Dec 29, 2008

Playing in the Snow

December 30 2008

2008 - year of the woman on-line (Check out the stats)

- One more day of 2008 and then ne'er again will we see....How do we stop the years?
We've been enjoying all the snow.

Yesterday's project..

Bored Kids?

The snowman picture is from the 7 all together blog...

Cookie of the Day

Linzer heart cookies

Well it's not a cookie but here is a gingerbread waffle recipe
List of Unique recipes - she is or was living in Japan & quite a collection

Poetry Exercise day 3
Complete the following...
J. Weston Walsh, Publisher (quoted from)

Ben Jonson wrote a poem called "Inviting a Friend to Supper"

Tonight, grave Sir, both my poor house and I
Do equally desire your company:
Not that we think us worth such a guest...
Yet shall you have, to rectify your palate,
An olive, capers, or some better salad,
Ushering the mutton; with a short-legged hen,
If we can get her, full of eggs, and then
Lemons, and wine for sauce

Jonson doesn't feel worthy of his friends company, but he invites him anyway and tries to entice him with delicious dishes. Think of someone famous you'd like to invite to your house, and write a poem asking him or her to a wonderful meal. You can make it sound like a fancy invitation, if you want: "Tonight, Queen Elizabeth, I desire your company...You shall eat pizza with me, lemonade..." You can also write about what the conversation will be like and who else (if anyone) will be coming.

- today's write up does not strike my fancy....

My response
Mr. Jonson, thankful for your gracious invite
Salivating, I am, at thoughts of inhaling your ceremonious grandeur
However, today's toil depletes my evening attentions
I long to immerse my overtaxed carcass into a warm bath
Thus relaxing with a novel spouting an other's troubles
Tonight I wish to transport my agitation to torpid thoughts
aided by a new craft of smooth vintage.
Perhaps another day we can sit over savory mutton and entertain an engaging dialect but tonight I must be solitary.
I think what I love most of poetry is that is breaks rules - plays with punctuation - drags rules through the can, if it chooses....
*sigh* Till tomorrow...

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