Poetry Monday :: Salt

Dear readers ... I am not blogging much right now and for the next couple of days. I just got a new old computer and I have to install everything back in ... and wrestle it until it does what I want it to do -  instead of me doing what it wants me to do.

Reading of blogs, commenting and hopefully writing will resume soon - I hope.

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Kære læsere, da Uglemor fik en nybrugt computer i går, vil det lige vare et par dage, før hun er færdig med at kæmpe med installationer og få computeren til at gøre so hun ønsker og ikke dne anden vej rundt.
Blogging, læsning af blogs og kommentarer vil komme i gang igen snart!

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Mandagsdigtet er en blogleg, som Mimi fra Messymimi's Meanderings og jeg har overtaget - midlertidigt håber vi - fra Diane, der slapper af og rejser verden rundt med sin mand. Vi håber hun er parat til at tage over igen, når hun kommer hjem.

Dagens tema er: Salt, der fik mig til at tænke på drilleverset "Gråskæg Halt" fra "Skyggens lærling" af John Flanagan ... det var bare sådan, at verset med Halt og salt kun findes i den danske udgave - Skyggens lærling - Troldmanden fra nord (tror jeg nok) Så nu har jeg stjålet John Flanagans originaltekst og lavet omkvædet om efter den danske udgave - efter bedste evne og hukommelse. Måske finder jeg bogen - bortført af en eller anden ugleunge - eller måske bare forlagt - vi har MANGE bøger! Så kommer verset på dansk.

For at kunne fortsætte denne blogleg uden at overanstrenge os selv – vi vil skrive digte og fjolle lidt rundt, ikke rive os i håret over at have glemt at finde nye på stikord - har Mimi og jeg besluttet at vi hægter os på gruppen  365 Days of Drawing Prompts and other Arts. Det er en Facebook-gruppe, der udgiver et stikord til hver dag i året. Vi starter den første mandag i august – og bare rolig, stikordene vil stadig være at finde både her og på Mimis blog.

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Mimi of Messymimi's Meanderings and I have taken over the hosting duties, mostly the supplying of the prompts - only temporarily we hope - while Diane at On the Border is taking a break for health and relaxation, travelling the world with her husband as far as we can tell.
 
We just hope she's going to take back over once she returns home.

In order to to continue this challenge and not overexert ourselves - we want to write poems and goof around a bit, not spend time pulling out our hairs over forgetting to find new prompts - Mimi and I have decided to latch onto the 365 Days of Drawing Prompts and other Arts group. This is a Facebook group with a prompt for each day of the year. We'll do this from August 4th, the first Monday of August. But no worries, the prompts will still be here and at Mimi's blog.

  I have something to ask of you: If you read this and the poetry of others via the links, would you please leave a comment.
  Half - if not more - the fun of these challenges is receiving the responses of others.

Today's subject is Salt. This made a song from John Flanagan's Ranger's Apprentice chase its tail through my brains ... only the "salt" refrain is from the Danish books and does not exist in the English version :)

NOTE:
Only the refrain was remade by me; the verse cited here are the ones most alike to the Danish version and written by John Flanagan in one of the Ranger's Apprentice books, I think it's from The Sorcerer of the North.
LINK to the whole text.

    Greybeard Halt, Greybeard Halt
    Worth his weight in salt.
    Greybeard Halt, Greybeard Halt
    He makes the thieves at fault.

Greybeard Halt, he lost a bet
He lost his winter cloak
When winter comes, Halt stays warm
By sleeping 'mongst the goats.

    Greybeard Halt, Greybeard Halt
    Worth his weight in salt.
    Greybeard Halt, Greybeard Halt
    He makes the thieves at fault.

Greybeard Halt is a fighting man
I’ve heard common talk
That Greybeard Halt, he cuts his hair
With his saxe knife and fork!

    Greybeard Halt, Greybeard Halt
    Worth his weight in salt.
    Greybeard Halt, Greybeard Halt
    He makes the thieves at fault.

Every Monday we'll meet and write poetry once again.

July 14 Salt (Today)
July 21 Quince
Aug 4 Lonely
Aug 11 Biscuits
Aug 18 Don’t be afraid
Aug 25 Wonderful
   

Poetry Monday :: Funny

Every Monday is Poetry Monday.

Mimi of Messymimi's Meanderings and I have taken over the hosting duties, mostly the supplying of the prompts - only temporarily we hope - while Diane at On the Border is taking a break for health and relaxation, travelling the world with her husband as far as we can tell.
 
We just hope she's going to take back over once she returns home again.

  I have something to ask of you: If you read this and the poetry of others via the links, would you please leave a comment.
  Half - if not more - the fun of these challenges is receiving the responses of others.

Funny - I'm not very funny today, but then I remebered this verse ... it is funny and it even contains the word funny.

I eat my peas with honey;
I've done it all my life.
It makes the peas taste funny,
But it keeps them on the knife.

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Up and coming:
February 10: Funny (today)
February 17: Fidgety
February 24: Fluffy
March  3: Station
March  10: Ghost
March  17: Steam
March  24: Orange
March  31: Turn

Poetry Monday :: Watermelon ~ Nothing so Far, and Why

Every time I hear the word Watermelon, today's clue, I think of a children's play I saw with my school as a small one.

I imagined finding the lyrics for one of the songs, called The Last Watermelon in Town, would be fairly easy. And then I would translate / re-poemize it for today's post.

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I just forgot the harsh Danish copyright laws concerning lyrics and scores.
An English or German tune from 1969 would be no problem to find. Not so a Danish one.
It is impossible to find more than 3 lines from the song online, and the book is only accessible from a few public libraries in Denmark. Of course none of them remotely close to where I live. I could have it sent to the library close to me, and get it there, but this is not done in under 8 days - not remotely Monday any more.

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Maybe later today more will follow. I'm squeezing my brain.

The lines I found so far in Danish:

Her kommer jeg med byens sidste vandmelon, og hvis dragen blir liggende får vi ikke mere mad eller mælk eller smør eller æg eller æbler eller flæsk. Så er det slut med ... og vandmelonerne!

Poetry Monday :: Mischief :: Writers' Block

This time around I'm stealing.

I DID NOT WRITE THIS. But it's so to the point!

 I wonder if there's some kind of doc
For a bad case of writer's block
You make an appointment
He gets you some ointment
And you can get back on the clock.

This witty limerick was written by Dave of Leap of Dave.

I asked then if I could use it. ... He never answered.
It's more than a year ago. So now I just post  it.

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Next Mondays topic: Watermelon

Poetry Monday :: Roses :: NOT my Words

Somewhere in the "Rules" for Poetry Monday, hosted by  Diane at On the Border I read that you could also cite somebody else's poetry. I'll use this option today, as Roses inevitably make this pop into my brain.

I heard it in "Singing in the Rain" long ago and wrote of it in one of my earlier chapters on Susan and the Unicorn Farm. (Link). I even know the exact date of this scene: November 12, 1977.

Moses supposes his toeses are roses,
but Moses supposes erroneously.
For Moses he knowses his toeses aren't roses
as Moses supposes his toeses to be.

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Next Monday: Sea Monsters

Poetry Monday :: Be Humble ~ can't do!

Poetry Monday: Be Humble, no can't do - every time I try, this one starts:

Oh Lord it's hard to be humble
When you're perfect in every way
I can't wait to look in the mirror
Cause I get better looking each day
To know me is to love me
I must be a hell of a man
Oh Lord It's hard to be humble,
But I'm doing the best that I can.

Written by Mac Davis in 1974, I think.

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Next Monday: Pineapple

Poetry Monday :: Muffin

Poetry Monday is hosted by Diane, and she and Mimi of Messymimi's Meanderings - who supplies us with many of the topics - are also writing wonderful, funny, thought-provoking, ingenious and honestly well written verse. Go and read them!
  Karen of Baking in a Tornado has joined us in this crazy pursuit, and promises us at least a poem a month!
  SpikesBestMate often publishes a nice verse in the comments.
  Jenny at Procrastinating Donkey who has been a faithful participant, was slowly returning to blogging after her husband's passing from this world. But then a humongous storm blew past and interrupted the flow of electricity and it seems Jenny never really got back after this. Let's hope there's nothing worse happening than a break, and let's continue to send warm thoughts, good energy, and lots of prayers her way. Let us hope that she will return to blogging and maybe eventually join Poetry Monday again, she, and her wit and positive energy is sorely missed.

Today I do not function well. I'm having a headache, and every time I think "Muffin" the only thing surfacing is these two lines which is all I remember from a crazy song my daughter and her classmates made up when she went to school in Salzgitter-Lebenstedt, Germany (2003-2004):

Wir sitzen im Kreis und teilen ein Glas Gurken
denn wir sind Superhelden und bekämpfen allen bösen Schurken

Translation:
We're siting in a circle and share a glass of gherkins
For we are super-heroes and are fighting all the evil villains.

If Iris Flavia of Double-Half or One Ten without ham is reading this, please correct and tell anything you might know about this.

The MUFFINS did however inspire me to a drawing for the Simple Daily Drawing challenge.

My other drawings for this challenge - bad and not so bad - can be seen on my drawing blog: Uglemor tegner, where we also meet Habakuk and his wife Abelone, and now and then a Droplet or two.

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Next Monday: Candy Canes

Poetry Monday :: MITTENS

It sure is time for mittens, and I'm knitting mittens. But whenever I hear "mittens", this song goes on auto-playback in my head:

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
Bright copper kettles and warm woollen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favourite things

Cream-coloured ponies and crisp apfelstrudels
Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles
Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings
These are a few of my favourite things

Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes
Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes
Silver white winters that melt into springs
These are a few of my favourite things

When the dog bites, when the bee stings
When I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favourite things
And then I don't feel so bad


I'm sure you all know this one. Salzburg, The Sound of Music, and Maria von Trapp means something special to MotherOwl. And I think we need some more of the uncomplicatedness and sweetness contained in these lines.

Next Monday: Poinsettia or Potted Plants

Poetry Monday :: Bathtubs

Today it's Poetry Monday once again. The theme: Bathtubs!

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 Diane - who has taken over the hosting of  this challenge - and Mimi of Messymimi's Meanderings - who supplies us with many of the topics - are also writing wonderful, funny, thought-provoking, ingenious and honestly well written verse. Go and read them!
  Karen of Baking in a Tornado has joined us in this crazy pursuit, and promises us at least a poem a month!
  SpikesBestMate often publishes a nice verse in the comments.
  Jenny at Procrastinating Donkey who has been a faithful participant, is slowly returning to blogging after her husband's passing from this world. Let's continue to send warm thoughts, good energy, and lots of prayers her way, now that her mum's health is in need of a prayer too. But still we dare hope that she will join Poetry Monday again.
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  This sure is a thing worthy of praise, I remember them throughout all my life. The first as long as dad was tall in a cellar rickety and cold. Then later the luxury of a room with sea blue tiles and heating in the floor. Then the small one in our new house, that never turned into a home, the less said about this the better, except this is where I gave our cat a bath.
  Then I left home, and for some years I lived without one. It was hard. and when we went house hunting, one of my demands was: A bathtub! So now we have one once again, and MotherOwl loves her soak after a day in the garden or on the roads.

  I can't make a poem to praise the bathtub - maybe from the first lines above you see that I tried -  because every time I try, this one begins inside my brains.
  I bow to the master:

Bathing Song!
Sing hey! for the bath at close of day
that washes the weary mud away!
A loon is he that will not sing:
O! Water Hot is a noble thing!

O! Sweet is the sound of falling rain,
and the brook that leaps from hill to plain;
but better than rain or rippling streams
is Water Hot that smokes and steams.

O! Water cold we may pour at need
down a thirsty throat and be glad indeed;
but better is beer if drink we lack,
and Water Hot poured down the back.

O! Water is fair that leaps on high
in a fountain white beneath the sky;
but never did fountain sound so sweet
as splashing Hot Water with my feet!

J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring Chapter: A Conspiracy Unmasked.

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Next Monday: Halloween or your favourite Knock-Knock Joke

Poetry Monday :: Ask a Stupid Question

  We've always been taught that no question is stupid.
  But I think nonetheless that the question asked in this song is stupid. Because you can't truthfully answer in the affirmative:

Frère Jacques, Frère Jacques,
Dormez-vous? Dormez-vous?
Sonnez les matines! Sonnez les matines!
Ding, dang, dong. Ding, dang, dong.

Are you sleeping? Are you sleeping?
Brother John, Brother John,
Morning bells are ringing! Morning bells are ringing!
Ding, dang, dong. Ding, dang, dong.

Mester Jacob, mester Jacob!
Sover du, sover du?
Hører du ej klokken?
Hører du ej klokken?
Bim, bam, bum. Bim, bam, bum!

And I'm sorry not to be more creative and so on for this Poetry Monday.
I'm having neck troubles, leading to dizziness, drastically diminishing my computer time and my fun.

Next Mondays topic: Golf 

Poetry Monday :: Father :: Not My Words

Today I'm cheating. The Father I want to honour today is the spiritual father - our priests, and what better poem than this (Irish, I think) prayer/poem?

The Beautiful Hands of a Priest.

We need them in life's early morning,
We need them again at its close;
We feel their warm clasp of true friendship,
We seek them while tasting life's woes.
When we come to this world we are sinful,
The greatest as well as the least.
And the hands that make us pure as angels
Are the beautiful hands of a priest.

At the altar each day we behold them,
And the hands of a king on his throne
Are not equal to them in their greatness
Their dignity stands alone.
For there in the stillness of morning
Ere the sun has emerged from the east,
There God rests between the pure fingers
Of the beautiful hands of a priest.

When we are tempted and wander
To pathways of shame and sin
'Tis the hand of a priest that will absolve us.
Not once but again and again.
And when we are taking life's partner
Other hands may prepare us a feast
But the hands that will bless and unite us,
Are the beautiful hands of a priest.

God bless them and keep them all holy,
For the Host which their fingers caress,
What can a poor sinner do better
But to praise Thee who chose thee to bless
When the death dews on our eyes are falling,
May our courage and strength be increased
To see, raised above us in blessing
The beautiful hands of a priest.

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Next Mondays Topic: Bubbles.

Poetry Monday :: Ancestor ... Not Mine

Mimi of Messymimi's Meanderings and Diane of On the Border  are taking turns supplying us with a topic for this weekly endeavour. They also always write wonderful, either funny, thought-provoking, ingenious or simply good verse. Go and read.
   Jenny at Procrastinating Donkey is taking a break due to her husband's ill health. Let's send warm thoughts, good energy and lots of prayers their way. 

  Today I am feeling run down, hung up, and sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread, for this reason I won't be participating in Poetry Monday with a verse of my own. But participate I will. I always felt related to the Hobbits. Frodo and Bilbo, Merry, Pippin, Sam and all the other Hobbits are among my ancestry - at least in the spirit. 
  I'm off to have my second breakfast, and so I'll let J.R.R. Tolkien speak for me:  

Lament For Gandalf - by Frodo 
When evening in the Shire was grey
his footsteps on the Hill were heard;
before the dawn he went away
on journey long without a word.

From Wilderland to Western shore,
from northern waste to southern hill,
through dragon-lair and hidden door
and darkling woods he walked at will.

With Dwarf and Hobbit, Elves and Men,
with mortal and immortal folk,
with bird on bough and beast in den,
in their own secret tongues he spoke.

A deadly sword, a healing hand,
a back that bent beneath its load;
a trumpet-voice, a burning brand,
a weary pilgrim on the road.

A lord of wisdom throned he sat,
swift in anger, quick to laugh;
an old man in a battered hat
who leaned upon a thorny staff.

He stood upon the bridge alone
and Fire and Shadow both defied;
his staff was broken on the stone,
in Khazad-dûm his wisdom died.
     (Fellowship of the Ring, Book 2)

Poetry Monday :: Books - Updated again

Poetry Monday has come and gone.
Diane of On the Border has once again showed off her equilibristic wordsmithery.

  Jenny at Procrastinating Donkey is taking a break due to her husband's ill health. And even if some of her latest news were a bit more positive, she, and her husband, are still in for some rough times to come.  Let's continue to send warm thoughts, good energy and lots of prayers their way.

Mimi of Messymimi's Meanderings has supplied us with this verse for Modays topic. And every time I think of books it starts running through my brains. Nothing on books will be forthcoming from here now or ever!

To be sung to the tune of Frère Jaques Mimi's words - not mine!
|: I'm a book-worm, :|
|: See me read! :|
|: Morning, noon and evening, :|
|: Guaranteed! :|

Well, maybe I could translate it into Danish: 

|:Jeg' en bogorm, :|
|: Se min bog! :|
|: Den er altid hos mig, :|
|: Dag og nat! :|

And next Mondays topic is An ancestor.

Poetry Monday :: Not Afraid

  Diane of On the Border and Jenny of Procrastinating Donkey are taking turns hosting Poetry Monday.
   This week Diane had said, we'll talk of Things that Scare Us now

 A repeat post from Tuesday February 17, 2015

One of my favourite poets, Halfdan Rasmussen is famous for his playful and equilibristic poems for children. But he had a serious side too; he wrote poems filled with social indignation and courage. This verse was translated into English (by Mary McGovern?);  Roger Waters used it as the first verse of his Each Small Candle:

Not the torturer will scare me

Nor the body's final fall

Nor the barrels of death's rifles

Nor the shadows on the wall

Nor the night when to the ground

The last dim star of pain, is held

But the blind indifference

Of a merciless unfeeling world.


For next Monday Jenny has given us: Your Favourite Lunch.
 

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Gentagelse fra tirsdag den 17. februar 2015

Halfdan Rasmussen er nok mest kendt for sine vidunderlige og sprogligt legende børnerim, men han var også en alvorlig digter med et stort samfundsmæssigt engagement. I dag er det på sin plads med et af hans mere alvorlige digte:

Ikke bødlen gør mig bange.

ikke hadet og torturen,

ikke dødens riffelgange 

eller skyggerne på muren.

Ikke nætterne, når smertens sidste stjerne styrter ned,

men den nådesløse verdens blinde ligegyldighed.

 - Halfdan Rasmussen (1915-2002)