This Takes the Cake!

BLUE MONDAY

THIS TAKES THE CAKE!

I hope no-one will scoff!

Least of all Van Gogh!

Will someone take a bite

Out of his 'Starry Night'?

*

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(Not Pam's house but very like.)

LADIES IN LAVENDER

'My favourite flowers? Well, I suppose........
Daisy, lavender and rose.'
Pamela speaking, and you deduce
That she's quaint and gentle, a quiet recluse.
But she's a feisty sort of dame,
A leading light, ahead of the game,
Very with-it and up-to-date.
She has arranged this special date.
Her cottage is such a romantic place
With wicker and pastel and cream and lace.
It seems she likes to set the stage
For an afternoon from a by-gone age.

An antique wash-stand, rose-trimmed pots
Blossoms from dainty garden plots.
A wedding photograph, sepia tinted,
That once was brilliant, newly-minted.
And round the corner another profusion,
Pale flowers in a tossed confusion,
Echoing the white of a clock nearby,
While creamy candles reach on high.
Seen through the window, the creek meanders
Past shady pathways and verandahs.
Hyacinths glow in the winter light
With the water beyond, a restful sight.
The feast is prepared, the table laid,
The cakes on dainty plates displayed.
Pam breathes a satisfied sort of sigh
'A tea-party! As in days gone by!'
Then twenty aging 'girls' rush in!
What a cacophany! What a din!
Each with a bottle of wine held high.
'Where's the corkscrew?' hear them cry!
In a second they ruin the restful mood!

All they can think about is food! ………. 

(And drink!)

*

Soaring

SOARING!

Long ago, when we were monkeys,

We could soar! We could soar!

We could travel through the jungle trees

And not hit the jungle floor!

We could hang by tails as thin as string

And never lose our grip.

We could scuttle over dripping leaves

And never ever slip.

We could leap through open spaces

Far as the eye could see,

Between one tree and another

In the lofty canopy.

We could drop like stones from up above

And bounce on lower limbs.

We could skim across the greenery

As a stone over water skims.

You've seen them all on the TV,

The monkeys and their soaring.

They can leap and hang and swing all day

And never find it boring.

We had it once, in the dead, dead past,

That wild agility,

But we traded it in for upright stance

And verbal ability.

Yet, still, within us, way down deep,

There's a memory of it all;

A little comes back when we're dancing;

Then we really 'have a ball.'

But somewhere buried in our brians

Lies the feeling that we, too,

Should be able to leap up gracefully

And soar into the blue.

*

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Thin Ice

                  Brenda Bryant

WEEKEND REFLECTIONS
http://newtowndailyphoto.blogspot.com/

THIN ICE

Life is like a skating-rink!

(Now that's a quotable thought to think!)

You think you're going to the store

To buy some groceries: nothing more!

But then, though you search very hard,

You find you've forgotten your credit card!

Then you meet that woman from down the street

Who's the very last person you'd wish to meet!

She keeps you chatting for half an hour!

She doesn't notice you're looking sour!

You find your card! Oh dear! Wrong one!

What a day! You're having fun!

You'll have to use it, come what may.

Blast! 'No funds' the other day!

Then some nasty little child

Pokes out its tongue and drives you wild.

When you visit the grocery store;

They don't stock 'your' brand any more!

You're paying cash. Now where's your list?

Any minute you'll slash a wrist!

It must be in the other purse!

Can things be getting worse and worse?

You cross the floor. It's slippery.

You trip and fall and bruise your knee!

*

On life's skating rink you sit,

Floored by the expertise of it!

Too many swirls! Too many twists!

Too many cards! Too many lists!

Life is like a skating-rink!

All you can say is 'Life! You stink!'

*

P.S. The grand finale of this visit.......

I parked the car! Damn! Damn! Damn! Where is it?

*

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ANOTHER QUOTE!

The life of a poor Film Extra is so fraught!

It's really ranks as quite a dangerous sport!

After one's sat around for half a day,

Knowing one's going to earn so little pay,

One is asked to express emotion right on cue,

In front of a laughing camera-man and crew!

Last week as usual I was on the set

Nice and early... well, isn't that etiquette?

There were dozens of others waiting around on hand;

We Extras are quite a large, united band.

The Director came to give us all 'the chat'.

Today he spoke to us about 'That Cat.'

Now I must make it plain to all my readers

That this film was not designed to suit cat breeders;

The film is of the 'Lassie' sort, but feline,

Hoping eager Catty types might make a bee-line

For the local cinemas where it is showing,

And reports might be encouraging and glowing.

Sentimental? Well I have to say that's certain,

Especially the weepy final curtain.

The subject of the story? Emigration;

A move to some completely different nation.

And, in a way that you'd expect, the cat

Is deserted and abandoned on the mat!

But that plucky cat (of course) makes her own way

To a country very, very far away .

She crosses forests, oceans, mountain peaks

And the journey takes her many many weeks!

Sadly, she's knocked-about by her survival,

And poor Kitty ends up dead upon arrival!

So the Director went on with his spiel....

'There's a lot of raw emotion you must feel.

You'll be crowds when she is kidnapped in the zoo,

When she sails on board a ship you'll be crew;

You'll be audience when she performs on-stage;

You'll be brutes when she is locked up in a cage.

Now you can sniff judiciously my friends

But save your tears until the story ends.

You'll be equipped with 'TEARS", a special spray,

But don't add any tears until I say!

One whiff and then your tears will soon be proving

That the drama is incalculably moving!

Cry too soon, the pathos surely will be lost!

And consider then, the awful up-front cost!

So, no spray till I give you the command.

Cry when they find the body! Understand?

Be careful how you use this special spray!

Don't squirt until the time you hear me say

The cue for you for Kitty's final bow …..

It's

'If you have 'TEARS' prepare to shed them now!'

*

The Grindly Witch!

                                          Brenda Bryant

THE WEEKEND IN BLACK AND WHITE

http://blackandwhiteweekend.blogspot.com/2010/10/friday-1st-october-2010.html

THE GRINDLY WITCH!

The grindly witch sat in the slarve,

Scrawning her splintly schemes,

She cordled her fload

Like a randled poad

And stirred the smilty plemes.

'Oh grindly witch' I grozzled then

'How can you pleft alone?'

Said she 'I'm doomed

To be befloomed

For the Trant turned me into stone!'

*

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YOU TAKE THE CAKE!

Mother! Why do you bother

To make me birthday cakes?

I know how well you plan them,

How long the cooking takes!

A simple bowl of icing

Would have pleased me just as much.

I could splosh it, squeeze it, splatter it,

Thrill to it's plodgy touch!

I could smear it on my fingers

And rub it on my toes,

I could paint my high chair with it

And stick it up my nose!

I could throw it at my Daddy,

I could drop it on the floor,

I could rub it in the kitten's fur

And, oh, a great deal more!

You've spent hours in the kitchen

'Cos you think that I'm the best,

But just give me the icing.

You can eat the rest!

*

By Design?

SHADOW SHOT SUNDAY
http://heyharriet.blogspot.com/

BY DESIGN?

When designers sit down at their draft-boards

Designing some humdrum affair

Like the bus-shelters seen in my picture,

(So common they're seen everywhere)

Do they ever consider the shadows

That are thrown on the ground by the light,

Saying ' Let's run this through the computer

To see if the shadows are right.'

Are the beautiful curves on the pavement,

Which rarely get one second glance,

The result of some clever designing

Or something that happens by chance?
*

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THANK YOU, ELAINE!

War-weary,
I walked home from school;
Not wounded, not bereaved,
Just a drab English schoolgirl.
Five years of war
Had meant no clothing coupons for
Frivolities.
And I was certainly frivolous.
I was fourteen.
My mother had lengthened
My older sister's dark green dress,
With strips
Of different colours at the hem,
As I grew.
I had been wearing it 'for best'
For three years now.
Otherwise I wore my navy-blue serge skirt,
White shirt and lisle stockings;
My school uniform.
Was it any wonder I dragged my satchel
Behind me
As I entered the house?
And then I stopped......
Transfixed!
*
Where are you now, Elaine?
You must be an old lady,
Like me.
I wonder if you even remember sending
The Food Parcel.
You were on the other side of the world
In America.
It seemed a place of magic
Untouched by War.
You were, briefly,
My Pen Pal.
And you had sent me a dress!
*
Never again in my whole life
Would I see mauve gingham
Without reliving
The frisson of excitement
That I felt when I first saw it.
My Mother had opened the Food Parcel
And she had found the dress
Carefully packed
On top of the biscuits and canned fruit.
She had laid it over the back of the arm-chair.
I circled it,
Disbelieving.
I think I stopped breathing.
Was it......?
Could it........?
Immediately, I fantasised
If this glorious object were really mine,
I would wear it with sky-blue sandals,
And my skinny white legs would tan.
And boys would look at me
And realise that I was beautiful!
My mother came into the room.
'Is it for…..?' I said.
It was!
It was mauve gingham,
With a frilled square neck-line,
And a skirt that flared slightly.
It was the most beautiful dress in the world.
Sixty-five years later
I say
'Thank you, Elaine.'
*

If Only!

THURSDAY THINK TANK
http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2010/09/thursday-think-tank-prompt-17.html

IF ONLY

If only I could change one thing........

Man's reliance on religion.

*

Many will consider that

I am advocating

That our lives become a quagmire of

Sin.

*

On the contrary.

Most humanists I know

Are mild, genial people,

Far removed from

The Wicked,

Who are supposed to end up in Hell!

*

Humanists

Worship

Humanity.

*

They are just as likely

To befriend a stranger,

As someone from their own clan.

*

They think so little of

Organised religion

That they are prepared to

'Live and Let Live'.

*

Analyse that phrase

And realise that it encompasses

Lovingkindness.

*

Lovingkindness.....

*

The most beautiful word in the English language.

*

Without a Hereafter

This world is all we have.

*

Because that is all there is.

*

The rest is fable.

*

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AN INDIAN SHAMPOO!

Hibiscus, Rosemary, Indigo
With Aloevera to add that glow.
Amla, Sesame, Fenugreek,
All such delicious words to speak!
Eucalyptus, Mehndi too,
The hair will shine with a brilliant hue!
The words are so lovely that it's quite certain
The hair will be like a silken curtain!
Hibiscus, Rosemary, Indigo.
Hibiscus, Rosemary, Indigo.
*
The Actual Ingredients.

For Colour: hibiscus petals, indigo leaf, beetroot juice, black sesame seeds, mehndi, tea, coffee.
For Conditioning: dry fenugreek seeds, aloevera sap, egg white, eucalyptus oil.
For Nourishing: fresh alma, rosemary leaves, curry leaves.
*

Subtraction

SUBTRACTION

I always thought the beauty of stained glass

Lay in the glorious shades of red and blue;

The tints through which the sunshine has to pass;

The reds and yellows and the emeraldss too.

I always thought that colour was the key

To the beauty of the patterns on display.

The rich reflections stretched for all to see

Across the carpets, ray on coloured ray.

But when we take the colour from the view
The patterning is very clearly shown.

The delicate geometry shines through

When design takes centre-stage all on its own.

*
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IMPORTANT BLOGGER!

I hear the Queen is Blogging! Well, goodness! Bless my soul!
You wouldn't think she'd have the time, with her important role!
I hear the Queen is Blogging! What a turn-up for the books!
She's joined us all in cyberspace....... the Quilters and the Cooks,
The Gardeners and the Artists and the funny folk who Rhyme,
And, honestly, I can't imagine how she finds the time!
*
Once, long ago, I saw the Queen from the streets of London town;
I wore a plastic rain-hat; she wore a golden crown!
I stood with a million others and I waved a flag and cheered
As her golden coach and entourage finally appeared.
I'd stood all night in pouring rain; I was cold and I was wet,
But the thrill of the Coronation lingers with me yet.
We've gone our separate ways since then, she's slightly better-known!
I sat on a mortgage; she sat on the throne.
*
But now we're both in cyberspace, disembodied as it were,
And if she ever reads my Blog......... Holy Moses! What a stir!
She might even leave a Comment to show where she has been!
I think she'd say 'I like your verse' and sign herself 'The Queen'.
*