Monday, April 25, 2011

Poetry Monday

Today's poet? Edgar Allan Poe!

A Dream Within A Dream

Take this kiss upon the brow!

And, in parting from you now,

Thus much let me avow-

You are not wrong, who deem

That my days have been a dream;

Yet if hope has flown away

In a night, or in a day,

In a vision, or in none,

Is it therefore the less gone?

All that we see or seem

Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar

Of a surf-tormented shore,

And I hold within my hand

Grains of the golden sand-

How few! yet how they creep

Through my fingers to the deep,

While I weep- while I weep!

O God! can I not grasp

Them with a tighter clasp?

O God! can I not save

One from the pitiless wave?

Is all that we see or seem

But a dream within a dream?

Sunday, April 24, 2011

5 for Sunday

5 of my favorite fruits (What else would I follow my fave veggies with?)

1. Grapes (preferred white grapes as a child, now I like red ones. Go fig.)

2. Pineapple (YUM! 'nuff said)

3. Honeycrisp Apples (almost any apple will do, but these are especially good!)

4. Satsumas (Whole Foods only has them for a few months in the winter here- I buy as many as my budget will allow)

5. Peaches (I'm a heathen- I prefer my peaches in a nice cobbler or pie. Peach Gingerbread is good too!)

*all images courtesy of Google Images and are not my own

Monday, April 18, 2011

Poetry Monday

Another Dorothy Parker, in honor of the boy's dogs Fric & Frac.

Verse For a Certain Dog

Such glorious faith as fills your limpid eyes,

Dear little friend of mine, I never knew.

All-innocent are you, and yet all-wise.

(For Heaven's sake, stop worrying that shoe!)

You look about, and all you see is fair;

This mighty globe was made for you alone.

Of all the thunderous ages, you're the heir.

(Get off the pillow with that dirty bone!)

A skeptic world you face with steady gaze;

High in young pride you hold your noble head,

Gayly you meet the rush of roaring days.

(Must you eat puppy biscuit on the bed?)

Lancelike your courage, gleaming swift and strong,

Yours the white rapture of a winged soul,

Yours is a spirit like a Mayday song.

(God help you, if you break the goldfish bowl!)

"Whatever is, is good" - your gracious creed.

You wear your joy of living like a crown.

Love lights your simplest act, your every deed.

(Drop it, I tell you- put that kitten down!)

You are God's kindliest gift of all - a friend.

Your shining loyalty unflecked by doubt,

You ask but leave to follow to the end.

(Couldn't you wait until I took you out?)

Sunday, April 17, 2011

5 for Sunday

5 of my favorite Vegetables. Why? I dunno- it was the first thing that came to mind!

1. Mushrooms (yes, techincally they're fungi, but it's my blog and I'm counting them)

2. Corn (sweet, on the cob, slathered in butter is my favorite, but hard to eat that way with Bell's Palsy)

3. Spinach (this one surprised me too, as I wouldn't touch it as a kid. I've been hooked since my first grilled portobella mushroom, spinach, and swiss sandwich- add prosciutto and a dollop or spicy mustard and die happy!)

4. Kale (only started eating this the last couple of years, but pleasantly pleased at how tasty it can be)

5. Field Peas (very similar to black eyed peas, which I also love)

*all images courtesy of Google Images and canot be claimed as mine.

Monday, April 11, 2011

Poetry Monday

Now for something completely different: Pablo Neruda

Cat's Dream

How neatly a cat sleeps,

sleeps with its paws and its posture,

sleeps with its wicked claws,

and with its unfeeling blood,

sleeps with all the rings--

a series of burnt circles--

which have formed the odd geology

of its sand-colored tail.

I should like to sleep like a cat,

with all the fur of time,

with a tongue rough as flint,

with the dry sex of fire;

and after speaking to no one,

stretch myself over the world,

over roofs and landscapes,

with a passionate desire

to hunt the rats in my dreams.

I have seen how the cat asleep

would undulate, how the night

flowed through it like dark water;

and at times, it was going to fall

or possibly plunge into

the bare deserted snowdrifts.

Sometimes it grew so much in sleep

like a tiger's great-grandfather,

and would leap in the darkness over

rooftops, clouds and volcanoes.

Sleep, sleep cat of the night,

with episcopal ceremony

and your stone-carved moustache.

Take care of all our dreams;

control the obscurity

of our slumbering prowess

with your relentless heart

and the great ruff of your tail.

Monday, April 4, 2011

Poetry Monday

Back in the heady days of my misspent youth, my then-roommate and I moved into an apartment that had been vacant for some time. Every insect in the complex had moved in to escape the exterminators that paid regular visits to the other units, so for the first few months we were there, we had to battle the infestation on a daily basis. Friends knew the problems we were having, but didn't mind coming over to my regular dinners because they knew I was scrupulous about making sure their dishes were clean and the food was non-contaminated. However, thanks to my idiot roomie walking in and chirpily announcing things like "I killed 7 more roaches today!" during our meals, even the most die-hard friends stopped coming to eat. This poem reminds me of those days....

Christopher Morley (1890-1957)

(Dedicated to Don Marquis)

SCUTTLE, scuttle, little roach—

How you run when I approach:

Up above the pantry shelf,

Hastening to secrete yourself.

Most adventurous of vermin,

How I wish I could determine

How you spend your hours of ease,

Perhaps reclining on the cheese.

Cook has gone, and all is dark—

Then the kitchen is your park:

In the garbage heap that she leaves

Do you browse among the tea leaves?

How delightful to suspect

All the places you have trekked:

Does your long antenna whisk its

Gentle tip across the biscuits?

Do you linger, little soul,

Drowsing in our sugar bowl?

Or, abandonment most utter,

Shake a shimmy on the butter?

Do you chant your simple tunes

Swimming in the baby's prunes?

Then, when dawn comes, do you slink

Homeward to the kitchen sink?

Timid roach, why be so shy?

We are brothers, thou and I.

In the midnight, like yourself,

I explore the pantry shelf!