Tuesday 22 September 2009

The Widower




Rudyard Kipling

For a season there must be pain
For a little, little space
I shall lose the sight of her face,
Take back the old life again
While She is at rest in her place.


For a season this pain must endure,
For a little, little while
I shall sigh more often than smile
Till time shall work me a cure,
And the pitiful days beguile.


For that season we must be apart,
For a little length of years,
Till my life's last hour nears,
And, above the beat of my heart,
I hear Her voice in my ears.


But I shall not understand
Being set on some later love,
Shall not know her for whom I strove,
Till she reach me forth her hand,
Saying, "Who but I have the right?"
And out of a troubled night
Shall draw me safe to the land.



Friday 11 September 2009

That time of life



I came across this on my stagger around the WWW today, and thought it apt for those of us who are at a certain age.

Senile Virus

Send the same email twice
Emails are sent blank
No emails are sent to the right person
It makes you forward the mail back to the person who sent it to you
Libel to reply to people who mails you in error
Emails are sent to people you don’t know
Virus checkers quarantine your out going emails
It makes you forget to attach the attachments
Read emails are deleted before you’ve replied to them
Unread emails are sent straight to the trash
Send the email before you've finished typing it

The same applies to texting.

Angus

Angus Dei on all and sundry

Angus Dei-NHS-THE OTHER SIDE

Angus Dei politico

Monday 7 September 2009

Procrastination-again


I haven’t posted here for a few days, I think it is the time of year, the “summer” has gone, the trees are changing and my reserves of energy seem to have run out.

But here is a poem By Thomas Bailey Aldrich which looks forward to spring.

When first the crocus thrusts its point of gold
Up through the still snow-drifted garden mould,
And folded green things in dim woods unclose
Their crinkled spears, a sudden tremor goes
Into my veins and makes me kith and kin
To every wild-born thing that thrills and blows.
Sitting beside this crumbling sea-coal fire,
Here in the city's ceaseless roar and din,
Far from the brambly paths I used to know,
Far from the rustling brooks that slip and shine
Where the Neponset alders take their glow,
I share the tremulous sense of bud and briar And inarticulate ardors of the vine.

And one By Denis Florence MacCarthy about the autumn.

I can’t find a picture of the poet, only a gravestone.

The weary, dreary, dripping rain,
From morn till night, from night till morn,
Along the hills and o'er the plain,
Strikes down the green and yellow corn;
The flood lies deep upon the ground,
No ripening heat the cold sun yields,
And rank and rotting lies around
The glory of the summer fields!

How full of fears, how racked with pain,
How torn with care the heart must be,
Of him who sees his golden grain
Laid prostrate thus o'er lawn and lea;
For all that nature doth desire,
All that the shivering mortal shields,
The Christmas fare, the winter's fire,
All comes from out the summer fields.

I too have strayed in pleasing toil
Along youth's and fertile meads;
I too within Hope's genial soil
Have, trusting, placed Love's golden seeds;
I too have feared the chilling dew,
The heavy rain when thunder pealed,
Lest Fate might blight the flower that grew
For me in Hope's green summer field.

Ah! who can paint that beauteous flower,
Thus nourished by celestial dew,
Thus growing fairer, hour by hour,
Delighting more, the more it grew;
Bright'ning, not burdening the ground,
Nor proud with inward worth concealed,
But scattering all its fragrance round
Its own sweet sphere, its summer field!

At morn the gentle flower awoke,
And raised its happy face to God;
At evening, when the starlight broke,
It bending sought the dewy sod;
And thus at morn, and thus at even,
In fragrant sighs its heart revealed,
Thus seeking heaven, and making heaven
Within its own sweet summer field!

Oh! joy beyond all human joy!
Oh! bliss beyond all earthly bliss!
If pitying Fate will not destroy
My hopes of such a flower as this!
How happy, fond, and heaven-possest,
My heart will be to tend and shield,
And guard upon my grateful breast
The pride of that sweet summer field!


Funny time of year isn't it?

Angus















Thursday 3 September 2009

Anglish lit

Today an Angus "poem" and a "story", these have been posted elsewhere but as it's my blog I have decided to post them again.

Constructive criticism welcome, but not tooo constructive.


POEM FOR THE NHS


I had a pain the other day
I waited for it to go away
It didn’t so I rang my Surgery
But they showed me no mercy
Five days has now gone by
I think the pain will make me die

At last At last I got a slot
Eight minutes is all I got
I gave the Doc my pains description
But all I got was a prescription
I went away to take my pills
But the pain still made me feel ill

Five more days another slot
Eight more minutes is all I got
He sent me to the A&E
I went with feelings less than glee
I sat for hours feeling sad
Twas Friday night and really bad

The drunks were present in vast numbers
Half were sick and half in slumber
Some were bleeding others swearing
Some were rather overbearing
The police were there as well it seems
They hummed and haahed behind the screens

And after hours and hours of noise and vomit
Which crossed the room like Haleys comet
I just gave up and went back home
I knew the pain had worse to come
I laid in bed and watched the sky
I think the pain will make me die


FOCKALL LEFT LAND

If you have ever been told that you don’t know FOCKALL, then here is your chance to repudiate the slur.

The Fockall family have a long and rich heritage, and most of the family members have decided to make their careers in the Government and the Medical Profession.

The leader of the family Ino Fockall married a distant cousin, Ido Fockall and they had three children- Igot, a girl, and two boys-Imworth, and Iget.

Ino Fockall eventually became Prime Minister of Fockall Left Land.

Ido Fockall became Minister for Employment.

Igot Fockall, married Ivno Sense, and wishing to keep her maiden name was known as Igot Fockall-Sense, they had three children-Imak, Isay and Irite.

Imak Fockall-Sense became a professor at a Medical University.

Isay Fockall- Sense became Chancellor.

Irite Fockall-Sense became Minister for education.

Igot Fockall-Sense became Secretary of “I.T” for the Health Service.

Imak Fockall-sense married Dim Ataltimes, and was known as Imak Fockall-Sense-Atalltimes. They had one child –Italk.

Italk Fockall-Sense-Ataltimes never married but became very high up in the medical world. And was very close to Isay Fockall-Sense.

The younger son, Iget Fockall married a poor girl, Iav Nowt, who was related to Iwant Fornowt.

Iget and Iav Fockall, now live on a council estate, because they had Fockall. And are considered the black sheep of the family.

They only had one child, a boy, Iluv Fockall, who was gay and went off with Iam Limp and was never heard of again.

The oldest boy Imworth Fockall, married a rich girl-Iwant Fornowt, and they had two children-a boy, Ineed Fockall, and a girl, Igiv Fockall.

Ineed Fockall married Icare Alot, but they were incompatible and divorced after six months.

Imworth Fockall became head if the bank of Fockall Left Land

Igiv Fockall did just that and remained a virgin for life; she became the head of a company that supplies the Fockall Left land Health Service.

In the years that followed, Iget and Iav Fockall won 20 million Focks on the lottery, and moved from Fockall Left land to Upyors Land where they lived happily ever after.

The family have continued in their careers as politicians and have reached the highest status in Fockall Left Land: Prime Minister, Chancellor, Secretary for Health, Secretary for IT and some have chosen other career paths and have become Professors of Medical Universities, Consultants, and “higher ups” in a Large medical Council.

So if someone says to you “You don’t know Fockall” you will be able to put them right.

This the above is purely fiction; there is no connection with anyone living or who has Fockall. If you have a vivid imagination, that’s your fault.



Angus

Tuesday 1 September 2009

Now that Summer’s gone


A classic by John Keats, this is one of my favourite poems, it evokes the changing seasons and brings to life childhood memories.

To Autumn

by John Keats

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness!
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the mossed cottage trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o'erbrimmed their clammy cells.


Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind,
Or on a half-reaped furrow sound asleep,
Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twinèd flowers;
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cider-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.


Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, -
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.


Enjoy.


Angus

Angus Dei on all and sundry

Angus Dei-NHS-THE OTHER SIDE

Angus Dei politico

Thursday 27 August 2009

Classics?


Today’s expedition discovers Fannie Isabelle Sherrick, and Thomas Bailey Aldrich, not “classics” by the usual standards but well worth a look.

First up:

A Mood

A blight, a gloom, I know not what, has crept upon my gladness--
Some vague, remote ancestral touch of sorrow, or of madness;
A fear that is not fear, a pain that has not pain's insistence;
A sense of longing, or of loss, in some foregone existence;
A subtle hurt that never pen has writ nor tongue has spoken--
Such hurt perchance as Nature feels when a blossomed bough is broken.

Thomas Bailey Aldrich


Two Pictures

A beautiful form and a beautiful face,
A winsome bride and a woman's grace,
So fair and sweet it were heaven indeed
For man to follow where she would lead.


A web of lace and a jeweled hand,
And life is changed by a golden band;
A dream of love and a wealth of gold--
The old new story once more is told.


A wealth of flowers and a robe of snow,
A beauteous woman with cheeks aglow;
A train of satin that sweeps the floor--
And life is altered forevermore.


A beautiful scene on this Christmas eve,
Where all could linger and none could grieve,
A dazzling vision of wealth and pride,
A royal feast and a happy bride.


But turn your steps to the lonely street,
Where fierce winds mutter and wild storms beat;
And come with me to the haunts of woe
Where life is a burden and hopes are low.


Look on this woman, so thin and white;
You close your eyes--'tis a dreadful sight;
But shudder not--she is cold and dead--
And died, oh men! for a CRUST OF BREAD.


So young and hopeless, oh! God above,
With none to comfort and none to love;
A tortured soul and a hungry cry
That rang unheard through the stormy sky.


While, oh! so near in the gloomy night
Lay rescue and love and warmth and light;
And oh! so near to the longing eyes,
There gleamed the bright depths of a paradise.


Oh! look on this picture, thou fair young bride,
For one poor morsel of bread she died;
One glittering gem from your breast or hair,
Could have saved this woman who lieth there.


One costly spray of your flowers bright
Could have bought the food that she craved this night;
One drop of love from your boundless store
Her soul could have saved forevermore.


Oh, sadd'ning picture, this Christmas eve,--
For thy sad story the angels grieve;
To think in this city of wealth and might
A woman perished for BREAD, this night.


Fannie Isabelle Sherrick



And just to lighten the mood.


A silly Poem

Said Hamlet to Ophelia,
I'll draw a sketch of thee,
What kind of pencil shall I use?
2B or not 2B?


Philip Le Barr

Philip Le Barr, Was knock down by a car,
On the road to Mandalay.
He was knocked down again
By a dust cart in Spain
And again in Zanzibar.
So, He travled at nightIn the pale moon light
Away from the traffic growl
But terrible luck
He was hit by a duck
Driven by an owl.


Bazonka

Say Bazonka every day
That's what my grandma used to say
It keeps at bay the Asian Flu'
And both your elbows free from glue.
So say Bazonka every day(That's what my grandma used to say)


Don't say it if your socks are dry!
Or when the sun is in your eye!
Never say it in the dark(The word you see emits a spark)
Only say it in the day(That's what my grandma used to say)


Young Tiny Tim took her advice
He said it once, he said it twice he said it till the day he died
And even after that he tried
To say Bazonka! every dayJust like my grandma used to say.


Now folks around declare it's true
That every night at half past two
If you'll stand upon your head
And shout Bazonka! from your bed
You'll hear the word as clear as dayJust like my grandma used to say!



Spike Milligan

Wednesday 26 August 2009

The English language-easy peasy



In no way do I profess to be proficient in the “English” language because it isn’t; English that is, it is a hotch potch of Roman, German, French, Gaelic, Norse and any other spoken word you can think of.


It has a way of creeping up on you and biting you in the arse, just when you think you have mastered it, along comes another syntax and you are buggered.


Apparently it started with the arrival of three Germanic tribes who invaded Britain during the 5th century AD. These tribes, the Angles, the Saxons and the Jutes, crossed the North Sea from what today is Denmark and northern Germany. At that time the inhabitants of Britain spoke a Celtic language.


But most of the Celtic speakers were pushed west and north by the invaders - mainly into what is now Wales, Scotland and Ireland.


The Angles came from Engla land and their language was called Englisc - from which the words England and English are derived. (Old English)


So “English” isn’t even English, the invading Germanic tribes spoke similar languages to each other, which in Britain developed into what we now call Old English. Old English did not sound or look like English today. Native English speakers now would have great difficulty understanding Old English.


Nevertheless, about half of the most commonly used words in Modern English have Old English roots.


The words be, strong and water, for example, derive from Old English. Old English was spoken until around 1100.


Then along came William the conqueror and the Normans, who brought with them a kind of French, which became the language of the Royal Court, and the ruling and business classes. For a period there was a kind of linguistic class division, where the lower classes spoke English and the upper classes spoke French.


In the 14th century English became dominant in Britain again, but with many French words added. This language is called Middle English. It was the language of the great poet Chaucer (c1340-1400).


Modern English:- Towards the end of Middle English, a sudden and distinct change in pronunciation (the Great Vowel Shift) started, with vowels being pronounced shorter and shorter. From the 16th century the British had contact with many peoples from around the world.


This, and the Renaissance of Classical learning, meant that many new words and phrases entered the language.


The invention of printing also meant that there was now a common language in print. Books became cheaper and more people learned to read. Printing also brought standardization to English. Spelling and grammar became fixed, and the dialect of London, where most publishing houses were, became the standard. In 1604 the first English dictionary was published.


There’s nothing like having your vowels shift to make you concentrate.


And finally: Late modern English-The main difference between Early Modern English and Late Modern English is vocabulary. Late Modern English has many more words, arising from two principal factors: firstly, the Industrial Revolution and technology created a need for new words; secondly, the British Empire at its height covered one quarter of the earth's surface, and the English language adopted foreign words from many countries.


Then there is American English-From around 1600, the English colonization of North America resulted in the creation of a distinct American variety of English. Some English pronunciations and words "froze" when they reached America. In some ways, American English is more like the English of Shakespeare than modern British English is.


Some expressions that the British call "Americanisms" are in fact original British expressions that were preserved in the colonies while lost for a time in Britain (for example trash for rubbish, loan as a verb instead of lend, and fall for autumn; another example, frame-up, was re-imported into Britain through Hollywood gangster movies).


Spanish also had an influence on American English (and subsequently British English), with words like canyon, ranch, stampede and vigilante being examples of Spanish words that entered English through the settlement of the American West.


French words (through Louisiana) and West African words (through the slave trade) also influenced American English (and so, to an extent, British English).


Today, American English is particularly influential, due to the USA's dominance of cinema, television, popular music, trade and technology (including the Internet).


But there are many other varieties of English around the world, including for example Australian English, New Zealand English, Canadian English, South African English, Indian English and Caribbean English.

Which is a real pain when trying to write, and using the spell checker, because it hops from “English” English to “American” English, like a rabbit on steroids.

So there we are, a potted history of “English”, but I haven’t even started on Antanaclasis (Repetition of a word in two different senses.)


Example:


If we don't hang together, we'll hang separately —Benjamin Franklin

Or Paranomasia- (Using words that sound alike but that differ in meaning (punning).)
Example:


Don't let your metaphoric retch exceed your metaphoric gasp

Or even Syllepsis -Using a word differently in relation to two or more words that it modifies or governs (sometimes called zeugma).


Example:


There's a certain type of woman that would rather press grapes than clothes — Ad for Peck & Peck suits

Or of course the good old Onomatopoeia


Use of words whose sound correspond with their semantic value.
Examples:

The buzzing of innumerable bees...

And

'Tis not enough no harshness gives offense, The sound must seem an echo of the sense:

Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows,And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows;

but when loud surges lash the sounding shore,

The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar:

When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw,The line too labors, and the words move slow;

Not so, when swift Camilla scours the plain,Flies o'er the unbending corn, and skims along the main.


(Alexander pope)



And not forgetting Phrasal verbs which consist of a verb and an adverb (particle). Phrasal verbs are a very important feature of everyday English language. They are used in spoken and informal English, and they are also in written and even formal English. Understanding and learning to use phrasal verbs, however, is often a problem and there are many reasons for this.


The meaning of the phrasal verb often has no relation to the meaning of either the verb or the particle which is used with it.


This means that phrasal verbs can be difficult both to understand and to remember. Also, many phrasal verbs have several different meanings.


Act out (object)


MEANING:


1. When you act something out, you perform it or make it into a play.


2. Express your feelings or ideas.


EXAMPLE:


1. “The script itself is well written and well acted out by the cast”2. “He has become desperate and is acting out his frustration by behaving like an idiot.”


Add up (1. no object)


MEANING: Logically fit together.


EXAMPLE:"His theory is hard to believe, but his research adds up."Note: This phrasal verb is often negative."His theory seems, at first, to be plausible, but the facts in his research don't add up."

I could go on but I have a head ache, so I won’t (or should that be will not?).


Suffice it to say, I have found the best way to write “English” is just that write what comes into my head, and sort out the grammar, punctuation, spelling and tenses later, luckily I seem to be able to manage so far.


English-easy peasy No, but a wonderful conglomeration of bits and pieces from across the world, I like to think of it as “liquorice Allsorts” we all have our favourites, but when you see them together in the bag it is difficult to decide where to start.


But I am sure that you have a much better understanding than I do.