After Course No. 172—
He finally learned to love.
Under the glare of the halogens,
Playing badminton with beloved,
He noticed—
The moon had sunk so very low,
Lower than anyone has ever fallen.
My grandfather once told his horse:
You may not lose job now, of course,
But may, sometime later
To one who drives tractor,
Try, learn new things 'you' to endorse.
________________________
Limerick |09.07.2025| humour, changing times
Note: This ditty tells us how horses lost out to higher horse powers! And how true it sounds in our AI age. Today, one has to learn newer skills that AI may not still possess. It tells us to be a lifetime of learner.
Are things becoming obscene..'
With the (over-greens?)
Starvation an aim ?
Sacrifice..' Is it on your name?
M I N D the slope.. So
Much evidence..' Yet offers?, No
Hope..Whats cooking ain't
Chook.' And its really, not so good
If you'll only take a look..!
Sixty thousand pounds
One hundred sixty horses
Snorting like leviathan
On uncharted courses
Eleven feet of width
Thirty-two of reach
Tank-like tracks that crush the rock
With a metallic screech
Carving up the hillside
With the greatest ease
Playing toss with boulders
Plucking up huge trees
A tree that falls is heard
Some even make a sigh
A sound that makes me wince
I will not tell a lie
Progress can be brutal
On nature, we intrude
We like to make an entrance
Loud and brash and rude
I tell myself the openings
Make room for trees to grow
Or so I justify;
I’m pretty good, you know
Deftly flicking boulders
Smoothing out the dirt
Yard by yard he moves along
Master craft at work
It’s not for the timid
Or the faint of heart
Carving trails on mountainsides
Truly is an art
We’ve started every morning
Briefly, with a prayer
For Shawn and for his safety
And for God’s presence there
Hard to juxtapose
Stewardship, dominion:
The beauty there down in the vale,
Diesel-powered pinions
In time, the forest will forget
And cover up our scars
For now, I walk His wooded trail
At night, beneath His stars.
The river courses, its currents speed
as it carves the land; pushes against the mud,
the long grasses bending over the dark deep
light blue-brown.
Her grandmother creaks the rungs
of her rocking chair,
her shawled shape is molded earth colors
like the river and its banks,
both passing time quietly, alone.
The rain changes the sky
outside her window; it becomes Dove-grey.
The clouds are wrapped together,
sunlight cushioned, they are bandages
with the light like blood seeping
until the empyrian is completely covered,
and clots- Venus, Mars and Jupitor, perhaps-
behind the outer layer of the celestial sphere
in a sea of wedding-white.
The full moon is veiled
within the cottony gauziness,
it shines in the violent heavens.
Once the job has been defined health and safety can be addressed by carrying out a risk assessment.
Contractors also have responsibilities for preparing risk assessments. Their risk assessment should fit in
with the clients and provide complimentary information. Contractors will also need information from the
client about the job, the state of plant, etc. when preparing their assessment.
Clearly health and safety needs to be managed effectively throughout the project. Client and contractor
need to co-ordinate their activities through effective communication and close co-operation to ensure
that all risks associated with the job are covered.
The pandemic unfolds, relentlessly
Hiding here and there, shamelessly
Guerilla tactics in the crowded jungle
An uninformed battle line can only bungle
So we are back to commodity trading
Peddling wares whose glamour is fading
Selling systems which worked in yesteryear
Declaring of home-grown innovation, real fear
Mentally and emotionally we are at the ceiling
Tomorrow may bring the unknown feeling
Living in the past, we go back to school
Trying to see, who’s the bigger fool
When AIDS hit, we rallied our front line forces
MERS and SARS followed the same courses
The text book on this one has not been written
So with Hydroxychloroquine we remain smitten
A mare is a female horse
Of course
I've never heard of a nightmare
My Dad said it was a very bad dream
And should be called a nightscare
Not horses for courses
That run around a track
I can't understand it
A horse
Usually comes back
Of course
One can only hope
I don't mind dreaming of horses
Of course
It's the night scares
I can't cope
We scaled the ocean one stormy recess
On rafts we drifted on raging waves
Pulling anchor in at foreign island beaches
And exploring the rocky caves
But one morning we charted courses that couldn’t match
And we didn’t see each other for days
When we met again it was like nothing changed
But we kept on marking our maps in different ways
And it pains me to say,
But dear I feel we’re drifting too far away
For my plans make for steady sailing
And I fear your reckless soul craves hurricanes
Golf courses are beautiful to look at.
Green vistas in a blasted world.
Birds twittering all about.
Growls, hums and whirring sounds from traffic streaming by.
Children screaming and laughing.
A shiny ball watched suspiciously by a couple of crows.
Electric carts, a quick margarita, a five wood.
Where else will you see bright green plaid shorts and red shoes?
What a bunch of fine forms.
The course is speckled with white sand traps, responsible for the loss of many a golfer.
White chairs and white tents and people getting married in the conventional style.
But I think it's the trees. And the rolling hilly vistas down the course. A world within a world of care and worry. A place to forget, for a while and just listen.
The occasional expletive elicits an empathic smile.
Bright colors in this world belie the garish anonymity of the world outside.
A little way station on the way back to Purgatory.
A little rest before the war resumes.
7/18/17
Here let me paint you another portrait
What you consider ugly, another may consider gorgeous
and vice versa,
the same could be said for thinking this world is small or enormous
Throughout any courses
Similar and opposing forces
From the same or different sources
Near or far from wild and tamed horses
It all was or wasn't in accordance
To having minor or major importance
As days become longer and shorten
The whole pie or mere portions
Crumbs and pennies or an entire fortune
Objects gone away or remaining in orbit
Alive or corpses
In and out of any forests
Homes with and without porches
Near and far from orchids
Overall it was a great or terrible performance
Hello.
Today I will be your server!
Welcome to the world of eat whatever is set before you.
The first breath of crying after the doctor awakens your
two beginning and the end parts. First soup and salad,
variety garden of vegetables, jello, milk, juices and raw
emotional changes within the womb. Time to suckle for yourself
bottle or breast milk. Oh, know you and daddy are on the same
food chain for a month or so. Time for the table delights food that is
to keep you healthy, wealthy and wise. No junk food. You are what you eat.
Ah, now I am simmering down listening for the tea pot to whistle.
Looking out at the new neighbors moving in with their children.
As you pour the hot water in the cup, carefully missing the skin that gravity has
stolen from your arms. Pushing the walker into the dining room to eat soft eggs and toast.
Falling asleep as the angels call you home prepared for you eternal sleep.
Paradise found lessons learned, many meals less desirable, but eaten and digested.
Rest well in His eternal arms in the peace of health without times interferance.
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