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Sunday 27 May 2012
Anne of Green Gables review
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Saturday 28 January 2012
An Analysis of "Below the wood the tarn" by george
Saturday 14 January 2012
A Review of "The pull" by george
I've chosen to turn my attention to poems after re-writing a couple of lines for a requester on Mechanical Turk who wanted his poem to be put into iambic meter.
This brought me to the conclusion that I'd like to start reading and reviewing poetry again (something I used to enjoy at school) Since the author of the poem below, my friend and former classmate, George, has been brave enough to link me and others to his blog, I thought I'd start there.
The pull
As a title this delivers a completely different image to my mind than to the one the poem contains; immediately what sprang to mind was university students going out on “the pull”, but I wonder whether the author didn’t intend to parallel this romantic “pull” with the more spiritual draw of an historical place of worship.
I guess that they designed it thus:
The author surmises in this line that architects had sat down to plan the effect their building would have on people.
Four holes in the dome, one woman
Numbering the building’s four apertures and then placing the one woman at the end of the line in this way suggests that the designers made it not just of stones but of people. The dome here brings to mind the domes of the mosques and churches of the Mediterranean.
Not there to clean but stir up dust, embodying
Dust here may symbolize the building’s history and the word “embodying” gives a physical form to that history.
The beam by which the morning visitant
The beam of light through clouds or in this case through stirred up dust is often a symbol of God’s light reaching down from heaven Here the choice of the word “visitant” brings to mind the word “supplicant” suggesting this light is some form of answer to a prayer.
Is struck; through another gap at evensong
The word “struck”, sitting as it does as the second word of the line and being followed by a semi-colon, brings the poem to a halt as the beam of light would no doubt cause its recipient to stop for a moment in wonder.
It slopes to stroke the censer and the priest,
The introduction of the censer and the priest confirm that this is a Catholic church or cathedral. The choice of the words “slopes” and “stroke”, the alliteration and consonance of the letter ‘s’ combined with the assonance of the letter ‘o’ in this line suggests a softer evening light when compared with the morning ray which “struck” the visitant.
“Stroke” is a very anthropomorphic word and either the light itself or the designers of the church are seeking to make contact with or perhaps just to soothe the priest.
Scribing something in a language I can’t read.
The alliteration from the previous line carries over to the first two words of this one maintaining the meditative mood. The poet thoughts seem to take a more regretful turn in the second half of the line with his admission that he can’t read the language the priest is writing in and is the first three such admissions of an incapacity to do something.
The use of the archaic word "scribing" provides a bridge to the past and the priest’s predecessors in this building, scribes, who in Medieval times would have written in Latin and Greek, both languages which connected them to an even earlier period in time. This would also have been when the building’s designers were alive.
Like some galactic starship’s S.O.S still echoing
The “echoing” of the S.O.S. parallels the echoes one hears in a large building. The wooden beamed roof of a Western church is somewhat reminiscent of an upturned boat and the author may have heard it described so. The white domed interior of an Eastern church, in contrast, bears a very striking resemblance to the dome on the top of the U.S.S. Enterprise in the popular science-fiction series Star Trek.
The word “still” suggests the S.O.S. has been echoing for a long time and so it is a link to the lives of a now extinct alien race and their one cry for help in Morse code. Perhaps the author sees the designers of the church as trying to reach out through history and have their souls saved.
In space when all the crew are dead, it carries
The word “dead” intensifies the author’s thoughts. This focuses our attention on the last word of the line, the fact that the ship still “carries” something.
In its emptiness a pull that I can’t shake
This is the second reference to something the author can’t do – this time it is shake the “pull” of the poem’s title which is the draw of the long-dead crew’s message still transmitting through the ages and what the previous line was building up to.
And weighs me down to sit and try to voice
The force of the ship/church’s pull must still be strong even as an echo because it causes the poet to sit down and try to breathe life into it again with his voice.
The ringing letters of these walls: to someone
Both the echo and the unreadable language make a return here in the “ringing letters”. This replaces the quiet but insistent language contained in the Morse code of the S.O.S. with the waves of sound produced by church bells echoing back and forth with great beauty but no ready meaning. Except that the “ringing letters of these walls” do have an intended recipient: “someone/Earlier than me”.
Earlier than me, something means, something means.
The regret is back in force here as if the author feels he has come along too late to be that person to whom the ringing letters “something means”. The repetition of the latter phrase has two purposes: it is a physical representation of the echo the author detects; and it is the author’s frustrated mutterings as he attempts to decipher the message.
And all that I can feel is the stain that I can’t see
The “stain” is a reference to the invisible letters and another admission of something the author can’t do.
Or care enough to make the world, as this building
This time the author suggests that in fact he doesn’t care enough to attempt the things he has claimed he couldn’t do.
Does, something gentler, more meaningful than me.
Instead of looking for meaning or a message anymore the poet concedes that the building has achieved much more than he could ever achieve or wish to. In fact, this could be extended to the church’s original designers who perhaps had no conception of the effect it would have on so many people. In the end it is the building that he gives credit to for making the world a gentler more meaningful place.
Thursday 13 October 2011
The story of why some fish fly and why some birds swim
A long time ago when men and women first started to think about the world and their place in it, a boy and a girl were born. Both had parents who loved them and whom they loved back. The girl had two sisters, an elder and a younger one, whom she loved dearly. The boy had an elder brother whom he loved dearly.
Now the girl was born to a fishing family in a little fishing village on the coast. She grew up a strong swimmer as she loved to spend time underwater investigating the coral reefs close to shore. She would often watch the shoals of fish that swam past and envy the way they could visit the deepest beds and the most distant shores of the great wide ocean.
The boy, meanwhile, was born the son of a shepherd and lived in a shepherd’s hut with his family high upon the mountainside. And from the high mountain pastures where he helped herd his family’s flocks of sheep, he loved to look down at the valley beneath him. First the purple scrubland running down the mountain, on to the green pastures beyond following the blue gleam of the river until finally it reached the sea. He would often look up at the eagles soaring high above his head and envied them their ability to fly across the land and take this view with them wherever they went.
Now it so happened, that in this land too at that time there lived a witch who demanded heavy taxes from the people. Every year the girl's family would give the witch half the money they earned from the sale of their fish. Every year the boy's family would give the witch half of what they earned from the sale of their sheep’s wool.
But this year, disaster struck both families. The girl's father was out at sea catching fish when a sudden storm overwhelmed his boat. He was a strong swimmer, just like his daughter, and he swam safely to shore. His boat, though, sank without a trace. Those people who were watching from the shore wondered. For, where there had been blue sky with not a cloud in it and only a little wind, there was suddenly this violent storm which had just as suddenly disappeared.
The next day, the boy's father found his sheep had all been struck by a strange illness which made their wool fall out and rot. The shepherd tried everything to get the sheep's wool to grow back, he fed them by hand and gave them every natural remedy he knew, but to no avail. In the end he had to put woolly sweaters belonging to him and his son onto the sheep to keep them warm. Nothing in all his experience seemed to give any clue as to what was wrong with his sheep.
And so, when, later that month, the witch came for her taxes, neither family could provide her with any of their income because they had made none and had only just managed to pay for food on what savings they had stored away.
The witch, strangely, did not seem surprised or angry to learn of this and instead a small smile was visible at the corners of her mouth. "Fisherman,” she declared in pleasant, measured tones, “in exchange for your missing taxes, you will bring to me your second daughter, whom I will take into my service as a familiar. One year from today, if your payments are renewed, I will return your daughter to you in her human form." To the boy’s father in a similarly friendly voice, "Shepherd, in exchange for your missing taxes, you will bring to me your second son, whom I will take into my service as a familiar. One year from today, if your payments are renewed, I will return your son to you in his human form."
When both boy and girl were gathered before her at the witch's castle, she addressed them in turn. "Boy, I have need of a new familiar who will provide me with news of my lands and deliver messages to its rulers. You will choose a creature whose form you would take." To which the boy replied in a trembling voice, "Your highness, I would choose to be a bird of the air, such has always been my favourite creature."
"Very well – you shall become a bird. And you, girl, I have need of a familiar who will provide me with news of my seas and deliver messages to its captains. You will choose a creature whose form you would take." To which the girl pointed out her chin and replied, "Your highness, I would choose to be a fish of the ocean, such has always been my favourite creature"
"Very well – you shall become a fish, but since the role of a familiar is a challenging one, I will give, to each of your chosen creatures, qualities of the other, so that you may spend some time in companionship in both air and sea."
And so just as promised the fisherman's daughter became a fish, and the shepherd's son became a bird.
As the days passed, the fisherman's daughter who had already loved the sea so much as a girl learnt to love it still more as a fish. She swam in the shallows and darted in and out of the corals. She followed the dolphins and the seals out into the wild open ocean and dived deep to places where the sea was dark, the weight of the water heavy, and strange shapes brushed past her in the gloom. She travelled to where the water was cold and icebergs ruled and to where the water was warm and clear. All this time she delivered messages and collected news for the witch. But of the boy she thought nothing.
Meanwhile, the shepherd's son flew high, higher even than the mountain pastures where his father still herded his wool-less flocks. He gloried in the feel of the ice cold air as he swooped and dived across the sky. And he wondered at the curve of the earth laid out beneath him stretching for mile upon mile and, just as he had when still a boy, he marvelled at the valleys and the rivers beneath him. He too delivered the witch's messages and collected news for her. He too thought not of the girl who had shared in his fate.
Then, one day when the sun glinted from the sea as if it contained a diamond in every drop of water, the boy was drawn to its beauty. He remembered the fisherman's daughter in that moment and how she had chosen to swim as a fish through the world’s seas. He remembered the witch's suggestion of companionship and he thought of how much he missed his brother and his parents. He knew he couldn’t visit them for they would shoot an eagle that flew too close to their flock. He decided then that he must visit the girl in the sea. The boy/eagle tucked his wings far back behind his body and dived. Through the clouds he fell, their dampness lending extra speed and fervour to his flight down towards the sea. And when, beak first, he met the deep precious water, he kicked back with his feet, spinning, circling, zigzagging in his excitement at the shocking feel the cold ocean had on his feathers.
Like an explosion of light, glinting in the sunlight before him, came a shoal of fish which banked sharply to the left at the sight of this intruder and then swam up, up towards the sun until, to the boy's amazement, they shot right out of the water. The boy followed them upwards; he rose out of the water working his wings energetically to shake them dry. For the second time the whole shoal of fish burst into his vision this time moving quickly away from him through the air! They were beating their fins and flying as if they too had wings. And there, in amongst the shoal, one fish shone brighter and flew higher and beat stronger than the other fish. It ducked and dived and spun in the air above them. It was the fisherman's daughter. And at this moment she saw the bird that was the boy flying to meet her and she turned to join him. In their joy, they tumbled and turned together in the air, glorying in their flight.
After a year in the witch's service, it was once more time for the shepherd and the fisherman to pay their taxes. This year the shepherd's flock had doubled in size and had produced the finest wool the valley had ever seen with no more sign of the rot that had so plagued them the year before. The fisherman unable to catch fish without his boat, had taken over from his wife doing the housework and cooking the dinner while his wife took their daughter’s place with their other two daughters gutting the fish brought in by the fisherman. The fisherman’s wife had once been the fastest fish gutter on the coast and soon she had taught her daughters the trick to her quick hands and the trio was wanted for their fish gutting skills up and down the fishing villages along the coast. Their taxes paid, the witch kept to her word and turned the children back into humans again, but still a little smile was visible at the corners of her mouth.
When the two children returned to their families, they told them stories of the places and creatures they had seen. They talked of beautiful cities and never-ending deserts, volcanoes belching out molten rock into the sea, and ice floes the size of mountains. They described the feel of the wind on their backs when they flew up into the sky or the cold shock of the water as they dived into the sea. They spoke with longing and yearning for the life they had left behind.
When the fisherman’s family found out that their daughter had been a fish for a year they were horrified. The shepherd’s family, on finding out that their son had been an eagle for a year, were also horrified. The fisherman’s family could not stop thinking about how of the many fish they had gutted, one might have been their daughter. The shepherd’s family could not stop thinking about how of the many eagles they had shot down to protect their flocks, one of them could have been their son.
So it was that the two families marched together on the witch’s house, determined to make their grievances known. When they reached the door of the witch’s house, the fisherman’s family jutting out their chins in defiance, the shepherd’s family trembling at the thought of what the witch might do to them, it swung open just as the fisherman reached up his hand to knock. Nervous but determined, the two families entered the house and confronted the cat that stood in front of the fire. “Now, look here!” began the fisherman, addressing the cat. But at that point, the witch walked in from the kitchen, and so the fisherman stumbled over what he had been going to say.
“You have all come here because you expected that when I said your children were going to be my familiars for a year, you thought I meant they would be my pets like, Tom, my male housecat here, who by the way is just a cat and is certainly not my own animal form.”
“Well, yes,” cried the shepherd’s wife, while the fisherman was temporarily struck dumb, “We could have killed our son at any time over the past year when we were shooting at eagles to protect our flocks.”
“And we could have killed my sister at any time when we were gutting fish to earn money so that we could pay your taxes,” the youngest of the fisherman’s three daughters spoke out.
The witch sighed and turned to her two erstwhile familiars, “Girl, would you tell your parents what happened to you whenever you came close to getting caught in a fishing net?” The girl thought for a moment, “The net would pass just by me or I would always be on the edge so I had enough time to swim out before it closed shut.” Then the witch asked, “And you, boy, what happened to you whenever you flew too close to a shepherd’s bow and arrow.” Realisation dawned on the boy’s face, as he replied, “The arrow never quite reached me – it would either fly too high or too low. You did it, you protected us from harm!” The girl and the boy jumped up and hugged the witch, “Turn us back, you must turn us back. It was the most wonderful experience we ever had. The only thing that was missing was our family!”
At this the smile at the corners of the witch’s mouth grew broader and she looked to the parents of the children. “If your children return to their forms, it will be without the protection I gave them this year. They will live their lives as any other creature - fish, bird or human - does: in constant danger of death. What will you do? Will you continue in fear that you will be the means of this death or will you join them as is their wish?”
Munch the Goat and the Secret of Fart Powered Flight
In Yosemite National Park within walking distance of the sequoia grove where Grizzly the giant redwood tree stands there lives a goat tied on a leash. The leash is a magical leash that can untangle itself from anything it is attached to – the leash has to be this way because the goat is forever getting itself tangled around the tree he is tied to. The goat, called Munch, is friends with a gecko, who goes by the name of Stick. Sometimes it rains on the goat but there is always hay close at hand for him to munch on and so he is content.
One day, however, Munch gets free of his leash and climbs the sequoia called Grizzly to check out the view. Suddenly he is grabbed by the back in the strong talons of a bald eagle who hoists him up out of the tree and away off to her eyrie on one of the highest peaks in Yosemite where she rears her young. His trusty gecko friend is hanging on to Munch’s tail and the three animals flying through the air look quite a sight.
And so it is that when it gets dark, Stick is there to give Munch a piggy back down the cliff from the eyrie until they reach a waterfall which they decide to hide behind for the night. Behind the waterfall is a beautiful cave full of crystals and luminescent algae.
When the pair wake up they realise they are not the only ones in the cave and while they've been sleeping their hiding place has changed into a magical jail with bars made out of stalagmites and stalactites. The goat brays, and if the gecko could blink then he would and then as if their situation couldn’t get any worse who should their jailer turn out to be but the mighty queen of the Sierra Nevada. Chilli, the chipmunk queen, is feared throughout the land and is known to take fearsome revenge on lost travellers if they do not pay her tribute. The queen will curse those unfortunate souls to an eternity of having their feet tickled by feather dusters.
Now a little known fact about Queen Chilli is that she has been plagued for years by weeds ten foot high in her vegetable patch and all she needs is someone to clear them for her and she would be a happy chipmunk, no longer terrible. So imagine her glee when she recognised hiding in her own cave, Munch the goat crowned the Northwest's champion weed clearer for four years running - his capacity to munch through anything from hay to mattresses was talked of far and wide. So in payment for their trespass Queen Chilli set the captives free to start work on the weeds in her vegetable patch, all the while keeping her oh so very ticklish feather duster at hand.
Munch got to work and soon had made good progress in removing the queen’s weeds. But the sun was now high in the sky and the chipmunk queen, who had been up all night casting magic spells to build her captives’ prison, felt her eyes beginning to droop. Meanwhile Munch happily carried on munching through the weeds too stupid to realise his opportunity for freedom. So engrossed was he with his munching that his friend Stick was unable to distract him so the two of them could make their escape.
Once all the weeds were gone, the goat looked around for something else to munch still oblivious to his friends attempts to get his attention. He spotted the chipmunk queen's prize marrows and started to munch through these but soon he had finished off all the marrows and he looked around for something else to munch. He spotted the chipmunk queen's prize greenhouse with tropical fruits from all over the world. He munched his way through tomatoes. He munched his way through raspberries and strawberries. He munched his way through pineapples and pears. And when he had munched his way through all the chipmunk queen's tropical fruit he found her giant hot red chilli after which she was named.
Just as Munch was halfway through munching the chilli pepper, Queen Chilli, the evil chipmink queen, awoke. She awoke to a vegetable patch empty of weeds, yes, but also empty of vegetables! The poor vegetable-less and now very angry chipmunk queen looked around for her feather duster but, you guessed it, that insatiable goat had munched that as well! In a rage the chipmunk flew at the goat, just as Munch was finishing off the last of the giant hot red chilli. And all this time the gecko was swinging back and forth from his friend’s horns trying to make him see the danger and run.
Rumble.
Rumble!
RUMBLE!
Just as the chipmunk took its leap at the goat the goat's stomach started to rumble like a rocket on a launch pad and then just like a rocket the goat shot up in the air propelled by hot wind made by the giant hot red chilli. With the gecko hunkered down on the goat's shoulders, the goat flew through the glass roof of the chipmunk queen's prize green house – SMASH – up, up into the air higher than the tallest sequoia and then began to fall, the wind whistling past them like a hurricane only to land – PFFFF – on the enormous mound of hay as tall as a sequoia that had built up around the goat’s tree while the gecko and he had been away.
Home, sweet home.
THE END
Characters:
Munch the Goat
That’s not something I’m telling you to do! "Munch" was the name of the goat because that was the noise he made when he ate.
Stick the Gecko
The gecko didn't need to have glue put on his feet to get them to stick to things – they did this all by themselves and so this is why he was called “Stick”. Usually this meant he could get his feet unstuck when he walked but even so there was one occasion on which he climbed up on to a helium balloon and the static electricity from the balloon’s surface held him there so firmly that he couldn’t get free again.
Queen Chilli
Queen Chilli grew such fabulous chilli peppers that legend had it they allowed fart powered flight. Few have been brave enough to try one but this changed after Munch and Stick fell into the hands of the evil queen.
Fred the Tugboat
Fred had made friends with the dolphins whose king he had once saved. During a storm the dolphin king had been thrown on to a rock by a particularly large wave and was knocked out. When he came round, it was Fred who was used to tug him back to the water where he could swim away.
Many years before Fred had another tug for company. Fred's friend was needed elsewhere to work back in their native Glasgow. Now Fred was reaching the age where old tugs are retired. And this made Fred sad because he knew that many old ships were sold for scrap. But the lonely little tug was taken pity on by an old man who was visiting the Cook Islands and had for some time been planning a tour of the UK by boat. He liked Fred so much that he chose him as his companion for this voyage.
The old man and Fred sailed all over Britain. From Ireland to Wales, from Cornwall to London, from Liverpool to Newcastle round up the East coast of Scotland past John O'Groats and on to the Northern Isles to Orkney and Shetland which Fred liked because there were many islands and it reminded him of his home in the Cook Islands.
After visiting the larger but equally beautiful Western Isles of Lewis, Harris, Skye and Mull the ship and its captain sailed up the Clyde into Glasgow. The old man was so taken by this port that he decided to stay a while to get to know it a bit better. [23:54:58] Quite soon into their stay the old man got talking with an old lady who shared his interests and who also owned a tug boat who had recently retired. Imagine Fred's surprise and delight to discover that the old lady's boat was none other than his friend from the Cook Islands.
Brought closer by their love of the tugs, the two people grew closer and settled down together. Fred the tug and his friend sometimes took them on trips up and down the Clyde and they all lived happily ever after.
In Anticipation
In Anticipation I waited
For the tolling of the bell
I knew my time was soon
Gloom and destruction awaited me
Has anyone so young ever seen them?
There, waiting, I knew
Once and future
Deja vu
Who came from the cold
The bearers, the winds of change
Where change there was none
What thoughts are these?
Who carries these dreams?
Be still for I see an end to the gloom
No, get up! Rejoice!
See the breaking of the sun
The parting of clouds
For the mood of a moment is soon forgotten.
What breaks the silence?
A smile.
A smile I am won.