Impenetrable he thought he was till
his armour of years was shot through and through
Inviolable he thought he was till
his staid old heart was poked and taunted
Impervious to love he thought he was till
his face got pale and he wept
Razed to the dust on a day like no other
the big man swallowed some truth
and it tore round his soul like a little child in the sea
Overcome with shock he become transformed
his armour of years turned invisible
Friday, 4 September 2009
Thursday, 3 September 2009
Wednesday, 2 September 2009
For my friend
This poem was inspired by a conversation I had about love and fear and what we do about the two.
Saddling up, she hitched her skirts higher and slashed the earth with hooves of love
'No-one' she whispered to me 'will do the riding for me'
And so as the falling sun steeped its ailing warmth into loveless cracks and solid boundaries
the trembling woman thrashed
her journey was begun
its end perilous in its uncertainty
but still she rode for all her life.
Angie.
Saddling up, she hitched her skirts higher and slashed the earth with hooves of love
'No-one' she whispered to me 'will do the riding for me'
And so as the falling sun steeped its ailing warmth into loveless cracks and solid boundaries
the trembling woman thrashed
her journey was begun
its end perilous in its uncertainty
but still she rode for all her life.
Angie.
What Day Is It.? What Time Is It?
As usual I've got it all wrong.
England are not playing Slovenia tonight, they're playing on Saturday 5th. And England's game with Croatia is on Wednesday 9th. Ooops!
Anyway back to happier things.
Shopping.
I bought what I need to fix mum and dad's door, now all I need to do is put it all together. Woodwork isn't quite my thing but I'll have a go.
After buying the bits and bobs from gangly friendly Martin I strode in the weak sunshine to the charity shop by the chip shop and found a wonderful brown and orange knitted blanket, it has a homely homemade look to it. Two matching cushion cases came with it so that was nice. And all for £1. As I rifled through the jewellry box I found a kingfisher blue and silver bangle. And as I rolled it around my wrist deciding whether to buy it or not my bus pulled up outside so I threw 50p at the elderly lady who was manning the till saying 'Thank you sweetie I love it' and positively flew for the number 7 bus.
On board I paid a whopping £2:10 for a single ticket but then settled down nicely for the ten minute ride home. And then like a great silver bear, Joan, from my favourite charity shop down the road, dropped in beside me. She looked flushed and happy and I listened obediently as she told me about her new vicar and the hooha that accompanied his appointment.
She alighted the number 7 saying that her shop will re-open on the 17th (it's being refurbished) and that I must come down soon. I smiled and agreed because I like Joan and her shop.
Home.
Home to Monty. Dear old Monty. Drove me bonkers he did as I spread some fish paste on me crackers. But he soon settled as he licked my fingers. He also relished the remnants of Monday's trifle.
And as I sipped my tea I found out via teletext that there wasn't going to be a footie match tonight:( And I was so looking forward to seeing Capello's boys sort out the Slovenians. Blast.
So it's just me and the cat tonight.
But now I have woodwork to attend to. Should be fun:)
England are not playing Slovenia tonight, they're playing on Saturday 5th. And England's game with Croatia is on Wednesday 9th. Ooops!
Anyway back to happier things.
Shopping.
I bought what I need to fix mum and dad's door, now all I need to do is put it all together. Woodwork isn't quite my thing but I'll have a go.
After buying the bits and bobs from gangly friendly Martin I strode in the weak sunshine to the charity shop by the chip shop and found a wonderful brown and orange knitted blanket, it has a homely homemade look to it. Two matching cushion cases came with it so that was nice. And all for £1. As I rifled through the jewellry box I found a kingfisher blue and silver bangle. And as I rolled it around my wrist deciding whether to buy it or not my bus pulled up outside so I threw 50p at the elderly lady who was manning the till saying 'Thank you sweetie I love it' and positively flew for the number 7 bus.
On board I paid a whopping £2:10 for a single ticket but then settled down nicely for the ten minute ride home. And then like a great silver bear, Joan, from my favourite charity shop down the road, dropped in beside me. She looked flushed and happy and I listened obediently as she told me about her new vicar and the hooha that accompanied his appointment.
She alighted the number 7 saying that her shop will re-open on the 17th (it's being refurbished) and that I must come down soon. I smiled and agreed because I like Joan and her shop.
Home.
Home to Monty. Dear old Monty. Drove me bonkers he did as I spread some fish paste on me crackers. But he soon settled as he licked my fingers. He also relished the remnants of Monday's trifle.
And as I sipped my tea I found out via teletext that there wasn't going to be a footie match tonight:( And I was so looking forward to seeing Capello's boys sort out the Slovenians. Blast.
So it's just me and the cat tonight.
But now I have woodwork to attend to. Should be fun:)
I really don't have the time for a whacking great post so here's life stuff in bite sized pieces.
The circus was loud, dusty and steeped in controversy. Apparently the owner of the circus had to tell a Romanian worker to shove off on account of his cruelty to elephants. I felt uneasy when the animals 'performed' seeing magnificent creatures like tigers, elephants, horses and camels walking around and around and around for my 'entertainment' was uncomfortable. It is the only circus which has animals as actors and to be quite honest I hope it folds.
The clowns were ok, no custard pies or anything ancient like that, just spinning plates and tear stained faces. Just what hundreds of six year olds want to see.
However the juggler was great.
'Much too good for a circus' I shouted to Henry over the din, he, that's the juggler not Henry, threw batons high into the air, and made faces as he pretended to drop one into the sawdust. His handling of five balls was impressive especially as he was simultaneously grooving to 'Thriller'. What an actor this man was. His handling of fire encrusted sticks was quite breathtaking, he did what all good performers do and that was to engage. He smiled mercilessly, showing good teeth and as the sweat trickled down his make-up, he jumped and twirled and hit the deck in a faux fall. Loved him.
Then came the camels. A more miserable bunch of herberts I've yet to see. 'Like to see you on one of them' Henry said sucking on one of my cherry drops. 'Oh do shut up Henry or I'll kick your stick'.
The evening shrilled on...
All I can say about the circus is that it was the first one I've ever been to and it'll most certainly be the last.
And at a much later time than I'm used to I went to bed wearing one earring.
Today, after clearing up at Henry's, I'll pop up to Potters on the bus to see Martin and his sticky fixers then come home to a fish tea and watch my beloved England...
Life in the fast lane or what?:(
The circus was loud, dusty and steeped in controversy. Apparently the owner of the circus had to tell a Romanian worker to shove off on account of his cruelty to elephants. I felt uneasy when the animals 'performed' seeing magnificent creatures like tigers, elephants, horses and camels walking around and around and around for my 'entertainment' was uncomfortable. It is the only circus which has animals as actors and to be quite honest I hope it folds.
The clowns were ok, no custard pies or anything ancient like that, just spinning plates and tear stained faces. Just what hundreds of six year olds want to see.
However the juggler was great.
'Much too good for a circus' I shouted to Henry over the din, he, that's the juggler not Henry, threw batons high into the air, and made faces as he pretended to drop one into the sawdust. His handling of five balls was impressive especially as he was simultaneously grooving to 'Thriller'. What an actor this man was. His handling of fire encrusted sticks was quite breathtaking, he did what all good performers do and that was to engage. He smiled mercilessly, showing good teeth and as the sweat trickled down his make-up, he jumped and twirled and hit the deck in a faux fall. Loved him.
Then came the camels. A more miserable bunch of herberts I've yet to see. 'Like to see you on one of them' Henry said sucking on one of my cherry drops. 'Oh do shut up Henry or I'll kick your stick'.
The evening shrilled on...
All I can say about the circus is that it was the first one I've ever been to and it'll most certainly be the last.
And at a much later time than I'm used to I went to bed wearing one earring.
Today, after clearing up at Henry's, I'll pop up to Potters on the bus to see Martin and his sticky fixers then come home to a fish tea and watch my beloved England...
Life in the fast lane or what?:(
Tuesday, 1 September 2009
Thank God.
For the circus.
Dairylea cheese spread
and
Martin at Potters.
Firstly the circus. I am going to one tonight with Henry. He's asked me to wear something funny.
Now the cheese. It spoke to me as I trudged around Somerfield with a noisy cranky tummy. Not having had it for years, I took some home, and the tub now sits on a plate waiting for a little cracker. Yummy.
Martin.
Mum and dad's bathroom door needs fixing so I phoned my local hardware shop, Potters, and spoke to a cool man called Martin. I gabbled on about holes in doors and he told me about sticky fixers, both the inside and outside ones, I got flustered and said it was because I'm old. He said you don't sound old. I whispered into his ear that I'll be up his place tomorrow afternoon.
I expect we'll marry next spring:)
Now cheese and clothes:)
For the circus.
Dairylea cheese spread
and
Martin at Potters.
Firstly the circus. I am going to one tonight with Henry. He's asked me to wear something funny.
Now the cheese. It spoke to me as I trudged around Somerfield with a noisy cranky tummy. Not having had it for years, I took some home, and the tub now sits on a plate waiting for a little cracker. Yummy.
Martin.
Mum and dad's bathroom door needs fixing so I phoned my local hardware shop, Potters, and spoke to a cool man called Martin. I gabbled on about holes in doors and he told me about sticky fixers, both the inside and outside ones, I got flustered and said it was because I'm old. He said you don't sound old. I whispered into his ear that I'll be up his place tomorrow afternoon.
I expect we'll marry next spring:)
Now cheese and clothes:)
Two Great Things
1. Tomorrow 5:30 p.m
England v Slovenia at Wembley. I will watch it with Monty, he will no doubt be hurled around the blasted room every time the Slovenians get within gnats winkle of the England goal. I, however, will be calm because I just can't afford to get any more iller than I already am!
I dare say I'll rustle up a tasty tea time treat for me and the cat, some sort of fishy dish I expect and I wouldn't be surprised if, after the fish cake, I had a little tipple. Only a Pimm's mind you! Always thought solitary drinking smacks of incurable depression or rampant jolliness. Whatever. I will watch as my beloved boys swagger onto the hallowed turf to knock seven billion bells out of little, insignificant, but worryingly determined Slovenia :(
2. Saturday 9th September 8 p.m.
England take on Croatia at Wembley A feistier looking bunch of herberts I've yet to see. Don't trust them one bit. I think they could be dangerous, in a rowdy, boiled cabbage, European sort of way. Would much prefer to be doffing up the Germans or the bloody French. Know where you are with them, but these Croats/Croatians are bad news whichever way you say it. Bugger.
But all that isn't till Saturday when, after some Mexican chicken, I'll comfort myself by wrapping myself in the flag (see above pic).
Can't wait.......
England v Slovenia at Wembley. I will watch it with Monty, he will no doubt be hurled around the blasted room every time the Slovenians get within gnats winkle of the England goal. I, however, will be calm because I just can't afford to get any more iller than I already am!
I dare say I'll rustle up a tasty tea time treat for me and the cat, some sort of fishy dish I expect and I wouldn't be surprised if, after the fish cake, I had a little tipple. Only a Pimm's mind you! Always thought solitary drinking smacks of incurable depression or rampant jolliness. Whatever. I will watch as my beloved boys swagger onto the hallowed turf to knock seven billion bells out of little, insignificant, but worryingly determined Slovenia :(
2. Saturday 9th September 8 p.m.
England take on Croatia at Wembley A feistier looking bunch of herberts I've yet to see. Don't trust them one bit. I think they could be dangerous, in a rowdy, boiled cabbage, European sort of way. Would much prefer to be doffing up the Germans or the bloody French. Know where you are with them, but these Croats/Croatians are bad news whichever way you say it. Bugger.
But all that isn't till Saturday when, after some Mexican chicken, I'll comfort myself by wrapping myself in the flag (see above pic).
Can't wait.......
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