General Chat

A thousand words often paint the wrong picture.

'She had a look so cold that it would freeze a waterfall'.

Vera What a fantastic poem. These wise men (magi) travelled such a long way to Bethlehem. Believed they travelled to Bethlehem on the old silk route.

Anyway, I thought it would be nice to put my other favourite Milton sonnet on here. Milton (1608-1674) went blind in 1651 and wrote this shortly afterwards. Again, very religious - but no apologies for that. (nb A talent is a God-given gift)

"When I consider how my light is spent,
Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest He returning chide;
"Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?"
I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need
Either man's work or His own gifts. Who best
Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best. His state
Is kingly: thousands at His bidding speed,
And post o'er land and ocean without rest;
They also serve who only stand and wait."

One of my favourite poems for the Christmas/Winter season is T S Eliot's "Journey of the Magi". I first came across this at school a long, long time ago and loved it straightaway, though I don't think I understood it then. Not sure I totally understand it now! It's a bit gloomy I'm afraid - I'll have to find something a big jollier for my next posting.

"A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter."
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires gong out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty, and charging high prices.:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.

Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.

All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we lead all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I have seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.

Window boxes have no windows.

Fat free is not the same as free fat.

Hello John and welcome to this Thread.

I enjoyed your entry and look forward to having some more from you.

I am always surprised that this thread has achieved so much and with such a diversity.
I think we have more postings in the winter and the spring but I try to look on here each day.

Perhaps we should try to find or remember winter poems or sayings?

Bridget

What a lovely thread. Noticed WelshBird has picked one of my favourites - David of the White Rock. When I was about 23, I had to sing that in Welsh (terrible baritone) at a Jewish party in Hendon. Blushing thinking of it :-)

Two of my favourites are sonnets by John Milton. One when he was 23, and one when he was first blind:- "When I consider how my light is spent, ere half my days"

At age of 23 he wrote

"HOW soon hath time, the subtle thief of youth,
Stolen on his wing my three and twentieth year!
My hasting days fly on with full career,
But my late spring no bud or blossom sheweth.
Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth,
That I to manhood am arrived so near"

John (aged 23 and a bit - a large bit) :-(

Growing old is compulsory, growing up is optional.

Some say the best has yet to come. Wrong! I'm here already.

If youth did know
what age would crave,
Many a penny
the youth would save.

My brief sweet life is over,my eyes no longer see,
No summer walks - no xmas trees, no pretty girls for me,
I've got the chop, I've had it,,
My nightly ops are done,
Yet in another hundred years , I'll still be 21.

My dogs live here,they're here to stay.
You don't like pets, then be on your way.
They share my home, my food, my space
This is their home,this is their space.

You will find dog hairs on the floor.
They will alert you at your door
They may request a little pat
I simple "No" will settle that.

They put their cheeks against mine
And make expressive sounds,
And when I awake, or at least awake enough
They turn upside down, their four paws in the air
And their eyes dark and fervent
Tell me that you love me they say
And tell me again.

Could there be a a sweeter arrangement?
Over and over they get to ask and I get to tell
"There's always a love that lingers"

A variant on a poem I found a few years ago.
:-D

Cats are little people in fur coats

A screw is a rotating ramp

If you are cold
Tea will warm you.
If you are too heated,
It will cool you.
If you are depressed,
It will cheer you.
If you are excited,
It will calm you.


'GLADSTONE'

Until one has loved an animal,
A part of ones soul remains unawakened.


- Antole France

What a wonderful number of interesting postings.......a big thank you to you all.

When we arrive home sometime next week I will add to this list.

Bridget :-)

"The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely
or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere were they
can be quiet,alone with the heavens, nature and
God. Because only then does one feel that all is as it
should be and that God wishes to see people happy,
amidst the simple beauty of nature. As long as this
exists, then it certainly always will, I know that
then there will always be comfort for every sorrow
whatever the circumstances may be.
And I firmly believe that nature brings solace
in all troubles."

Written by Anne Frank.

I found this by chance, and thought it quite beautiful, and would like to share it with you all..

From "Springs of Persian Wisdom" Do not condem your nieghbour out of hand. Be Generous,Forgive, Pardon. Think of your own Failings. If each knew everything about the other,he would forgive gladly and easily, There would be no more Pride,and no more Arrogance. Hafis.

Rudyard Kipling is the author of the above