A Home Made Carpet Freshener
April 3, 2013 at 8:47 am (Video of the Day)
Tags: education, environment, fresh, natural, nature, youtube
Project ~ Fresh Air
April 3, 2013 at 8:14 am (Rant)
Tags: chest infection, education, environment, fresh air, health, natural, nature, public holidays, quit smoking, Rant, smoke smell, stale smoke, strange place, toxic poisons, youtube
So I quit smoking 18 days ago and right now I feel like crap. The first week was hell as I only use about 3 pieces of Thrive gum a day. The next week was trying to change habits and patterns that set off my “Mental Cravings” for a smoke and had stopped using the Thrive gum. Not long into that after a hellish week at work I became sick. It was just a cold (2nd one in 2 months) but then my ears began to hurt and as my wife was going away for a week she wanted to take me to the doctors (she new I wouldn’t go if she didn’t take me) Now this was Good Friday in a strange place that thinks no one gets sick on public holidays so dont bother having any clinics open. This led to the joy of spending almost 2 hours in the ER. I felt stupid as it was just a cold but I didnt want my wonderful wife worried while away.
Turns out it is an ear infection and a chest infection. Awesome! So I got my prescription and doctors note for work headed to work (where I could get my prescription filled also) handing in my note while waiting on my meds. We got to pick them up, antibiotics and some puffer thing, and with my work discount got to spend over $150 on those 2 items.
So im making this into a way longer story than intended, but hey.. my blog.. my mindless mumbles so deal with it.
Just to shorten it a bit, I have spent the Easter weekend alone and sick and feel im getting worse not better. The breathing is the part bugging me the most that and the extream strong smell of dust (like an old boarded up house with visible height to the dust) Im just thinking its my body cleaning out the toxic poisons its been collecting through my years of smoking.
So if its not improving in a couple days I will go back to the doctors.
This project though is to rid all my belongings of the horrid stale smoke smell, so I am looking up natural ways to freshen the air.
I love Youtube so most of the following posts for this will be Videos.
Enjoy
DD
Do not stand at my grave and weep _ Mary Frye (1932)
June 2, 2012 at 6:11 pm (Poem of the Day)
Tags: diamond glint, Do not stand at my grave and weep, education, entertainment, gentle autumn rain, mary frye, Mary Frye (1932), nature, old poem, poem, poems, quiet birds, soft starlight, woman steps, words
Do not stand at my grave and weep
Mary Frye (1932)
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glint on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you wake in the morning hush,
I am the swift, uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft starlight at night.
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there, I did not die!
The Horse Ride
May 30, 2012 at 9:38 pm (Joke of the Day, Poem of the Day)
Tags: animals, comedy, entertainment, fun, funny, funny animals, joke, jokes, lol, love, nature, people, poem, poems, The Horse Ride, travel, words
The Horse Ride
We sat upon the wagon.
Suddenly the horse lifted his tail
And we heard a roaring dragon!
The deafening sound hurt my ears
And the smell burned the hairs in my nose.
My girlfriend sat and glared at me.
Somehow my fault I suppose.
It was my idea to take the ride,
But how was I to know?
It really wasn’t in my plans;
Didn’t know the horse would blow.
The noise and the smell were bad enough,
As the wind blew quickly by.
But I think the very worst of it,
Was the brown stuff in my eye.
My girlfriend’s face turned angry red.
So I figured I wouldn’t dare,
Advise her of the smelly pieces
Of horse stuff in her hair.
The horse finally stopped; my girl ran away,
Stubbornly lifting her chin.
I think that horse was enjoying himself,
Cause I’m sure I saw him grin.
A lesson learned for me today.
Although I must confess,
I laughed so hard I nearly cried
As I wiped away the mess.
Source: The Horse Ride, Humorous Poem http://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/the-horse-ride#ixzz1wOKSxceJ
http://www.FamilyFriendPoems.com
Orange © Jeff Opperman
May 28, 2012 at 10:53 pm (Poem of the Day)
Tags: Jeff Opperman, literature, lol, nature, Orange, outdoors, poem, travel, words, writing
Orange
Fiery colors due abound of poems there are a few
I wish that I could write one, about that perfect hue
But nothing rhymes with Orange
Orchards stretch for miles, they never seem to stop
There nectar baring fruit is one that’s hard to top
A fruit that justifies a sonnet, but might as well be rock
But nothing rhymes with Orange
How do I describe a basketball?
Or the bricks within my garden wall
The autumn leaves before they fall
But nothing rhymes with Orange
So the hardest line you’ll ever write
One to keep you up all night
So please tell if you might
What the hell rhymes with ORANGE?
Source: Nothing Rhymes with Orange, Orange, Humorous Poem http://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/orange#ixzz1wCwFE5cB
http://www.FamilyFriendPoems.com
Winter Bees
May 22, 2012 at 10:00 pm (Poem of the Day)
Tags: animals, beauty, bees, nature, old poem, plants, poems, style, travel, vacation, winter, words
Winter Bees
Swarm
Very deep,
very mobile
the swarm-song
sounds in my chest:
not a beat, not breath
but an older music
remembered—
when a head
turns on a pillow
or hips lift—
one gesture becoming another
in the room
where a shoulder moves
close, moves away
uncovering a picture-window
filled with blossom-streaks,
pale trailers
that might be rain
or flight,
but these are flowers—
swarming white and eager
on dark branches,
while the Airbus
overhead
shakes the glass.
Bee-song
Rises from long grass
to make a mouth between the trees
rising and opening
as if it will never be done
when it opens its dark mouth
breathing and rising
sound filling the space of sound
mostly secret most necessary
trembling and calling
itself out of the dark
ceaselessness of itself
unendingly re-forming
dark in the darkened clearing
between the maize headlands and trees
with the evening gathering
in the long grass—
Bee Samā
If God were a limitless geometry,
that perfection world
reaches clumsily over itself
to articulate—
If he could be glimpsed in the pattern
of limitless addition
but were not that pattern, beautiful
though the turquoises
and greens of the glazed tiles are,
so beautiful
that the eye swoons, dropping through endless form
into form—If God
were neither principle nor dream, resting
his cheek on the earth
for a moment you might have imagined,
a gift of pure grace
from a Perfection that is bodiless
here and everywhere,
bees could be his servants and prophets,
demonstrating beauty
is a kind of humility—
Tonight, they offer us
the hive’s aroma.
In the Karst
Here: that old cult—
boards bleaching
in couch grass
on highlands
where no-one goes
along the limestone runnels
above ruined farms—
Remember secrets,
and abandoned hulls
that turn nailed flanks to the sun,
sinking
in a murmur of bees,
bees flecking the air
brightly,
their hum a rumour—
old tunes—
Winter Bees
Every year
the weak January sun
brings bumblebees
nudging and thudding against the wood
of my work shed—
which must smell good, some old pine sweetness
soft in the grain
under the blue cracked paint, a blue
miracle sky.
Still, this banality moves us—
a small spring
resurrection, in the time
just before spring.
What tender precision
directs each bee
to our recurring conversation,
its compass set
by the sun’s enormous arc?
The bee Christ
wears his crown of gilt and mourning,
mnemonic
of the winter swarm. Out
of strength came forth
sweetness. Our dark
hearts are hives.
Note: “Winter Bees” comes from Coleshill, to be
published by Chatto and Windus in March 2013, and
was commissioned by Poet in the City/The City of
London Festival.
Poetry Ireland Review
Issue 106
Picture of the Day _ 22nd May 2012
May 22, 2012 at 9:56 pm (Picture of the Day)
Tags: animals, bat, culture, mabu, michael curran, nature, northern mozambique, Photo, Picture, Rhinolophus Blasii
Photograph by Michael Curran and Mirjam Kopp
This is a Rhinolophus blasii (bat) from Mount Mabu in northern Mozambique
Catfish
May 21, 2012 at 4:54 pm (Poem of the Day)
Tags: animals, boat, cars, catfish, death, entertainment, fish, fishing, nature, old poem, outdoors, poems, river, transportation, travel, vacation
Catfish
The catfish have the night,
but I have patience
and a bucket of chicken guts.
I have canned corn and shad blood.
And I’ve nothing better to do
than listen to the water’s riffled dark
spill into the deep eddy
where a ’39 Ford coupe
rests in the muck-bottom.
The dare growing up:
to swim down with pliers
for the license plates,
corpse bones, a little chrome . . .
But even on the clearest days,
even when the river runs low and clean,
you can’t see it,
though you can often nearly see
the movement of hair.
I used to move through my days
as someone agreeable
to all the gears
clicking in the world.
I was a big clumsy Yes
tugged around by its collar.
Yes to the mill, yes to the rain,
yes to what passed
for fistfights and sex, yes
to all the pine boards of thought
waiting around for the hammer.
The catfish have the night
and ancient gear oil for blood,
they have a kind of greased demeanor
and wet electricity
that you can never boil out of them.
The catfish have the night,
but I have the kind of patience
born of indifference and hate.
Maybe the river and I share this.
Maybe the obvious moon
that bobs near the lip of the eddy
is really a pocket watch
having finally made its way downstream
from what must have been
a serious accident—
the station wagon and its family
busting the guardrail,
the steering wheel jumping
into the man’s chest,
his pocket watch hurtling
through the windshield
and into the river.
Wind the hands in one direction
and see into the exact moment of your death.
Wind them the other way
and see all the tiny ways
you’ve already died—
I’m going to put this in my breast pocket
just as it is. Metal heart
that will catch the stray bullet
in its teeth.
I chum the water, I thread the barb.
I feel something move in the dark.
MICHAEL MCGRIFF
Home Burial
Copper Canyon Press
Purple Nudibranch
May 21, 2012 at 4:43 pm (Picture of the Day)
Tags: animals, day, Fiji, hydroids, lavender, mollusks, nature, nudibranch, Purple, Purple Nudibranch, sea slugs, vatu, Vatu-i-Ra, vibrant, vibrant colors
Picture of the day _ 19th May 2012
May 20, 2012 at 6:29 pm (Picture of the Day)
Tags: animals, comedy, entertainment, fun, funny, funny animals, nature, people, road rage
Forgot to post one yesterday so here it is!