A furry merry Christmas to you!
Greetings, sunshine lovers!
I hope you all had a blessed Christmas 🙂
At the tail end of the Christmas celebrations, I wanted to share with you the poem I wrote for my friends at the South African rat club this year.
A Christmas tail
Imagine with me
if you will
that on that starry night
as shepherds praised
and wise men bowed
to meet the Child of light
between the cattle
through the hay
ran tiny gel-pink feet
and whiskers twitched
and black eyes glowed
to see the Child so sweet
With yellow teeth
and scaly tail
and fur as soft as fleece
a humble rodent
to greet the Child of peace
Of course a rat
of all things made
could find its way in there
It scampered close
and sat quite still
to watch the Child so fair
Then bursting into
to witness Christmas morn
a simple ratty
sang its joy-song
to the King there born.
(Please note: As with all the other content on this site, this poem is copyrighted to me. You may not use it without permission. Please contact me for any re-use requests. Thank you. – Zest)
Said the Robin to the Sparrow:
‘I should really like to know
Why these anxious human beings
Rush about and worry so.’
Said the Sparrow to the Robin:
‘Friend, I think that it must be
That they have no heavenly Father
Such as cares for you and me.’
~ Elizabeth Cheney ~
Here’s a poem I wrote recently… it seems fitting for a Friday, for those of you who may also be tired from another long week in the corporate world 🙂
Give me anything but this:
dry humming aircon
with redistributed germs
and a stale smell that hangs
between the walls and the tightly shut windows.
Give me something more than this –
this tiny cubicle
with the blankness of a desk
asking for work
and bearing paper burdens
Oh, please! Give me something more:
get me far beyond the city,
the concrete and the brickwork.
Get me out where my spirit
paints the world as a canvas wide
and leaps to the height of the cirrus
in exuberance at being alive.
© Zest – Sunshine Scrapbook
The 56th goal on my list of 101 things to do in 1001 days was to surprise my mom with flowers. I crossed off that goal this past weekend, taking my Marzipan a bunch of bright yellow beauties ‘just because’ 🙂
Flowers for my mom
My mom would never say she deserves flowers, and I can’t say we’ve always had that kind of relationship where I’d think of getting her any… but despite our various differences she is a huge blessing to me. This poem reminds me of her:
We search the world for truth. We cull
The good, the true, the beautiful,
From graven stone and written scroll,
And all old flower-fields of the soul;
And, weary seekers of the best,
We come back laden from our quest,
To find that all the sages said
Is in the Book our mothers read.
˜ John Greenleaf Whittier, 1807–1892 ˜
I don’t normally share this sort of thing online, simply because the internet makes plagiarism far too easy. But here’s a poem I wrote recently on the occasion of the office memorial service for a colleague…
So you died
and your colleagues are throwing a party
There are bouquets and canapés;
the boardroom’s done up like a church.
People wear black today
and don’t smile when I greet them
and walk around saying,
‘I’m no good at things like this…’
It seems I alone declined – respectfully –
and stayed at my desk
choosing not to do you the disservice
of pretending that I knew you
or ever spoke to you
or even cared.
Please don’t misunderstand:
I’m not happy that you’re gone
but how does it affect me
if I barely acknowledged you alive?
The feasting’s over now;
dried curling sandwiches
and bruised rose petals
are all that’s left behind
Yet for those who really did know you
and speak to you
and care about you,
I’m sure the gap you’ve left
is wide and raw and real.
You will be missed
by those whose lives you touched.