Showing posts from January, 2013

The Sunday Posts 2013/Gods

The ivory gods,
And the ebony gods,
And the gods of diamond and jade,
Sit silently on their temple shelves
While the people
Are afraid.
Yet the ivory gods,
And the ebony gods,
And the gods of diamond-jade,
Are only silly puppet gods
That the people themselves
Have made.

Langston Hughes Photo by Alistair

Quips, sips and nips

I'm heading off across country later back to home territory for my brother's annual get together in honour of Scotland's national bard. Although a bit less formal than many Burns Night Suppers we do follow the traditional elements and in addition each of  us recites a poem. This is the one I'll be doing tonight. Haggis, neeps and tatties and more than a few drams - here I come!

If you would struggle with the words here's what it sounds like.

Scotch DrinkLet other poets raise a fracas "Bout vines, an' wines, an' drucken Bacchus, An' crabbit names an'stories wrack us, An' grate our lug: I sing the juice Scotch bear can mak us, In glass or jug. O thou, my muse! guid auld Scotch drink! Whether thro' wimplin worms thou jink, Or, richly brown, ream owre the brink, In glorious faem, Inspire me, till I lisp an' wink, To sing thy name! Let husky wheat the haughs adorn, An' aits set up their awnie horn, An' pease and …

The Sunday Posts 2013/A Drinking Song

Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That's all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.

William Butler Yeats Photo by Alistair

A Little Bit Of Snow

The Old Smiddy

It's been snowing most of the morning.The first real snow of Winter is coming and will be here on and off over the next three days. It'll be over just as I go on holiday so I hope it stays around long enough to get some photography done with the swanky new camera The Lovely G bought me for Christmas. Earlier this week we had a little foretaste of what's coming with a couple of inches overnight Monday into Tuesday. I took the chance to get out and take some photos around the vicinity of the house. I stuck them onto my facebook page the other day but for some reason couldn't get them to upload onto the blog. Here are the some of them at last.

A Neighbouring cottage Peanuts for Breakfast The lane Light filters through the trees Unwalked Toward the Kirk Across the bowling green to the house {center} I'm going to be working away until tomorrow afternoon, so hopefully G will be snug and cosy in the house. We are hoping to be able to attend a funeral on Sa…

The Sunday Posts 2013/ Homage To My Hips

these hips are big hips.
they need space to
move around in.
they don't fit into little
petty places. these hips
are free hips.
they don't like to be held back.
these hips have never been enslaved,
they go where they want to go
they do what they want to do.
these hips are mighty hips.
these hips are magic hips.
i have known them
to put a spell on a man and
spin him like a top

Lucille Clifton
Photo by Alistair {who doesn't have one of hips}

The Sunday Posts 2013/The Visitor

It came today to visit
and moved into the house
it was smaller than an elephant
but larger than a mouse

first it slapped my sister
then it kicked my dad
then it pushed my mother
oh! that really made me mad

it went and tickled rover
and terrified the cat
it sliced apart my necktie
and rudely crushed my hat

it smeared my head with honey
and filled the tub with rocks
and when i yelled in anger
it stole my shoes and socks

that's just the way it happened
it happened all today
before it bowed politely
and softly went away

Jack Prelutsky

Dedicated to our visitor Indigo Roth because he's eaten all the available pizza in the neighbourhood. Frankly I'd rather keep his picture. Or the badgers. Or Dr Max Tunguska, or King the lion, or the Squiddrel, or.........

You Can Tell A Man by......

Dad believed you could tell a man from his handshake. A handshake said a lot. His own hands were big and seemed to envelope my boyish ones in their fleshy warmth. My early memories were of holding his hand and while not a handshake, gave the instinctive feeling of absolute safety, of solidity and controlled strength. It was a hand you could trust. When I was older and too old to be hugged by the men of the family when we met, they would offer me a handshake in understanding of boyish awkwardness and in recognition that even if not quite yet a man that landmark was on the horizon. I once remarked on the different handshakes to Dad and that led to a discussion – a lesson – on his thoughts on the matter, his preference for a firm handshake and eye contact and the nuances between each kind of variation and the levels within. It was a revelation to me and a lesson I’ve never forgotten. From then on I began to shake hands with almost everyone. The next time I shook hands with relatives I d…