It is autumn. Almost winter. The premature cold pinch in the air forces shivering bodies to seek the shelter of thick hoodies, sweatpants and other warm bodies. Limbs flail around in strange dance-like movements to increase the heat within bodies. But it is not my fight, because I have a plan.
A devious plan.
"Mom, I'll wash the dishes today." The bait is thrown and the prize is caught. When I turn on the tap, the icy shower further numbed my fingers. However, patience is a virtue. Dabbing the cleaning sponge with some soap, I await the magic as I hold the first dirty dish under the stream of water.
Oh, the sheer pleasure when a gentle heat washes over my hands and carries the cold down the drain. I wash every dish with care and detail, lingering longer than necessary for a mere rinse, savouring the heat that radiates from my hands and spreads through my body. Around me cold humans complain and whine about the unforgiving forces of nature, but I keep my peace, focused on channelling energy to my core.
Alas, all that is good must come to an end. There is no more dirty kitchenware to wash. As I cast one last look at the sink, I smile, secure with the knowledge of my own battle plan.
--
Cheers!
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Saturday, April 16, 2011
Friday, April 8, 2011
Don't. Kill. Lions. (or any other animals for that matter)
My recent Math lecture lead to the composition of this poem :
The lion sat atop her head,
Sleeping sweet never to wake.
Its glorious mantle glistened groomed,
Unaware of its passed doom.
Its claws were filed, its teeth shone bright,
Very pretty in the light.
Behold the gems in its proud crown,
Frames the fright in frozen frown.
The rare person will hear its sighs,
For open plains and blue skies.
The frozen snarl, a limpid tail,
Reminders of a hunt's tale.
The lion sat atop her head,
One day it will also fade.
This was inspired by some "traditional headgear" that I thought I saw in the newspaper. At the awkward angle that I was reading it, the dead lion looked real enough, but when I consulted the same paper a few hours later, it turned out to be a plastic mask. >.< Thank goodness. Nonetheless, I hope people will be more aware that they should stop killing animals to wear them. They are part of our ecosystem. Animals may be animals, but they have feelings too.
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The lion sat atop her head,
Sleeping sweet never to wake.
Its glorious mantle glistened groomed,
Unaware of its passed doom.
Its claws were filed, its teeth shone bright,
Very pretty in the light.
Behold the gems in its proud crown,
Frames the fright in frozen frown.
The rare person will hear its sighs,
For open plains and blue skies.
The frozen snarl, a limpid tail,
Reminders of a hunt's tale.
The lion sat atop her head,
One day it will also fade.
This was inspired by some "traditional headgear" that I thought I saw in the newspaper. At the awkward angle that I was reading it, the dead lion looked real enough, but when I consulted the same paper a few hours later, it turned out to be a plastic mask. >.< Thank goodness. Nonetheless, I hope people will be more aware that they should stop killing animals to wear them. They are part of our ecosystem. Animals may be animals, but they have feelings too.
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My Mythical Beasts
