Category Archives: PEOPLE,PLACES AND THINGS

While vile mutants still draw breath, there can be no peace. While obscene heretics’ hearts still beat, there can be no respite. While faithless traitors still live, there can be no forgiveness. Catechism of Hate Verse I of XXV. Silver Skulls

 

 

 

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Another Awkward Stage Of Convalescence

Drunk, I kissed the moon
where it stretched on the floor.
I’d removed happiness from a green bottle,
both sipped and gulped
just as a river changes its mind,
mostly there was a flood in my mouth

BOB HICOCK

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/another-awkward-stage-of-convalescence/

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Chronicle (Adelaide, SA : 1895 – 1954), Thursday 29 July 1954

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Convalescence

Underneath a tree I lie,
Watching with lack lustre eye,
All those little trivial things
Weakness after sickness brings;
Watching birds flit to and fro;
Watching how the grasses grow;
Watching how the leaves and trees
Blend in Autumn harmonies
And wise insects, taught by God,
Build their shelters in the sod.

Oh, how low the pride of men
Falls and grovels meekly, when
Convalescence comes at last
After long borne sufferings past,
E’en the arrogance of pain
That strange vanity – is vain
And he lies, a stricken thing,
Bereft of even suffering.

All is gone – the pain, the pride;
Arrogance is laid aside.
And he owes all things he’d do
To some worthier being, who,
Out of charity, shall seek
To assist the helpless weak
Out of charity to lend
Splendid strength he is to spend.

So beneath the tree I lie,
Reading with a languid eye
Views of that and views of this
In a world so long amiss,
And, by some strange alchemy,
Suddenly it seems to me
That, as Earth’s wild turmoils cease,
Comes convalescence now and peace.

Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis

 

 

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Relevailles home

Description: perinatal assistant or aide-mom went to the mother’s home in the weeks after giving birth to a half-day to listen, encourage, inform, answer questions, support in the the organization of daily life (food, maintenance) and offer respite.

When I had a look at the lights of Broadway by night, I said to my American friends : “What a glorious garden of wonders this would be, to any who was lucky enough to be unable to read. G. K. Chesterton

http://www.midmanhattan.com/articles/new-york-quotes.htm

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There’s a broken light for every heart on Broadway.

There’s a broken heart for every light on Broadway. 

Diane Dickey

May every old fairy, from Cork to Dunleary,  Dip him snug and airy in river or lake,  Where the eel and the trout may feed on the snout  Of the monster that murdered Neill Falheerty’s drake

http://www.niagaraceltic.com/rc_curses.html

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Airy, Fairy Lilian,
Flitting, fairy Lilian,
When I ask her if she love me,
Claps her tiny hands above me,
Laughing all she can;
She ‘ll not tell me if she love me,
Cruel little Lilian.

II
When my passion seeks
Pleasance in love-sighs,
She, looking thro’ and thro’ me
Thoroughly to undo me,
Smiling, never speaks:
So innocent-arch, so cunning-simple,
From beneath her gathered wimple
Glancing with black-bearded eyes,
Till the lightning laughters dimple
The baby-roses in her cheeks;
Then away she flies.

III
Prythee weep, May Lilian!
Gaiety without eclipse
Whearieth me,
May Lilian;
Thro’ my every heart it thrilleth
When from crimson-threaded lips
Silver-treble laughter trilleth:
Prythee weep,
May Lilian!

IV
Praying all I can,
If prayers will not hush thee, Airy Lilian,
Like a rose-leaf I will crush thee, Fairy Lilian.
Lord Tennyson

the sea accepts a hundred streams and rivers

a great person can accommodate things great and small

http://www.transname.com/sayings.html

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FOTO clarence river in grafton nsw australia

 

 

GEOFF PAGE

The poetry of

fear and loathing,

how long’s it been around?

Between what once were

Eden’s rivers

http://geoffpagepoet.wordpress.com/recent-poems/

 

 

In the sacred precinct of that dwelling where the despotic woman wields the sceptre of fierce neatness, one treads as if he carried his life in his hands.

(Henry Ward Beecher)

http://www.inspirationalstories.com/quotes/t/about-neatness/

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Things are always best seen when they are a trifle mixed-up, a trifle disordered the chilly administrative neatness of museums and filing cases, of statistics and cemeteries, is an inhuman and antinatural kind of order it is, in a word, disorder.

(Camilo Cela)

Comissar Razinin: This anonymous report was sent to me. They’re dragging the good name of our country through every cafe and nightclub. Here: How can the Bolshevik cause gain respect among the Muslims if your three representatives Bujlianoff, Iranoff and Kopalski get so drunk that they throw a carpet out of their hotel window and complain to the management that it didn’t fly?

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0031725/quotes

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Vulgar of manner, overfed,
Overdressed and underbred;
Heartless, Godless, hell’s delight,
Rude by day and lewd by night…
Crazed with avarice, lust and rum,
New York, thy name’s delirium.
Byron Rufus Newton (1906)

http://www.midmanhattan.com/articles/new-york-quotes.htm

Bloom where you are planted.

http://www.gardendigest.com/cliche.htm

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“All procrastinators put off things they have to do. Structured procrastination is the art of making this negative trait work for you. The key idea is that procrastinating does not mean doing absolutely nothing. Procrastinators seldom do absolutely nothing; they do marginally useful things, such as gardening or sharpening pencils or making a diagram of how they will reorganize their files when they get around to it. Why does the procrastinator do these things? Because they are a way of not doing something more important. If all the procrastinator had left to do was to sharpen some pencils, no force on earth could get him to do it. The procrastinator can be motivated to do difficult, timely, and important tasks, however, as long as these tasks are a way of not doing something more important.”
― John Perry, The Art of Procrastination: A Guide to Effective Dawdling, Lollygagging and Postponing

The teaching of the wise is a fountain of life.

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“Pippin glanced in some wonder at the face now close beside his own, for the sound of that laugh had been gay and merry. Yet in the wizard’s face he saw at first only lines of care and sorrow; though as he looked more intently he perceived that under all there was a great joy: a fountain of mirth enough to set a kingdom laughing, were it to gush forth.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings

There is still hope.

― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

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When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.


-Henri Nouwen

 

“The unhappiest people in this world, are those who care the most about what other people think.” ― C. JoyBell C.

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“Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.”

― Leonard Cohen

A lot of people refuse to do things because they don’t want to go naked, don’t want to go without guarantee. But that’s what’s got to happen. You go naked until you die.

― Nikki Giovanni

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“I do not trust people who don’t love themselves and yet tell me, ‘I love you.’ There is an African saying which is: Be careful when a naked person offers you a shirt.”

― Maya Angelou

All our discontents about what we want appeared to me to spring from the want of thankfulness for what we have.

― Daniel Defoe, Robinson Crusoe

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“No utopia can ever give satisfaction to everyone, all the time. As their material conditions improve, men raise their sights and become discontented with power and possessions that once would have seemed beyond their wildest dreams. And even when the external world has granted all it can, there still remain the searchings of the mind and the longings of the heart.”

Arthur C. Clarke, Childhood’s End