What about this!

Poppies

 

 

 

Emile the cat of Stan

 

Stan’s new adventure in the bin with his mistress

[ please  ignore the links.I shall remove them when my arthritic hand is better}

Stan was in his front garden polishing the wheelie bins with lavender polish
He was not very happy as the garden was only 10 feet by 12. so the huge wheelie bins ruined it.When he got to the third one the lid popped open and out jumped his next door neighbour “Adulterous Annie”.
Hello,Stan” she whispered.”Where’s Mary now ?”
“Why?”Stan muttered into the back of her neck which he licked as he like her salty taste.
“I was thinking,these bins are so big,we could both get inside one.It would make a change1!”.”What a strange idea” he replied philosophically.however age was no bstacle where love was involved. if you catch my drift.
Soon Stan and Anne were in the big green recycling bin.Stan being 81 had shrunk somewhat so he took up less space than Annie did.He allowed her to kiss his left eyelid.What a lovely feeling.
Alas, all too soon,as they say, they heard Mary’s bicycle bell.She was getting faster amd faster.As she wheeled her bike up the 30 yard long front path to the porch she heard murmurings and mutters,
She lifted up the green plastic lid and saw the two lovers covered in cuttings from the privet hedge.
“What the bleedin’hell are you doing in there?”she shouted mellifluously.
Well,it’s hard to explain,……………but Stan was wondering about a green funeral” Anne said mischievously.
“Funeral ,my hat!” Mary said coldly.”Get out at once”
“Don’t speak to me like that” Stan beseeched her brazenly.
“Well,it’s a shock to find your husband in the bin with another woman!”
“Wouldn’t it be more of a shock if he was in the bin with a man,or even a sheep?”
“Schmann or Schwommann,sheep,,it’s immaterial.
“Hurry,get out,quickly before the school exit time.what will all the mums think as they go by?”
But poor Stan could not get out,He was stuck.Oh,my!what an odd phrase.
“Have you got your mobile on you?” “Yes,it’s here in my bag.
“You’d better call 999” “What a brilliant idea!”
Soon Dave the paramedic arrived.
Mary showed him Stan’s situation.
Ever resourceful ,Dave was not bothered though the NHS budget might be getting cut.
He tied some rope round Stan’s waist and between the three of them and Emile the cat and his friend Elizabeth, they managed to haul him out.
Annie stood weeping with shame.Her silvery blue eyeshadow was beginning to run mixed with tears and black water soluble mascara from Chanel of Paris and London. Her new coral lipstick from Clinique was not as non-allergenic as she hope.Never mind,it gave her lips that bee stung look that many men admire.It reminded Stan of his boyhood days playing near High Force Waterfalls in upper Teesdale….Teesdale ,still an undiscovered and undervalued part of England,Contact the English Touring Board for more information. Holiday Loans available from Thwaites of Stockton and Darlington at only 1% interest.
Mary gave Annie a large Kleenex tissue,”Come indoors,honey, and I’ll make you some Ceylon tea.It’s been the most thrilling event of my entire life and I’ve photographed you with my new Nokia camera phone [Prices available on request from The Catphone Warehouse,Teesside,Northern England,comes in pink and pink and…pink?How I love pink!]
I’m going to send some to the local paper.
Stan staggered upstairs covered in bits of privet ,lettuce and cabbage hearts, and carrot tops,not to mention a few dozen banana skind and a few potato peelimgs
What an afternoon.[Please contact the society for the care and protection of vegetables if you wish to make a complaint about this story.}
“That’s the last time I climb into a wheelie bin”,he thought
“Next time we’ll use the cardboard

Patterns of fluid on cloth

What color.. blood and ink

You slipped away

 

When you are far,
so
far
away,
The longest night,
The shortest winter day,
will be places where
I
might die.
The heart's interior
no-one else
Can view.
When you are lost,
I cannot find
your face...
Its outline on the pillows,
My fingers shaped to trace...
The new design,
the stellar rhyme,
Where have you gone?
You slipped from out my arms.
You slipped away.
Was night or day
Ever cut by such a narrow line?
In your embrace I lay.
You seemed so strong.
Yet,sighing, took the path away.
I can't see where
Is
it
night?
Or is it
day..?
I tried to write
to bring white light,
It's dark, and still.
I long for you to come.
Oh,will we ever quite
Find out our way?
Or is that pure illusion?
As we stagger through
the wandering furrows
in the fields
They shoot us down.
What is this confusion?
The war goes on
The world goes round
The mirror gapes at each new clown.
But in a crack, a seed may grow..
I can't see you,
But yet,it's so.

Some poems have feet.[The new exercise.]

 

 

 

Allium 2013

Limericks are good for the liver
Whilst love poems can set hearts a quiver.
Sonnets are neat
Some poems have feet.
But if they go hence– then whither?

Writing is good for our brains
Though sitting still may give us chilblains;
Put your desk on some wheels
So your blood won’t congeal.
If your friends ask you why,don’t explain!

Secrets are bad for the soul;
Sharing seems to make people whole.
But we need privacy too
From this human zoo.
A balance of both is my goal.

My fantasy life and other illuminations

Clutching my whimsical cat shopping bag I set off an some “urgent,voluntary errand” I nearly missed the bus but the kind driver waited.How sad when running is not possible.In the window of a store I see a tempting sight. A bed!

Would they pay me to go in and test it?Maybe not!
I’m in disguise today hoping to evade my lovers whom I do not wish to see today.None of them live here,thank God.If God didn’t want me to have fun,why did he give me big blue eyes?Well,I can’t see  too goodl so they must be for decoration.

Oh,vanity thy name is woman.
What a lot of men’s shops here.Will any men buy a new wardrobe in this weather and in the recession?One or two I guess.Those bankers maybe
I have never taken any of my lovers to this pub by the market even though it has been done up in a fancy style.
But I may send them here to buy some potatoes and other heavy items.Or I let them eat cake.I am very kindhearted.
Every woman needs three lovers.One in bed,one in the market and the other in the bath… or the washing machine!
And a fourth to make tea.That’s my excuse anyway.

I insist on a well dressed appearance for all my lovers even if they go bankrupt in the process.They have to show their bodies off.Why else would one have them walking along,except to look good and carry the shopping in their laptop case.I can’t dirty my bag with vegetables.
Men,don’t you just love them? Well,come on,sometimes!
Don’t be shy… we love them.Except when we are feeling gay.Which may happen eventually when all the men are dead.
Crap,don’t you just love it.And I’m paid £100,000 a year to write this.You know it makes sense.Well, to me it does
What is sense,anyway?It’s what I say it is.So go away and solve a differential equation then decide if we need affirmative affection here and now.

Or just some whimsical shopping bags,

Pens not men

I am afraid of  relating to men…

So I am in love with a blue fountain pen.

It’s in my hand now

And I am certain somehow

That it loves me although it can’t grin.

 

 

 

Blood,ink and tears

I used to write limericks at night

My nightgown was a very strange sight

With the ink from my pen

And the nosebleed that ran

It’s no longer so pristine and white.

 

This nightdress is a  metaphor for life.

Blood,ink and tears from the strife.

So I shall stop plying my pen

I regret I began

I am unwilling to pay   such a price

God’s frozen people eat cake

Stan was standing on his patio with a stiff broom in his hand.He might as well take advantage of the sun whilst it was out.he had  thought.Suddenly a big cloud of black dust fell on him  from the roof tops covering his clean white shirt and beige cotton trousers with  millions of black specks.
Will I need to wash my clothes,he wondered out loud.A  man on the roof of the house next door peered down at him
“Sorry,mate” he cried.”I meant it to go the other way.”
His neighbor Annie was having a loft conversion with an extra bedroom and bathroom.Stan wondered why as she lived alone.Was she going to take in lodgers now the Government was making people homeless.She is so kindhearted  she’d do all she could to help others and herself.Just like Jesus told us
Annie appeared at the gate in the fence.
“Quick ,quick come into my house” she said wildly but  politically correctly.
“I can wash your clothes and dry them before Mary gets home. o nher small wheeled second hand Raleigh tricycle”
“How about ironing them?” Stan replied suavely.
“We’ll leave that till later.”
Stan followed her into her kitchen and took off his shirt and trousers.Just then the doorbell rang.It was the Vicar.Annie was converting to Anglicanism as she loved Anne Boleyn.
“Hello,Vicar,” called Stan warmly.The Vicar opened the kitchen door.
“What the hell is going on?”
“Now,keep quiet and don’t swear” said Annie.”You said God is love.”
“Not this kind of love!”
“How do you know?We are made in God’s image.And as a matter of tact I should say Stan is only here to have his clothes washed.”
“Don’t people usually wash their clothes at home?” the vicar asked plaintively.
He looked at Stan’s underwear.
Your vest looks good quality.” he murmured,feeling it with his thumb and forefinger.”Where did your wife buy it? You are married.She’s a Catholic too I believe”
Just then the doorbell rang again.Annie opened the door and saw a  large group of Jehova’s Witnesses.
They saw Stan and the Vicar in the kitchen.
“What kind of home is this?” one shouted.
“Well,Jesus came to save sinners so we are sinning as fast as we can” Stan shouted ironically.
“I don’t see anything wrong with examining my parishioners’ underwear,”the vicar said provocatively.
“Does God wash it whiter than Persil?” asked a lady  witness in a purple coat with a teal handbag from River Island.
“Really,this is very annoying,”Stan called.”I feel so cold.”
“Well,maybe that will teach you not to strip off in a lady’s house especially if the Vicar is here!” they retorted.
“I was all black and dirty so Annie offered to cleanse me”
“Only Jesus can cleanse your soul and you can’t buy his love in the Supermarket” said a small,pale man who was standing by the door.
“So God is not part of the Free Market,” queried Stan.
“Not yet,”said the Vicar in a worried manner.”I hope Milton Friedman is not  coming here.”
“Why don’t we all sit down and have a nice cup of tea?”
They obeyed like children at school while Stan in his pure white underwear made a pot full of strong Tetley’s tea.Annie handed round some home made iced marmalade cake and some almond biscuits.
“No wonder you have a lover,”said the vicar.”I’d commit a sin with you just to eat your home made cake.”
“Actually Stan made it,”Annie responded her dark and singularly blue eyes staring like lasers at his red face.
“I see.” he whispered nervously.Just then the little cat Emile came in through the window.
“Who are all these weird people?”he miaowed humorously,his whiskers waving like grass on the prairie in a hurricane.
Stan answered,”Well I am one of God’s frozen people.These others are all following me on Facebook.”
“I didn’t know you were on Facebook!”
Well,I have just begun.I want to link all God’s people.So far we have his frozen people and I hope to have some of his Chosen People too.Later on I expect his dozing people will wake up and join in.And no doubt his nosy people are already peeking in the window”
Stan said gently.
“I only went outside to do a bit of sweeping and cleaning and here I am entertaining the observant religious folk of North Knittingham with my cakes and biscuits clad only in my underwear.Am I dreaming?
What next?I should have gone to the library
The future is mystical

Lend me your scent

 

Deodorants R us

Stan was looking out of his bay window at the old rowan tree. in front of their lovely house in a quiet tree lined avenue in Knittingham,U.K..After some very intense sunshine in August,its leaves had withered and he thought it might be dead.He had his microfibre cloth but was not even pretending to clean the window…. one of his duties in the home..he preferred cooking.
He was thinking pensively because his wife Mary had told him he ought to be wearing an antiperspirant when they had a few words the night before.
“But I’m 105,” he cried.”Surely,I don’t need an antiperspirant now?”
“Don’t exaggerate,”Mary replied,”You are only 75.Do you need Cognitive Age Truth Therapy as well?”
“.Don’t be so rude; do I smell nasty,?” he asked her angrily,ignoring the faint hint he was exaggerating about his age.
“Well,it says in the Telegraph that all the Top Men now wear deodorants.”
“Good grief, what made you read the Telegraph,that extremely right wing apology for a newspaper?And I should say the present government certainly need strong deodorants.I have a good wash every day and a bath once in a blue moon…I am clean enough for my mistress!”

Annie his mistress lived right next door to the surprise of all who thought they knew them well.How can we ever know any other people well?
“Well,I am taking you to Boot’s tomorrow to find one for you”
“How dare you order me about like this.Even if I wanted to wear a deodorant I wouldn’t tolerate being spoken to like that.~I am an adult man and I smell the same as always ;why don’t you buy me a new sponge and some decent soap in Sainsburys instead of this lavender or rose rubbish.”
Mary began to sob quietly
“What’s wrong,my little jacket potato.” he asked her gently in the language of the North British.
“Well,maybe it’s my therapy…I have been recollecting memories of girls teasing me because we had only a tin bath in our house and no bathroom.It was cold going to the lavatory down the backyard as well,especially when I got dysmenorhea………….otherwise known as period pains, when I might be there half an hour.
So I guess I thought I might smell nasty.I am reliving the pain and anguish and as a defense I am projecting my fear onto you,That’s maybe why I was so rude to you.”
“Eeh,by gum,she’s swallowed the Dictionary of Psychoanalysis not to mention the Encarta too”thought Emile their smiling tom cat.”Does she like the Oxford Dictionary?”
“Well,you do smell.Like honey… you smell just the way I like a woman to smell…Natural”
“How would you describe it,my sweet onion pie?”
“Like a cat on heat ,my honeybum” he answered tenderly yet manfully with his Freudian slip sticking out a mile.
“But surely you have never had intercourse with a cat?” she queried nervously yet longingly.
“No,not sexual intercourse, but I have slept with many female cats and I know well their varying smells,their mews and their claws.”
“Just like me” whispered Emile,” and I like how women smell too.I like perfume..especially Poison and Chanel Nr5″
“So I shall come to Boots with you and I shall buy you some perfume.Then we can have coffee and cake somewhere for a real treat.” Stan told Mary assertively.She kissed his fair white cheek.. now a little red from the sun.He kissed her right ear as it seemed the only part near enough.
“I like coffee and cake,”purred Emile,”And I want a deodorant and some cologne. and a few other things”
“I think I could put you in my handbag “,said Mary kindly….which would be a pleasant change for Emile.They often left him alone in the house though he could drop into Annie’s at any time…and watch her tidying her make up box out or having a bath with lots of foam.Emile adored her,She even had a cat flap put in just for him.
So soon they will be on their way into town in their best clothes.Will Emile sit on a chair or will he stand on Stan’s knee.Wait patiently…. he might break his saucer.
The future is fiction

Let your lips meet tenderly,gently

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 meetings
into dreams.

Peering through the railings

I can see your face
peering through the railings.
You feel a stranger,not one of us;
yet you are drawn to want to join in.
You’re standing on the outside of the circle.
Won’t you come inside dear?
We all want you to come.
there’s no regulations to prevent it;
just that ache in your heart
and a wondering inside you.
Is it worth the risk…
Shall I go or shall I stay?
Someone needs to pull you in…
Here’s my hand reaching out to you.
I want you because I like your face..
I like your eyes and the expression you have.
~I saw you smile once.
Come on, come on inside… you can play too.
None of us are that good or that bad.
We’re just ordinary people.
That’s the best way to be…
Neither too stuck up nor too modest and meek…
Somewhere in the middle….
Come o n,do cross the line and join in….
Be my partner for the dance
For we shan’t be here for ever…
So get your shoes and coat…
The sun is up and it’s a free day…
Come on,don’t delay..

Pray as you glow

I enjoy making up these silly sentences so forgive me and pass on if they annoy you.My poetry may be better.I find some of this nonsense gives me ideas….. like moral sex,for example

.
I passed for gray until I had a bath.Now I’m black.Dust is white you see.
Most English people used to be beige but soon they’ll all be peach.Life is not a bed of roses
Please pass me on to a good home when you have unwrapped  me and toilet trained me
Pass me your pluck and guts and I’ll be alright then
They passed the cat round after Mass.All were scratched equally for Jesus
They threw my hat at the double bass,.Who are they?
I pass as with it,despite my trying colors
I always took the path of most persistence;now look at me.I’m a worm in human form
Water takes the path of least resistance and see how it floods like  pent up rage
Pray as you go with your woe and I’ll hold you with my calm connectivity
He pays lip service to me every night.Is it moral sex?
Can you pay the grim reaper for me?I left some money on the table
He play tunes through his nose and his ears sing too
He says he’s fuming and morose
Playback is a bewitching on my new radio
I grew long curls before I rhymed.It took a year.So forgive me my emphasis and my parentheses.Amen
They are like faint pleas to God that I send out in waves.I suppose he’s both far and near.
Peel all the onions to make the sinners leap/weep/keep right on till the end of the code of morals
I’ll gently wheel you to the Inn so you must smile now and then.
A penny is less then we thought.Still it’s better than nothing
A pinny is an apron.I still wear one

Criticise me if you must

I once fell in love with a wasp.
Criticise me,if you must.
Yet his sting was so sharp
My mind become warped.
So then I ran off with an asp

Now bees are much better choice.
They hum with such a beautiful noise.
They dip into flowers,
In summer’s fine hours.
And let you speak with your own unique voice

Though finding a true voice is hard.
Ny soul is quite pitted and scarred.
At last I discover
Some other lover
from today bastard words are debarred