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Entanglement

A poem My atoms desire your atoms, they are poems that soar above the stars that made them
they reach out to you, wanting, dreaming of fate, although it scorns them
for nothing much happens when you fall in love
on a sub atomic basis
Just wanting, just dreaming of the light that shines on your face, the same light that travelled from a star to find you
in this room where I find you, seeking a sock, consulting the clock on your iphone, measuring our time
must atoms rhyme?
to form a garland of verse
or must they disperse, to the dark side of verse,
Where I curse
the impulse that compels you
to leave me for the cornflakes aisle in Tesco
and there find atoms of our former selves
on the pastry shelves
that day we got profiteroles
that touched such sweet things in our souls
til we mingled and tingled
like a loom band bewitched.
Recent posts
Why is love getting spookier and why are psychics being besieged by ghost stories.  A London psychic explains why. Read my interview withLilli Rice , who has just set up ground-breaking one stop psychic reading and healing service here.
The academic and writer David W Orr, in his oft-quoted narrative on the value of conventional success in a self serving and traumatised world, presents a passionate case for a holistic approach to healing the spiritual, psychological and environmental harm inflicted on our planet and the living beings who inhabit it.
“The plain fact is that the planet does not need more successful people,” he writes. “But it does desperately need more peacemakers, healers, restorers, storytellers, and lovers of every
It’s a philosophy that resonates with all kinds of healers lovers, and storytellers, particularly at a moment in history when mass market, social media driven distortions prevail. But how, realistically, can it be implemented in a way that impacts real lives?…

Update

https://www.asktheanswer.com/Alice


It’s been a busy and fulfilling few months., doing a lot of readings for corporate clients which I love,
  because of the opportunity to be really forensic, and who doesn’t love being forensic. This
week I received my 500th five-star review on the award-winning psychic website Ask The Answer (see link above). It’s been a privilege and a joy to read for so many lovely people, many of whom I
now regard as friends. Now to the beach!

Extra-solar Angst

Like most people interested in astronomy and astrophysics, I can’t wait for the launch of the James Webb space telescope.  According to NASA it will be able to detect extrasolar planets’ atmosphere and, most importantly, determine if they have oxygen, which would indicate biological life and thus finally tell us if we are alone in the universe.  The work of SETI (Search for Extraterrestial Intelligence) which involves listening for radio signals from distant worlds, is equally fascinating. It’s particularly enjoyable to listen to SETI’s Seth Shostak because he’s so soothingly sceptical and rational, and witches love all that, so here’s a nano-reverie in Seth’s honour. 

Seth Shostak is a clever man,  he know so much about space and stars and planets and quasars Of the sorrows of aliens he knows nought But knows what he ought  for a physicist Quasars and pulsars and time travel so respectably astrophysical  metaphysical-not... Cigarettes can kill you, as can quasars and comets and neutron stars

On Christmas Eve

Christmas Eve is my favourite day of the year, partly because it’s my birthday and you get to open some gifts early and also because some of our happiest memories are about the anticipation of Christmas. For chuldren, of course, is about presents but it’s the silly/ridiculous gifts that give adults the most joy, particularly when they are for other people. Christmas gold they, like PG Wodehouse’s story Jeeves and the Yuletide Spirit, never lose their power to make you laugh. The time a neighbour wrapped up a packet of red lentils in beautiful red wrapping paper and sent it over to my mother on Christmas Eve, my aunt’s indignation when her cousin gave her a pair of Christmas knickers in a size 22 - “I’ve a good mind to give them back to her and say ‘Olive they’re too big for me’.” Then the sweet friend who came every Christmas Eve with a beautifully wrapped mouse for the cat which she placed carefully and ceremoniously underneath the tree. Every Christmas Eve my mum and dad took me to…

The Rev Ian Paisley and the Romantic poets

This blog, originally a writing class project, might interest some readers for its antique properties; it illuminates the surreal shadow cast by the troubles; in between atrocities there were the "melting moments". I can't remember who sent me the Democratic Unionist Party recipe book but it must have been slipped through the door in a brown envelope, it must ... On rereading, it's the cats, Byron and Shelley, that intrigue: show me what a DUP firebrand calls his cats and I will show you his secret soul. However, that's another blog so you can look forward to Ian Paisley and the Romantic poets the sequel. "Ian Paisley is the leader of the Democratic Unionist Party. He is the archetypal Protestant To the outside world, he is viewed as a demagogue, in other words someone who gains power by appealing to people’s baser instincts. Amongst his followers he is a demigod. What does it mean to be an archetypal Protestant in Northern…

The cat who hated Heathcliff

All witches love cats and magic realism so this excerpt from my short story is a combination of the two. He was an angel on a cloud, cooing into a basket of newborn black kittens and became so entranced he fell in and became a kitten, half cat, half angel. Being half angel, his tail was incomplete. His mama, who was lovely, took one look at him and said “such as sweet little face, and look at his poor little tail. I’ll take him home”. His mama named him Café Central, after the famous coffee house in Vienna where the artists and writers went to ignore one another. His mama’s friends thought it pretentious but it suited him, for Café Central, like his mama, was fond of art and nineteenth century novels in particular. Being half cat, half angel, he liked looking into novels, looking right through them, running through them, chasing them to a dramatic conclusion, feeling the sweetness of happy endings tingling on his new cat’s whiskers. His mama, who was a witch, but really a nice, k…