Into weariness and woe

by Michael Leunig

Frangipani

Frangipani - Scotts Head NSW © Jennifer Phillips

Hibernation

"You live like this, sheltered, in a delicate world, and you believe you are living. Then you read a book (Lady Chatterley, for instance), or you take a trip, or you talk with Richard, and you discover that you are not living, that you are hibernating. The symptoms of hibernating are easily detectable: first, restlessness. The second symptom (when hibernating becomes dangerous and might degenerate into death): absence of pleasure. That is all. It appears like an innocuous illness. Monotony, boredom, death. Millions live like this (or die like this) without knowing it. They work in offices. They drive a car. They picnic with their families. They raise children. And then some shock treatment takes place, a person, a book, a song, and it awakens them and saves them from death."

by Anaïs Nin

Suspension

I stand on the edge.

I hang in the gap.

I am the mist coughed up

by the ocean.

offered forth from the water,

I am suspended droplets 

drifting through the valley.

Hanging between the lushes

of mountain sides

I mingle with the leaves

and they may receive me.

I caress the ancient stones,

this colossus that holds life.

I stick to its edge

give it a shimmer

but cannot break its seal.

I am the mist which 

emerged from the sea. 

I hang in the gap.

I stand on the edge. 

by Jessie Meredith

A fully believable God

"What Corrigan wanted was a fully believable God, one you could find in the grime of everyday. The comfort he got from the hard, cold truth - the filth, the war, the poverty - was that life could be capable of small beauties. He wasn't interested in the glorious tales of the afterlife or the notions of a honey-soaked heaven. To him that was a dressing room for hell. Rather, he consoled himself with the fact that, in the real world, when he looked closely into the darkness he might find the presence of a light, damaged and bruised, but a little light all the same. He wanted, quite simply, for the world to be a better place, and he was in the habit of hoping for it. Out of that came some sort of triumph that went beyond theological proof, a cause for optimism against all the evidence.
'Someday the meek might actually want it,' he said."

From "Let the Great World Spin" by Colum McCann

Candles © Jennifer Phillips

Guinea pig series

Small and solid furry fluffy things,

They smile and squeak and try to sing.

Their hearts are full of love and joy

They're sometimes loud,

They're sometimes coy.

If you cuddle one everyday

All your blues will melt away.

The ones who pass from our lives

We remember with tear filled eyes

But also with grateful thanks.

That such an amazing little soul

Let us be the one to fill his food bowl.

If you want less stress and to have fun

I recommend a Guinea Pig for everyone!

by L. M. Jones.

© Jennifer Phillips

© Jennifer Phillips

© Jennifer Phillips 

© Jennifer Phillips

Red flowers, green leaf

Red flowers, green leaf © Jennifer Phillips

Flowers are Red 

The little boy went first day of school

He got some crayons and started to draw

He put colors all over the paper

For colors was what he saw

And the teacher said.. What you doin' young man

I'm paintin' flowers he said

She said... It's not the time for art young man

And anyway flowers are green and red

There's a time for everything young man

And a way it should be done

You've got to show concern for everyone else

For you're not the only one

And she said...

Flowers are red young man

Green leaves are green

There's no need to see flowers any other way

Than they way they always have been seen

But the little boy said...

There are so many colors in the rainbow

So many colors in the morning sun

So many colors in the flower and I see every one

Well the teacher said.. You're sassy

There's ways that things should be

And you'll paint flowers the way they are

So repeat after me.....

And she said...

Flowers are red young man

Green leaves are green

There's no need to see flowers any other way

Than they way they always have been seen

But the little boy said...

There are so many colors in the rainbow

So many colors in the morning sun

So many colors in the flower and I see every one

The teacher put him in a corner

She said.. It's for your own good..

And you won't come out 'til you get it right

And are responding like you should

Well finally he got lonely

Frightened thoughts filled his head

And he went up to the teacher

And this is what he said.. and he said

Flowers are red, green leaves are green

There's no need to see flowers any other way

Than the way they always have been seen

Time went by like it always does

And they moved to another town

And the little boy went to another school

And this is what he found

The teacher there was smilin'

She said...Painting should be fun

And there are so many colors in a flower

So let's use every one

But that little boy painted flowers

In neat rows of green and red

And when the teacher asked him why

This is what he said.. and he said

Flowers are red, green leaves are green

There's no need to see flowers any other way

Than the way they always have been seen.

by Harry Chapin

Wynken, Blynken, and Nod

Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night

Sailed off in a wooden shoe —

Sailed on a river of crystal light,

Into a sea of dew.

"Where are you going, and what do you wish?"

The old moon asked the three.

"We have come to fish for the herring fish

That live in this beautiful sea;

Nets of silver and gold have we!"

Said Wynken, Blynken, and Nod.

The old moon laughed and sang a song,

As they rocked in the wooden shoe,

And the wind that sped them all night long

Ruffled the waves of dew.

The little stars were the herring fish

That lived in that beautiful sea —

"Now cast your nets wherever you wish —

Never afeard are we";

So cried the stars to the fishermen three:

Wynken, Blynken, and Nod.

All night long their nets they threw

To the stars in the twinkling foam —

Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe,

Bringing the fishermen home;

'Twas all so pretty a sail it seemed

As if it could not be,

And some folks thought 'twas a dream they'd dreamed

Of sailing that beautiful sea —

But I shall name you the fishermen three:

Wynken, Blynken, and Nod.

Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes,

And Nod is a little head,

And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies

Is a wee one's trundle-bed.

So shut your eyes while mother sings

Of wonderful sights that be,

And you shall see the beautiful things

As you rock in the misty sea,

Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three:

Wynken, Blynken, and Nod.

by Eugene Field

Rest time

Rest time for boy and guinea pigs © Jennifer Phillips

Pink flowers

Pink flowers © Jennifer Phillips

Just a girl

Take this pink ribbon off my eyes 

I'm exposed 

And it's no big surprise 

Don't you think I know 

Exactly where I stand 

This world is forcing me 

To hold your hand 

'Cause I'm just a girl, little 'ol me 

Don't let me out of your sight 

I'm just a girl, all pretty and petite 

So don't let me have any rights 

Oh...I've had it up to here! 

The moment that I step outside 

So many reasons 

For me to run and hide 

I can't do the little things I hold so dear 

'Cause it's all those little things 

That I fear 

'Cause I'm just a girl I'd rather not be 

'Cause they won't let me drive 

Late at night I'm just a girl, 

Guess I'm some kind of freak 

'Cause they all sit and stare

With their eyes 

I'm just a girl, 

Take a good look at me 

Just your typical prototype 

Oh...I've had it up to here! 

Oh...am I making myself clear? 

I'm just a girl 

I'm just a girl in the world... 

That's all that you'll let me be! 

I'm just a girl, living in captivity 

Your rule of thumb 

Makes me worry some 

I'm just a girl, what's my destiny? 

What I've succumbed to is making me numb 

I'm just a girl, my apologies 

What I've become is so burdensome

I'm just a girl, lucky me 

Twiddle-dum there's no comparison 

Oh...I've had it up to! 

Oh...I've had it up to!! 

Oh...I've had it up to here!

by Gwen Stefani and Thomas Dumont - No Doubt

Gwen Stefani

F*ck you

Once you shared your dreaming with me.

We'd fly up and steal the shine off the stars.

Our words would dance in the wind

like dewdrops on spiderwebs in the mist.

But your well is dry, you've sold your soul.

Good for you - you suck, you've given up.

I cannot get past you, though I've tried so hard.

Like pushing a bogged car through sticky mud.

I've walked through a vale of tears,

sheets of icy cold burning my soul

and I cannot leave you and feel whole.

This is my story and I will tell it till it's gone.

I'll tell it until I feel your presence drop away.

I will sing your song - our song - my song

until the moon turns a thousand times

and my lament echoes the howl of the wolves.

We've ached for each other a quarter of a lifetime - 

etched furrows in our hearts and across our brows.

We tried to fight it and yet we cannot beat this Thing.

You've let yourself go - live in denial - on your track.

Sometimes I regret moves made long since 

when young and unsure and unformed.

Now we clutch shards of time unwilling or unable 

to see that time has made of us a laughing-stock.

So f*ck you. I want more than there is or ever was to give, 

so let's just get back to whatever it is we both do.

F*ck you, and f*ck you again. F*ck you.

You cannot be who I need you to be.

© Jennifer Phillips (All rights reserved)

Dew-coated spiderweb © Jennifer Phillips