Asia

When you are old and grey

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim Soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

William Butler Yeats

The lift doors opened and she stepped out and into his life..........................

The lift doors opened and she stepped out and into his life; a life that would never be the same again. Try as he might Bertie could not remember what she was wearing that day. As he looked back all that he could see was the red fingernail and the black, black hair falling over her forehead as if style by Medusa. The nails, the hair and the eyes, How could he forget the eyes catching and reflecting back every bit of spare light but not quite able to hide the frightened little girl behind them...................................................................

Konstantina

THE FALLING OF THE LEAVES

Autumn is over the long leaves that love us,
And over the mice in the barley sheaves;
Yellow the leaves of the rowan above us,
And yellow the wet wild-strawberry leaves.

The hour of the waning of love has beset us,
And weary and worn are our sad souls now;
Let us part, ere the season of passion forget us, 
With a kiss and a tear on thy drooping brow.

W.B.Yates 

Daniella

The grey of those early years
Coming from forgotten fears,
The soil of future turmoil.
Always and only analysis.

Knowing the problems,
Knowing the solutions,
Knowing the time is ripe to act.
Knowing it's always the same,
Running towards nothingness;

Still.

The pleasure to run towards nothingness,
Running and running or slowing down?
Walk or rest, but always with our small selves.
With the idiocy of our perception of the universe,
Dumbness and dystopias at the end of the horizon.

But don't we fool ourselves?
Do we want to see how it is all going to end?
We will, pretty soon we will, but not now,
We must keep going.

West London
29th July 2007

Carol

We are each of us angels with only one wing,
and we can only fly embracing each other.

Luciano de Crescenzo

Anthony

O cruel is the snow that sweeps Glencoe

And covers the grave of Donald

And cruel was the foe that raped Glencoe

And murdered the house o' Macdonald.

They came in a blizzard, we offered them heat,

A roof o'er their heads, dry shoes for their feet.

We wined them, dined them, they ate of our meat,

And slept in the house o' Macdonald.

Chorus :

And cruel is the snow that swept Glencoe

And covers the grave of Donald

And cruel was the foe that raped Glencoe

And murdered the house o' Macdonald.

They came from Fort William with murder in mind,

The Campbells had orders, King William had signed.

Put all to the sword, these words underlined,

And leave non alive called Macdonald.

They came in the night when our men were asleep,

This band of Argylls, through snow soft and deep

Like murdering foxes amongst helpless sheep

They murdered the house o' Macdonald.

Some died in their beds at the hands o the foe,

Some fled in the night and were lost in the snow

Some lived to accuse him who struck the first blow

But gone was the house of Macdonald.

The Ballad of Glencoe by Jim McLean

Nita

May God bless and keep you always,
May your wishes all come true,
May you always do for others
And let others do for you.
May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every rung,
May you stay forever young,
Forever young, forever young,
May you stay forever young.


May you grow up to be righteous,
May you grow up to be true,
May you always know the truth
And see the lights surrounding you.
May you always be courageous,
Stand upright and be strong,
May you stay forever young,
Forever young, forever young,
May you stay forever young.


May your hands always be busy,
May your feet always be swift,
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift.
May your heart always be joyful,
May your song always be sung,
May you stay forever young,
Forever young, forever young,
May you stay forever young.

Forever Young by Bob Dylan

Jaffa

Sadie and Miriam are walking home one night when
they are approached by a stranger who flings open
his raincoat. Miriam raises one eyrbrow,
turns to Sadie and asks "Call that a lining?"

Me Julie

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the mourning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.

The Lake Isle of Innisfree by W.B.Yates

Disley

Perfection, of a kind, was what he was after,

And the poetry he invented was easy to understand;

He knew human folly like the back of his hand,

And was greatly interested in armies and fleets;

When he laughed, respectable senators burst with laughter,

And when he cried the little children died in the streets.

Epitaph on a Tyrant by W. H. Auden

Peter

One Leg Too Few

---

Peter Miss Rigby! Stella, my love! Would you please send in the next auditioner, please. Mr. Spiggott, I believe it is. (enter Dudley, hopping on one leg)

Peter Mr. Spiggott, I believe?

Dudley Yes, Spiggott by name, Spiggott by nature. (keeps hopping)

Peter Yes...if you'd like to remain motionless for a moment, Mr. Spiggott. Please be stood. Now, Mr. Spiggott you are, I believe, auditioning for the part of Tarzan?

Dudley Right.

Peter Now, Mr. Spiggott, I couldn't help noticing almost at once that you are a one-legged person.

Dudley You noticed that?

Peter I noticed that, Mr. Spiggott. When you have been in the business as long as I have you come to notice these things almost instinctively. Now, Mr. Spiggott, you, a one-legged man, are applying for the role of Tarzan - a role which, traditionally, involves the use of a two-legged actor.

Dudley Correct.

Peter And yet you, a unidexter, are applying for the role.

Dudley Right.

Peter A role for which two legs would seem to be the minimum requirement.

Dudley Very true.

Peter Well, Mr. Spiggott, need I point out to you where your deficiency lies as regards landing the role?

Dudley Yes, I think you ought to.

Peter Need I say without overmuch emphasis that it is in the leg division that you are deficient.

Dudley The leg division?

Peter Yes, the leg division, Mr. Spiggott. You are deficient in it to the tune of one. Your right leg I like. I like your right leg. A lovely leg for the role. That's what I said when I saw you come in. I said "A lovely leg for the role." I've got nothing against your right leg. The trouble is - neither have you. You fall down on your left.

Dudley You mean it's inadequate?

Peter Yes, it's inadequate, Mr. Spiggott. And, to my mind, the British public is not ready for the sight of a one-legged apeman swinging through the jungly tendrils.

Dudley I see.

Peter However, don't despair. After all, you score over a man with no legs at all. Should a legless man come in here demanding the role, I should have no hesitation in saying "Get out. Run away."

Dudley So there's still a chance?

Peter There is still a very good chance. If we get no two-legged actors in here within the next two months, there is still a very good chance that you'll land this vital role. Failing two-legged actors, you, a unidexter, are just the sort of person we shall be attempting to contact telephonically.

Dudley Well...thank you very much.

Peter So my advice is, to hop on a bus, go home, and sit by your telephone in the hope that we will be getting in touch with you. (shows Dudley out) I'm sorry I can't be more definite, but as you realise, it's really a two-legged man we're after. Good morning Mr. Spiggott.

Simon

The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:
He leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul:
He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name' sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil: For thou art with me;
Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies;
Thou annointest my head with oil; My cup runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the House of the Lord forever.

Sau Fun

When forty winters shall beseige thy brow,
And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field,
Thy youth's proud livery, so gazed on now,
Will be a tatter'd weed, of small worth held:
Then being ask'd where all thy beauty lies,
Where all the treasure of thy lusty days,
To say, within thine own deep-sunken eyes,
Were an all-eating shame and thriftless praise.
How much more praise deserved thy beauty's use,
If thou couldst answer 'This fair child of mine
Shall sum my count and make my old excuse,'
Proving his beauty by succession thine!
This were to be new made when thou art old,
And see thy blood warm when thou feel'st it cold.

Ian

No doubt they’ll soon get well; the shock and strain
Have caused their stammering, disconnected talk.
Of course they’re ‘longing to go out again,’—
These boys with old, scared faces, learning to walk.
They’ll soon forget their haunted nights; their cowed
Subjection to the ghosts of friends who died,—
Their dreams that drip with murder; and they’ll be proud
Of glorious war that shatter’d all their pride…
Men who went out to battle, grim and glad;
Children, with eyes that hate you, broken and mad.

Survivors by Siegfried Sassoon

Elmore Blackcat (Still miss you, still love you Backcat ............I told you everything didn't I?)

The cat went here and there
And the moon spun round like a top,
And the nearest kin of the moon,
The creeping cat, looked up.
Black Minnaloushe stared at the moon,
For, wander and wail as he would,
The pure cold light in the sky
Troubled his animal blood.
Minnaloushe runs in the grass
Lifting his delicate feet.
Do you dance, Minnaloushe, do you dance?
~ William Butler Yeats ~

Zinadine Zidane

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?

And What shoulder, and what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the lamb make thee?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

Tigervby William Blake

Terry Murphy (You too Terry, miss you, love you, always will .......)

St. Jerome in his study kept a great big cat,
it's always in his pictures, with its feet upon the mat.
Did he give it milk to drink, in a little dish?
When it came to Friday's, did he give it fish?
If I lost my little cat, I'd be sad without it;
I should ask St. Jerome what to do about it.

I should ask St. Jerome, just because of that,
for he's the only saint I know who kept a kitty cat.

St. Jerome's Cat Anonymous

Martin H-P

So Martin, how is a trolley bus powered?

Can you tell us?

Brian

And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England's mountains green?
And was the holy Lamb of God
On England's pleasant pastures seen?

And did the Countenance Divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here
Among these dark Satanic Mills?

Bring me my Bow of burning gold:
Bring me my Arrows of desire:
Bring me my Spear: O clouds unfold!
Bring me my Chariot of fire.

I shall not cease from Mental Fight
Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England's green & pleasant Land.

Jerusalem by William Blake

Kate

There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colours gay.
She has heard a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she stay
To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care hath she,
The Lady of Shalott.

And moving through a mirror clear
That hangs before her all the year,
Shadows of the world appear.
There she sees the highway near
Winding down to Camelot;
There the river eddy whirls,
And there the surly village churls,
And the red cloaks of market girls
Pass onward from Shalott.

Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,
An abbot on an ambling pad,
Sometimes a curly shepherd lad,
Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad
Goes by to tower'd Camelot;
And sometimes through the mirror blue
The knights come riding two and two.
She hath no loyal Knight and true,
The Lady of Shalott.

From The Lady of Shalott by Alfred Tennyson

Morvan

Here is a place of disaffection
Time before and time after
In a dim light: neither daylight
Investing form with lucid stillness
Turning shadow into transient beauty
With slow rotation suggesting permanence
Nor darkness to purify the soul
Emptying the sensual with deprivation
Cleansing affection from the temporal.
Neither plenitude nor vacancy. Only a flicker
Over the strained time-ridden faces
Distracted from distraction by distraction
Filled with fancies and empty of meaning
Tumid apathy with no concentration
Men and bits of paper, whirled by the cold wind
That blows before and after time,
Wind in and out of unwholesome lungs
Time before and time after.
Eructation of unhealthy souls
Into the faded air, the torpid
Driven on the wind that sweeps the gloomy hills of London,
Hampstead and Clerkenwell, Campden and Putney,
Highgate, Primrose and Ludgate. Not here
Not here the darkness, in this twittering world.

From Burnt Norton by T.S.Eliot

Tanya

The Fly by William Blake.

Little Fly,
Thy summer's play
My thoughtless hand
Has brushed away.

Am not I
A fly like thee?
Or art not thou
A man like me?

For I dance
And drink, and sing,

Till some blind hand
Shall brush my wing.

If thought is life
And strength and breath
And the want
Of thought is death;

Then am I
A happy fly,
If I live,
Or if I die.

Billy

When you walk through a storm,
hold your head up high,
and don't be afraid of the dark.
At the end of the storm,
is the golden sky,
and the sweet silver song of the lark.
Walk on through the wind,
walk on through the rain,
Though your dreams be tossed and blown,
Walk on, walk on with hope in your heart,
And you'll never walk alone,
you'll never walk alone.