General Chat

At home we used to say that the following described my Stepfather:-

The wise old owl sat in the oak,
He didn't move and he hardly spoke,
The less he spoke, the more he heard,
Now, wasn't he the wise old bird!

And he was!!!!

On the whole they were probably not the best behaved family in class... they along with others were right little tearaways... but they have their good points. My father was good at arithmetic.. they used to have to add up these long lists of figures.. If the teacher gave them 10 to do my Dad would do 9 and get the 9 right, if they were given 6 he would do 5 and get them right. The teacher used to get so annoyed.. but he would not budge.

Now me I collect Owls ... and this is an Owl poem that I really like.

The Owl Critic

"WHO stuffed that white owl?" No one spoke in the shop:
The barber was busy, and he couldn't stop;
The customers, waiting their turns, were all reading
The "Daily," the "Herald," the "Post," little heeding
The young man who blurted out such a blunt question;
Not one raised a head, or even made a suggestion;
And the barber kept on shaving.

"Don't you see, Mister Brown,"
Cried the youth, with a frown,
"How wrong the whole thing is,
How preposterous each wing is,
How flattened the head is, how jammed down the neck is--
In short, the whole owl, what an ignorant wreck 't is!
I make no apology;
I've learned owl-eology.
I've passed days and nights in a hundred collections,
And cannot be blinded to any deflections
Arising from unskilful fingers that fail
To stuff a bird right, from his beak to his tail.
Mister Brown! Mister Brown!
Do take that bird down,
Or you'll soon be the laughing-stock all over town!"
And the barber kept on shaving.

"I've studied owls,
And other night fowls,
And I tell you
What I know to be true:
An owl cannot roost
With his limbs so unloosed;
No owl in this world
Ever had his claws curled,
Ever had his legs slanted,
Ever had his bill canted,
Ever had his neck screwed
Into that attitude.
He can't do it, because
'T is against all bird-laws.
Anatomy teaches,
Ornithology preaches
An owl has a toe
That can't turn out so!
I've made the white owl my study for years,
And to see such a job almost moves me to tears!
Mister Brown, I'm amazed
You should be so gone crazed
As to put up a bird
In that posture absurd!
To look at that owl really brings on a dizziness;
The man who stuffed him don't half know his business!"
And the barber kept on shaving.

"Examine those eyes.
I'm filled with surprise
Taxidermists should pass
Off on you such poor glass;
So unnatural they seem
They'd make Audubon scream,
And John Burroughs laugh
To encounter such chaff.
Do take that bird down;
Have him stuffed again, Brown!"
And the barber kept on shaving.

"With some sawdust and bark
I could stuff in the dark
An owl better than that.
I could make an old hat
Look more like an owl
Than that horrid fowl,
Stuck up there so stiff like a side of coarse leather.
In fact, about him there's not one natural feather."

Just then, with a wink and a sly normal lurch,
The owl, very gravely, got down from his perch,
Walked round, and regarded his fault-finding critic
(Who thought he was stuffed) with a glance analytic,
And then fairly hooted, as if he should say:
"Your learning's at fault this time, any way;
Don't waste it again on a live bird, I pray.
I'm an owl; you're another. Sir Critic, good-day!"
And the barber kept on shaving.

James T. Fields

Perdue,what a delightful little story. I bet that teacher thought twice before she spoke to a child in the same manner again.
10.03hrs
Spain

There's no point in carrying an umbrella if your shoes leak.

Nigglenellie

Congratulations, you have posted number 400 on this thread. Well done. :-D

I bet that gave the teacher something to think about Persie!!! It must have been the last thing he/she was expecting!!! I think putting that in the funeral booklet was a really nice thing to do, and a very appropriate memorial to your Dad.

When my dad was a youngster at school is younger brother was misbehaving during poetry lessons. The teacher told him to get up and recite a poem he was about eight years old and was told he probably wouldn't be able to

and Arthur said:

Scintillate, scintillate, globule vivific,
Fain would I fathom thy nature specific,
Loftily poised in the ether capacious,
Strongly resembling a gem carbonaceous.

My dad said that shut the teacher up. His father had taught them all that and I was taught it as well.

When my father died on the little funeral booklet with his pictures on the front we had that verse put on the inside.

Persie

Thank you Greenfingers. I was looking for inspiration for a card for my husbands birthday when I came across this. I have so many poetry books that sometimes I think I should dispose some of them, but hate throwing away books.

This is the piece I wrote in OHs card.

My love for you has no end
Care and understanding
You always extend.
Love is patient
Love is kind,
It always protects,
Always trusts, always hopes.

My love for you will never fail.

07.14hrs Spain

I hope you enjoy this.
Ways protects

loved your poem Bridget not heard that one before...so lovely to read something new :-D

Bricks & mortar make a house, but the laughter of children inside makes a home.

Dermot,

Where do you find thesecwonderful one liners. On reflection keep your knowledge to yourself, I look forward to reading more.

Rita thoroughly enjoyed reading The Deserted Theartre.

I haven't anything in mind at the moment so will havebto put my brain into gear.

10.23hrs Spain where the temp is nearly at 30 already. I hear that theUK is also experiencing very hot weather.

A diplomat must always think twice before saying nothing.

The derserted Theatre.


He sat in the empty theatre
It echoed with the sound of the past
The rustle and swish of a taffeta skirt
songs from a long ago cast

The flash of a black sequined costume
The softness of feathery fans
The frothy white petticoats showing
each night
from a chorus of lovely cancans

The comic the dancer the singer.
All once took their place on the stage
The spotlight shinning upon them
Ghosts from another age.

Tomorrow the workmen are coming
to bulldoze the place to the ground
Tonight he saw no tattered theatre
But a hall full of colour and sound

He sat in the empty theatre
Dipping in memory's store
And the names and the faces and talents
Returned to that theatre once more.
JM



Rita

What Is Love?
by E.J. Wallace

What is love? I heard you ask,
A pointed question,
A daunting task,
A challenge for a weary mind,
To see what gems that I may find.

What is love? My mind did say,
A caring touch?
A gentle way?
It's both of these, but so much more,
Numerous attributes, to explore.

What is love? I searched my soul,
A loving glance?
A hand to hold?
It is these things, but just one part,
Of the beauty that lies within the heart.

What is love? I asked my heart,
It seemed the best place,
Where I should start.
Is it fireworks, comets, or astral displays,
Which cause us to feel, so deeply this way?

"This is love," my heart replied,
"Listen closely to me,
And then you will see.
Love is not loud, it's a quiet sensation,
Not easily confused with infatuation."

"The beauty of love," it continued to tell,
"Is eternal endurance,
The absence of hell.
Unparalleled strength, in spite of adversity,
Protecting you with it's cloak of security."

"The gift of love," it sermonized on,
"Provides you with peace,
Like a golden-green morn.
It lives and breathes, for it is alive,
Where all your hopes and dreams reside."

What is love? You'll be glad to know,
Is the chance for two hearts,
To share and to grow.
Trust, compassion, and a listening ear,
Will dispel all your doubts, cast out all your fears.

What is love? It's simple you see,
It's essential as air,
For our souls to breathe.
It replenishes your faith, and self- esteem,
Allowing you to fulfill, all of your dreams.

When is it love? Your heart will know,
What you should do,
And where you should go.
It will guide your path, straight and true,
Be prepared for love, when it comes calling for you.

I read this poem every now again and still think it is an Inspiration
Hope you like it.

<3 :-)

Caution: Never test the depth of a river with both feet.

Love both your poems Rita, so good to see you all back again! Greenfingers, what a tribute to your daughter, lovely poem! Dermot, I love your sayings, all SO true! all I can think of is:-

'. 'A thing of beauty is a joy for ever'.Not very original, but true none theless.
In human beings I'd say that goes for inside almost more than outside!

An Atheist is one who lives without invisible support.

Thank you Val, glad to know you liked my poem

I wish I hadn't said that

an MGM talent scout said of Fred Astaire

Cant act, cant sing, balding and can dance a little

A Universal boss said about Burt Reynolds and Clint Eastwood in 1959

Mr Reynolds you have no talent. Mr Eastwood you have a chip on your tooth, your adams apple sticks out too far and you talk too slow

My MInstrels


I may have many a doubt
of Angel wings.
But my heart goes out
To birds that sing
No Matter what its kind
Of how its flight
A boon in it I find
Beyond delight.

I say Bless you my dear
Is it for me ?
So fresh , so pure, so clear
Your Melody ?
Is it because you know
You bring me bliss ?
I.d like to think it so
Maybe it is.

Whitethroat in cherry tree.
Blackbird in bush
Robin with garden glee
Mad missed -thrush
Linnets with morning mirth
Larks lost in blue.
I'd give my gain on earth
To sing like you.

So bravely to rejoice
In beauty's praise
Vast innocents to voice
In golden days
Aye, though my faith be dim
To holy words.
Maybe God cherubim
are singing birds.


R S


Rita

A Village in the Twenties.

Here children played with hoops and tops.
Ate sherbert dabs and lollipops
Bulls-eyes and liquorice boot laces.
Watched ancient brakes pass to the races.
Ladies aboard wore wide brimmed hats.
And neigbours passing stopped for chats.
Of births. and deaths and marriages.
Kings and Queens and carriages.
Coronations, ships and wars
Wine -making and household chores
Babies, hospitals and nurses
Egyptian tombs and lasting curses.
Of God and priests and church bazaars
And those new fangled motor

by RY

Rita