long to swear and curse.
    Each day my temper’s growing worse.
    As I sit down in my analyst’s chair,
    Imagine if you were sitting there.
    My counter-transference is so clear,
    I’m glad it’s just a patient here!

    Each day I grow less loveable.
    Each day,I give you so much trouble.
    You fill the house with flowers you grow;
    And all at once I love you so.
    I’m glad,so glad I didn’t go.
    I sit here tranquil as you sew.

  • When the aged,wrinkled and bent yet lively old man Stan and his immodestly shy, wildly pretty,blue eyed and brilliant old wife Mary arrived at their local “hospital” in an ambulance Stan was carried into the Resuscitation Room and was lying down on a trolley…… which is like a bed with wheels.How did I get here? he asked God, who was on a shelf over the trolley,impetuously.None of the staff answered.Nor did God.

    http://youtu.be/EIjTBC9pAxE

    A nurse came in and gave him some oxygen but no-one washed his face and hands…the nurse said they were overworked that day with all the usual drunken English folk falling off buses or off pavements or arguing and hitting each other with beer bottles after watching the Olympics all day
    After another four hours a doctor came and looked at the weary old fellow.
    I think I’ll order a CAT scan for your head. he muttered nervously,as if talking to a spirit.
    Oh,My cat,Emile, is not here,Stan informed him.
    Shall I get my mistress to fetch him?
    You have a mistress as well as a wife,the brown eyed doctor asked curiously.
    Yes I do,You should get one,Stan said.
    They are useful when the wife is at work.And it’s a very honourable position for a widow who is bored.
    I think that’s immoral,when your wife is earning all your crusts,said the doctor cruelly in a very sarcastic tone..his eyes shining with demonic glee.
    I don’t mind,said Mary cheerfully.After all,it gives him exercise and stimulation.And I can do my research peacefully.I have always thought the French had the right idea about love…
    You can say that again,said Stan!
    The French had the right idea about love!
    How about a Revolution?
    I don’t think we could handle a Revolution,said the doctor in a kindly voice,his mouth drooping slightly with fatigue.

    After Stan had his CAT scan they had to wait patiently for two hours for the result….the scan had to be emailed to a Consultant elsewhere,that is… at home by the TV watching the Brits win more gold medals.
    The CAT scan area was shut except for emergencies and had an eerie emptiness which contrasted oddly with the crowded noisy Casualty Department.Two men of different colours were arguing loudly in the Scan area.
    Mary knocked on the door and told them off,much to the delight of the porter whose face twinkled with merriment.
    Later Mary phoned Anne,her neighbour and begged her to bring Emile their cat to the hospital in a large zipped bag… with a breathing space.
    Anne arrived after only ten minutes or so.. loking colourful in red jeans and a teal top.
    Emile put his head out of the unzipped top and said,
    What a strange smell this room has.. is it TCP?
    Emile loves TCP.
    Stan was very glad to see Emile. Anne went out and got Mary a spinach and mouse sandwich and some tea.She helped Mary to keep Stan comfortable with glasses of water,bottles to pee into,tissues to mop up the blood from his hands and face…no doubt this is well known to many of you.

    Several doctors came in…separately.One told them Stan had fractured the bone under his right eye.
    Don’t blow your nose,Stan.Your eye might come out…
    Wow,they don’t soften the blow,do they said Anne,her face pink with the over heated air of the A and E ward
    How far out would it come? enquired Mary scientifically
    her pointed face creased with worry.But none of the staff answered despite her soft gentle voice.
    Mary advised Stan gently as follows:
    Just blot the end of your nose,honey,if it runs.You’ll be alright with me here.
    Though his eye looked very peculiar to her.And she didn’t feel so good herself.

    photo by Stan without permission

    Another doctor came in after six hours and informed old Stan he had confusions in his brain.
    See a psychiatrist,Stan told him rudely.Why tell me?
    Emile hid his head inside the bag.

    I am going to ring a neurosurgeon,don’t go home till I get back,the doctor ordered Mary determinably.
    Another doctor told them Stan should see an opthalmologist as soon as possiblr….
    Mary began to feel sick…and the first doctor never came back.
    Perhaps he’s fallen into a black hole,said Anne foolishly as she reapplied her orange lipstick and powdered her ample bosom and cleavage.
    Stan mewed musically to tease Emile.Emile purred as loud as possible…he enjoyed purring very much.
    At midnight the staff nurse advised the women to go home as Mary would have to be admitted to the Cardiac Unit if she stayed much longer….. her face was as white as a goat’s belly…is that wight?
    They went off in a minicab but left Emile under the trolley on a small shelf from where he chatted to Stan and operated a recording device… to spy on the staff
    Stan grew more and more tired,lying all alone…pity they don’t have a lying in nurse nowadays,he thought.
    Why,I feel as if I am in prison, he told Emile…I want to go home and go to my own bed…
    Me too,said Emile…I have a new girlfriend called Jenny,he went on.
    I look forward to meeting her, said Stan..and he fell into a dream where he was surrounded by lovely female nurses in pale pink uniforms all smiling at him……..if only it were true.
    Can you dream whilst awake?
    Yes, all life is but a dream..and I’m a butterfly.
    And I see I am in some photographs
    But

  • I dreamed that I swam in a silvery sea
    Like mercury from the school lab
    and around me were gathered uncountable swans
    Looking both regal and sad.

    Then one floated over and sang out to me
    In a voice that was mellow and clear,
    “I’ve consulted extensively with all of the swans
    And you definitely should not be here”

    I wondered where I was meant to swim
    If i could not swim with these swans,
    Till I found myself flat in the back of a car
    With a pleasingly attractive young man!

    Soon I found I was pregnant with three sets of twins
    I was feeling remarkably sanguine.
    Till my handsome young lover came back to my side
    Along with a rather large penguin.

    At 3.33am I woke myself up ,
    I was laughing so much I was shaking.
    When I fell back to sleep,so quick and so deep,
    The penguin was still patiently waiting!

    I am afraid I don’t recall much more,
    My mind was so full of glee;
    but when I found some ice by my bed the next day
    I remembered that great Arctic Sea.


  • Since the accident

    by Kathswords Pro @ 2012-08-07 – 14:53:05

    I find I can’t write poetry since the accident.I have posted some from my files but I can’t write new ones which is somewhat tedious.Nor can I draw…so I’ll see how it goes for a few days..Maybe do something easier instead…I used to knit at one time..
    Photo1708

    I bought these roses in the market.They smell wonderful

  • The bright wisteria growing on your house
    Made me fell completely happy,
    Like a cat who has just caught a mouse.

    The bicycle by your gate standing,
    Made me feel rather intrigued;
    More so the lady I saw on your landing.

    You have been two timing me,
    And that made me feel so angry and sad.
    I felt as if I were turning into an worn old tree.

    My feet seemed frozen too the ground
    I couldn’t move for a several minutes.
    I am so sorry you won’t be around.

    I walked slowly away down your street,
    My hear felt like a lump of lead.
    I presume we shall never speak or meet.

    I gave you my heart and my soul,
    That was my own personal choice.
    I have given you almost everything,
    But at least I still have my own voice
    .

  • I used to enjoy books
    I read both day and night.
    Then when I looked around me
    I saw a horrid sight.

    The house was filled with dust and dirt.
    The sink was full of pots.
    My hair was dirty and my face
    Had broken out in spots.

    So now I feel the need to clean
    And polish all the brass.
    I wash my hair ‘most every night.
    Oh,what a clever lass.

    My husband likes my new approach
    As he had felt ignored.
    He toiled all day long cooking books
    and wished to be restored.

    I wash him with my best rose soap.
    I dry him with my towel.
    And then we have a discussion
    On, whether Y’s a vowel.

    We go to bed and kiss and hug.
    We recall bad times endured.
    And then we dream of pie and mash
    Until our ills are cured.


  • A pair of powerful spectacles has sometimes sufficed to cure a person in love.
    Friedrich Nietzsche
    Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/topics/topic_love.html#egXU0xDHZT3hwCr8.99

    Well,what next?

    Sexual Bonus for Women Who Exercise

    By Malia Frey, About.com Guide July 27, 2012

    If weight loss, improved self confidence, elevated body image and better health aren’t good enough reasons to exercise, here’s one more: women who exercise occasionally experience orgasm during their workout.

    Orgasm During Exercise

    Yes, you read that right: during exercise. Researchers found that some women who participate in activities including spinning, weight lifting, and pole-climbing experience what researchers call Exercise Induced Orgasm or EIO. The full study was published in a recent issue of Sexual and Relationship Therapy.

  • A Hall marks her figure.

    He’s farcically well groomed.

    I was built on a weakly basis.

    Please be bare with me.Are you really ready ?

    In between a crock and a hard face.. we need a miracle.

    I got made blue by thinking.

    The who are sinking?

    I have boggles,do you mind…?

    Your bottom’s fine….I wish it were mine.

    I see tracks across my bed.. is it a public right of way now?

    As useful as a diamond squeezer to a hungry leopard

    I love the epigrams in your hair.

    I have epithets now and again in my porridge

    Some grass or a quill…it’s your drugged choice..

    I am showing the bust of industry to a snail.

    I hear what you’re braying …

    Well in terms of mathematics,that’s a doughnut…

    I’m just a topologist….Love your torus..

    I’m not mocking silence.

    Love the last posts…

    Don’t take me clitorally.

    Oh,nuts again!

  • The Second Coming (Slouching towards Bethlehem)
    W.B Yeats

    Turning and turning in the widening gyre
    The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
    Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
    Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
    The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
    The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
    The best lack all conviction, while the worst
    Are full of passionate intensity.
    Surely some revelation is at hand;
    Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
    The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
    When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
    Troubles my sight: somewhere in the sands of the desert.

    A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
    A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
    Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
    Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
    The darkness drops again; but now I know
    That twenty centuries of stony sleep
    were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle;
    And what rough beast,its hour come round at last,
    Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

  • Private

    Quants in his pants… does he know what we want

    The apple of a fly.

    The lab say the case is clear of blood.

    His story is as cold as vice .He’s a sociomath.

    Talking is common.The best keep silent..

    She was delicate as a baby shower.

    They crashed out on a thornbush and conceived a gooseberry..You don’t want a prick like that.It can set one back by almost a year.

    Ashes to ashes,dust if you must..

    As much use as a hoard of laughter to a depressed philosopher

    As sure as mirth,my mother gave birth..and never looked me in the why.

    Are the Folies as impure as they say?.

    My husband is as sensitive as a this alarm clock. …
    yet I can’t hurl him against the wall….He’s too big,
    and I lost his receipt.


  • “Half of Britons struggle with the apostrophe”
    Daily Telegraph

    So this is why we are in a recession?Where are the other half?

  • I see your face in hot coals..I’m firegazing.

    Why is your face on your sleeve?Do you forget yourself?

    Rancid guests leave unwelcome odours.

    It’s weird airing dirty laundry… it’s more usual to wash it.That’s men for you.. they prefer the grimy life

    It’s all in the way we work—
    Nonchalance is never a mistake

    He’s all sulk, no passion..
    He sends my heart and feelings crashing.

    This witch is all cat,no cackle..
    How can she fly…where’s her tackle?

    What,a spammer in my email?

    A penny for your oughts.
    A tenner for those doubts

    Where’s the socket for my brain,doctor?
    Don’t worry,I have a wireless connection and I can read your thoughts.
    Please write them down for posterity
    Are they worth it?
    Well,they made you laugh!

    He’s like frost.He melts on me.I get the shivers.
    I love it..

    That poem’s all rhyme and no lilt…I don’t get it.

    He’s like a pen with. no nib.I can’t right anything with him.

    Everything in my life seems wrong yet I’m happy..
    I could be dead.

  • Private

    If only I had worn a hat..how different I’d look…
    but my head is very big…Still,the search continues…

    Hats are very useful
    For when the sun is hot.
    Or if you’re feeling flimsy
    Or if your stock has dropped.

    Wear a hat in sunshine.
    Wear a hat in rain.
    If you’re my umbrella…
    I’ll never wear a hat again!


  • The leaves are waving in the breeze,
    The blackbird sings on high.
    The sun shines through mysterious clouds,
    A skein of geese flies by.

    I’m glad you can be with me.
    This is our special place.
    I want to feel your warm body,
    And to see your loving face.

    The daylight hours are long still,
    The high point of the year.
    The sparrows chirrup in the shrubs,
    Rejoice,summer is here.

    More blossom then we’ve ever seen
    Hangs heavy from each shrub.
    The air is filled with sweet perfume.
    This is the month for love.

    Ripeness will come in autumn time
    But seize the summer day.
    Replete with sun and summer fruits
    We’ll wander on life’s way.

  • ..

    Is this a new blog record?Someone became my “friend” over the weekend and has now decided to leave….well, that’s life nowadays…taste and go.
    Thank God we never got married!
    Well,better the devil you know….
    Can you spend a night in A and E with them?
    There’s no rule like an old rule.
    Keep right on till the end of the woad….
    Every druid has an inbuilt star shining

    Bees knees? From Oxford dictionaries

    What is the origin of the phrase ‘the bee’s knees’?

    The phrase was first recorded in the late 18th century, when it was used to mean ‘something very small and insignificant’. Its current meaning dates from the 1920s, at which time a whole collection of American slang expressions were coined with the meaning ‘an outstanding person or thing’. Examples included the flea’s eyebrows, the canary’s tusks, and one that still survives – the cat’s whiskers. The switch in meaning for the bee’s knees probably emerged because it was so similar in structure and pattern to these other phra

  • Please handle him without gloves.He likes human contact

    Keep your hands on my knee as I hum like a bee.

    Handwriting is on the rise… Nerds for the wise.

    Do clang your symbols again..I love your dissonance.

    Will you hang onto me till I can to fly?

    I sang every word in Latin but they were all anticommunionists.No more Hosts for them,Olympics or what?

    Why hang yourself when you can pay someone else to do it for you?

    Move to the USA and get electrocuted free.Or do it here for a small charge

    I’m not happy as a lamb.Can I be a lion instead?

    I’m so happy in the dark…you could be Paul Newman..
    or may be just a new man,

    A hard night’s fright… he dreamed a little dream of me.

    You are my cardiac arrest.

    Are you hard to stop?Show me your switch!

    Bath water is hard to swallow.. the bath is bigger than me!

    He had a bare brained idea…it was so full of crinkles even my iron was no help

    She has a leg up on the shelf… trying to find some ham strings,no doubt.

    She won’t tie me into knots again…just when I was enjoying the excitement of the tangle

    Chaste makes waste.. so haste.

    You can’t come here,cat in hand,and expect me to cook dinner with no warning..buy Tabby her own mobile now,I beseech you.I can feel a prayer coming on.Light my candle,Lord.give me oil for my lamp,keep me burning.
    Let me be a wise virgin.Or just wise will do.

    He cracks his own nuts…He says it’s for the protein..what do you think?

    He lays shells on the sea shore…he’s in the Army you see…you don’t see?I see.

    Fish can canoodle the best.

    How could we not feel

    that life is running too fast

    like water down a hill

    wanting to merge with the sea

    but,stay a moment longer

    in the eternal life

    of this music

    where our souls blend

    and dance

    as once children danced

    to a gypsy violin.

    Play on my heartstrings,

    so my song is heard

    and I’ll be your instrument

    of love

    moving to a rhythm as yet unknown

    that will emerge

    as we let go

    and follow

    the colours of Cezanne

    into the eternity

    of an apple,

    eye lingering on the surface

    I want to touch

    with my hands.

    Don’t take me too soon.

    I want another eternity

    flowing in this music,

    loving to be dance

    with others too

    the living,

    and the dead..

    who live on in a touch, a sigh, a song.

    Can life be wrong?

    in my heart’s own heart.

    From doubt to drought

    When in doubt,keep still.

    When in doubt,do nowt/say nought.

    When in doubt,leave me out.

    When in doubt

    Kindly pout!

    Wriggle and shout.

    Snuggle up with a trout.

    What’s life all about?

    Don’t thrash me or clout.

    What law can we flout?

    Let the cat out.

    Blame that old lout.

    Check up on your route.

    Never ever shout.

    We did once have a drought……


  • Cherry tree

    by Kathswords Pro @ 2012-08-05 – 13:47:25

    I love the flowers that fall like rain
    From the cherry trees,in the wind again.
    And pile at the side of a garden wall.

    I love the blossom yet on the trees,
    Full of buzzing honey bees-
    Like an angel’s glowing shawl.

    I hate the wind that blows it away.
    Yet I know no life is here to stay.
    So I love and cherish it all.


  • T

    Oh,God,our help in ages past.
    Keep men at bay,make them go gay.

    Keep men away,make them turn grey.

    Keep men from me till after tea.

    Keep men nearby,or we may die,

    Keep men well fed then go to bed.

    Keep

  • I love you at least as much as you do.


  • He left me at the altar and now has a civil arrangement with Walter.

    I love the dimple in your sweet.

    Keep men at bay,make them all gay!

    Keep your labours lost and your wonders found

    Keep your grin up and help the lost

    Keep your flair fun and make us all one

    Keep your rose.She need a love at home.

    Keeping up with the loans is the theme for today

    keeps your cards locked away in a chest… avoid plastic debt the easy way… lose the key.

    My clock keeps on sticking since I dropped the UHU
    on it…will a new battery help or shall I have to
    give it a good send off?

    When in doubt,keep still.

    If you wish to complain please email me at

    groaninghumor@hoodlummail.com

    words4u@ohoh.com

    narcissistsalltogether@whyme.mail.com

    sociomath@instituteofmathsmail.co.uk

  • The holy bird catches the spirit.

    She’s as queasy as the Holy See.

    I think it’s wholly obscene.

    It’s as teasy as life can be in the mind.

    It’s as easy as a lie to a politician

    Let them eat snow.It melts in the mouth

    Eat bread and take freight….byte by byte

    I eat as a ploy…to get curves.Ellipses are us.

    I’ll beat myself flat if I have to use my steam iron.Drat it again.

    Don’t let the cat eat your dinner if you’re glum.
    No,eat it for me,please,darling.

    Would you not treat your own blog to food for thought?

    Eight hundred monkeys and one guerrilla.. call this a Zoo!Revolution,bring it on now!
    We need more gorillas… and Evolution is slow.

    There’s an elephant in the bathroom… so the hot water is all used up.
    Did no-one teach him to sing in a shower of rain?
    Can you explain?Does he eat soap?

    I love emotions but hate commotions..what is the solution,doctor?
    Love without fear,my dear.
    But how?
    You are not trying enough.
    I can be nasty but I hate to be trying.
    Well,try me and see how we swing… we’re just monkeys inside
    Is it free on the NHS?
    No way today… it’s free at the point of contact.
    But I’m on your tangent.
    You should have asked for a curve.
    I’m passing by now….
    I’ll wave as you geo.
    Just don’t lose your own nucleus.
    I’ll do this particle by particle…if it takes forever
    and a Milky Way.
    What did they Say?
    They haven’t got all day… so play!

    Lapis Lazuli

    My old blue fountain pen allow
    The ink across this page to flow
    Like wet paint from an artist’s brush.
    And words come in a rush.

    Enchanting through the hand which writes .
    Bewitched by art,beauty alights.
    The script is like a music score
    Through which we step as through a door,
    Imagination’s Home.

    As,mysteriously,to you,to me,
    The spirits of our hearts are tamed,
    By rhythms of pen,of brush, of mind,
    They enter vision quite unplanned,
    Like moths to flutter softly round
    Fire joined hand and heart.

    The pen slows down,the hand grows still,
    And just as dreams at daybreak will
    They shrink,they disappear,they’re gone,
    I almost caught that one!


  • Our English complexions are famous world wide

    And giving directions, we are good at, besides.

    We have many virtues , of that there’s no doubt,

    Bu

  • Socks washed free if on men.Men individually hand washed for £47 plus VAT.Women,men,cats and bicycles free to good homes.Apply within.All spring cleaned and brain washed before delivery.

    I call getting laid,deja woo,deja vu, deja who?

    I called out for a Copper,but they just gave me a pan… not much help when you have a burglar.
    A Le Creuset pot might help.. have you ever used them for nefarious purposes?

    Shall we crawl around on the carpet and mew at each each other?I’m a cat and you seem game.

    The boss has had me sharpened…I’m no more than a pencil to him.If only I had a nib.

    I am not contradiciting your lies as you have such a stupendous imagination..and I’m writing a novel.
    “Fifty days,fifty ways: in the hay with un petit ami!”

    Can ink last?Is there canned ink like soup?Why am
    I near?

    He’s a man so attractive and strong….Audacious is his second name.His first is Darling.

    Shall we open up a can of worms for the blackbirds?
    If God had meant them to eat worms they would not be in Cannes nowadays

    You can’t have a date without a great mate.

    You can’t hold my hand and tug me to my boudoir.I’ll just run now.See if you can catch me up.Faint heart never won a bare lady.

    You can’t judge a book by its lovers.

    You can’t learn to speak without joining human society.

    I can’t say any thing rough about men.Enough is as good as the whole.

    Can I make a clean pest of myself?

    All this and not yet seventy two!

    What rhyme is it now?

    All rhymes free the Home.

    We’ll keep the gnomes’ tires churning.

    Everything allowed leads to Chaos.

    Now that Mayhem is here we hope for chassis breeding.

  • I’m just waiting for your blips to come nearer.

    Nearer your Lips to me.

    When all is said in fun,our hearts are lighter.

    You were washed up right by, me down by the sea.
    You are a dream come true, my fantasia,my sonata,my tomato!
    How can you be?

    Your love bites tickle me pink….. with red stripes.

    You held onto my amazon cart.. so we’d never need to part

    You make the sun wriggle with fun,

    You let my heart be free to blend

    You tore my tart apart with your bare teeth.We do have a knife in the dining room or you could have your teeth capped.

    Love poured from my heart right from the start.

    Sung when in love;when the sun shines from above

    Your sweet heart… I’d like to care for it

    You are my sweetheart,my life……I love you like I never kept a score

    The jeep shall inherit the Earth.

    Let’s pretend all is swell.

    Too many books put suitors off.

    I’m not read yet.

    The fish fled the Net.

    Got sat nav dread? I love live on a map.
    The hospital’s dreaded instead.So I am in bed

    FUNNY

    A land of milk is runny

    Weak witch retorts.

    At last bravo.

    A fast and no feast.

    I cough for ten minutes.
    I cache all the way to the bank.

    The officer lay down on my floor.

    I played cards on Great Gable.

    I perceive you are sharp.

    I believe no one turned to Foam after Mass.

    He left me at the altar and now has a civil arrangement with Walter.

    I’m legend of a kind;it’s my dirty mind.

    A weapon doesn’t change into food and drink.

    Is he the the lesser of two devils.

    let wry ones be bygones.

    The jeep shall inherit the Earth.

    Lavender’s like glue…U.H.U.

  • Inside each world lie other endless worlds.. ad infinitum

    The potatoes are coming up as roses… do you fancy them .. ad nauseam?

    Tainted heart never truth knows re feminem

    I got wed head in high heels and then ….. in bedicum, in union,o temporae.

    I failed school through my wisecracks….O! professorium..oh,victor perlodium

    Ban flames in the windows….. ad fenestrii

    A bypass is what we scheme for.. or trafficum

    Grass is always greener than roses, a priori

    I hang out there at night..a posteriori

    Why have a heart? a la cardioricum

    He was a heart breaker but I glued myself together again.
    I just crackle now near men.,,it’s ad hominem.

    Necessity is the mother of television

    She has nerves on wheels

    She’s as nervous as a theocrat in a tyranny of fools

    I’m as nervous as a tabby in a room full of “be off “stares

    Forever put off sorrow if you can’t grieve today
    She seems to have a new ease in life since she was electrickated

    Words are rarely enoug

    I feel more than words can distress

    my heart aches for someone new

    my heart flies without doubt to you

    my heart has no name

    my heart is open

    my heart is swimming in your sea

    my heart is fastened in by an elastic band

    my heart is inspired by breathing

    my heart is near you

    my heart lays down its cares

    my heart sings near you

    my heart has passed out.

  • He awaited with desire my hot wrath…he knows I’m still a soft witch.

    We felt enraptured by the fire, but it was merely a desire.

    Duty may be a disguise for neurosis.Does that make you furious?

    She wore a wig in the garden..so,I beg your pardom

    Don’t lie in spilled milk..unless you wash your own clothes.

    Do you feel my love?I sent it via my dove.

    Love does my heart good…That’s well understood.

    He’s waving like crazy.I think it’s goodbye,


  • He’s got a hole in his discretion

    Fences make the heart grow fonder

    Temptations keep one in love

    I chase after my own heart

    All’s bare in love and war

    You’re the apple I desire

    I looked as far as my eye could flee

    She’s as muddy as a toad that slipped in a wet ditch.

    I’m as gendered as a female newt

    My beauty is merely skin weep

    In time asses go by.

    So goodbye

    Trying cliches

    He’s got a hole in his discretion
    Fences make the heart grow fonder
    Temptations keep one in love
    I chase after my own heart
    All’s bare in love and war
    You’re the apple of my desire
    I looked as far as the eye can flee
    She’s as muddy as a toad that slippes in a wet ditch.
    I’m as gendered as a female newt
    My beauty is merely skin weep
    In time asses go by

    He awaited with desire my hot breath
    We felt enrapture by the fire
    Duty may be a disguise for neurosis
    She wore a wig in the start
    Don’t lie in spilled milk
    Do you feel my love?
    Love does my heart good
    He’s waving like crazy
    Inside each world lie other endless worlds
    The potatoes are coming up as roses…how do you fancy them sauteed?
    painted heart never truth knows
    I got wed head in high heels
    I failed school through my wisecracks
    Ban the flames… let coal burn colourlessly
    A bypass is what we scheme for
    Grass is always greener than roses a priori
    I hang out there at night..a posteriori
    Why have a heart? a cardiori
    He was a heart breaker but I glued myself together again.I just crackle now near men.
    I like a woven heart on a plate
    i can’t breathe for you
    i can’t live with you or without you.So can I live within you?
    i loved you in the nick of time
    I suggest you keep your brain inside.
    I’m missing the your woes
    He was poking into my soul with a skewer…
    We are lost in each others geometry
    Love may be blind but your smell is lovely
    Love makes the world swoon
    God’s embrace.
    love’s bonkers
    Truth is the best ally
    I feel more than words can distress
    my head is grinning
    my heart aches for someone new
    my heart sticks like glue
    my heart flies without doubt to you
    my heart has a name
    my heart is open for looks
    my heart is swimming in your sea
    my heart is fastened in by an elastic band
    my heart is inspired
    my heart is near you
    my heart lays down its cares
    my heart sings near you
    my heart passed out.
    my heart creates joy for you
    my heart is like lapis lazuli.
    my heart will ever be free
    my heart dnced like a cat on hot bricks
    my hpme has a heart
    my inner sole
    my open gate
    my soul is a stranger
    my soul has no bones.
    my soul is a liar
    my soul plays fair
    my soul reached doubt
    my soul took the last bite at San Francisco
    my stomach is aa topological playing field
    my tears fell like knots of rain
    my weary owl fell onto the cat
    no one lives in Iceland
    Every one understands me
    One blue love is enough
    over and over they bowl
    We were girls before swine
    The soundings of his heart guide me
    I reached few heights but i enjoyed the walk
    Wed roses only if you lov thorns
    I took road which unravels
    I love the Bands of time
    My reason’s fleeing
    I saw a shadow on my soul
    i know silence is worth holding
    she’s the rice of my life
    Cars are like diamonds to a man
    Stop and steal the roses
    A rest the daughters is essential
    I was born with a thorn in my mouth.. so my words are prickly
    i am knitting till the wool settles.
    Mating till his ship to comes in
    Then all is read and acted upon
    Her dinner was a dish too far this week
    how do you know when words are left unbroken?
    My words were left unbroken for years
    You gnawed at my heart and i shed tears
    You welded my heart to yours
    You make the moonshine
    You set my hearth on fire and then the house burned down!
    you scored on my heart
    you tore off my scarf
    Wrung out by love
    Your beating heart is my clock
    Your dying heart is still warm

    His fame makes me repine.

    She gets all men brawling
    Get a knife and cut me a tree free of explosives.
    I need to get a womb
    I can get a word in sideways with my husband
    I get too careless with men…they are all one to me
    We get weaned out of infancy.
    We get dreamed out of infancy
    Are you crushed by success.Fail here now.
    How to fail without failure
    I go down on her bi-weekly
    Do you regret it yet?
    I wet my message to make it stick
    will you get off that horse now or wait till it tosses you into a gorge?
    I get out a grudge I’ve been keeping disdainfully
    Get out of my fears
    Get out of my lair at once
    How do you get over a hump in your soul?
    H

  • How do I love thee and thee praise?

    I gaze all night upon thy beauteous face.

    I wish thou were more into love and sex;

    for thy terminal coldness is making me feel vexed.

    Anne Boleyn paid highly for leading Henry on.

    And soon she was well bedded,and sooner even gone.

    Think well upon my words and please do not forget

    To find out how to use the modern Internet.”

    by Sylvia Wrath

    A tribute to Lucian Freud

    by Kathswords Pro @ 2012-08-02 – 09:52:43

    Life and death opposed,
    Drawn to and by this prolific genius.
    Pictures fell from his eyes,
    Like tears.
    Children given life.
    Creating as he could,
    An England richer by his gifts.
    Where else might he have given so much?The work became the man.
    Portraits rising from the canvas
    To meet in a new space
    That he discovered.
    And after loss,the gift.
    by

  • Sylvia Wrath is an unknown but impressionistic poet.

    So far she has impressed me by spending forty years in a library

    without finishing any poem.

    I am hoping to get her on to “Start the week” with Melvyn Boast but

    I’m unsure if she will speak to a microphone.

    Here is a snippet from one poem she has begun:

    IS IT LOVE?

    “How do I love thee and thee praise?

    I gaze all night upon thy beauteous face.

    I wish thou were’t into love and sex.

    for thy terminal coldness is making me feel vexed.

    Anne Boleyn paid highly for leading Henry on.

    And soon she was well bedded,and sooner even gone.

    Think well upon my words and please do not forget

    To find out how to use the modern Internet.”

    I think that shows a superb command of the language and literature

    and a remarkable grasp of history or should I say,herstory?

    But why does Sylvia leave all her poems unfinished?

    We will have a seance to see if the Spirit of Freud can tell us

    anything.

    My view is that if she finishes her poems she may have to wash up or

    dust the TV…or cook some food.

    Or

  • Th impounding of his lonely heart
    I reached new frights in bed with a mouse.
    He bred roses which angered his wife
    I want the road less gravelled..I like a smooth entranxe
    I wave the wand of time
    This season’s fleeting
    she’s a widow on a roll.
    Can silence fold ?
    Twice for a life
    He stares like a blind man
    They blessed the waters
    I have a thorn in my pie…. so they were real blackberries.
    Bill me at the end of time
    Whine after whine
    Rhyming again…when will it end?
    Rhymes for the blues
    It’s at the tip of my organ…for
    Smoke gets in your flies.

    Then sometimes that silence reaches to me
    while I am looking through the window
    that silence which supports everything
    that I don’t allow space for when i am busy
    that silence links all beings
    and does not crave attention
    all Being stands within this silence
    whereof we cannot speak but feel
    in fall of air and grace around our shoulders
    and in our breathing and our hearts
    the silence spreads
    therefore let us remain silent
    let us not move too quickly
    silence is slow and sweet and subtle.

    So beautiful and silent

    Have you ever had a dream,that you were all alone?

    Have you lived with someone handsome,with a heart like a cold stone?

    Have you drowned in deep,cold rivers, and been lost in shadowed caves?

    Have you lived with too much fusion,till you drowned in ghostly waves?

    The waves run down the sea shore,then up they come once more.

    The tide turns and life alters..deep on the ocean floor.

    You were beautiful and silent,like a sword without its sheath.

    I should have let you take me,like you took away my breath.

    te

  • Stan woke up feeling rather odd..his bedroom seemed to have shrunk.Then he saw two strangers looking at him.
    Why are you in my bedroom he called out,
    I am not into three way sex,so I’ll just have the young lady please.

    They smiled at his humour as they told him he was in an ambulance.

    Who is the Prime Minister? the man said.

    Well,if you don’t know that you must be pretty dim,he retorted.

    And what day is it?

    Why ask me?Stan replied.

    Have you no calender?

    What is the world coming too.

    How old are you,the woman shouted.

    Keep quiet,he responded,I don’t fancy sex with a loud voiced woman.

    And get that man out… unless he is making a porn video…I know it

    happens but I never knew it was in ambulances.

    We are taking you to the hospital,they told him.

    Why,is it because I fancy this young lady?

    You could take me to the Police Station and have me arrested but it’s

    not my fault she is so near me in this little room.You know quite

    well it’s hard not to feel drawn to a pretty young lady… if only

    she would stop shouting.I like a quiet woman the best…and I don’t

    need any whips or handcuffs.I prefer it au naturel.

    Well,you can’t be too bad if you fancy a woman, said the strange new paramedic.

    I’ll have to be dead before I stop fancying women,Stan muttered.

    Let’s take a prick from you,the paramedic said.

    I’ve only got one,Stan informed him politely.And I need it myself.

    No,sorry I mean a prick of your finger to test a little blood for sugar.

    You can buy sugar in a shop.Why steal mine?I daresay you are having a cup of tea now.

    Your brain is faulty because your sugar is low.

    Here,take this fruity drink and sip at it gently.

    I’d prefer to suck where the bee sucks,Stan quipped.

    What a naught old man Stan is,thought the male paramedic,Tony.

    Where do you live,he asked Stan.

    In a house like most people.

    But what street is it in?

    That’s my secret, he told them

    Luckily they found a diary in his pocket and got his address.

    They were hoping his wife could help them….

    I don’t want my wife to know I had a young lady by me.He said anxiously.

    She may get cross!

    Do you often have affairs? they asked.

    No,I don’t,it’s too much trouble.I’d rather read a good book.I’ve had

    enough women..I only want the wine and the song.Women.. they’re too

    moody,too emotional,too demanding…I’ve put all that behind me.

    With that he fell back into a mild coma, to the relief of the crew

    As drunk as the Humber Ferry

    Oh,she drank all the gin,and she drank all the sherry.
    She hid all the bottles under the new garden umbrella.
    I came home from work and there wasn’t any dinner.
    If this carries on,I shall get a great deal thinner.
    I brought the boss for supper and she offered him some Scotch;
    But he’s a teetotaller so he doesn’t drink as such.
    So I drank all the gin and I drank all the cider,
    And when I went to bed it lurched with her beside me.
    My wife’s a lovely woman but she since she turned to booze,
    It’s almost as expensive as her lingering lust for shoes.
    So then I took to drinking and drank up all the whiskey,
    Now I feel like I once did when I crossed the Bay of Biscay.
    I thought I could escape her,but my wife is still at home,
    She has drunk all that brandy now and made the cider foam.
    I wish she would leave me, but she says she still adores me.
    I’d adore her too,if she’d drink tea ,milk ,juice or coffee.
    Now I’m drinking all our wine, and I’m thinking all the time,
    Of all the years I waited for my dear wife to be mine.
    And we both are very sorry for this greedy drinking folly.
    And you’ll find us, and the bottles,buried by the new umbrella.
    Oh,my wife drank all the wine and she also drank the sherry.
    Our emotional life was worse than sailing on the Humber Ferry.
    If you have a wife at home,then don’t start drinking with her.
    Or you, too, might end up buried right here ,where we are!
    She drank all the wine ,and she drank all the sherry
    If there’s any justice in the world,she should be feeling merry.
    And then she drank the brandy, and she drank all the pale ale,
    This is the end of a sad and morbid tale.
    …………..

  • love you, now it’s time to pray,

    I love you,even bored by words so gay.

    You’re such an art broker.

    I just banned your gaze.

    To pass is always sweeter on the wrong side of the fence.

    So lust away…

    You’re driving a daisy.

    Every blog needs more Klee.

    You’re even badder with the glitz.

    You want me to bang it where?

    Earth has not many things that ran so far.

    I’m sorry,they banned old flames.

    Warmer and warmer let my chilblains grow,

    and by the way,you’re kissing your own toe!

  • The Hebrew Alphabet ….tribute to Lucian Freud

    http://www.ancient-hebrew.org/30_home.html

    The language your forefathers spoke

    Dwells in your images.
    Faces bleed with feeling.
    Bodies rise out like rocks.
    Your self portrait sings
    Me,myself.I am.
    As God spoke from the burning bush
    You took the flame and ran

    The content of this website belongs to a private person, blog.co.uk is not responsible for the content of this website.

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About Katherine

I like poetry, literature and music.And conversation
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