freyakitten: Pic of me doing a backbend supported by a gentleman who is less visible due to contrast (Default)
( Jun. 16th, 2005 10:09 am)
My client says your birthday 'tis
And so I choose to post you this
Small rhyme online; Here I do say
Hooray!
It is [livejournal.com profile] reynardo's next birthday!
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freyakitten: Pic of me doing a backbend supported by a gentleman who is less visible due to contrast (Default)
( Nov. 11th, 2004 09:59 am)
In the early morning rain,
With my lunchbag in my mitt,
With an aching in my joints,
My shoes full of muddy grit.

No further now is there to go,
For my workplace I have reached,
In the early morning rain,
With the front-door lock unbreached...

See the falling rain all 'round,
See the silver clouds on high,
Some time soon I shall get warm,
When someone else to work arrives...
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freyakitten: Pic of me doing a backbend supported by a gentleman who is less visible due to contrast (Default)
( Nov. 1st, 2004 09:26 pm)
My father once gave me a book. He gave it to me because he opened it in the shop and saw:

'A mosquito was heard to complain
 That a chemist had poisoned his brain;
    The cause of his sorrow
    Was Para-dichloro-
 Diphenyltrichlorothane'
   -Anon

and thought that they would all be like that, and that therefore I would enjoy it thoroughly, at the ripe old age of 9 or 10 or thereabouts. Had he opened it 8 pages earlier in the book, he would have read:

'A student from Pembroke once said:
 'I'll take my mathematics to bed.
   My girl isn't willing,
   But I still want thrilling,
 I'll integrate, quietly, instead.' '
     -Andrew Stoker

or 7 pages later, where he would have seen:

'A crusader's wife slipped from the garrison
 And had an affair with a Saracen;
   She was not over-sexed,
   Or jealous, or vexed,
 She just wanted to make a comparison.'
     -Ogden Nash

The fact that these are some of the cleaner collections of rhyming words in the book leads me to suppose that receiving it probably had an effect of some kind on the way I turned out... Even if I am no longer quite so good at the rhyming conversation game.
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freyakitten: Pic of me doing a backbend supported by a gentleman who is less visible due to contrast (Default)
( Oct. 26th, 2004 12:14 pm)

The sky just farted, long and loud.
I heard it let go, very proud,
Of gas that bothered it for long,
With thunderclap of noisy song.
The rain has come to let us know
The sky does piss on us below.
The sun is out, the clouds do part,
But I still hear the thunderous fart.

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freyakitten: Pic of me doing a backbend supported by a gentleman who is less visible due to contrast (Default)
( Oct. 18th, 2004 02:30 pm)
OK, the poetry meme. I'm at work, and this is the only piece that I can remember that I hadn't posted already. I don't remember who wrote it, but I remember that the name for the full poem was "Hymn to Proserpine" if anyone wants to go looking.

'The glass of the years is brittle whereon we gaze for a span,
A little soul for a little gives up this corpse which is man.
So long I endure, no longer, and laugh not again, neither weep,
For there is no god found stronger than Death, and death is a sleep.'

I may have the punctuation wrong, but those are the words. When I originally found the piece, I was in high school, browsing through the library books. I came across it is a book of poetry, title unremembered. I liked it because I got a feeling of peace, and acceptance of adversity, from the words. At the time this was important enough that I typed it up on the computer and stuck the printout on the wall next to my bed where I could read it regularly.
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freyakitten: Pic of me doing a backbend supported by a gentleman who is less visible due to contrast (Default)
( Jul. 25th, 2004 10:17 pm)
Today I feel like telling the world about my favourite bit of angsty poetry. I wrote this piece in year 11. Admittedly, I was being a bit of a pain to deal with, as I'd finished all the work we had to do in the first ten minutes of the class, so when I asked the friend sitting next to me for a line to start a poem with, she gave "If someone doesn't kill me soon". The rest just seemed to flow on from that perfect start...

If someone doesn't kill me soon,
I think I soon shall die;
And if I go from this poor earth,
Well then, so shall I;
And if I come back to some place,
I think I shall come too;
And if I want to do something,
There's something I shall do.
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freyakitten: Pic of me doing a backbend supported by a gentleman who is less visible due to contrast (Default)
( May. 19th, 2004 12:22 am)
Going through a whole bunch of old emails, I found the following which I thought you might enjoy:

Hamlet's Cat Soliloquy

To go outside, and there perchance to stay
Or to remain within: that is the question:
Whether 'tis better for a cat to suffer
The cuffs and buffets of inclement weather
That Nature rains on those who roam abroad,
Or take a nap upon a scrap of carpet,
And so by dozing melt the solid hours
That clog the clock's bright gears with sullen time
And stall the dinner bell. To sit, to stare
Outdoors, and by a stare to seem to state
A wish to venture forth without delay,
Then when the portal's opened up, to stand
As if transfixed by doubt. To prowl; to sleep;
To choose not knowing when we may once more
Our readmittance gain: aye, there's the hairball;
For if a paw were shaped to turn a knob,
Or work a lock or slip a window-catch,
And going out and coming in were made
As simple as the breaking of a bowl,
What cat would bear the household's petty plagues,
The cook's well-practice! d kicks, the butler's broom,
The infant's careless pokes, the tickled ears,
The trampled tail, and all the daily shocks
That fur is heir to, when, of his own free will,
He might his exodus or entrance make
With a mere mitten? Who would spaniels fear,
Or strays trespassing from a neighbor's yard,
But that the dread of our unheeded cries
And scratches at a barricaded door
No claw can open up, dispels our nerve
And makes us rather bear our humans' faults
Than run away to unguessed miseries?
Thus caution doth make house cats of us all;
And thus the bristling hair of resolution
Is softened up with the pale brush of thought,
And since our choices hinge on weighty things,
We pause upon the threshold of decision.

Author: unknown

Rereading this reminded me of year 11 drama class, and watching a classmate do the original of this speech (rather well) for her assessment. The fur hat she was assigned to wear as part of her costume looked vaguely as if it were made of dark feral cat fur, like Dr Wamsley's hooded cape.
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