Search Results for 'ellen'

“I wonder how high
Is an ostriches eye…”

“Yes” replied Flipswitch, somewhat obscurely.

Ann was encouraged to continue, notwithstanding the enigmatic response from the professor.

“Ellen Melon went to town
To shop her felon hubby…”

“And he said, Lovely Jubbly!
I have no time
to make this rhyme,
I’m fishing with a zebra.”

“What do you think Harvey? It is my first assignment in the new writing course. I really think I have made progress with my limericks.” Lavender beamed proudly at Harvey. “It is written in Sloopernoff and is full of rich symbolism, indeed, it cleverly elaborates on the symbolism in a coded form inherent in the precise rhyming structure required for the pure art form of the limerick poem. I think Gubby will be impressed. Okay, put down that zebra and listen:

They made a fine statooe of Melon
which pissed off his thirteenth wife Ellen
When a pigeoon stoopped by
She said with a cry
That man was a nasty oold felon!”

Ann Tattler beamed in delight, unable to conceal her pleasure and surprise. She had scraped in a pass for “Continuity Class for Complete Beginners”. It had taken months, but under the excellent tutelage of Prof Frantic Moose, she had finally cracked it.

Her next hurdle was “Meaningful Writing for the Scattered Brain”.

Her pleasure evaporated somewhat when she read the pithy course description.

Things most profound can be found in the most shallow conversation. Prof Leone Laminae

Sadly, I am not sure that “profound” is one of my strong points, she confided later to her twin sister Sally.

Becky looked at the pebbles in her hand and then looked up at the little jars of sand on her kitchen shelf.

“Pompeii and Ville Franche, I’d like you to meet Grand Canyon, Valley of Fire and Zion” she said ceremoniously, and placed the little shard of black rock and the smooth taupe pebble on the shelf next to the jar of Zion sand.

In her hand she still held the aquamarine quartz crystal. “You’re different” she said “And I’m not sure what to do with you yet.”

The previous evening she’d found herself holding the sea green stone in her hands as she listened to an unexpected voicemail from Jane. As Jane sang the Sumari song, Becky had felt the crystal glow and vibrate. She wasn’t quite sure what it all meant, but somehow it seemed significant that these unexpected gifts — the aquamarine quartz, the pebbles from Pompeii, and the Sumari song of Creation from Jane — that arrived on the same day, were all connected.

The second voicemail she felt sure was for Sean — Jane singing Molly Malone , and at the end of the voicemail, laughing.

Becky smiled. Whatever it was, it felt good.

“Aquamarine is excellent for the 5th, or communication chakra. It can help singers and orators get the full quality of expression by releasing emotions that get blocked in the throat.”

“Well, what a coincidence!” exclaimed Becky. “Singing sync! That’s a good start”

She returned to her research.

4:21:44 PM 8-8-08 1da Geolocation Time.

sometimes the flow climbs a mountain.

pause. step. quick step. pause again. step. upstream another step. the stones solid, smooth, settled beneath my feet with the timeless passing of water. the path of gravity. the rising of a mountain. a rapid, considered, going on pace. sand between the stones. the moments of time. light on the rippling waters flickering. the air transparent, timeless, crisp, cool.

knowing i’ve passed this way before, i pass again for the first time.

it’s good to be back. returning. beginning.

knowing my destination. the cave far above beneath the ancient pine. the boulder near the rough and gnarled trunk, slick and smooth. so hard the sense is of softness gliding with my fingers over the iridescent surface. soft to sit upon, to watch the valley far below extending forever into the distance. soft to recline upon, arcing my back. the warmth of the day in the stone, lingering far into the night to heat my bones. …knowing my destination, i take the next step into all that is new.

sitting near the water. deep transparent pools of green/blue. the setting red sun. a shelter beneath driftwood high on the bank. a myrtle tree draping a blanket of scent over me, opening my soul. with each breath. i watch the light fading into the words echoing through my skull… life is hard… the song…

Life is hard
Anyway you cut it
Life is sweet,
Like a berry from a tree
Life is temptation, baby,
Every single day
Life is hard

Life is funny,
I dont mean ha-ha
It‘s not always sunny,
When it needs to be
Life is frightening,
Nothing lasts forever
Life is hard

My time
Is next to nothing
My time
Falls on you, yeah
Everything
Is in motion
Life is hard

Life is precious,
No matter how you see it
Life is crazy,
Like yellow fishes in the street
Life is lonely
When you‘re not with me
Life is hard

Gentlemen
Is that you story?
Hanging religion
From a tree, yeah
My time
Is next to nothing
Life is hard

My time
Is next to nothing
My time
Falls on you, yeah
Everything
Is in motion
Life is hard

My time
Falls on you, yeah
Life is hard
Life is hard

– J. Mellencamp – while on the planet earth.

ok. life is also beautiful. – 1da

it’s a cruel crazy beautiful world – J. Clegg – also while on the planet earth.

stars flickering in the fading twilight. the silence of a light breeze as pine boughs begin to whisper. the ache of tall trees swaying in the night with a moan like countless masts on the tall ships of a planet. blink. and i sleep.

Leonard stood up, stretched, and began to make strange movements with his body, much to the delight of Mouffle who leapt around him joyously barking.

Are you alright, Leonard? asked Franiel, a little concerned by Leonard’s gyrations. His voice sounded odd to his own ears, as though it came from a spot somewhere behind him. He was even unsure if he had spoken the words out loud.

Leonard chuckled, and Franiel joined in, though why he did so he was not sure.

I am very well indeed, thank you, Franiel. I am performing the motional practices of Ancient Kuzhebar aborigines. It is an excellent technique for straightening the mind. Perhaps you would like to join me?

Although I am sure my mind would benefit from straightening, perhaps I will just watch for now, said Franiel, feeling a persuasive tiredness sweep over his body. It must be the nectar, he mused. He lay back on the grassy verge, and though he tried his hardest, he found it impossible to keep his eyes open. I will close them just for a moment, he thought.

excellent work Eric

I have to delete the dancing Owl, it is very irritating

Arona and Mandrake sat side by side looking into the glass ball filled with sand. They had been practising for some time, and had both become quite proficient at shifting the sand.

So what shall we make now Mandrake? Something we both like maybe?

A fish perhaps? suggested Mandrake

Oh excellent idea! and no sooner was it thought of than the sand would shift accordingly.

Scrambled eggs I think too, on chunks of homemade bread, said the still hungry Arona, and chocolate!

Some milk for me, said Mandrake

Hmmm not sure about that Mandrake. Lots of cats have allergies to cows milk.

Mandrake rolled his eyes And chocolate might make you fat, he said, but was I so rude as to mention it? and Mandrake created a hairy cow, and a farmer to milk the cow.

Arona laughed, and created a little sand langoat, just in case the stubborn Mandrake changed his mind. Langoat’s milk would be much better for him she thought.

The glass ball was now filled with a miniature world of sand objects.

Arona leaned back against the wall and stroked Mandrake. She felt very fond of the grumpy cat. The feeling of being able to create whatever she wanted had been fun. Perhaps, she thought, her creations were rather rudimental at this stage, but then already she could feel bigger things brewing within her as her confidence grew. She felt as though the sand game had focused her, like a beam of light which shone only on that which was intended.

Arona closed her eyes and allowed her mind to open and reach out, something she knew she had always been able to do easily, but her fear of the “madness” had made her cautious and hide these abilities, till she became unsure of them. The “madness” was the term the people in her Village had given to the poor wretched wandering ones, who claimed to hear voices and communicate with Gods. Once as a child she had seen the Villagers drive one of these poor souls from the Village, shouting and abusing him. She did not really understand what he had done, only that the Villagers were afraid of him. So Arona had felt it was better to keep some things to herself.

Arona left her mind open and allowed images to enter. Some of the images she did not understand, and she let them flow on, enjoying the energy of them notwithstanding. She saw a dragon, it was not the one with the mouthful of riddles, but another one, a baby one she felt. Her ability to see pictures was quite rusty, but she felt a connection with this baby dragon and a great fondness for it.

She felt a great peacefulness in her body, a knowledge that walking in the world of magic would be easier from now on