Or not, depending on my mood
I saw this lovely big red rose while out for a walk this afternoon, and it reminded me of Robert Burns 1794 song ‘A Red Red Rose’ which we learned (along with a lot more Rabbie Burns poems) at primary school in Scotland, the simple tune to which I’ve been humming gently ever since… ❤
O my Luve’s like a red red rose,
That’s newly sprung in June:
O my Luve’s like the melodie,
That’s sweetly play’d in tune’
Just Leave Me Be…
Don’t burst my bubble
I mean no trouble
Thanks for your kind care
I’m going nowhere
I sit here instead
Alone with my head
Avoiding the fire
Of burning desire –
Under leafy tree
Please just leave me be…
Uncivil War…
Forever plagued by ‘should’ and ‘ought’
Self-discipline so firmly taught
Just leaves me feeling overwrought –
A battleground I never sought.
So rigidly it binds me tight
Held captive by the thought of ‘right’
Internally I feud and fight –
But can’t escape, try as I might.
A childhood foe in adult skin
Craves self-approval from within
While fearing judgement outwards in –
Uncivil war I cannot win…
Semantics…
Rhetoric the main concern
Doublespeak a favoured term
Weasel words imply and squirm
No clear meaning fixed and firm
Spin and soundbites fill the space
Lies instead of facts in place
Semantics twisted to your face
Politics a pure disgrace…
Scribe me a tribute
Bribe me with ribbons of love
Scribbled by my tribe
Yeah, I know, it doesn’t actually make any sense, but it’s what came into my head when I saw this week’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt of ‘rib’ – it seems the innner workings of my mind are even weirder than I thought… 🙂
Count your garden by the flowers
Never by the leaves that fall
Count your days by golden hours
Don't remember clouds at all
Count your nights by stars not shadows
Count your life with smiles not tears
And with joy through all your journeys
Count your age by friends not years ❤
I’ve been reading all sorts of different bits and pieces of random stuff at my parents’ house over the last few weeks. Apparently this little verse was remembered from an old calendar by one of the contributors to a little pamphlet titled ‘Evergreen Memories’ about elderly resident’s memories of living in the old fishing village of Ardersier on the North East coast of Scotland (where I brought my kids up). The sweet sentiment of the verse caught my attention and I copied it down to keep, so have decided to share it for Chris and Cee’s Pick Me Up for today 🙂
Dad has porridge for breakfast each day
Made with meal, the traditional way
Boil with water and salt
Stirring smoothly, don't halt
Till it thickens to soft glossy grey... 🙂
