Minerva's Garden

SCENIC SUNDAY
http://scenicsunday.blogspot.com/2009/05/blog-post.html

We have friends who have created a delightful Bed and Breakfast in the wooded area at the rear of their house. It looks out across the expanse of Fegan's Bay, which is part of Brisbane Water (nothing to do with Brisbane except that it was named after the same man.) They found a statue of Minerva in the garden when they bought the property, hence the name.

MINERVA'S GARDEN.

What a charming spot to come,

Far away from the city's hum!

Minerva's Garden is the place

To just relax and lose all trace

Of worldy care and stress and strain,

And push and pull and greed and gain.

A Bed and Breakfast destination

Designed for pure felicitation.

Wake to the sound of birds around you!

Maybe a cockatoo has found you!

Gaze out upon a brand new day

With all the delights of Fegan's Bay.

Wander down and what do you know!

Breakfast on the patio!

So much old-world charm is there;

Rock awhile in the rocking chair.

Now's the time you must depart.

But 'Minerva' will linger in your heart.

Another place to relax here:

http://rinklyrimes.blogspot.com/2009/04/tropical-trickery.html

Silver in Spring

                                            Carl Larsson

SIMPLY SNICKERS

http://simplysnickers.blogspot.com/

SILVER IN SPRING

A silver birch,

Queen of Trees.

So delicate

One wonders if it can bear

The heaviness of snow

That has fallen on its branches!

*

So stark, you've been.

So fragile, so colourless,

Throughout winter.

Your silver has faded

Into the background music.

The white of snow,

The weight of snow

Has overwhelmed your silver

With brilliance.

You have seemed grey.

*

Yet not just grey;

You have seemed wispy, untidy, bedraggled

And shapeless.

The pines have dominated you.

*

Yesterday we perceived green.

It was not really seeing.

When we tried to focus

The colour faded.

Had we really seen it?

*

It could have been a mirage

In the desert.

But this is no desert.

*

Today we see reality.

The shoots are real,

Tiny tendrils reaching upward.

The leaves are real,

Little plates ready to receive

The meal;

The meal of heat, sun, splendour.

*

Tomorrow you will be a tree,

Full of green,

Etched against the blue.

Your silver will sparkle.

*

You will take your place as

Queen of Trees.

*

Spring in another place here:

http://rinklyrimes.blogspot.com/2008/09/114-wattle-day.html

Late Arrivals

For SHADOW SHOT SUNDAY
http://heyharriet.blogspot.com/2009/05/shadow-shot-sunday-54.html




LATE ARRIVALS

We were waiting in the theatre.

Hushed was the eager hall

When late arrivals pierced the gloom,

Painting shadows on the wall.

A shaft of light from the doorway

Lit up the silent rows

And the shadow-puppets revealed themselves

In a dark and threatening pose.

Accidental theatre here:

http://rinklyrimes.blogspot.com/2009/04/bush-theatre.html

Covert Operation!

SUNDAY SCRIBBLINGS

http://sundayscribblings.blogspot.com/suggests

'COVERT'

Nuts-in-May 

http://granniemay.blogspot.com/

printed this charming true story on her blog some time ago. I hope she likes this version of it. 

COVERT OPERATION!

I tell the tale of two naughty girls! We were ten or eleven years old.

We were into secrets in a big way, secrets not to be told.

We whispered to each other that we badly needed mice.

Although we both had cats and dogs and all of them were nice,

We wanted tiny little pets we could hide inside the house.

And what better for a secret pet than a harmless little mouse?

We prepared with the utmost caution so everything was fine.

I even stole a little piece of my brother's railway line!

This was to make a sort of frame for my mouse to run around;

And I put it inside a cardboard box that, luckily, I'd found.

I made little air-holes in the box, and put in a tiny dish

For my mouse to use for food and drink, whatever it might wish.

We saved-up our pocket-money  and on the appointed day

We set off for the pet-shop, which was quite a way away.

We very quickly discovered there were only two mice left.

Bella bagged the white one; I felt cross and bereft

For I had to have the brown one and I really wanted white.

But Bella always got her way so I didn't put up a fight.

The two mice stayed the night in a spare room at Bella's house

And I went home and dreamed about my purchase of a mouse.

But our dream was rudely shattered, as soon as morning came!

Bella's cat went ballistic and it was normally so tame.

It scratched to get inside the room and once it saw its prey

It gobbled up my brown mouse! The white one got away!

But the white one jumped inside a drawer and peed on laundry there!

And visitors were expected! The room had been cleaned with care!

When my mother heard the story she really blew her top!

I was called a 'bad influence' ! Our adventure was a flop!

The mouse had cost me a shilling, and I hadn't wanted the brown!

I felt that life was most unfair. It really got me down!

Bella bought a proper mouse-house for her wretched little creature!

It had a window made of glass as a very special feature!
*

We're no longer 'naughty girls, well, not little ones at least,

And Bella lives in America, far away to the East.

But I've never quite forgiven her, let her never doubt it!

If only we could meet again and have a good laugh about it!




Another celebration of friendship here:
http://rinklyrimes.blogspot.com/2008/08/92-electronic-barrier.html

Echoes

          TrevedyYves

ECHOES

Just a voice in the night

On the radio.

The accent homely and very British.

The voice elderly and uncertain.

*

'There are seven hundred and fifty of us'

He said;

'All that's left.'

*

He was speaking from Zimbabwe

*

He was speaking from

The Rhodesia

Of his youth;

My youth.
I could hear the echoes
Of my own past
In his voice.

*

Maybe I knew him.

Once upon a time.

*

And as he spoke

I was back there,

A Brit

In Africa.

Overwhelmed by the sun

And the altitude

And the beauty

And the fun

And the friendship

And the happy people

Of every colour.

*

Fifty years ago.

*

Now he is leaving.

Britain has offered asylum.

He and the others like him

Are penniless,

Destitute,

Frail,

Sick,

Dying.

No longer golden boys and girls.

*

Only a very small tragedy

In the larger picture.

*

But a tragedy even so.

*
Only the echoes remain.

*

The Severed Head!

THE SEVERED HEAD!

An unremarkable picture of an old man cooling-off.

'Why blog that?' I hear you say. But wait! You shouldn't scoff!

Glance a little to the left and you'll see a severed head!

Not given any reverence! Thrown in the bin instead!

That was heat; see cold here:

http://rinklyrimes.blogspot.com/2009/01/reprint-seagull-in-snow.html

'Dr John sent me'

I think this is Dr John. (You never can tell, on-line!)
http://fortresslinna.blogspot.com/2009/05/friday-55-technological.html
I missed a competition of his with this title! When my daughter, Rebecca, drew my attention to this oversight, I thought I'd better catch-up.

DR JOHN SENT ME!

Dr John sent me a letter,

An email to be quite precise.

I looked at the name on the letter

And I thought to myself 'This is nice!'

He said that he's not a harsh critic,

In fact he is kind, through and through.

But when he reads this bit of nonsense

I wonder what Doctor will do!

He can't rip up this poem entirely

For it isn't the rippable sort,

But I fancy he'll quickly delete it

And give an old-man type of snort!

'Silly doggeral, woman!' .....I'll hear him,

As though he were only next door,

Then he'll throw off his wig in a temper

And throw it right down on the floor!

Then his wife, who is, no doubt, long suffering,

Will lay a cool hand on his brow

And she'll say 'Darling! See! She's upset you!

I'll get you a whiskey right now!'

It's strange how I see the whole picture

As though I were actually there!

'Rinkly Rimes sent you a letter!'

Send one back then! And see if I care!

I wonder if Dr John ever says this:

http://rinklyrimes.blogspot.com/2008/06/35-blog.html