In a cottage near the hill,
past the stream, past the mill,
see her there waiting still,
the one they call Cristina.
Near the thorny beds of rose,
plucking weeds that skyward chose,
scented herbs under her nose,
the other called Davina.
Through the fields of golden rye,
comes a knight riding by,
with an errand from on high,
sees the young Cristina.
Through the lattice kneeling there,
near the rustic garden chair,
‘neath her long and flowing hair,
the lady named Davina.
Born in the Christmas Summer,
though none would celebrate with me.
High up in the valley,
all too soon I was cut free.
Forgo the cribside comfort,
crying, sick and broken, small and cute.
Lone house upon the street
to save me from the garbage chute.
In Autumn we shall float up high,
like a leaf blown through the sky.
Rise up with me beloved one,
our colours touch the burning sun.
In Autumns carpet I could drown,
a burning coloured wedding gown.
Oh see how I will shine with thee,
to match the season’s golden tree.
The mask I wear none can tell,
trained from birth it fits so well.
Laugh at those that I deceive,
take back the love that they receive.
The memories fade into the dust,
the mask has taken love and lust.
No head to rest, no arms that hold,
Just like a statue – frozen cold.
Michelle and I are taking part in the Ration Challenge, it’s for a week (17th to the 24th of June) You can sponsor me if you like, your prayers and thoughts will be appreciated. (click here to find out about it)
This is from the Ration Challenge Co-Founder Kaz:
Last year, I sponsored myself $144 – enough to send a child to school for two months. Education is really important to me and I feel privileged to have studied at a great high school and attended university. Since the war broke out many Syrian children have not been able to go to school at all.
I’ve visited the Ration Challenge’s education program in Jordan that your Ration Challenge fundraising helps to make possible. I saw firsthand just how important it is for Syrian children living in the camps. The local schools are full and the informal classes run by our partner are the only education some of these kids have access to.
The program helps kids learn the skills they need to thrive academically in the future, and importantly, allows them to discover a part of childhood that war so cruelly took away from them. In class, they play, learn and have fun with their friends (like kids are supposed to!) – in an environment designed to help them deal with their trauma.
I see the gently waving trees
and fields you sit upon.
But when I try and look for you,
somehow you’ve all but gone.
Tumbling down, a gentle crash,
you wash a field of rye.
I follow yet I know not how,
you escape my watchful eye.
Willow on the hillside steep,
Night time brings the stars a-peep
I alone without her weep,
The lady Gabriella strayed.
Two sunsets and never sighted,
maybe taken wing and flighted,
or fallen ill and deadly plighted?
The lady Gabriella strayed.
Grateful for the weeping tree,
The Creator did provide for me,
so lay me down and let me see,
Where has my Gabriella laid?
On the path she ought have stepped,
now drifted off and wayward slept,
engagement ‘neath willow not kept,
Where has my Gabriella laid?
From the day it came to be,
life was traded, given free,
knew it not – what is me?
Spared no joy or warmth or mirth.
Given up as skin and bone,
born to walk the world alone,
empty soul and heart of stone.
Spared no time or date of birth.
Wander freely through the air,
caught too soon, beaten bare,
now a blank and empty stare.
Spared no love or counterpart.
Sold as ragged human waste,
cut off from cherub and the chaste,
torture, dread, abandon, faced.
Spared no food and torn apart.
Now who could marry such as I,
fallen fast of painted sky.
A quarry even time forgot
now cage my soul or tarry not.
None find me close or far away.
Am I alone? A threadbare stray.
But find I someone just as you,
and rise on sunsets golden hue.
The day grows old, the heat it bakes,
‘neath my prickly cactus tree.
Lord though I lift your name in high,
please send respite soon to me.
The wisps of sand they make their way,
through my door and out the back.
I watch their movement and I pray,
there’s just one thing that I now lack.
Yes that’s what the “IP” stands for.
In Brief – The first number following the “IP” is a Solid Particle Protection rating, the second number is a Liquid Ingress Protection rating. See below for the ratings and what they mean. I have also included the IP rating letters that can appear at the end of the rating number. Continue reading IP Rating, what does it mean?
Sitting on the toilet and someone found an interesting place to curl up.
Roger's Rhymes & Rambles 