When beauty is seen
- from my window in the day
Day comes
And light invades
The sun chars the earth,
scorches,
Illuminates
the unsightly
the repulsive
the despicable
each individually visualised
As is one, living
languishing
in sorrow
in jealousy
in self-pity
All imperfections
He sees clearly
- from the window at night
Night falls
And light escapes
The sky cools the earth
Shades
the offensive
the hideous
the sinister
all clumped together in darkenss
As is one, dying
residing
in grace
in tranquility
in resolution
All imperfections
He views as one with blackness.
The last vestiges of light. Greatly treasured.
Homemade pasta and rosemary onion potatoes
Fresh fettucine…made by hand and individually cut by yours truly…:)
Fresh fettucine left to dry out
There was mushroom and chicken alfredo sauce with bacon bits but I forgot to take a picture:(
Baked rosemary onion potatoes always goes well with bacon and garlic bread! Fulfilling breakfast.
Breakfast!!!
Of couscous and crumble and bedsheets that rumble!
The Moroccan Vegan couscous and banana crumble I made for lunch our ’senior citizen’ lunch.
Vegan Moroccan Couscous
Banana crumble
Pretty IKEA bedsheets that *RUMBLE!*
hunger
Hunger is a want. It’s a broader desire than desire. It isn’t the will, which is strength. Neither is it a weakness, for hunger doesn’t know passivity. He who hungers searches.
Hunger, true hunger, not the whim of someone who’s feeling a bit peckish, the hunger that tears out the heart and drains the soul of its substance, is the ladder that leads to love. The great lovers were educated in the school of hunger.
Those people born sated, will never know the permanent anguish, that active waiting, that feverishness, the misery that keeps us awake day and night. Man builds on what he has known in the course of the first months of his life: if he has not felt hungry, he will be one of those strange elect, who refuse to build their lives around a lack.
Mirror
She stares at me,
with eyes that reveal a void
with eyes that speak of pain
the pain of confinement
of being held captive.
A chosen captivity.
Yet that familiarity that holds her
provides a sense of security-
of comfort
though false, very dear to her
should those barriers fall,
should their hinges come loose,
the waves
of freedom,
of vunerability
may sweep
too hard
too fast
too soon
may overwhelm…
and drown her soul.
Yes, she looks at me
and speaks in words I understand
Pressed up against the glass
She looks out
longingly,
with envy,
at the world outside her four familiar walls.
one day she will
break free,
I know it.
With courage
break free.
Then the girl in my mirror
will be no more…
Disease
The feeble, will l extinguish The defenseless, will I impregnate I am resolved To overwhelm My execution, it is forced to reprieve My invasion, it attempts to quell I am resolved To see it’s End It will pass emaciated It will leave me, Landlord. I am resolved to expect this. For I will neither burn when hell arrives nor drown when the high waters engulf I will stand firm resilient against all odds
I will conquer.
the tunnel
I see you and you and you
Walking down the black track
Trapped in it’s dingy darkness
You plod on forward
because
you know no other way
you see no other direction
only the light at the end.
I see you and you and you,
are content with that little light
happy with this narrow lane
not the least claustrophobic
because
you are bound by familiarity
you are restrained by complacency
knowing not the greener pastures beyond.
I see you and you and you
and I sympathise
for you dwell unknowingly the depths of beelzebub
I’d show you the heavens in which I reside if I could
but that would be futile
because
the light would blind your maladapted eyes
the fresh air would asphyxiate your unprepared lungs
you’d be like a fish out of water.
I see you and you and you
oblivious to the circumference
that holds you captive
I look in from the outside once again
and am resigned to my helplessness
because
you choose imprisonment and I, freedom
you choose ignorance and I, enlightenment
We cannot be in communion.
You can stay there forever hidden in your tunnel while I bask in paradise.
“POPPYCOCK!”
“Poppycock!” she exclaimed, throwing her bony, frail hands in air.
At a 105 years, she was so old and fused-in that her hands could only form, at maximum a 110° angle at the elbows. Nevertheless, though handicapped, she never fail to fling her arms heavenward in exclamation. She believed the action would not only garner well-deserved attention from all those around (so they could share in her exclamation), but the outward expression of an inward tumultous disturbance would greatly reduce the strain on her 105 year old, failing heart . Rest assured, these exclamatory incidences were much of a rare occurance.
Mrs. Weedlesprout had always claimed to be the oldest person alive on Bony Hill. She was assumed to be correct in this instance- and rightly so, as Mrs. Weedlesprout was the sole inhabitant of The Hill. Ancient and somewhat a relic, she loved living on Bony Hill and prides herself for all the posts that she holds in the town council and all the awards that she has won- from the oldest person alive to the youngest citizen of Bony Hill, yes, she’s won them ALL.
rain
the sound of the early morning rain
brings with it
a calm that quells rising tension
a peace that transcends insecurities
a quietness that pacifies doubt
O Rain,
It
sedates the mind
cleanses the body
refreshes the soul
as the crow flies
For the very first time in my life I was introduced to the phrase “as the crow flies” which simply means the “most direct route”. If I were to say “The house is a mile away, as the crow flies”, I would simply mean, the house would be a mile away following the most direct route.
What puzzles me is the fact that people would give this sort of credit to a corvus corone. A digusting, vile, scavenging creature. Even if it were the crows’ nature, I cannot help but question why they should be given this honour and not some other animal. The phrase is used with such positive implications that it’s almost as good as insulting the poor innocent tortoises, who always seem to get the negative side of things; “as slow as a tortoise”.
The question is…Is a crow really superior to a tortoise?
I say…No, if anything a crow is inferior. They steal food and peck people…a tortoise merely trots about and makes the world a better place.
The next question is…So what are we teaching our children? That they should be ‘intelligent’ like crows and used their brains for evil things?
I say…Yes, and that’s why there needs to be CHANGE
I propose a new phrase that should wipe out the old. It is “as the tiger roars” which simply means the “hungriest of circumstances”. This introduction is accompanied by an example of how it should be used: “I would eat this shit, as the tiger roars“
Ah, finally some justice is done and now I can rest well. Some credit where it is due. Some honour in the right place. Some superiority awarded to the deserving animal.
Have a good day…as the tiger ROARS
