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Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts

Friday, January 2, 2009

Sneezles

This Christmas has been one to remember for so many reasons, not least of which it was our daughters first. It was a blast catching up with friends from Canada, Melbourne and Wagga. Its also been eventful for other reasons. The last few weeks have seen me off to the emergency room twice, with significant dehydration, fever and all sorts of wierd and wacky symptoms. I have had more blood tests than O.J. Simpson.

The good news is that I have found out that I am generally disgustingly healthy, have lower cholestrol than a galapagos tortoise, but have what seems to be a case of glandular fever, with the result that I have spent the last three weeks flat on my back resting, drinking gatorade. Those of you who know me know how much I enjoy just resting, so I would personally like to thank the South African cricket team for making my recuperation more pleasant and for stopping me from going stir crazy and climbing the walls.

Thank you also to our church St Pauls who have been a God send, both in prayer and practical ways. I just couldnt help including the following poem from A.A. Milne. It sums up my last few weeks well.


SNEEZLES -A.A. Milne





Christopher Robin had wheezles and sneezles,
They bundled him into his bed.



They gave him what goes with a cold in the nose,
And some more for a cold in the head.
They wondered if wheezles could turn into measles,
If sneezles could turn into mumps.
They examined his chest for a rash,
And the rest
of his body for swellings and lumps.
They sent for some doctors in sneezles and wheezles
To tell them what ought to be done.
All sorts and conditions of famous physicians
Came hurrying 'round at a run.
They all made a note of the state of his throat,
They asked if he suffered from thirst;
They asked if the sneezles came after the wheezles,
Or if the first sneezle came first.
They said, "If you teazle a sneezle or wheezle,
A measle may easily grow.
But humor or pleazle a sneezle or wheezle,
The measle will certainly go."
They expounded the reazles for sneezles and wheezles,
The manner of measles when new.
They said, "If he freezles in draughts and in breezles,
Then PHTHEEZLES may even ensue."
Christopher Robin got up in the morning,
The sneezles had vanished away.
And the look in his eye seemed to say to the sky,
"Now, how to amuse them to-day!"

Wednesday, February 8, 2006

The quiet mind. Not an original, but hey, its contemplative

The Quiet Mind

I have a treasure which I prize;
The like I cannot find
Theres nothing like it on the earth:
It is the quiet mine
But tis not that I’m stupified
Or sensless, dull or blind:
Tis Gods own peace within my soul
Which forms my quiet mind.

I found this treasure at the Cross.
Tis there to every kind
Of heavy laden, weary souls
Christ gives a quiet mind.
My saviours death and risen life
To give this were designed
And that’s the root and that’s the branch
of this my quiet mind
The love of God within my heart
My heart to his doth bind
This is the mind of heaven on earth;
This is my quiet mind

I have many crosses to take up now
And many left behind
But present trials move me not
Nor shake my quiet mind.
And what may be to-morrows cross
I never seek to find
My saviour says, leave that to Me
And keep your quiet mind.
I met with pride and wit and wealth
And scorn and looks unkind
It matters naught. I envy not.
For I’ve a quiet mind

I’m waiting now to see the Lord,
Who has been to me so kind:
I want to thank him face to face
For this my quiet mind

Sunday, May 1, 2005

Futility

Move him into the sun--
Gently its touch awoke him once,
At home, whispering of fields unsown.
Always it awoke him, even in France,
Until this morning and this snow.
If anything might rouse him now
The kind old sun will know.

Think how it wakes the seeds--
Woke, once, the clays of a cold star.
Are limbs so dear-achieved, are sides
Full-nerved,--still warm,--too hard to stir?
Was it for this the clay grew tall?
--O what made fatuous sunbeams toil
To break earth's sleep at all?

-- Wilfred Owen