Motion and Emotion

I was a Children's Hostess with the Union Castle Line in the early 1960s. This is one of my loveliest memories from those long-ago days.

MOTION AND EMOTION.

Two unrelated pictures, and yet they're linked for me,

And, whichever one I look at, I smell the salty sea.

I worked on the 'Transvaal Castle' a cruise ship carrying mail,

And we sailed through the Bay of Biscay in many a raging gale.

I felt no discomfort and I never felt afraid,

But I have some lovely memories I know will never fade.

I was in charge of the Playroom, which, of course, was closed at night,

For all the little passengers were in bunks and sleeping tight.

The wonderful 'new technology' was the Juke Box in those days,

And round black vinyl records were the very latest craze.

I'd go up the playroom on very unsteady feet,

For walking on a rolling ship is really quite a feat.

I'd then unlock the playroom door, but leave the lights unlit,

For various other shipboard lights brightened it a bit.
Our ship weighed 32 thousand tons and she was a steady craft,
But the Juke Box was at 'the pointy end' in other words, right aft.
The ship went up, the ship went down, and then she dipped and rolled
And high heels on a shiny floor could scarcely be controlled!

But I'd make my way to the Juke Box and switch the vital switch
And then it wouldn't matter how much the ship might pitch!
For Cliff Richard would envelope me, with his silky, ardent voice,
A voice full of youth and passion, nearly everyone's first choice.
First the ship pointed to the sky, where the clouds were wildly strewn,
And it hung there for a moment, as though about to swoon.
And then it came swooping downwards till all there was was sea!
There was nothing but the elements, except for Cliff and me!
And the shattered sea came churning up and the spume flew through the air,
But I was in the arms of love so I didn't really care!
Oh Cliff! We're both much older now, and the Mail Ship sails no more,
But the motion and emotion are with me evermore.



Another one of my heart-throbs here:
http://rinklyrimes.blogspot.com/2008/09/144-for-paul-927.html

Denouement!

ONE SINGLE IMPRESSION

http://onesingleimpression.blogspot.com/2009/05/prompt-66-denouement.html

suggested this topic.

I'm not a fan of the stories of Agatha Christie mysteries, but I do admire her puzzle-making skills and her neat mind. The denouement is always a slick feature.

DENOUEMENT!

Denouement! What a lovely word!

One of the loveliest I've heard!

Reminding me of Agatha Christie,

She of the plots so turny-twisty.

She always ties up her loose ends

With a gathering of foes and friends,

Standing around in some vast hall

With beans. (And ready to spill them all!)

Cook and gardener, a high-born lady,

Secretary (a trifle shady), 

Ancient crone, with quite a history,

'Mr X' (now he's a mystery!)

Mr Plod (a neat disguise),

A judge, retired, looking very wise,

A criminal type, all smoothy-smarty,

(Be sure he wont be the guilty party!)

Two sweet young things for decoration

And one very sinister relation!

They stand in groups, neatly separated,

All with their breath very clearly bated,

All of them looking rather queasy,

With the innocent clearly the most uneasy.

Now, in real life, this neat display

All ready to give the game away,

Would be really hell to organise,

Quite impossible, I surmise.

'Where's Julia?' .'She's in the loo.'

'Shouldn't Rupert be in here, too?'

'I've a call to make; please wait a tick."

'This is an awkward time to pick!'

'Lord Pentarthur left at dawn!'

'Oh! (this one's posh) 'He's already gawn!'

'Make it snappy! I've got to go!'

'God! You policemen are so slow!'

Where's Lorraine? Oh dear! She's departed!'

'Get on with it! It's time we started!'

Agatha, in the books we read,

Never paid even the slightest heed

To the awful logisitics of real life!

Who cares if the Doctor killed the wife!

So long as denouements work a treat

And the criminal type admits defeat,

We can close the book or end the play

Wishing real-life worked-out her way!

A real-life mystery here:

http://rinklyrimes.blogspot.com/2009/01/291-great-expectations.html

BRYANTICS' SUNDAY DIARY.

BRYANTICS' SUNDAY DIARY

We've all heard about the world ending with a whimper and not a bang! Well, in my case it's a start that's ending that way. I've decided to jot down a few notes about my life, as so many other people do, and today absolutely nothing happened! So I feel quite silly! However, things can only improve so I'll start as I mean to go on. I intend to write this Diary every Sunday.

Winter starts tomorrow and, true to form, the weather was showery and chilly. I walked down to the sea for some exercise during the afternoon, but the beach was deserted and it wasn't very pleasant, so I came home again! How's that for a thrill? Other than that I cleaned the house, blogged and cooked pork chops for tea!!

But there was one little flurry of excitement in the evening.  We were in the middle of watching a nostalgic program about 'Mary Whitehouse', remembered, I'm sure, by all Poms, when the phone rang.The phone-call was to say that a musician friend is interested in using some of my narrative poems to create a disk for schools. The main aim will be to introduce children to the idea of background music. So I hope it comes to something.

Thank you so much to everybody who commented on my first Blogging Anniversary. Now I can't wait to get started on the second year!

Brenda Bryant

The Spice Girls

MANIC MONDAY

http://www.manicmeme.com/2009/05/thatsa-spicey-theme-word.html

suggests a 'SPICE' theme

The Spice Girls may have been nothing more than a British phenomenon ( exported to Oz as all British things are), so I apologise to other readers to whom this is incomprehensible.

THE SPICE GIRLS

They were naughty, they were nice;

They were sugar, they were spice.

Ten years ago they knew such fame!

Everybody knew the name.

The Spice Girls! Icons of their time!

Silly, maybe, or sublime.

Teenage girls made future plans

To sing such songs and thrill such fans.

Now, it seems, there's only Posh

Who causes viewers to cry 'Gosh!'

And, in her case, it is her spouse

Who's really bringing down the house!

Time marches on for all it seems;

Ambitions end as faded dreams.

The teenage fans are now, I think,

Standing at the kitchen sink,

Humming tunes inconsequential

That once seemed heady and essential.

It all ended in a trice

Those long-lost days that were marked by

Spice!

It was ever thus here:

http://rinklyrimes.blogspot.com/2008/07/52-legs-labours-lost.html

Unexpected Visitor

                                                                                                     Ilya Efimovich Efimovich Repin

TOTALLY OPTIONAL PROMPT 

http://totallyoptionalprompts.blogspot.com/2009/05/totally-optional-prompt-unexpected.html

suggested this topic.

I found such a wonderful illustration!

UNEXPECTED VISITOR

He stood there in his ragged clothes

Wearing a tangled beard,

Swarthy, unkempt and derelict,

A wild man to be feared.

*

'Why have you let this wretch inside?'

Mother cried out in dismay.

'He has no right to come in here!

Vagabond! Go away!'

*

The children watched with staring eyes

As the stranger stood his ground.

With an odd expression he gazed around,

But stood without a sound.

*

'Begone!' cried Mother, 'You have no right

To force your way in here!

You've frightened the children and scared the maid!

Now! Do I make myself clear?'

*

The more he stood, the more he gazed,

The more the Mother faltered.

'Who are you?' she said in a softer voice,

The timbre of it altered.

*

For, suddenly she recalled a boy, 

A brother just sixteen,

Who had left her side many moons ago,

And had nevermore been seen.

*

They had heard he had died on the battlefield,

In some far-distant place.

They had also heard that he broke the law,

And had ended in disgrace.

*

They had mourned a while and wept a while

But that was so long ago.

How could this poor wretch standing here

Be someone she used to know?

*

But then she saw the expression

In his deep and sunken eyes,

And she knew that, indeed, it was Ivan,

And that all they had heard was lies.

*

'Set another seat at the table'

She said weeping joyful tears,

For brother Ivan is home again,

After many, many years.'

*

More Victorian drama here:

http://rinklyrimes.blogspot.com/2008/12/225-mind-reading.html

Not-so-Small Talk

EASY STREET prompt

http://easystreetprompts.blogspot.com/2009/05/prompt-556-small-talk.html

'SMALL TALK'

I read an article some time ago which reported on 'gossip', and I can now announce that female chatter has been discovered to be of far more worth than mere idle verbiage. Evidently, many of the topics discussed by women are very much the stuff of real life. So gab-fest to your hearts delight ladies!

NOT-SO-SMALL-TALK

Many men would like to say

That they don't small-talk the female way.

They say we gossip at this and that,

Talk inanity, having a chat.

Whereas,(this is their view), being men

They only discuss things now and again,

And, when they do, they cover ground

Which is always vital and profound.

Politics, they say's a must

So they go at it with stab and thrust.

Sport's another important item;

They chunter-on ad infinitum.

Sex is a topic that get's an airing;

Experience-swapping gets quite daring!

So there you have it, one, two, three,

The sum of men's verbosity.

Whereas we ladies, so I've heard tell,

Discuss a lot and do it well.

Gather together a female group,

Over a lunch of home-made soup,

And the conversation will surge and eddy,

Sometimes dazzling, sometimes steady,

Covering things of depth and meaning,

While, all the while, each one is gleaning

Good advice and information,

With sensitive anticipation.

World affairs, the price of cheese,

What to do should baby sneeze,

The latest title to be read,

How to make lovely home-made bread,

How to cover an antique stool,

How to help Johnny with work from school;

What we think of that young Obama;

How to make a suit of armour....

Well, maybe not that final one,

But the topic does sound rather fun!

On and on in a seamless way

We ladies small-talk our time away.

But scientists at last have found

That girl-talk makes the world go round!

A year old but still apt here:

http://rinklyrimes.blogspot.com/2008/06/21-communication.html

My Anniversary

MY ANNIVERSARY!

Last year, on May the thirty-first I tried my hand at Blogging!

I needed a new hobby! It was either that or jogging!

As I'm a sedentary dame, Blogging seemed appealing.

I thought I'd stick to poems, either silly or revealing.

The very day I started I knew that I was hooked!

In other words, I realised my poor old goose was cooked.

So I Blogged right through the Winter, I Blogged right through the Spring,

Through Summer and through Autumn I Blogged like anything!

Now May the thirty-first is here once more and, Allelujah!

Right through a whole darned year, my friends, I find I've socked it to ya!

Thank you to all who've been so kind as to read and follow me.

To my alter ego, Rinkly Rimes, Happy Anniversary!

(I'm going to kill-off poor old Rinkly! In future I'll add 'Bryantics' to the title and, eventually, delete the Rinkly bit!. Not only that but I intend to make my blog a little more of a diary, as I so enjoy other peoples' daily jottings. But I'll still write verse, of course.)