177. God Wot?

Shortest poem ever and only half of it mine!

Our 'garden' is of the postage-stamp variety and neither of us have green fingers. However, we love this little area and I always think of it as my bower! (That's when I'm in Fairy Queen mode!) The previous owners had two enormous palm trees growing in the two beds; goodness knows why! We had them removed but the roots still clog the soil. Hence the pots.

By the way, imagine the scent of the jasmine (?), which will fade in a few days. Then Malcolm will trim the hedge and we'll be neat again....... for a while.

GOD WOT?

'A Garden is a Lovesome thing God wot!'

T.E. Brown (Poet)

'Even if this one's rather 'gone to pot'.

B.A. Bryant (Rinkly)

The Knack.

THE KNACK

I love myself, I must admit;

I'm happy inside my head,

And I really hate the awful thought

That, one day, I'll be dead!

I didn't always love myself.

I remember, as a teen,

I felt one was no good at all

If one wasn't a Beauty Queen.

And I was plumpish, rather short,

Bespectacled to boot,

And every other girl at school

Seemed so petite and cute.

Not that 'cute' was a word we used

Way back in '49,

Never mind, I knew that I

Wouldn't get a Valentine.

One evening, on a well-lit bus,

When all was dark outside,

I studied my reflection,

And very nearly cried.

'I'm stuck with it' I muttered;

'It'll always be the same!'

My face would always be that way!

There was nobody to blame.

And then a thought occurred to me;

This need not be the end.

I might not be a Beauty Queen

But I could still pretend!

I could pretend I liked myself,

And no-one else would know

That my thrown-together features

Had brought me down so low.

I'd smile at everyone I met

And they would be deceived;

I'd tell the world I liked myself

And I would be believed!

I stood up, then, to leave the bus

And I saw, across the aisle,

A lone boy sitting by himself

And I flashed him my first smile!

It took some time to learn the art,

The unselfconscious knack,

But life took on a different hue

The moment he smiled back!

And the most amazing thing of all

Is although I was pretending,

This little story from my life

Has a very happy ending.

Because, while fooling others,

I tricked my simple mind,

When I looked into the mirror

I saw that Love is blind.

The face, of course, remained the same,

That couldn't be denied,

But suddenly I found that I

Was on that person's side!

I loved her, and I loved the world,

More, minute upon minute,

And I could take the whole world on

And everybody in it!

It doesn't always work, of course,

Sometimes I face the truth,

That I am really rather plain

As I was in my youth.

But it doesn't matter anymore,

My trick has seen me through.

Kid yourself you love yourself

And you'll see what it can do.

Bush Fire!

 

BUSH FIRE!

Bush fire! Nothing remaining

But charred and blackened stumps,

Ravaged gum-trees huddling

In sooty funereal clumps.

But, overhead, a wild bird

Sees just a touch of green.

Soon leaves will grace the branches

And hide where the fire has been.

174. Recipe in Rhyme Two: Bredie

A Domestic Goddess I am not! Ask my husband! We lived in South Africa for eight years and this was a popular dish with the locals. Bredie just means 'meat and vegetable stew' actually. I frequently cook it in the winter and it really is delicious.

My illustration shows how it was originally cooked.

RECIPE IN RHYME 2

TOMATO BREDIE

Now we're tightening our belts,

Now the economy shifts and melts,

Thinking of the poor and needy,

I offer you Tomato Bredie.

South Africans originated

This dish, so very highly rated.

My version's simple to a fault,

Add things to make it more your sort.

(Garlic may appeal to you.

Add anything to this simple stew.)

Cook it slowly, that's the trick,

It wont be 'yum' if you're too quick.

Slice 'some' onions, that's the plan,

Then 'some' tomatoes from a can.

Add lamb chops, the cheapest kind;

Fatty ones taste good you'll find.
Trim the fat but not the lot;
Fat adds flavour to this pot.

(This last, no doubt, will horrify you;

But wait! A plan; I'll run it by you.)

Pepper, salt, but liquid no;

Wait till the juices start to flow.

Have you a crockpot? Why not use it?

I have one and I always choose it.

Lots of time but not much heat

Makes a Bredie divine to eat.

You will earn a flash diploma

When the house fills with aroma.

Cooked? Then now's the time to chill it.

Put it in the fridge.Don't spill it!

When it's settled, overnight,

The fat will give you quite a fright.

It will lie on top like a sheet of plastic!

Take it off! Underneath's fantastic!

Fat free, ready for the greedy,

A glorious Tomato Bredie!

But, as the adverts say, 'There's More!'

A further tip from my kitchen lore....

After the family's meal is done

Won't you be the clever one!

So much liquid will be remaining!

Don't make the mistake of straining.

Buy a chunky can of soup,

Mix all together to feed your troop.

With crispy rolls, a further meal

(Roosevelt! Here's my New Deal!)

Cordon Bleu? Well, not precisely.

Fits the bill? Yes, very nicely.

173. To Spell or Not to Spell!

(New Family photos on PLUS Blog.)

I have tuned into a Blog discussion on one of my favourite topics.....SPELLING!

I believe texting is the start of a new era, but I fear I wont be alive to see it.

TO SPELL OR NOT TO SPELL!

The proponents of spelling reform

Are certainly thin on the ground.

The conventional types seem to swarm!

I'm outnumbered, I've constantly found.

'Make it simple!' you'll all hear me cry!

Learning spelling takes years upon years!

And so many chances go by

And spelling can bring folk to tears!

My New Entrants were taught forty sounds

And with those they could write any word.

Their self-confidence just knew no bounds,

For they just wrote the sounds that they heard.

We communicate thoughts when we speak,

Making sense is the name of the game.

What if' 'weak' has the same sound as 'week'?

The context proves they're not the same.

As for dialect, if you met me,

Though I speak like the typical 'Pom',

I'd soon be as clear as could be,

When you'd worked out just where I was from.

Why should dots on a page have to last

For ever and ever unchanged?

We don't speak as we did in the past!

If we did we would sound quite deranged.

I admit I've a bee in my bonnet;

For Spelling Reform means a lot.

To conclude I will rewrite a sonnet

And it wont incommode you a jot!

(BOLD indicates l-o-ng form of vowel.)

Shal I compair the too a sumaz day? 

   Thow art mor luvle and mor temperat: 

Ruf winds doo shak the darling buds ov May, 

   And suma's les hath orl too short a dat: 

Sumtim too hot the i ov hevan shins, 

   And ofn is his gold complecshun dimd; 

And evry fair from fair sumtim diclins, 

   Bi charns, or nacha's chanjing cors, untrimd.

I promise you that most of my six year-olds could read and write the above passage. As for understanding it! Well, that's another story.

If anyone is interested in my method (and, don't forget, I introduced Traditional Orthography as soon as a child was ready, only because I had to!) I will happily send details.

172. Nosey Parker!

Another week, another ABC WEDNESDAY!
On my PLUS blog you will find 'Nobbys' and on my ETT SETTERA Blog there is a story called 'Nemesis!'

The children always enjoyed this poem, particularly the last line! 'Nosey Parker' was an insulting name in England when I was growing up.

NOSEY PARKER!

A nose is a most peculiar thing!

It sits there on your face.

It gets in the way when you try to sing

And it takes up too much space.

It gets blocked up nearly every Spring

And it goes bright red as well.

If it breaks, don't try a sling!

And all it does is smell.

There are two little holes where breath goes in

Right above your lip,

And you can't be blamed

If you feel ashamed

When the silly thing starts to drip, drip, drip.

When the silly thing starts to drip.

171.Right Time, Right Place.

On Sunday I went to the cinema with Rebecca, my daughter, to see the great film 'The Duchess'. Tomorrow night my Book Group will be discussing 'A Thousand Splendid Suns', about the life of an Afghan woman, Mariam. And it occurred to me that the two main characters were sisters under the skin.

And how grateful I am to be where I am, when I am!

RIGHT TIME, RIGHT PLACE!

This weeks film and this months book

Have made me realise

That I'm a fortunate woman

Winning life's greatest prize.

Born at the right time, in the right place,

In a chink in history,

I am able to be a person,

Speaking my mind and free.

I haven't been governed by childbirth

Or a man's unthinking whim,

My life has not been ruined

By being Her, not Him.

The Duchess was rich and famous,

But, also, she was a slave,

What did it matter that she was bright,

Full of ideas and brave?

Mariam was wretched,

Amongst the poorest on earth,

Because she could not overcome

The stigma of her birth.

Both women were merely chattels,

Machines for making sons.

Men were all that mattered.

They were the lucky ones.

Mrs Pankhurst came before us,

It was she who paved the way

For the fortunate modern woman

Who can say what she has to say.

Right time, right place! A Person,

Not merely just a Thing.

Not forced to be bowing under

The weight of a wedding ring.

But are we just blips in history?

Are we the odd ones out?

Will future generations

Return to fear and doubt?

Will our daughter's daughter's daughters

Look back on us and say

"Oh how I wish, oh how I wish

I could live like that today!'