Monday, March 26, 2012

Magic Mist

The Wordle


asks us to use all the wordle words


When I watch geology 'stuff',
It all seems rather crude and rough.
Volcanoes spurting violent flames
And crashing planets with Latin names.
I like to pretend this earth of ours,
With all its rivulets and flowers,
Developed out of a gentle mist
With the help of a genial alchemist.
I like to think of a tender touch
With sprinkled juices and other such
Harbingers of joy and calm,
And nothing bringing pain or harm.
The alchemist's craft would sweep away
All things unpleasant; they would not stay. 
With his acumen he'd gauge our needs,
Planting only flowers, never weeds.
He'd massage the world with scented oil;
There'd be no such things as pain and toil.
We would be supple, and know no pain;
There'd be no such thing as acid rain.
But, sadly, I'm told by geologists,
There were no such things as magic mists;
We evolved from flame and slime,
Bang and crash for aeons of time.
Brute force, loud noises, heat and cold,
Nothing pleasant, so I'm told.
But I still prefer my alchemist
To the no-holds-barred geologist!


Call that a crest, Old Codger!
That white thing on your head!
If I had that
Silly looking  hat
I'd really rather be dead!

Now this is a crest, Old Codger,
This glorious yellow thing,
That points and furls
And crisps and curls
And makes me look like a king!

With a natural glory, Old Codger,
You cannot ever compete!
I'm feeling bolder
On your shoulder!
Quick! Gimme something to eat!

Our friend, Angus, had his 70th birthday today and we were privileged to be invited to his party. We met-up with his five grandchildren, none of whom we'd seen for some time. Julie and Susan organised the feast. Here are some photos of the occasion.


Magical Mystical Teacher said...

I prefer your alchemist too. She sounds perfectly delightful!

Whirling Haiku

Jules said...

We should all be genial alchemists to make what we have a better place.
Nicely wordled.