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Jackie Mead Oct 2019
The mouse with a house on the River Louse, was walking in a field one day.
He had his head down, nose buried in a stack of hay.

He was searching for some small sticks to take back to his home; his house on the River Louse.

Now that Winter was settling in, Mr Mouse wanted to light a fire and needed some sticks to form the pyre.

Mr Mouse had his head down and therefore not looking where he was going.

Along came a lady Mouse called Hilda with a bag full of shopping.
She was happy and singing and dancing, twirling and hopping.

Hilda was unaware of the Mouse with a house on the River Louse being in the vicinity.
She was feeling hopeful, full of sanguinity.

Mr Mouse still head down looking for sticks didn’t realise Hilda was around.
He had his nose firmly pointing to the ground.

Both mice continued  with their missions.
Oblivious to each other and the weather conditions .

Mr Mouse, head down turned to his left, Hilda twirling and hopping turned to her right.
Suddenly they clashed and caused each other such a fright.
Hilda clutched Mr Mouse very tight.

Mr Mouse apologised and pulled Hilda up off the floor.
He offered to show Hilda to his front door, Mr Mouse was very proud of his house on the River Louse.

The two mice had afternoon tea and sat warming themselves by the fire.
Soon it was time for Hilda to retire to her own home but they made plans to meet the very next day.

This time Mr Mouse would not have his nose in the hay.
They would walk and talk and have plenty to say.
Until the light faded from the day and the Moon came out to play.

In less than 2 months they had fallen in love and were married on the river by a dainty turtle dove.

Now they were together night and day.
Mr Mouse still searched for sticks with his nose in the hay.

Hilda still did the shopping all the while twirling, dancing and hopping

Together they had 12 children of their own.
Now they always had company, and neither ever felt alone.
It's been a while since I wrote one of these, I thought it would be fun to write how mr mouse met his match.
We had wanted to leave our homes before six in the morning
but left late and lazy at ten or ten-thirty with hurried smirks
and heads turned to the road, West
driving out against the noonward horizon
and visions before us of the great up-and-over

and tired we were already of stiff-armed driving neurotics in Montreal
and monstrous foreheaded yellow bus drivers
ugly children with long middle fingers
and tired we were of breaking and being yelled at by beardless bums
but thought about the beards at home we loved
and gave a smile and a wave nonetheless

Who were sick and tired of driving by nine
but then had four more hours still
with half a tank
then a third of a tank
then a quarter of a tank
then no tank at all
except for the great artillery halt and discovery
of our tyre having only three quarters of its bolts

Saved by the local sobriety
and the mystic conscious kindness of the wise and the elderly
and the strangers: Autoshop Gale with her discount familiar kindness;
Hilda making ready supper and Ray like I’ve known you for years
that offered me tools whose functions I’ve never known
and a handshake goodbye

     and "yes we will say hello to your son in Alberta"
     and "yes we will continue safely"
     and "no you won’t see us in tomorrow’s paper"
     and tired I was of hearing about us in tomorrow’s paper

Who ended up on a road laughing deliverance
in Ralphton, a small town hunting lodge
full of flapjacks and a choir of chainsaws
with cheap tomato juice and eggs
but the four of us ended up paying for eight anyway

and these wooden alley cats were nothing but hounds
and the backwoods is where you’d find a cheap child's banjo
and cheap leather shoes and bear traps and rat traps
and the kinds of things you’d fall into face first

Who sauntered into a cafe in Massey
that just opened up two weeks previous
where the food was warm and made from home
and the owner who swore to high heaven
and piled her Sci-Fi collection to the ceiling
in forms of books and VHS

but Massey herself was drowned in a small town
where there was little history and heavy mist
and the museum was closed for renovations
and the stores were run by diplomats
or sleezebag no-cats
and there was one man who wouldn’t show us a room
because his baby sitter hadn’t come yet
but the babysitter showed up through the backdoor within seconds
though I hadn't seen another face

        and the room was a landfill
        and smelled of stale cat **** anyhow
        and the lobby stacked to the ceiling with empty beer box cans bottles
        and the taps ran cold yellow and hot black through spigots

but we would be staying down the street
at the inn of an East-Indian couple

who’s eyes were not dilated 
and the room smelled
lemon-scented

and kept on driving lovingly without a care in the world
but only one of us had his arms around a girl
and how lonely I felt driving with Jacob
in the fog of the Agawa pass;

following twin red eyes down a steep void mass
where the birch trees have no heads
and the marshes pool under the jagged foothills
that climb from the water above their necks

that form great behemoths
with great voices bellowing and faces chiselled hard looking down
and my own face turned upward toward the rain

Wheels turning on a black asphalt river running uphill around great Superior
that is the ocean that isn’t the ocean but is as big as the sea
and the cloud banks dig deep and terrible walls

and the sky ends five times before night truly falls
and the sun sets slower here than anywhere
but the sky was only two miles high and ten long anyway

The empty train tracks that seldom run
and some rails have been lifted out
with a handful of spikes that now lay dormant

and the hill sides start to resemble *******
or faces or the slow curving back of some great whale

-and those, who were finally stranded at four pumps
with none but the professional Jacob reading great biblical instructions at the nozzle
nowhere at midnight in a town surrounded

by moose roads
                             moose lanes
                                                     moose rivers
and everything mooses

ending up sleeping in the maw of a great white wolf inn
run by Julf or Wolf or John but was German nonetheless

and woke up with radios armed
and arms full
and coffee up to the teeth
with teeth chattering
and I swear to God I saw snowy peaks
but those came to me in waking dream:

"Mountains dressed in white canvas
gowns and me who placed
my hands upon their *******
that filled the sky"

Passing through a buffet of inns and motels
and spending our time unpacking and repacking
and talking about drinking and cheap sandwiches
but me not having a drink in eight days

and in one professional inn we received a professional scamming
and no we would not be staying here again
and what would a trip across the country be like
if there wasn’t one final royal scamming to be had

and dreams start to return to me from years of dreamless sleep:

and I dream of hers back home
and ribbons in a raven black lattice of hair
and Cassadaic exploits with soft but honest words

and being on time with the trains across the plains  
and the moon with a shower of prairie blonde
and one of my father with kind words
and my mother on a bicycle reassuring my every decision

Passing eventually through great plains of vast nothingness
but was disappointed in seeing that I could see
and that the rumours were false
and that nothingness really had a population
and that the great flat land has bumps and curves and etchings and textures too

beautiful bright golden yellow like sprawling fingers
white knuckled ablaze reaching up toward the sun
that in this world had only one sky that lasted a thousand years

and prairie driving lasts no more than a mountain peak
and points of ember that softly sigh with the one breath
of our cars windows that rushes by with gratitude for your smile

And who was caught up with the madness in the air
with big foaming cigarettes in mouths
who dragged and stuffed down those rolling fumes endlessly
while St. Jacob sang at the way stations and billboards and the radio
which was turned off

and me myself and I running our mouth like the coughing engine
chasing a highway babe known as the Lady Valkyrie out from Winnipeg
all the way to Saskatoon driving all day without ever slowing down
and eating up all our gas like pez and finally catching her;

      Valkyrie who taught me to drive fast
      and hovering 175 in slipstreams
      and flowing behind her like a great ghost Cassady ******* in dreamland Nebraska
      only 10 highway crossings counted from home.

Lady Valkyrie who took me West.
Lady Valkyrie who burst my wings into flame as I drew a close with the sun.
Lady Valkyrie who had me howl at slender moon;

     who formed as a snowflake
     in the light on the street
     and was gone by morning
     before I asked her name

and how are we?
and how many?

Even with old Tom devil singing stereo
and riding shotgun the entire trip from day one
singing about his pony, and his own personal flophouse circus,
and what was he building in there?

There is a fair amount of us here in these cars.
Finally at light’s end finding acquiescence in all things
and meeting with her eye one last time; flashed her a wink and there I was, gone.
Down the final highway crossing blowing wind and fancy and mouth puttering off
roaring laughter into the distance like some tremendous Phoenix.

Goodnight Lady Valkyrie.

The evening descends and turns into a sandwich hysteria
as we find ourselves riding between cities of transports
and that one mad man that passed us speeding crazy
and almost hit head-on with Him flowing East

and passed more and more until he was head of the line
but me driving mad lunacy followed his tail to the bumper
passing fifteen trucks total to find our other car
and felt the great turbine pull of acceleration that was not mine

mad-stacked behind two great beasts
and everyone thought us moon-crazy; Biblical Jake
and Mad Hair Me driving a thousand
eschewing great gusts of wind speed flying

Smashing into the great ephedrine sunset haze of Saskatoon
and hungry for food stuffed with the thoughts of bedsheets
off the highway immediately into the rotting liver of dark downtown
but was greeted by an open Hertz garage
with a five-piece fanfare brass barrage
William Tell and a Debussy Reverie
and found our way to bedsheets most comfortably

Driving out of Saskatoon feeling distance behind me.
Finding nothing but the dead and hollow corpses of roadside ventures;

more carcasses than cars
and one as big as a moose
and one as big as a bear
and no hairier

and driving out of sunshine plain reading comic book strip billboards
and trees start to build up momentum
and remembering our secret fungi in the glove compartment
that we drove three thousand kilometres without remembering

and we had a "Jesus Jacob, put it away brother"
and went screaming blinded by smoke and paranoia
and three swerves got us right
and we hugged the holy white line until twilight

And driving until the night again takes me foremast
and knows my secret fear in her *****
as the road turns into a lucid *** black and makes me dizzy
and every shadow is a moose and a wildcat and a billy goat
and some other car

and I find myself driving faster up this great slanderous waterfall until I meet eye
with another at a thousand feet horizontal

then two eyes

then a thousand wide-eyed peaks stretching faces upturned to the celestial black
with clouds laid flat as if some angel were sleeping ******* on a smokestack
and the mountains make themselves clear to me after waiting a lifetime for a glimpse
then they shy away behind some old lamppost and I don’t see them until tomorrow

and even tomorrow brings a greater distance with the sunlight dividing stone like 'The Ancient of Days'
and moving forward puts all into perspective

while false cabins give way
and the gas stations give way
and the last lamppost gives way
and its only distance now that will make you true
and make your peaks come alive

Like a bullrush, great grey slopes leap forth as if branded by fire
then the first peaks take me by surprise
and I’m told that these are nothing but children to their parents
and the roads curve into a gentle valley
and we’re in the feeding zone

behind the gates of some great geological zoo
watching these lumbering beasts
finishing up some great tribal *******
because tomorrow they will be shrunk
and tomorrow ever-after smaller

Nonetheless, breathless in turn I became
it began snowing and the pines took on a different shape
and the mountains became covered white
and great glaciers could be seen creeping
and tourists seen gawking at waterfalls and waterfowls
and fowl play between two stones a thousand miles high

climbing these Jasper slopes flying against wind and stone
and every creak lets out its gentle tone and soft moans
as these tyres rub flat against your back
your ancient skin your rock-hard bones

and this peak is that peak and it’s this one too
and that’s Temple, and that’s Whistler
and that’s Glasgow and that’s Whistler again
and those are the Three Sisters with ******* ablaze

and soft glowing haze your sun sets again among your peaks
and we wonder how all these caves formed
and marvelled at what the flood brought to your feet
as roads lay wasted by the roadside

in the epiphany of 3:00am realizing
that great Alta's straights and highway crossings
are formed in torturous mess from mines of 'Mt. Bleed'
and broken ribs and liver of crushed mountain passes
and the grey stones taxidermied and peeled off
and laid flat painted black and yellow;
the highways built from the insides
of the mountain shells

Who gave a “What now. New-Brunswick?”

and a “What now, Quebec, and Ontario, and Manitoba, and Saskatchewan";
**** fools clumsily dancing in the valleys; then the rolling hills; then the sea that was a lake
then the prairies and not yet the mountains;

running naked in formation with me at the lead
and running naked giving the finger to the moon
and the contrails, and every passing blur on the highway
dodging rocks, and sandbars
and the watchful eye of Mr. and Mrs. Law
and holes dug-up by prairie dogs
and watching with no music
as the family caravans drove on by

but drove off laughing every time until two got anxious for bed and slowed behind
while the rambling Jacob and I had to wait in the half-moon spectacle
of a black-tongue asphalt side-road hacking darts and watching for grizzlies
for the other two to finish up with their birthday *** exploits
though it was nobodies birthday

and then a timezone was between us
 and they were in the distant future
and nobodies birthday was in an hour from now

then everything was good
and everyone was satiated
then everything was a different time again
and I was running on no sleep or a lot of it
leaping backward in time every so often
like gaining a new day but losing space on the surface of your eye

but I stared up through curtains of starlight to mother moon
and wondered if you also stared
and was dumbfounded by the majesty of it all

and only one Caribou was seen the entire trip
and only one live animal, and some forsaken deer
and only a snake or a lonesome caterpillar could be seen crossing such highway straights
but the water more refreshing and brighter than steel
and glittered as if it were hiding some celestial gem
and great ravines and valleys flowed between everything
and I saw in my own eye prehistoric beasts roaming catastrophe upon these plains
but the peaks grew ever higher and I left the ground behind
RAJ NANDY Jul 2016
Dear Poet Friends, our World today & especially Europe is threatened with terrorism from the religious fundamentalist groups like the ‘IS’ ! History teaches us that during the Middle Ages the Holy Crusades were launched with the combined forces of Christendom. May be History is repeating itself once again within a span of thousand years! Do kindly read with patience this True Story of the Holy Crusades in Verse, to see events in its proper historical perspective. Concluding portion as Part Two has also been posted here. You will find the portion on ''Motivation & The Medieval Mind'' to be interesting! Kindly take your time to read at leisure. No need to comment in a hurry please! Thanks, - Raj

               STORY OF THE HOLY CRUSADE: (1096-1099)
                                           PART ONE

                                       INTRODUCTION
For thousands of years the Holy Lands of Palestine on the eastern coast
of the Mediterranean Sea had witnessed,
Ferocious battles fought between the Christians, Jews, and the Muslims,
with much bloodshed;
For a strip of land few hundred miles in length and varying between some hundred miles in breadth,
Which they all righteously defended!
There the Ancient City of Jerusalem now stands as a World Heritage Site,
Sacred to the three of World’s oldest Religions and as their pride!
Jerusalem today is a symbol of unity amidst its religious diversity;
For on its Dome of the Rock, in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, and the Synagogues, are etched thousand years of Ancient History.
In 1096, Pope Urban the Second, motivated Christendom and launched the First Holy Crusade,
To liberate Jerusalem from 461 Years of MUSLIM dominance!
Some Historians have listed a total of Nine Crusades in all,
And I commence with the FIRST, being the most important of all;
For it recaptured Jerusalem from the Seljuk Turks making it fall. (in 1099AD)
While subsequent Crusades did not make any appreciable dent at all!
Not forgetting the THIRD, led by King Richard ‘The Lion Heart’, -
Who made the Turk leader Saladin to agree,
For Christian pilgrims to visit the Holy shrines in Jerusalem and the Hills of Calvary.
The Crusades began towards the end of the 11th Century lasting for almost Two hundred years;
Had later turned into a tale of sorrow and tears!
Now to understand the Crusades in its proper perspective let us see,
The brief historical background of Europe during the early parts of
Second Millennium AD.

                         A BRIEF HISTORICAL BACKGROUND
The Normans:
During the first century of the Second Millennium, Europe was in a formative stage,     (11th Century AD)
It had began to emerge from its long period of hibernation called the ‘Dark Age’!
The Viking raids from those northern Norsemen had ceased subsequently,
As they became Christian converts settling in Northern France in the Duchy of Normandy.
In 1035 when Robert the Devil, 5th Duke of Normandy died on his way
to Jerusalem during a Holy Pilgrimage;
His only son William, who was illegitimate, was only seven years of age.
By 1063 AD these Norman settlers had intermingled and expanded their lands considerably,
By conquering Southern Italy and driving the Muslims from the Island of Sicily.
And in 1066 Robert’s son William shaped future events, -
By defeating King Harold at Hastings and by uniting England.
Now William the Conqueror’s eldest son Robert the Duke of Normandy,
Participated in the First Holy Crusade, which has become both Legend
and a part of History!
These Normans though pious, were also valiant fighters,
And became the driving force behind the Crusades from 11th Century
onward !

                     MUSLIM CONQUEST AND EXPANSION
After the death of Prophet Mohammad during 7th Century AD,
Muslim cavalry burst forth from Arabia in a conquering spree!
They soon conquered the Middle East, Persia, and the Byzantine
Empire;
And in 638 AD they occupied the Holy city of Jerusalem and
Palestine entire!
Beginning of the 8th Century saw them crossing the Gibraltar Strait,
To occupy the Iberian Peninsula by sealing ruling Visigoth’s fate!
Crossing Spain soon they knocked on the gates of Southern France,
When Charles Martel in the crucial Battle of Tours halted their rapid
advance!  (Oct 732 AD)
By defeating the Moors, Martel confined them to Southern Spain,
And thereby SAVED Western Europe from Muslim dominance!
Charles Martel was also the grandfather of the Emperor Charlemagne.
The Sunni–Shiite split over the true successor of Prophet Muhammad,
and other doctrinal differences of Faith,
Had weakened the Muslim Empire till the Mongols sealed their fate!

                         THE SELJUK TURKS
Meanwhile around Mid-eleventh Century from the steppes of Central Asia,
Came a nomadic tribe of Seljuk Turks and occupied Persia!
In 1055 they captured Baghdad and took the Abbasid Caliph under their Protectorate.
The Persian poet Omar Khayyam, and the great Rumi the mystic sage,
Had also flourished during this Seljuk Age!
In 1071 at the Battle of Manzikirt the Seljuks defeated the Byzantines
and occupied entire Anatolia,     (now Turkey)
And set up their Capital there by occupying Nicaea!
Deprived of their Anatolian ‘bread basket’ the Byzantine Emperor
Alexius Comnenus the First,
Appealed to Pope Urban II to save him from the scourge of those
Seljuk Turks!
The Seljuk Turks had also occupied Jerusalem and entire Palestine,
And prevented the Christian pilgrims from visiting its Holy Shrines!
The Seljuk, who converted to Islam, became staunch defenders of the
Muslim faith,
And played an historic role during the First Two Holy Crusades!

THE CHURCH AND THE SECULAR STATE (11th Century) :
The ecclesiastic differences and theological disputes between Western (Latin) and Eastern(Greek Orthodox) Church,
And the authority over the Norman Church at Sicily;
Resulted in the Roman and Constantinople Churches
ex-communicating each other in 1054 AD!
This East-West Schism was soon followed by the ‘Investiture Controversy’,
Over the right to appoint Bishops and many other doctrinal complexities;
Between Pope Gregory VII and the Holy Roman Emperor Henry IV  
of Germany.
Here I have cut short many details to spare you some agony!
Pope Gregory was succeeded by Pope Urban the Second,
Who was a shrewd diplomat and a great orator as Rome’s Papal Head.
Pope Urban seized this opportunity and responded to the Byzantine
Emperor’s desperate call,
Hoping to add lands to his Papal Estate after the Seljuk Turks fall!
Also to reign in those errant knights and warlords, -
Who plundered for greed and as mercenaries fought!
And finally, by liberating Jerusalem as Christendom’s Religious Superior,
Pope Urban hoped to assert his authority over the Holy Roman Emperor!
It is therefore an unfortunate fact of History, that the news of re-conquest of Jerusalem failed to reach Italy;
Even though Pope Urban died fourteen days later,
on the 29th of July, in 1099 AD!

                 MOTIVATION AND THE MEDIEVAL MIND
The Medieval Age was the Age of Faith, which preceded the Age of Reason;
A God-centred world where to think otherwise smacked of treason!
It is rather difficult for us in our Modern times,
To fully comprehend the Early Medieval mind!
The Church was the very framework of the Medieval Society itself,
With their Monasteries and Abbeys as front-line of defence
against Evil;
While combating the deceptions and temptations of the Devil!
It was a mysterious and enchanted Medieval World where superstition
and ignorance was rife;
Where with blurred boundaries both the natural and the supernatural
existed side by side !
When education was confined to the Clergy and the Upper Class of
the Society exclusively;
In such a world the human mind was preoccupied with thoughts
of Salvation and piety;
And in an afterlife hoping to escape the pains of Purgatory!
So in Nov 1095 at the Council of Clermont in France,
When Pope Urban II made his clarion call to liberate the
Holy Lands from the infidels,
The massive congregation responded by shouting, “God Wills It”,
‘’God Wills It’’,  - which echoed beyond France!
The Crusade offered an opportunity to absolve oneself of sins,
And to even die a martyrs death for a Holy cause, which motivated
them from within!
Now for actual action kindly read the Concluding portion,
I tried to make it short and crisp!


    STORY OF THE HOLY CRUSADE : CONCLUSION
                                 PART TWO

THE  PEASANT’S CRUSADE (April-Oct 1096) :
Even before the First Crusade could get officially organized,
A Peasant’s Crusade of around forty thousand took-off,
taking Pope Urban by surprise!
When these untrained motley body of men led by the French
Lord Walter Sans Avoir, and Peter Hermit reached Constantinople;
They disappointed Emperor Alexius, who for seasoned Norman
Knights had bargained.
So Alexius ferried them to Anatolia across the Bosporus Strait,
Only to be massacred there by the hardy Seljuk Turks who sealed
their fate!
Thus ended the Peasant’s Crusade, also known as “The People’s
Crusade’’.
But Peter the Hermit survived as he had returned to Constantinople
for help,
And participated with the main Crusade, motivating them till the
very end,
With his sermons and prayers till their objectives were attained!

THE CRUSADE LEADERS AND THEIR ROUTES:
Now let me tell you about those Crusade Leaders and their routes,
For this true story to be better understood.
In the Summer of 1096 French nobles and seasoned knights,
along with Bishop Adhemar the Papal Legate,
Set out in large contingents by land and sea routes, forming the
Christian Brigade!
Their rendezvous point being Constantinople, capital of the
Byzantine Empire,
And from there across the Bosporus to enter Turkey then known
as Anatolia;
To finally take on the Seljuk Turks, in response to the request  
made by Emperor Alexius.
Raymond the IV of Toulouse, the senior-most and richest of
the Crusaders,
Was an old veteran who had fought the Moors in Spain was one of
the Crusade leaders.
He brought the largest army and was accompanied by the Papal Legate, and his wife Elvira,
And later played a major role in the siege of Antioch, and Nicea.
Raymond along with the veteran and pious bachelor knight
Godfrey of Bouillon, who became the First Ruler of Jerusalem
after its capture and fall;
Was accompanied by Godfrey’s ambitious brother Baldwin and
a large contingent, -
They followed the land route to Constantinople.
The fierce Norman knight Bohemond of Taranto, along with
Robert II Duke of Flanders, and the Norman knights from
Southern Italy,
Followed the sea route to Byzantium from the Italian port of Bari.
I have mentioned here only a few, to cut short my story!
At Constantinople Emperor Alexius, administered a Holy Oath of
allegiance to the Crusade Leaders;
Hoping to win back his captured lands after the defeat of the
Seljuk Turks.

THE SIEGE OF NICEA (14th May – 19th Jun 1097) :
This captured Byzantine City was then the Seljuk Capital;
With 200 towers its mighty walls was a formidable defence!
Emperor Alexius sent his army to help the Crusaders in the siege,
And by blockading the food supply lines the city was besieged;
In the absence of the City’s ruler who had gone on a campaign
to the East, -
Alexius’ Generals secretly worked out a negotiation of surrender
and peace!
The Crusaders were angry and felt they were being cheated,
But Alexius gave them money, horses, and gifts to get them
compensated!
On the 26th of June the Crusader army was split into two contingents,
And the Turks ambushed and surrounded the vanguard led by Bohemund the Valiant.
Turk cavalry shooting arrows mauled part of the vanguard,
When the rearguard of Godfrey, and Baldwin charged in
and rescued them from the Turks!
Historians call this the Battle of Dorylaeum;  (1st Jul 1097)  
It was the first major battle  which provided a taste of
things to come!

SIEGE OF EDESSA:
Next a three month’s long and arduous march followed
under the sweltering Summer’s heat,
When five hundred lost their lives due to sheer fatigue!
Baldwin lost his wife God Hilda, a rich heiress;
Now with all her wealth going back to her blood line
as per tradition of those days,
Placed ambitious Baldwin under great mental and financial
distress!
So Baldwin with a few hundred knights headed East for the
rich Christian city of Edessa,
With intentions of claiming it as his own after the loss of his
wife Hilda!
The citizens there backed Baldwin and gave him an Armenian
Christian lady to be his wife,
And against their old childless Ruler Thoros, they plotted to
take his life!
It was not a great start for the idealism of the Crusade,
Since motivated by greed Baldwin had carved out his own
State;
While Edessa also became the First State to be established
by the Holy Crusade!

THE SIEGE OF ANTIOCH  (21 Oct 1097- 02 Jun 1098) :
Antioch was an old Roman city built around 300 BC,
Its six gates and towers fortified the city.
Its formidable walls were built by the Byzantine Emperor
Justinian the First,
And twelve years prior to the arrival of the Crusaders,
Antioch had got occupied by the Turks!
In the absence of a Centralised Command, the Crusade leaders
frequently argued and quarrelled;
Since the majority preferred a siege, so Antioch got finally
surrounded.
When food supply ran short during the winter, both
starvation and desertion plagued the Crusaders;
While Antioch’s Governor Yagi-Siyan appealed for
assistance from his distant brothers the Turks.
He tied messages on legs of trained homing pigeon,
A unique postal service of those early days!
End May 1098 brought news of a large Muslim army
commanded by Emir Kerbogha,
Had set course from Mosul to liberate Antioch from
the Crusaders!
The Crusaders now had to break in fast into Antioch,
or face those 75,000 strong Turkish force!
The Twin Towers on the southern side was manned by
an Armenian Christian Muslim convert named Firuz,
Who was bribed by Bohemund to betray Antioch!
Firuz let down rope ladders for the Crusaders to climb
inside,
And a massacre followed late into the ****** night!
Next day Emir Kerbogha’s troops arrived and the
situation got reversed,
The attackers now lay besieged by those Seljuk Turks!
After fifty-two days of trying siege food supply ran out,
Morale of the Crusaders were rather low, and some even
feared a route!
Now buried in the Church of St. Peter, Peter Bartholomew
the French priest found the ‘Holy Lance’,
About which he had a vision in advance!
This find raised the morale of the Crusaders, and some
even went into a spiritual trance!
For Peter claimed this ‘Holy Relic’ had pierced Christ’s body
after his Crucifixion;
And the Crusading army now moved out of the city in full
battle formation!
Soon after the Turkish army of Kerbogha retreated fearing
devastation!
This victory has been attributed to God and His miraculous
intervention!

                     LIBERATION OF JERUSALEM
After the conquest of Antioch in June 1098, the Crusaders
stayed on till the year got completed.
Though the death of the Papal Legate in August got them
rather depressed;
While Bohemund of Taranto took over Antioch, which now
became the Second Crusader State;
And Raymond of Toulouse became the undisputed Leader
of The Crusade!
Next travelling through Tripoli, Beirut, Tire and Lebanon;
To liberate Bethlehem they sent off Tancred, and Baldwin
of Le Bourg.
On the 5th of June they liberated Bethlehem, and on the
Seventh of June they reached the gates of Jerusalem!
Facing acute shortage of food and water their initial attack
failed to materialise,
When priest Peter Desiderius’ vision of the deceased Papal
Legate came as a pleasant surprise!
This vision commanded them to fast, atone for their sins and
make amends,
By walking barefoot in prayer around the Holy City of Jerusalem!
After a final assault on the 15th of July 1099, they broke into
the City,
Killing all Muslims and Jews with impunity!
Pious Godfrey of Bouillon refusing to wear the crown, became
the First Ruler of this Third Crusader State;
And objectives of the Crusaders were finally attained!
With the formation of warrior monks of ‘Hospitallers’ and
‘Knight Templers’, wearing White and Red Crosses respectivel
RELEVANT LESSONS CAN BE DRAWN FROM PAST HISTORY!
Hilda Mar 2013
~~~~English~~~~

Such beauty takes away my breath
As the sunrays shine across the peaceful path
The trees of this forest sway and nod in the dancing breeze
Which caresses my cheeks

Pastel clouds in the watercolor sky
Makes the forest with its path beautiful
And birds sing and warble in the tall treetops
God alone creates this beauty

The bluebells bordering the path
Are kissed by sparkling dewdrops
And snowdrops have long come out of
Their veil of snow

Lacy green leaves from the blowing trees
Provide shade in the sweet summer
And the breezes provide coolness on a hot day
At this lovely place of beauty

~~~~French~~~~

Une telle beauté enlève mon souffle
Comme les rayons du soleil brille à travers la voie pacifique
Les arbres de cette forêt se balancent et hocher la tête dans la brise dansante
Qui caresse mes joues

Pastels nuages dans le ciel aquarelle
Rend la forêt avec son chemin belle
Et les oiseaux chantent et modulées dans les hautes cimes
Dieu seul crée cette beauté

Les jacinthes qui bordent le chemin
Sont caressées par les gouttes de rosée mousseux
Perce-neige viennent depuis longtemps de
Leur voile de neige

Dentelles feuilles vertes des arbres de soufflage
Fournir de l'ombre en été douce
Et les brises offrent fraîcheur par une chaude journée
À ce bel endroit d'une beauté

**~Hilda~
Marian Oct 2012
She will always be my sweet sister, Hilda pretty and fair,
Daintily seated on her chair.
She is like a wild rose blooming on a coast,
For I will always love Hilda the most!
She is like a Summer morning the birds mistake her for it,
Cross is she? Rarely even a bit.
There she sits pretty on the lea,
She is quite a fond treasure for me.
I love her so much,
I would love to buy her pretty things and such.
Beauty always stays with her,
And never does it cur.
I love you, Hilda dear,
And so glad am I that with me you can stay all the year!!

~Marian~
Maria Mitea Aug 2020
It is Friday morning,
I feel like a robot lubricating its joints
with peanut  butter and jelly cookies,
repeating its movements over again;
jumping, running and extending into
the big robotic world with the hope of
reaching out to humans.

Driving to pick up Hilda, a soul
that needs a ride to heaven,
her husband a former mafia driver, in his homeland, lost his car and driving license,
as the virus came and switched  his brain on shootings and killings he witnessed,
in his youth days, when worrying more for money than life.

I hope for no shootings today,
Friday morning, and
The sun didn’t show up in the sky,
It can be too much even for him shining every day, not an easy job warming up
earth’s feet when striving for a happy day.

It is early Friday morning,
The dog had no time for barking,
I feel like a robot that has been overused,

Waiting in the car,
I succumb to dreaming and export myself into a passed homeland life, were on Fridays evenings I laugh and wear cherries 🍒 behind my friendly years when Apollon comes with his sweet kisses.

My client arrived, she moves like a robot too ... I drive ... we reach in heaven as we start talking and crying, ...

Hilda opens like a flower to the sunset, while she is telling her life story,
and how much pain she carries in her feet and arms, cut off at every sunrise by her mother denial, shootings hit her heart,
I pray and hope for her husband to be well,
and forgiven by Gods.

Hilda’s storey wakes me up to being a human, ... between tears and pains we find our laughs, ... After we cry, laugh and feel the pain, me and Hilda we feel like two humans on Friday morning.
Thank you Hilda!🙏✨
Iraira Cedillo Mar 2014
21–40 of 11462 Poems
«1234»Viewsshow detailshide detailsSort by  
Faith
BY MICHAEL *******br>When I cannot believe,
The brown herds still move across green fields
Into the tufty hills, and I was born . . .
Teusaquillo, 1989
BY MAURICE KILWEIN GUEVARA
Flowering sietecueros trees:
How easily we married ourselves
to the idea of that bruised light . . .
Bright Pittsburgh Morning
BY MAURICE KILWEIN GUEVARA
This must happen just after I die: At sunrise
I bend over my grandparents' empty house in Hazelwood
and pull it out of the soft cindered earth by the Mon River. . . .
Hanukkah
BY HILDA MORLEY
This season for us, the Jews—
a season of candles,
                                      one more . . .
Winter Solstice
BY HILDA MORLEY
A cold night crosses
our path
                  The world appears . . .
And I in My Bed Again
BY HILDA MORLEY
Last night
                     tossed in
my bed . . .
alternate names for black boys
BY DANEZ SMITH
1.   smoke above the burning bush
2.   archnemesis of summer night
3.   first son of soil . . .
Listen
Attenuate the Loss and Find
BY ANNE WALDMAN
name appears
everywhere and in dream
body armor removed . . .
From “Citizen”
BY CLAUDIA RANKINE
/ 

You are in the dark, in the car, watching the black-tarred street being swallowed by speed; he tells you his dean is making him hire a person of color when there are so many great writers out there. . . .
Listen
History Will Decide
BY ANNE WALDMAN
All writing around the sides the persons a galaxy all writing resounds a hot history. All writing is in fact cut-ups history will decide games heated and heated economic behavior. To rise up scene all sounds of Tahrir and inside supply side threatened. A long delineation. Longer than I would . . .
ICC Kenya Trials: Witness
BY SHAILJA PATEL
was it so I could
never say
across a courtroom . . .
Mosaic
BY TIM SEIBLES
A carpet of light, the
ocean alive < half a moon
muting the stars. . . .
sideshow
BY DANEZ SMITH
Have I spent too much time worrying about the boys
killing each other to pray for the ones who do it
with their own hands? . . .
The Last Son of China
BY **** PING
.......................    hello hello hello    ...    Weiwei    ...    where have you been?    ...    I see you in dreams    ...    bleeding    ...    in the darkness of the . . .
The Skin of Sleep
BY MYRA SKLAREW
The skin of sleep
is thin. It will not hold.
Its contents stumble out. . . .
What Could Have Happened
BY SHAILJA PATEL
Wa
gal
la . . .
Everybody Has a Heartache: A Blues
BY JOY HARJO
In the United terminal in Chicago at five on a Friday afternoon
The sky is breaking with rain and wind and all the flights
Are delayed forever. We will never get to where we are going . . .
Good Friday
BY MARIA MELENDEZ KELSON
Jesus, I want my sins back.
My prattle, pride, and private prices — 
climbing, clinching, clocking —  . . .
ICE Agents Storm My Porch
BY MARIA MELENDEZ KELSON
The Indiscriminate Citizenry of Earth
are out to arrest my sense of being a misfit.
“Open up!” they bellow,
hands quiet before my door
that’s only wind and juniper needles, anyway.

You can’t do it, I squeak from inside.
You can’t make me feel at home here
in this time of siege for me . . .
Tablets
BY DUNYA MIKHAIL
1


She pressed her ear against the shell: . . .
«1234»
Marian Nov 2012
She is very sweet,
I love her so very much,
I love you, Hilda!

*~Marian~
Hilda Sep 2014
Sweet gentle daughter of dreaming blue eyes
Reflecting visions from some distant sphere;
Untainted by nightmares of icy fear,
Nor saddened yet by fate's mocking disguise.
Unopened book of fickle tomorrow,
Not certain of how future may unfold,
With hours of lead or hours of molten gold;
Unenlightened yet by unknown sorrow.
Sands rush through the hourglass of wasted years,
While breaking our young hearts with shattered dreams.
The clock of life wrings disappointed tears,
Unhampered by our plans and clever schemes.
Beware grim reaper swinging ***** blade
Who mocks thee as childhood days slowly fade.

**~Hilda~
© Hilda September 20, 2014 4:48 PM
Dedicated to my dear daughter Marian.
SøułSurvivør Jun 2015
A TRIBUTE TO HELLO POETRY

This will be a long write.
There are so many I wish
to honor and thank.

Please, if you can, pull up
Bruce Cockburn's song
Maybe the Poet on YouTube.
Listen to the words as you read this.
It will greatly add to your enjoyment.

I play no favorites...
you ALL are class acts!

Here's a tribute. Yep. It's long!
But listen to Bruce Cockburn's song.
I want to emulate what's sung
Yes, not miss a poet, one!

ryn has got a range of art
Ded Poet's got a poet's heart
elsa angelica's soul resounds
Bhumika's a dove
with a golden crown!

Wolfspirit's pen can spill his love
Wonderman's ink from up above
sjr...1000 words so wise
Scarlet Pimpernel's talent's
not disguised!

Joe Malgeri's a spiritual gent
Paige Pots' work is heaven sent
Tivonna has love for natural things
Helena's work has roots and wings!

Pradip, in my eyes number one
as is Thomas A Robinson
jeffrey robin's style is loose and bold
Rupal has a heart of gold!

John Stevens has an earthy wit
Pax means peace, his candle's lit
Tryst's ballads are a perfect fit
and I love Lidi Minuet!

donna's sweet as honeydew
Jason Cole fits like a shoe
Prttybrd sings songs with style
Day Wing flies! He has a smile!

Deborah's walking on her beach
her talent has a range and reach
Rapunzel let's her hair way down
Weeping Willow
has a pleasant sound!

Joe Cole loves all fantasy
SSilkenTounge has a mind that's free
Solaces is a very old friend
I hope to see Botan again!

Urmilla writes beyond her years
Chalsey Wilder writes bring tears
Tonya Maria and I share pain
Wise is K Balachandran!

CA Guifoyle lives in my town
Adam Childs' the best around
SE Reimer can put us in the mood
Musfiq us Shaleheen
Is so VERY good!

Richard Riddle honors with poetry
Love my collab, Arcassin B!
Sally A Bayan's good and kind
Hayden Swan's a real find!

Love comments from Joe Adomavicia
zik, I'm always glad to see ya!
TGWLY has a heart that hurts
Erenn Y does heartfelt works...

Elizabeth Squires has classic writes
Frank Ruland's fights
for what is right
And if a scare you want to see
just look up POETIC T!

Oh! There are SO many more!
There are poets by the score!
I don't want to be a bore
But read them ALL! You will be
FLOORED !!!

MORE POETS!!!

Lori Jones McCaffery
Kalypso
Niamh Price
Mya Angel
Mike Hauser
Vicki
Ignatius Hosiana
Frankie J
Chris Green
mark cleavenger
brandon nagley
Winn
Puds (Pete)
Deborah Brooks Langford
Timothy
Marian
Hilda
Harriet Tecumsah Watt
it's gonna make sense
mybarefootdrive
Dark n Beautiful
WL Winter
Margaux
Pamela Rae
Venusoul7
Eddie Starr
Olivia Kent
Brenden Thomas
Zoe
Raj Arumugam
Elijah
Sukeerti
Manny
M.A.N
Jonny Angel
Dylan Mitchell
James M Vines
bulletcookie
i am miss brightside
Chris Fracc
Cat
Ocean Blue
Phil Lindsay
Mike Hauser
PearlSy
Christi Michaels Moon Flower
Raj Nandy
SPT
PoETEPETE Now RePETE After PETE
Makayla Kelly
Paul Gafney
Nan Trapp Messer
Chloe
Steven Langhorst
Daniel Palmer
Chris Smith Dark Poet Soul
C A Guilfoyle
TRAVELLER
Soul
GitacharYa VedaLa
Rosalind heather Alexander
S R Matts
Paul Gattney
Danny Mak
patty m
liv frances
Gary L
Ngamau Boniface
IOWA
Earl Jane
ber
Justin G
James
ste'phanie noir
born
Aztec Warrior


Last but not least... olestoryteller
and Francie Lynch! Ketoma Rose!
If there's someone I've forgotten
PLEASE TELL ME!

Also please read Hello again, Poets!
I wrote more! Also please read the poem 'diamonds'. There are many tributes to people who i missed in this write.

I'LL WRITE A SPECIAL POEM
JUST FOR YOU!

---
Dee Feb 2013
we made home-made bread
yesterday, with tomatoes the
size of softballs,
in the kitchen where you
watched the sun rise like
dough; ambling along morning
in the company of the past—
mischief buried in our
bones—
while you harvested memories
and string beans between
rows of clover.

you watched us and we
watched you behind the window,
behind the sink—
*what kind of trouble will you,
we,
get into today?
Hilda Feb 2013
~~~~~~English~~~~~
Snowdrops sparkle with pearly dew
and all the world wakes anew
with breezes soft which caress my cheeks
on this balmy afternoon
dappled sunshine crowns the world with gold
and the Thrush's flute like song fills the evening air
crocuses and daffodils nod and sway
and the mountain stream reflects the sunset in the west
the golden sun turns to red and sinks below the sunset's curtain
and takes its heavenly sleep
while the moon hastily wakes and provides
a dim light to the world while the sun sleeps
beneath the sky
the stars twinkle merrily
as the owls hoot some lullaby full of melody
and the whole world is hushed to sleep
'til morning doth appear
with it's sun rays dancing through my window
and greets me with a sunrise which God painted so beautiful
a brand new day has begun
with work as mothers always do each and every live long day
pastel pink clouds drift lazily
and little rosebuds drop their dainty dew
such a lovely day hath dawned
and I wish everyday could be like this
now it is nighttime again
and the moon's rays hit my bedroom floor
and as I lay here I think about how days are so very short
that is why we should make the most of time for it is so precious
like moonlight because it does not last long even though it happens most
every night
it is the same with time. . . it does not last long even though it happens everyday
that is why we should make the most of it

~Hilda~

~~~~~~French~~~~~~
Perce-neige brillent de rosée nacrée
et tout le monde se réveille de nouveau
avec les brises douces qui caressent mes joues
cette après-midi doux
soleil pommelé couronnes au monde d'or
et la flûte de la Grive comme chanson remplit l'air du soir
les crocus et les jonquilles hoche la tête et se balancent
et le ruisseau de montagne reflète le coucher de soleil à l'ouest
le soleil passe au rouge et disparaît sous le rideau du coucher du soleil
et prend son sommeil céleste
tandis que la lune hâtivement se réveille et fournit
une faible lumière au monde alors que le soleil dort
sous le ciel
les étoiles brillent gaiement
comme les hiboux hululent certains berceuse plein de mélodie
et tout le monde est étouffée à dormir
jusqu'à ce matin apparaissent
avec elle sont les rayons de soleil dansant à travers ma fenêtre
et me salue avec un lever de soleil qui Dieu peint si belle
un brand new day a commencé
avec le travail en tant que mères, toujours faire chaque jour vivre longtemps
nuages roses pastels dérivent paresseusement
rosebuds peu déposer leur délicate rosée
Cette belle journée a l'aube
et je souhaite à tous les jours pouvaient être comme ça
C'est maintenant la nuit encore une fois
et les rayons de la lune a frappé mon plancher de la chambre à coucher
et que je pose ici, selon moi, sur combien de jours sont donc très courts
C'est pourquoi nous devrions faire le plus de temps car il est si précieux
comme la lune parce qu'elle ne dure pas longtemps même si il arrive plus
tous les soirs
C'est la même chose avec le temps... il ne dure pas longtemps, même s'il arrive tous les jours
C'est pourquoi nous devrions faire le meilleur de lui

**~Hilda~
Hilda Jul 2014
Time hath ceased.
All clocks stopped.
Where you passed by
in dew kissed meadow,
void of thy presence.
We hear no more
at our door
thy gentle knock.
After thy passing
and before
persistent loud cry
of Whip-poor-will.
Now that is still.

Silence.


**~Hilda~
© Hilda July 4, 2014
Jude kyrie Dec 2018
Neither one of them knew when the rivalry began.
It was certainly in their infancy.
Rachel Huntington was twenty
a star scholar at Oxford university.
Matthew fotheringham was the same age
also a star scholar  
They excelled in the study of English literature
having read all of the aincent and modern classics in high school.
It was known that saint Hilda's college at Oxford
regarded Rachel as  the most  gifted student
they had seen for years.
In his group the same was said for Matthew.

They shared the same advanced literature class
and the tension between then was palatable.
She would put forward a proposition
on Shakespeare repeated usage of
Iambic pentameter.
And Matthew would destroy her concept
with a detailed analysis of his works.

Have you been  cribbing with Cole's notes
he would add in disdain.
Rebecca hated him
calling him insufferably conceited and a total buffoon.

He once went to her dorm
to pick up an ancient script
she had borrowed from the library , the only copy.
He phoned from the hall
shall I come up to your room
And pick it up.
Rachel shouted No!
I will bring it down to you.
You are never to come up to my dorm.
It's not that I wouldn't allow a man up here
But if anyone were to see you leaving
and got the wrong idea.
I don't want them to think I have no taste
and low standards in boyfriends.
And that's how it went on.

Then the literature guilds competition had been announced
Scholars from all over Europe
were to present their essays of no less than 25 thousand words and the winner would receive 25 thousand guineas
but more importantly that opened the door
to the chairs of literature all through the continent.

The rivalry escalation was at fever pitch.
Matthew worked  75. Hour weeks on his essay
Rachelle kept up with him never wasting a single moment.
The class bookmaker has had narrow odds on the winner it one of these two.

They went to the presentation hall
and entered the book sized essays
sealed in manilla envelopes
Rachel quipped,you don't have a chance,
you couldn't copy mine.
Matthew said,
I hope they don't use the new plagiarism software
you have probably stole yours from the internet.
I already have made plans for my winnings he bragged.
What a good plated pocket protector
and  a girl friend you just add air too.
Matthew was hurt
Particularly at the insult
that he had a blow up plastic girlfriend.
He remembered humor was the best defence
it showed they could not hurt you.
I only bought her for driving
on the diamond lanes on the highway.
Anyhoo nothing happened between us
until that last night of term
When we drank too much wine.
Rachel walked off in disgust
As he yelled so all could here
She's better in bed than you will ever be .

It was two weeks to the announcement of the contest winners.
No use worrying about it Matthew said
He went for a long evening stroll by the river.
As he turned on the river bend he saw Rachel
She was crying say beneath a huge willow tree.

For once he did not have a smart quip or an insult.
He walked to her and sat down next to her.
Why are you weeping ? Rachel he asked gently.
She had never ever heard his voice so soft.
My father died last night. She sobbed.
It occurred to Matthew he knew nothing of her life.
I am so sorry what happened
He was the clergyman at Saint Monica's Anglican Church
He had cancer and never let me know.
It had taken all his savings to get me through Oxford.
And he did not want me to lose focus.
Then she wept freely
Matthew held her close to him she wept on his his shoulder
His fingers gently touched her reddish auburn hair.
It was soft she smelt of lavender soap it was nice.
I ...I have to go to Stow  on the wold, tomorrow for the funeral.
I shall take you there
Do you have a car she asked.
Yes I have a twenty year old MG convertible.
My dad bought me when I got into Oxford.
It was arranged he picked her up
and off to the funeral they went .

He never felt as comfortable
or comforting in all his life.
He was seeing her in a new light
after all the stupid years.
They arrived at the old vicarage
Mrs Evans the housekeeper hugged them both
It's about time you got your pretty nose
out of those old dusty books
And got yourself a boyfriend.
The weird part was neither one of them
corrected Mrs Evans.

The funeral took place
And they set back along the old country roads to the university.
They talked about literature art poets and writers.
Then the old engine conked out.
Miles from anywhere
You need to go get petrol she said.

But there's no station between here and Oxford said Michael.
The phone signal was not reaching them.
We have to sleep in the car for the night.
Rachel said as long as you don't get any ideas.
You are not my type.

He was going to tell her she was his type
but said nothing.
It was freezing in the night Rachel was shivering
He took off his coat and jacket
and put them over her in the back seat
As he shivered frozen in the front seat.

In the early morning they woke up
She stepped out of the car and stretched
Matthew was on one knee in front of her
What are doing she asked?
What does it look like I am doing ?
I am proposing that you become my wife.
Never! never! never !
After all the insults you have laid upon me.
Well I'm I'm sorry he whispered.
Not good enough she shouted.

Do you have the guts to make a bet with me Matthew asked.?
Her reddish hair answered the challenge
Just try me.
OK if I win the award you will become my wife.
If I win then you get lost and marry the blow up lady.she countered.
Well the challenge was a tough one
If she did not accept it it was saying he was smarter than her and she knew it.
If she accepted it was the opposite.
OK you have a deal.

A week later Matthew was working in the library
The prize winners are being posted on the notice board.
He felt a gasp in his chest
As he reached the crowd of students he saw Rachel
She even had a trace of makeup on she was now
Getting to look beautiful to him.
Good luck rachel he whispered I hope you win.
She knew he meant it but she remembered the wager.
She said softly I hope it's you that wins Mathew.
A young woman rushed out of the crowd
Rachelle you won you won.
Mathews heart sank
Congratulations Rachel I am so happy for you.
She felt a tear selling in her eye
Mathew where are you going she said.
You told me to go And marry my send away lady
that you just add air to.
If I lost the bet and you won Rachel.
And her heart sank in her chest.

Then the young woman saw him
Matthew congratulations you won.
She showed him a copy of the winners notice.
It had a note
In all the years of the competition we have never had two such magnificent essays
The adjudicator's were unable to mark one better than the other
We have shared the prize to two winners for the very first time.
Rachel held Mathew close and kissed him fully and hard.
Not caring who was watching.
He kissed her back
The crowd were astonished
their feud was legendary at Oxford.


Two years later.

Matthew strolled in the park with the twins
and his beloved wife Rachel.
She had married him
a week after the award ceremony at Oxford.
It was said in the coffee room that the university
had never had two professors
as much in love as them
they were now both  teaching in the English department
and we're already in competition for their tenure.
But they never spent a moment appart.

He picked up the twins
and shouted his love for Rachel
on the top of his voice.
The evening breeze picked up the perfume
of the fallen leaves.
Rachel smiled at him
and whispered softly
I love you too dearest.

She felt him slip into that private room in her heart
that she always saved for her soulmate
As he entered the room holding their two babies.
She locked the door behind him
with the only key that existed.
And then she threw it
into the dense woodlands of Oxfordshire
Never to found again.
Opposites yet so alike .
The best kind of connection.
Jude
Tryst Jan 2015
Oh father dear, petrarchan patriarch,
Thy gifted words of thy divinity
Portray the depth of thine own trinity,
And blessed are we who know thy craftsman's mark

And Blessed Are Thee, Thy Daughter Marian,
Who Walks In Beauty Like The Bright Sunlight
Where Flowers Grow And Faeries Do Delight
To Dance In Summer Glade and Autumn Glen

And Hilda, blessed are thee and all that's thine,
The gloom of shadowed valley thou has known
Yet love and life shall ever be thine own,
Oh blessed are thee and all thou holds divine

For thee, thy Hilda and thy Marian,
My blessings always and anon,

                         Amen.
A humble response to "Tribute Sundry: Tryst"
By Timothy: http://hellopoetry.com/timothy/
nivek Aug 2020
Hilda the Honda was mothballed for Winter
now, finally, after all the cobwebs have been dusted
Hilda once again feels the freedom of Summer.
A few mechanical changes have given her
10mph more than last year, amazing,
for such an old servant.
For a short time left of good weather
Hilda will be bombing around our Island
carrying my oldering carcass with her.
Sun shines through shadows,
water gives way to the splash,
sharing summers smile.
A fellow user (Hilda) helped me realize I may be lacking on the happier poetry here. So, attempt I did, to remedy this. Thank you Hilda for this rainy day to be reminded of happier states.
Nithin purple Apr 2014
Preface

When the broad mind has opened, to gaze the stars that shinning in the unfathomable skies and the glittering Nature, its flowers’ fragrances given to taste the wealthy realms of her, as well as Earth's mysteries—that I ever think of to feel and by my thoughts that spread so deep to try to work with things that sounds of ‛creative’. Here I the ‛moody soul’ started his first journey, leaving his home  a few years ago and his up-start was through Literature, Science and Arts and Fiction. Writings and paintings here I believed to be most powerful and that those more often need to convey by the Artist’s conscience and the intensity that gains moral knowledge and appreciation. Here the book has the pictorial paths of Quest and the wanderings, all by imagination’s boat, sails from the western Ideas and its enthusiastic flow. Some finds hope along and also hopelessness, God and Love vagabonding among these ink-stained pages.
Dreamt in the wandering world where no chains shall bind, from the dark veiled lands to the daring spark, no atoms that obscure the force calling light, to aim the glad precious moments of life, to embrace me with a silence and its whispering magic, where gate of hope’s always open to bliss, thundering words are always from roam, the nocturnal pleasure that I only know, and when all will run away as time—why I alone in the upward steps of solitude that caressing wild only wings?
If I met Life as a strange stage of different senses—and I only say you to enjoy the aggressive fruits of my invention. Here it is for all of you can read and evaluate.*


Nithin Purple


Acknowledgement
                                      
­*This book is dedicated to my parents of Love and support,
from where I got the powers to be inspired—to write and prove.

Special Thanks to Parisian Author and poet Roman Payne of
‛cultural book’ for supporting me as a writer of varying tastes.  Also Writer, Wilson B Sanchez of New York, who first gave suggestions  
and his valuable sparkling comments of self-improvable topics, which I always bother. Belated friend, poet and writer, Curtis Plaskon from France for his valuable support. Also Poet Timothy & Hilda from Virginia, to them I had good writing memories. And for all the Indians, this book is an open heart to read.
Aknowledgement For My book 'Halycon Wings'
Hilda Nov 2012
What is home without our daughter?
     What then of all those folk we meet?
When her dimpled smile no longer
     Brightens the coming of our feet?
Days drag onward, long nights grow drear
     As time so coldly marches on;
And how we miss her golden cheer!
     When now those carefree days are gone.

Things we prize are quick to vanish,
     Fond hearts we love to pass away;—
And how soon, e'en in life's sorrow
     Yearn we for noisy hours to stay.
Eyes grow sad, fades life's brief glow,
     For golden days longtime have passed,
And it breaks mother's heart to know—
     Gay childhood's day is o'er at last.

Many folk bemoan their trifles,
     Trivial things to pass away,
But a daughter lost to childhood
     Breaks the heart from day to day.
Laid away tired broken toys;
     Her babyish prattle, antics past;
Upon these times we miss her noise.
     She has turned a woman at last.

                  **~Hilda~
© Hilda November 9, 2012.
Hilda Nov 2012
I hear Thy fond whisper thro' leaves and grass
E'en as my heart weeps with the mourning dove;
'Neath blazing heat of noontide sun above,
Breezes caress me as I feel Thee pass.

Sunset fades into soft, nocturnal thrill;
The full moon rises, its silv'ry beams cast
Shadows slanting o'er field and meadows vast,
Cicadas hum, blending with whip-poor-will.

And as I listen at faint hush of dawn,
My spirit soars and sails as if with wings
At ev'ry flute-like note the wood thrush sings,
My soul to Thy eternal love is drawn.

**~Hilda~
© Hilda November 9, 2012.
Hilda Oct 2012
Between the night and daylight,
     As twilight begins to shower,
Comes a lull in the day's preparations,
     Cherished as the Kittys' Hour.

I hear in the kitchen beside me,
     The patter of tiny feet,
Rumbles of varying motors
     With "meow's" gentle and sweet.

Leaping from counter with agile grace
     On my shoulder with a purr;
Sail grave Thomas and sweet Lady Jane,
     And Susan of golden fur.

A "meow," and then a long silence,
     I know by mischievous eyes,
They are scheming and musing together,
     To vanquish my weary sighs.

With sudden dash from the hallway,
     Tortie bounds into my arms!
Felines of all colours sit starring,
     Delighting me with their charms.

Frolicking with skillful ease,
     Tossing and batting their catnip-mouse;
If I run to escape, they surround me,
     They appear to overflow the house.

Suffocating me with their kisses,
     Furry paws patting my face;
And though they have torn the kitchen blinds,
     They dazzle me with their grace.

I hug you all close in loving arms,
     And will n'er let you depart,
Nor ****** you dears out to coyotes,
     For you each have won my heart.

And here shall you dwell forever,
     Cherished more each golden day;
Till this glad house fall into ruin,
     And I in dust shall decay.

                 *
*~Hilda~
© Hilda October 31, 2012.
Jackie Mead Mar 2020
If you are reading chapter 9 you will be familiar with the characters of mine.

There is Mouse, of course, he has a house on the River Louse, his Wife Hilda and 11 Sons and a Daughter.

Frog and Bee, they live on a log in the middle of a bog, happy and free.

The Fly with one eye and his friend dear, that is, of course, the Elf with one Ear.

The Horse and his Master, from the town of Cry.

A Dolly called Molly and her dear friends Ferret the Cat, and a Dog named Mouse, who all live nearby.

In the nearby town of Cry there live a Mayor and Mayoress, a pair of beautiful, graceful Swans.

Mr Mayor has such an air of authority, when he talked people listened, what he was saying took priority.

The Mayoress walked around with such a hypnotising grace, people would stare at her, stuck , unable to move, paralysed in one place.

Together they held people’s attention, lest the Mayor or Mayoress would think to give them a mention.

One day,  it was a warm sunny day on the River Louse and the Mouse with a house on the River Louse was sunning himself in his pretty garden, whilst Bee was buzzing closely by.

The mouse with a house on the River Louse would soon need to go indoors and get ready, he was expecting to see not only Frog and Bee but also his other friends; the Elf with one ear and the Fly with one eye.

They saw each other most days especially now the sun was in the sky and it was warm outside.

They were free to wander wherever they chose; sometimes swimming in the river, sometimes lazing on the bank, closing their eyes, having a doze.

The days passed swiftly when they were all together, no need for advice on social distancing or where to travel or indeed no need for a bellwether.

One fateful day this would all change the dear friends were soon to become estranged.

The Mouse with a house on the River Louse noticed it first; he had seen it on the news, he didn’t believe it affected him, surely he would not be affected by something started in Wan-hu.

That day the Mayor and Mayoress were visiting house to house when they came upon the house that was home to the Mouse with a house on the River Louse.

“Come in, come in” the mouse began to say but the Mayor interrupted him “I have something important to say!”

“Today we have been advised by the Prime Minister that we are no longer to have parties in the sun, a measure called social distancing has begun”

The Mayor continued to say “there is to be no more socialising with your friends until I announce these measures have come to an end”

“Most importantly he continued to say “ “you must wash your hands regularly each day with soap and hot water, pass that on to anyone within your home, your Wife your Sons and Daughter”

“now I must hasten on my way and wish you and your family a good day”

Mouse was beside himself, for once he did not know what to say, he wouldn’t see his friends anymore and the Mayor had implored him to stay indoors.

What was he now to do; who would he pass the time with if not his friends, his whole world was coming to an end.

Hilda his Wife was not so downhearted

“There are tasks indoors you could complete if you don’t want to spend the time downbeat.”

“First there is painting to be done, starting in the boys' bedrooms I was thinking wheatsheaf yellow, you know the colour of the Sun!”

“Next I am sure your Daughter would like you to take her for a ride on her new bike,  around the living room, I think the size of that room is the best.”
“by the time restrictions are lifted she will be ready for her cycle proficiency test”

“We could play a game of chess, monopoly or trivial pursuit, drink grapefruit juice or a glass of wine made from arrowroot.

“There are TV shows that have got the boys excited; like Marvel revisited and Iron Man and Hulk reunited”.

“as for you and me, we can put the children to bed, have a romantic meal, soup of carrot and a main meal of chickpea”

“Does any of this sound appealing to you?”

“Have a think and let us know what you want to do”

The Mouse didn’t have to think or take up with an alcoholic drink, he knew what he wanted to say.

“My dear wife, Hilda, you are quite right, we have each other and that’s alright”  
“if when restrictions come to an end, I will, of course, love to see all my friends, they seem like family too at times”

“For now, though I just need you, my sons and daughters and plenty of soap to wash my feet together with hot water!”

His wife and children began to laugh, they had thought the world had come to an end when Mouse was told not to see his friends.

Instead, now life had just begun, a different life to one he had once known but that was alright because he had his health, children, and wife and that meant he was not alone.

A pandemic had caused the social distancing now in place, travel had been stopped to places far and wide.  

It seemed Humans were the worse affected, but the illness had transcended from animals in the first place, the restrictions, therefore, were needed to protect all animals nationwide.

Restrictions would be in place for the foreseeable time but when lifted the whole village would celebrate with a posh ball and dance to the music of Five in a Pen.  

A posh ball so big, it would include mouse, frog and bee, molly the dolly, elf with one ear, fly with one eye , butterfly and Mayor and Mayoress, ducks of all names, squirrels and snakes, badgers and moles and all manner of creatures would attend this very posh ball.

Creatures would come from far and wide and mouse would have his children and wife by his side and would puff out his chest showing his pride.

As long as his family and friends made it out of restrictions without illness then the plan the Mayor had put in place would seem flawless.

The Mouse with a house on the River Louse knew that times were changing, the after-effects of the pandemic would be long-ranging.

That was a choice he was willing to make for his wife and his children’s sake.
If you are in isolation then my thoughts are with you and I hope you get well soon.
I wrote this to go alongside my other Poems of the Mouse with a house on the River Louse and his friends>
You are the first to read it, I hope you enjoy it and take it for what it is a light relief at this time.
Please I have not mistyped WU-Han, it is an intended difference.
Hilda Nov 2012
In all the world my Daddy is the best
Sometimes he likes to play croquet with me,
And everyday fills each moment with zest:
So that golden hours charm us with their glee.

He teaches me about Heaven and God
From the pages of our worn Bible each day,
And even though he  never uses a rod
Instead Daddy teaches me how to pray.

Sometimes he teases like a little boy,
Plays the piano and sings an old hymn,
Flooding our humble abode with such joy
And say! You guessed it! My Daddy's name is Tim.

    ~Marian and Hilda~
© Hilda November 6, 2012.
Àŧùl Jan 2016
To thank each one of you,
Today, I take the opportunity,
By taking names for your support.

For being the source,
First of all, I thank Life,
For the inspiration she was.

She guided me to Hello Poetry,
Introduced me to new friends,
Broke up ultimately however.

Then I thank Timothy Salter,
For his own and his family's,
Articulate poetry helped me.

Madam Hilda writes as amazing,
And as amazing is their daughter,
It is hard to tell if Marian wrote it.

It's helping me learn more,
Respecting it has taught me,
Had to be paid to earn more.

Not forgetting Gitacharya Vedala,
For he elaborates on every detail,
Thereby helping me experiment.

Same is for Pradip Chattopadhyay,
Hinting of Rabindranath Tagore,
He's the poet clad in sombrero.

Their pure physics at soul poetry,
Helped me learn experimenting,
With sheer hollow truthfulness

I then engage in remembering,
Elsa Angelica for inspiring me,
Her own poetry is developing.

She inspired me to improve,
My strengths & weaknesses,
She taught me being lucid.

Then of course I thank Sukeerti,
She taught me being beautiful,
Without being too explaining.

She encouraged my writing,
Always was their as a friend,
Giving me her positive inputs.

Madam Elizabeth 'Lizzie' Squires,
Aptly mature her poetry is always,
Very much to learn always exists.

Her persona is respectable,
Definitely motherly her aura,
Making her a poet so reputable.

Several other poets fascinate me,
Equally instead of less or more,
They all teach me the lessons.

Madam Sally A Bayan is there,
Her sweet mature bits of advice,
Best complemented by her poetry.

Shayana Shrikanthalingam,
Seeing all her polished poetry,
Not such a difficult name for me.

Ever inseparable they are,
Brandon & Earl Jane Nagley,
They are the immortal lovers.

And I recognize the beauty,
An Indian model here on H.P.,
Poetry surely as cute as herself.

She is the most elegant girl,
On Hello Poetry and in reality,
Bhumika Fulwani I refer to here.

Finally, I express my gratitude to her,
In my life she's the ultimate one,
Now I needn't anyone else.

She is my Pooja Shah,
She is exclusively mine,
She is here forever to stay.
I have a very poor memory.
I might have missed some names.
So please forgive me if I have forgotten you.

But I assure you that I have full respect for you.

My HP Poem #992
©Atul Kaushal
Nat Lipstadt Sep 2017
Good on You (a love poem),
this one, is, good, on you.  

phrase uttered, measured, apace,
each comma,
a paused breath of:

admiration, enveloped by
a secret pleasure coating,
saucier prepared,
the base, the pleasured secret in this
mans minds eye unseen.

each comma,
precisely the carbon copy of the
comma curve of dark hair that
falls from a forehead down to the chin,
in a museum quality photograph,
as if it was intended to hold, contain,
your sly blunt moody,
and full plated whimsy,
when that half-smile poesy is in place.

good on you,
slow please,
not
goodonyou.

did you think, I did not have, a special bottle,
a Grand Cru,
a pinot noir, in the reserve,
inside the locked cellar of me,
to be used to anoint mine own
English Duchess of Burgundy?

well and proper aged,
but unlabelled,
till you provided
the appelation, the domaine,
good, on, you.  

the bottle dusty, the feelings, not.
if we never meet, matters not,
the gentility, tous les bons mots,
good in you,
hid in in all of the
astounding incredible poems
I well-addicted need,
those archeological mounds of a life,
I excavate and well heed,
going from one to the next,
me, the bumbling bee,
pollenating, following the path of the
watermarked tracks of
the King's Cross,
alas, they do not offer a couchette,
from Terminal 4 to London Bridge

unlike a teenager
happy to confess,
I am even younger,
an old fool, a geezer,
in love with a museum quality smile,
as he totters down to the Tottenham Hale station,
to catch the blue colored line, to the station after Vauxhall)
(oh dear, what's it called again?)
walking 10 to 2, saying ta to all
who assist his
two hands on an old man's bent feet,
steering the wheelhouse heart through its tubes

this is an undedicated poem,
retuned and returned,
addressee unknown, yet I know
by the greening dew droplets decorating faces,
that come so easy,
not a one wrung out,
you know
the who's of the true ownership,
the clarification,
in the bread crumbs,
fully disclosed,
left by me,
but for me,
in order to retrace my steps,
to find the railing,
when the steady on need arises

some Tuesday next,
will disembark from a riverboat,
at the old Tate,
spending my afternoon,
staring at an imaginary museum quality photograph,
till the guard surly reminds the pesky Yank,
its past closing time,
the man who will not be moved,
for already he, past overcome,
so why be thinking on why leaving,
for he will only be back again tomorrow.

so different.

mine, simple declarative sentences,
typically matter of fact,
so **** presumptuous,
those ill mannered,
know it all Ameddicans.

yours, lace doilles,
in a pub, with Hilda and Bill,
drinking pale ale,
from a porcelain cup,
and I am laughing,
Why?

It is all,
Good on Us,
a, love, poem,
indeed,
no kidding kid.
the object of my affection shall remain anonymous, in proper British poetic fashion
Hilda Apr 2013
The lotus dances on the lake at night
under the bright moon
and the water lily  ballets upon the river
the fairies dance in the shadows of the moon
the flowers waltz in the meadow
and the moon casts its rays upon the ground
making the ground look like silvery
shadows of light hitting the
waltzing flowers
the sounds of crickets and that of katydids
and nighttime birds fill the
air
and the sweet fragrance of
lavender, lilacs, honeysuckles,
and roses fill the air
and the lotus continues
to dance on the lake
to the song of nighttime birds and insects
and the water lily continues
to ballet upon the river
to the song of the flowing river
that she ballets upon

only at night

**~Hilda~
© Hilda April 24, 2013
Jeff Stier Jul 2016
She is the slyest creature
ever whelped by wolf
or woman

A barking beast
small in stature
huge in heart

Face framed by fire
done up in fur
the friendliest constellation
in the night sky
one known to all
Hilda

She is coyote
on a good day
a wolf cub at play
a lover in the morning
noon
and night

A slight and feral hound
with ideas of her own

We found her
in the company of
a wizard.
Oh yes!

And he wove for us
a sweet spell of harmony
well mingled
with domestic peace.

Hilda was the incantation.
And the spell was strong.
Hilda Apr 2013
Loaves of bread to bake,
House cats to feed,
Never enough time.

Books to read,
And novels to write,
There's never enough time.

A daughter with the flu,
To help heal,
There's never too much time.

Meals to cook,
And my family to feed,
There's never enough time.

*~Hilda~
Marian Nov 2012
In all the world my Daddy is the best
Sometimes he likes to play croquet with me,
And everyday fills each moment with zest:
So that golden hours charm us with their glee.

He teaches me about Heaven and God
From the pages of our worn Bible each day,
And even though he  never uses a rod
Instead Daddy teaches me how to pray.

Sometimes he teases like a little boy,
Plays the piano and sings an old hymn,
Flooding our humble abode with such joy
And say! You guessed it! My Daddy's name is Tim.

~Marian and Hilda~
Hilda Jul 2013
I sought Him in temples where anthems swell
Stained glass windows and polished sermons suave;
Yet here I knew He did not dwell,
While poor child of dust creeps to his grave.

I sought Him in churches rustic and plain
Eager to drown my heartfelt sorrow,
These mockery so futile and vain
As I searched for a brighter morrow.

In meadow alone, a breeze touched my face
Whispering of days bygone, yet still dear
When life flowed at a leisurely pace
And I felt His presence - O! so near!

Bittersweet weeping of the mourning dove
Awakens me to sad pleading eyes
Shattering my heart with vials of love.
Forsaken man and beast hold God's disguise.

I see Him in each rippling blade of grass
When dew of morn glistens with His tears.
In moaning of wind I hear Him pass
Through aromatic pines and lose all fears.

God does not dwell in temples made with hand,
But speaks to us through each soughing pine.
Proud wealthiest mansions o'er all the land
Mocked by His majestic Hand divine.





**~Hilda~
© Hilda July 31, 2013.
Hilda Mar 2013
Belated Happy
Birthday Madison Sweet Friend
Sorry This Is Late



~Hilda~
Hilda Nov 2012
The days have vanished golden years,—
       Years but a doleful mem'ry now;
       I hear the dirge of rough winds howl,
Above his grave to mock my tears.

Remem'ring when his strength was low;
       When hunger failed and ceased his play,
       He trod a frail more painful way;
I trust he's now in Thee made whole.

He is not here but far away,
       The driving rain like heaven's tears
       Show'ring his grave for latter years
From skies to match my spirit grey.

With breaking heart I linger nigh,
       Loathe e'er to leave his gloomy bed;
       I wish it could be me instead
Than one so gentle had to die.

He sleeps beneath the sullen sod,
       Beneath harsh sunlight and bleak rain;
       No more to suffer any pain,
While the pure soul rests with his God.

                    **~Hilda~
In Memoriam to our beloved cat Alfred lord Pusah, who fell into eternal sleep 7 October, 2012 @ 4 am. © Hilda November 3, 2012.
Hilda Sep 2014
And still I dream of stepping back into yesterday
Where time flowed so freely golden with serenity
We would sit in pine scented grove and sip lemonade
Our talk tranquil as sun dappled creek murmuring in quiet wood
Never arguing or complaining but flooded with blissful reverie
A time bygone and peaceful, learning to know each other again
Listening to the background symphony of cicadas and katydids
Poignantly nostalgic with yearnings of bygone days
Watching velvety dusk deepen into shades of whispering night
Relishing each breeze laden with moss and murmuring pine
Anticipating the dawn awakened by drowsy robins and wood thrush
Skies east to west stained with strawberry hues and dreams renewed
And still I shall dream on

**~Hilda~
© Hilda September 7, 2014  Eleven o'clock PM
Dr Sam Burton Oct 2014
What a shame
When someone loses fame
For doing nothing
Because of a shortcoming

For days, he was liked
Taken care of and prized
But once he had to be away
Got forgotten and castaway

He was called a liar
To be put on fire
He was blamed
Accused and defamed

For, frankly speaking, no reason
Yet he was charged with treason
Days ago was a family member
Now he's put at stake of timber

Indeed, very odd is man
When he is subject to ban
When jealousy driven
And heart-striken

Lucky is a freeman
Who refuses to live in a can
Lucky is the man
Who is not fried on a pan.

Sam Burton(C)







Today is Friday, Oct. 11, the 284 day of 2014 with 81 to follow.

The moon is waning. Morning stars are Jupiter and Venus. Evening stars are Mars, Mercury, Neptune, Uranus and Saturn.
In 1845, the U.S. Naval Academy was formally opened at Fort Severn, Annapolis, Md., with 50 midshipmen in the first class.

In 1886, Griswold Lorillard of Tuxedo Park, N.Y., fashioned the first tuxedo for men.

A thought for the day:

We all should rise above the clouds of ignorance, narrowness and selfishness. -- Booker T. Washington


Quotes for the day:

A good traveller is one who does not know where he is going to, and a perfect traveller does not know where he came from.

------------------------

All women's dresses are merely variations on the eternal struggle between admitted desire to dress and the unadmitted desire to undress.

Lin Yutang

"What seems to us as bitter trials are often blessings in disguise."

Oscar Wilde

"It takes but one positive thought when given a chance to survive and thrive to overpower an entire army of negative thoughts."

Robert H. Schuller

My boyfriend and I broke up. He wanted to get married and I didn't want him to.

Rita Rudner

It is only by following your deepest instinct that you can lead a rich life, and if you let your fear of consequence prevent you from following your deepest instinct, then your life will be safe, expedient and thin.

Katharine Butler Hathaway


TIVIA


What made Lucky Lindy so special?

Charles Lindbergh was not the first man to fly the Atlantic. He was the sixty-seventh. The first sixty-six made the crossing in dirigibles and twin-engine mail planes. Lindbergh was the first to make the dangerous flight alone.

Can your brain hurt?

Only figuratively -- Pain from any injury or illness is always registered by the brain. Yet, curiously, the brain tissue itself is immune to pain; it contains none of the specialized receptor cells that sense pain in other parts of the body. The pain associated with brain tumors does not arise from brain cells but from the pressure created by a growing tumor or tissues outside the brain.


Where can you see a lot of magnets?

More than 7,000 magnets are on display at the Guinness World of Records Museum and Gift Shop, located on the Las Vegas Strip. The exhibit is a portion of the more than 26,000-magnet collection of Louise J. Greenfarb, dubbed "The Magnet Lady," whose accumulation was designated by the Guinness Book of World Records as the world's "Largest Refrigerator Magnet" collection.



Poetry

Evening Star

Edgar Allan Poe

'Twas noontide of summer,
And mid-time of night;
And stars, in their orbits,
Shone pale, thro' the light
Of the brighter, cold moon,
'Mid planets her slaves,
Herself in the Heavens,
Her beam on the waves.
I gazed awhile
On her cold smile;
Too cold- too cold for me-
There pass'd, as a shroud,
A fleecy cloud,
And I turned away to thee,
Proud Evening Star,
In thy glory afar,
And dearer thy beam shall be;
For joy to my heart
Is the proud part
Thou bearest in Heaven at night,
And more I admire
Thy distant fire,
Than that colder, lowly light.


Vocabulary

Strudel

noun

: a pastry made from a thin sheet of dough rolled up with filling and baked

Example:

Strudels are usually made with high-gluten flour to increase the malleability of the dough.

"The Supremes belted out a song on the radio, their voices as smooth and flawless as the ribbon of cream Kirsten poured from the pitcher onto her father's strudel, and the whole house smelled cheerfully of pork and spiced apples, laced with a note of butter. — From Rebecca Coleman’s 2011 novel The Kingdom of Childhood



Health and Beauty Tip

Mineral Water for greasy hair

If you have oily hair, use a shampoo that contains zinc. It's okay to condition if you feel you need it -- just don't use it on your roots and scalp.


JOKES

Funny News

From the Churchdown Parish Magazine:
"Would the Congregation please note that the bowl at the back of the Church, labelled 'For The Sick,' is for monetary donations only."

-o-

From The Guardian concerning a sign seen in a Police canteen in Christchurch, New Zealand:
'Will the person who took a slice of cake from the Commissioner's Office return it immediately. It is needed as evidence in a poisoning case."

-o-

From The Times:

A young girl, who was blown out to sea on a set of inflatable teeth, was rescued by a man on an inflatable lobster. A coast-guard spokesman commented: 'This sort of thing is all too common these days.'

-o-

From The Gloucester Citizen:

A *** line caller complained to Trading Standards. After dialling an 0891 number from an advertisement entitled 'Hear Me Moan' the caller was played a tape of a woman nagging her husband for failing to do jobs around the house! . Consumer Watchdogs in Dorset refused to look into the complaint, saying, 'He got what he deserved.'

-o-

From The Barnsley Chronicle:

Police arrived quickly, to find Mr Melchett hanging by his fingertips from the back wall. He had run out of the house when the owner, Paul Finch, returned home unexpectedly, and, spotting an intruder in the garden, had visiting Mrs Finch and, hearing the front door open, had climbed out of the rear window. But the back wall was 8 feet high and Mr Melchett had been unable to get his leg over.

-o-

From The Scottish Big Issue:

In Sydney, 120 men named Henry attacked each other during a 'My Name is Henry' convention. Henry ****** of Canberra accused Henry Pap of Sydney of not being a Henry at all, but in fact an Angus. 'It was a lie', explained Mr Pap, 'I'm a Henry and always will be,' whereupon Henry Pap attacked Henry ******, whilst two other Henrys - Jones and Dyer - attempted ! to pull them apart. Several more Henrys - Smith, Calderwood an! d Andrew s - became involved and soon the entire convention descended into a giant fist fight. The brawl was eventually broken up by riot police, led by a man named Shane.

-o-

From The Daily Telegraph:

In a piece headed "Brussels Pays 200,000 Pounds to Save Prostitutes": "[T]he money will not be going directly into the prostitutes' pocket, but will be used to encourage them to lead a better life. We will be training them for new positions in hotels."

-o-

From The Derby Abbey Community News:

We apologise for the error in the last edition, in which we stated that 'Mr Fred Nicolme is a defective in the police force.' This was a typographical error. We meant of course that Mr Nicolme is a detective in the police farce.

-o-
From The Guardian:

After being charged 20 pounds for a 10 pounds overdraft, 30 year old Michael Howard of Leeds changed his name by deed poll to 'Yorkshire Bank Plc are Fascist! *s.' The Bank has now asked him to close his account, and Mr *s has asked them to repay the 69p balance by cheque, made out in his new name.

-o-

From The Manchester Evening News:

Police called to arrest a naked man on the platform at Piccadilly Station released their suspect after he produced a valid rail ticket.

-o-

An Austrian circus dwarf died recently when he bounced sideways from a trampoline and was swallowed by a hippopotamus. Seven thousand people watched as little Franz Dasch popped into the mouth of Hilda the Hippo and the animal's gag reflex forced it to swallow. The crowd applauded wildly before other circus people realized what had happened.

-o-

An elderly woman at a unit for sufferers of senile dementia passed round a box of mothballs thinking that they were mints. Eleven people were taken to hospital for treatment.

Confessional Etiquette


The new priest is nervous about hearing confessions, so he asks an older priest to sit in on his sessions. The new priest hears a couple confessions, then the old priest asks him to step out of the confessional for a few suggestions.
The old priest says, "Cross your arms over your chest and rub your chin with one hand."

The new priest tries this. The old priest suggests, "Try saying things like, 'I see,' 'yes,' 'go on,' 'I understand,' and 'how did you feel about that?'"

The new priest says those things, trying them out. The old priest says, "Now, don't you think that's a little better than saying, 'Whoa... What happened next?'"

So Funny

A guy purchased Willie Nelson's hair for $37,000. ***** removed his braids and the guy bought them for $37,000. This is the kind of decision you make after spending the day on Willie's tour bus.

David Litterman

Did you hear what happened to Willie Nelson's hair? They sold it. There was an auction this week and a pair of Willie Nelson's braids sold for $37,000. It's a good deal because each braid has a street value of $80,000.

Jimmy Kimmel

Quick Blonde Jokes

Q: Why did the blonde keep putting quarters in the soda vending machine?

A: Because she thought she was winning.

Q: Why did the blonde take 16 friends to the movies?

A: Under 17 not admitted!

Q: Why did the blonde bake a chicken for 3 and a half days?

A: It said cook it for half an hour per pound, and she weighed 125.


Have a very nice Saturday!
Àŧùl May 2013
Starting from the newest, these are my first fifty followers on Hello Poetry.

1. Hailey L May 5
2. Elizabeth Squires May 4
3. Tim Knight May 3
4. Morgan Hanchulak May 3
5. Vi Snicket May 2
6. Jessica Applegate Apr 30
7. Himanshu Koshe Apr 30
8. Mike Winegar Apr 29
9. Joey Lapiana Apr 29
10. Christopher Munro Apr 29
11. Raffi Kaftajian Apr 26
12. Shari Forman Apr 25
13. Jessica Who Apr 24
14. RedWritingHood Apr 22
15. Adreishka Moonlight Apr 21
16. Rocky G Apr 19
17. Sarina Apr 18
18. John Moffatt Apr 17
19. Izisfat Apr 9
20. Leila Apr 8
21. Marian Apr 5
22. Star Toucher64 Mar 30
23. Michelle Mar 26
24. Kristo Frost Mar 25
25. Ra Mar 20
26. Jacqueline Melissa Woolums Mar 15
27. ennyo Mar 11
28. Ellen Menzies Mar 9
29. Jodi Casavant Mar 8
30. Jillyan Adams Feb 20
31. Hailey Scomet Feb 2
32. Pete Taken Alive Jan 17
33. Md HUDA Jan 6
34. Joshua Ohmer Jan 1
35. Quinn Puwang Dec 30, 2012
36. Rissa Ann Dec 10, 2012
37. Hilda Dec 9, 2012
38. Rena Julleitta Dec 7, 2012
39. Emily Rose Williams Dec 7, 2012
40. Abdosh A Dec 5, 2012
41. Naveena Vijayan Dec 4, 2012
42. Kristian Alexander George Dec 1, 2012
43. Oliver Delgaram-Nejad Dec 1, 2012
44. Chessnie Lea Nov 27, 2012
45. Ugochukwu-Charles Onyewuchi Nov 25, 2012
46. Timothy Nov 24, 2012
47. Who Am I Nov 24, 2012
48. Matthew P Hill Nov 23, 2012
49. Tomas Nov 21, 2012

I gained inspirations for my poems from all my followers, those who I follow and especially my lovely little one who brought me here to Hello Poetry first, to a safe haven of like-minded people with a poetic niche each.
Thank you all.

First of all I thank you Eliot York for creating this wonderful poetry blog.

(-: And how can I ever thank you enough for introducing me to this wonderful website, just like Krishna guides Arjun in grand Mahabharata epic. You are my Krishna and I am your Arjun. :-)
(-: You share the place with Eliot York and the family of Timothy sir for inspiring my poems & helping me define my poetic style. As you are a kid for me, your heart is a crystal to me from where I can see the world more clearly in a different way. :-)
Thanks to all,
Thanks Timothy sir for you inspire me to develop my own style of poetry,
Thanks for the introduction to Hello Poetry.
This is not exactly a poem,
Thanks note it is.
My HP Poem #219
E B joined me at Hello Poetry on this day itself.
©Atul Kaushal

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