“As I stood on the lonely backroad, I’m sure I heard birds, kookaburras, laughing …” ― Steven Herrick

THE OLD PROVERBIAL RECOVERY

DSCF3747 KOOKABURRA AT THE BEACHSHACK 2015

A Legend of the Great Flood

In the dream-time, a terrible drought swept across the land. The leaves of the trees turned brown and fell from the branches, the flowers drooped their heads and died, and the green grass withered as though the spirit from the barren mountain had breathed upon it with a breath of fire. When the hot wind blew, the dead reeds rattled in the river bed, and the burning sands shimmered like a silver lagoon.

All the water had left the rippling creeks, and deep, still water holes. In the clear blue sky the sun was a mass of molten gold; the clouds no longer drifted across the hills, and the only darkness that fell across the land was the shadow of night and death.

After many had died of thirst, all the animals in the land met together in a…

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There were happy days, with watermelon, and sad days of whiskey.”

THE OLD PROVERBIAL RECOVERY

― Lewis Nordan

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HALL, TOM T.

How old do you think I am he said I said well I didn’t know
He said I turned sixty five about eleven months ago
I was sittin’ in Miami pourin’ blended whiskey down
When this old grey black gentleman was cleanin’ up the lounge
There wasn’t anyone around ‘cept this old man and me
The guy who ran the bar was watching Ironsides on TV
Uninvited he sat down and opened up his mind
On old dogs and children and watermelon wine
Ever had a drink of watermelon wine he asked
He told me all about it though I didn’t answer back
Ain’t but three things in this world that’s worth a solitary dime
But old dogs and children and watermelon wine
He said women think about theyselves when menfolk ain’t around
And friends are hard to find when they discover that you’re…

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Nanny Ogg appreciated fine wine in her very own way. It would never have occurred to Casanunda that anyone would top up white wine with port merely because she’d reached the end of the bottle.

THE OLD PROVERBIAL RECOVERY

― Terry Pratchett, Lords and Ladies

056

“Some people turn sad awfully young. No special reason, it seems, but they seem almost to be born that way. They bruise easier, tire faster, cry quicker, remember longer and, as I say, get sadder younger than anyone else in the world. I know, for I’m one of them.”

― Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine

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I cannot hear what you say for the thunder of what you are.

THE OLD PROVERBIAL RECOVERY

African Proverb

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The folktale is as follows: the peacock and the crow decide to add colour to their feathers, and to paint each other’s. The crow spends a long time painting careful designs on the peacock, who becomes so proud of his feathers he wants to strut and flaunt them. So when the peacock paints the crow, he just dumps black paint on and says he’s done. Yet the crow is more respected for his care for others and his modesty.

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Who will remember happiness? I can recall that they are dead. I know that heaven cracked one day, And only God knows what they said. Allen Tate

THE OLD PROVERBIAL RECOVERY

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“Cracks especially. You have to be careful of the cracks.. Sometimes they are disguised as something else. A doorway, or a smile or even a winking eye. And if you fall through them, you never know were you will end up.”
― Isobelle Carmody, Greylands

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When you’re speaking about the trolls, they’re standing in the entrance hall listening. (Swedish)

THE OLD PROVERBIAL RECOVERY

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To get the walkthrough, you have to take the sponge from Nanny Ogg’s pantry and stick it in the ear of the troll with the tutu, then take the lumps and put them in the pouch with the zombie’s razor.

(Terry Pratchett, alt.fan.pratchett)

http://www.au.lspace.org/books/pqf/alt-fan-pratchett.html

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THE GEM 14 OCTOBER 2018 : NEVER TRAVEL FAR WITHOUT A ROPE! AND ONE THAT IS LONG AND STRONG AND LIGHT. IT MAY BE A HELP IN MANY NEEDS. -J.R.R. TOLKIEN, THE LORD OF THE RINGS

the GEM COLLECTION 2018

I am at the ship’s prow. I am no longer the suicide with her raft and paddle. Herr Doktor! I’ll no longer die to spite you, you wallowing seasick grounded man.

Anne Sexton (1928-1974), U.S. poet. “The Doctor of the Heart.”

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“Now that I could not go back I was not sure, after all, that I wished to go forward. It was a miserable sensation.” Anna Freeman, The Fair Fight

THE OLD PROVERBIAL RECOVERY

Magnets

I promised myself never to give in
Never to be the hostage of my emotions
Never to let my knees turn to jelly
Never to lust and never to hope
Never to trust nor elope
But your fingertips are magnets
And every piece of my body that you touch
My skin follows, giving in to your warmth
Begging for more, begging for you
I’m letting you take over and control for me
Feverishly, I watch you handle my life
Piecing things together, tearing some apart
And as if you were magic
I sit back and think:
“I am so glad you have my heart”

by Tyler

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“Time goes faster the more hollow it is. Lives with no meaning go straight past you, like trains that don’t stop at your station.” Carlos Ruiz Zafón, The Shadow of the Wind

On The Night Train

A poem by Henry Lawson 1922

Have you seen the bush by moonlight, from the train, go running by?
Blackened log and stump and sapling, ghostly trees all dead and dry:
Here a patch of glassy water; there a glimpse of mystic sky?
Have you heard the still voice calling – yet so warm, and yet so cold:
I’m the Mother-Bush that bore you! Come to me when you are old?

Did you see the Bush below you sweeping darkly to the Range,
All unchanged and all unchanging, yet so very old and strange!
While you thought in softened anger ofthe things that did estrange?
(Did you hear the Bush a-calling, when your heart was young and bold
I’m the Mother-Bush that nursed you; come to me when you are old?)

In the cutting, in the tunnel, out of sight of stack or shed,
Have you heard the grey Bush calling from the pine-ridge overhead:
YouYou have seen the seas and cities; all is cold to you, or dead –
All seems done and all seems told – but the grey-light turns to gold!
I’m the Mother-Bush that loves you; come to me now you are old`?

“I have spoken of Jonah, and of the story of him and the whale. A fit story for ridicule, if it was written to be believed; or of laughter, if it was intended to try what credulity could swallow; for, if it could swallow Jonah and the whale it could swallow anything.” Thomas Paine, The Age of Reason

Jonah and the Whale

by AnonymousA BOUT THE YEAR of one B. C.,
A gallant ship set out to sea,
To catch a whale and salt his tail,
To salt the end of his tail.

But when about a mile from shore
The ship began to dance,
Then every son of a sailorman,
Put on his working pants,
His pants, his pants, his working pants.

And down into the hold they went,
And over the pumps their backs they bent.
They pumped and pumped,
They thought they would drown,
The deck was too wet to sit down.

Then up spoke Mike O’Flaherty,
There’s a Jonah on the boat, sez he;
So off they ran from Mike to Dan,
To find the Jonah Man.

And when upon the deck they came,
His “Nibs” a-smiling sat—
A-lighting a paper cigarette
In the crown of his derby hat,
His hat, his hat, his derby hat.

So they gave a whoop and they gave a yell
And overboard poor Jonah fell.
Sez Mike to Jim, “’Tis better for him—
‘Tis certainly better for him.”

Just then a monster whale passed by,
And Jonah’s trousers caught his eye.
“As I’m a goat, there’s a lunch afloat,”
And he swallowed him into his throat.

Just about then the whale felt ill,
Sez he, “That lunch was poor,
For, judging by the way I feel,
I’ve swallowed a Jonah sure,
A Jonah, a Jonah, a Jonah sure.”

Then Mike McGinty gave a call,
And he coughed up Jonah, pants and all,
‘Twas on the spot (’tis not forgot),
McGinty’s corner lot.

An old whore’s curse is a blessing.

“Anybody can look at a pretty girl and see a pretty girl. An artist can look at a pretty girl and see the old woman she will become. A better artist can look at an old woman and see the pretty girl that she used to be. But a great artist-a master-and that is what Auguste Rodin was-can look at an old woman, protray her exactly as she is…and force the viewer to see the pretty girl she used to be…and more than that, he can make anyone with the sensitivity of an armadillo, or even you, see that this lovely young girl is still alive, not old and ugly at all, but simply prisoned inside her ruined body. He can make you feel the quiet, endless tragedy that there was never a girl born who ever grew older than eighteen in her heart…no matter what the merciless hours have done to her. Look at her, Ben. Growing old doesn’t matter to you and me; we were never meant to be admired-but it does to them.” 
― Robert Heinlein

Jennifer Was A Sea Nymph – by Meenu Alex I had known Jennifer during the degree She was the one who laughed in wild ecstasy When the sea wind ruffled her hair The ship was named after her For the captain always remembered How she laughed standing against the wind In the front top point of the ship Hairs in the air like a sea fairy Hands extended towards the waters with passion She was in love with the sea and the ship She could be in the real self only there She was a sea spirit incarnated I still have her in mind As one who fills the pages, with her laughter and free spirit!

“We do not want merely to see beauty… we want something else which can hardly be put into words- to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it. That is why we have peopled air and earth and water with gods and goddesses, and nymphs and elves.” 
C.S. Lewis

“Now that I could not go back I was not sure, after all, that I wished to go forward. It was a miserable sensation.” Anna Freeman, The Fair Fight

Magnets

I promised myself never to give in
Never to be the hostage of my emotions
Never to let my knees turn to jelly
Never to lust and never to hope
Never to trust nor elope
But your fingertips are magnets
And every piece of my body that you touch
My skin follows, giving in to your warmth
Begging for more, begging for you
I’m letting you take over and control for me
Feverishly, I watch you handle my life
Piecing things together, tearing some apart
And as if you were magic
I sit back and think:
“I am so glad you have my heart”

by Tyler

the old proverbial recovery through ancient eyes

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History, Mystery, Research in Progress

Loudest Minds

Funny Posts and Solid Information for those who suffer from bipolar disorder and alcohlism

Sober and Awkward

Learning to stumble through life without the comfort of booze.

SoberPunks

A sweary alcohol recovery blog written by a Yorkshireman

Process Not An Event

Adventures in Addiction Recovery & Cancer Survival

Finding a Sober Miracle

A woman's quest for one year of sobriety

The Devil Drinks Vodka

A mom, wife and professional's journey on recovering from addiction

Box Tree Clinic | Your Key to World Class Private Therapy

Our community of Harley Street therapists provide a high quality private therapy service to improve mental health and wellness within a discreet and beautiful environment.

Storm in a Wine Glass

I used to drink and now I don't

HEAL & GROW for ACoAs

ACoA Recovery Issues (adult-children of alcoholics & other narcissists)

Acquiescent Soul

Watching life as it passed by

LIGHT ON THE THRESHOLD

WHERE TO START WHEN YOU DON'T KNOW WHERE TO START

BG Daily Post

Daily Recovery Messages

My life and other sordid tales

biographical, non-fiction

I am Responsible

Alcoholics Anonymous Meetings in Mountain City, Tennessee

emotionspassion.com

Emotional musings- emotionspassion@gmail.com

Rowing from Home to Home

Singapore to New Zealand - 12,000km by human power!

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