at home with ann

Archive for March 2007

Morpheus sheltered her beneath his wings
Afforded her bitter-sweet slumber
Throughout the obscurity of the night
Throughout the hours of dwindling light
From dawn to dusk; from dusk to dawn
Unaware of time, dimension, space
Feverishly in pursuit; hopelessly chased
Who is here beside her?
Vaguely familiar she heeds their voice
Strangers whispering in foreign tongues
She heard, grasping their every word
Stirred her past, her souls of yesteryear
Gliding in a jewelled vessel on rippled waters
Weaving exotic tales to please, a princess
Her gift, her joyous laughter floating on the breeze
As then her soul is brought to her knees, in bondage
A slave of ancient times, suffering with honour, with pride
Head held high, she draws her close, dry parched lips
Murmur in her ear, “Soon, soon my dear, we shall all be free.”
Fires burning in the valley, camps of travellers
Swirling twirling brightly sway in revelry
Flames curl, garlands unfurl, spirits whirl
Festive celebration; no persuasion
Her gypsy soul drives her on
Forced forwards, a fearful age of violence, terror
Pogroms, persecution, hatred, red splattered virgin snow
One more tortured departed soul from not so long ago
Whose tender touch lovingly lingers upon her fingers
Stillness, serenity spreads over her that instant
Coolly ebbs her febrile fevered brow
Eternally by her side, her archangel, her guide
She awakens quite alone; her heart believes it wasn’t so
Gazing heavenward beyond a spectral spiritual sky
Her rested eyes sense soaring wisps of cloud
Wave to her their silent, still, ghostly goodbye

copyright 2007 ann raven

HAPPY PESACH

Posted on: 30 March 2007

I thought I would come out of hiding for a little and ramble a little.

I am sure you all recognise these… matzah! Yes that time of year is almost upon us which is why you’ve not heard hide nor hair from me. If you want to know more of what I’ve been busying myself with I found a great link which I’ve been dipping into and it tells all the whys and wherefores of Pesach, The Passover. In a nutshell we have to rid the home, oh and the car… erm… and the office, of chametz. Well that prohibits certain grains which means of course I just had to finish that second, or was it third, hiccup, bottle of Stella Artois at the back of the cupboard just now.

The funny thing is I have been making Pesach for over, well many many years, yet each year I learn something new. My daughter told me something her boyfriend’s family don’t do and she thought they didn’t do it right. Well forget the different streams of orthodoxy, essentially Jews are divided into two groups… Ashkenazi who originated from Eastern Europe, i.e. Russia, Poland, etc. and the Sephardi who come from the Middle East and Mediterranean areas. My father’s family were the former, although I have some Sephardi blood in my veins on my mother’s side. Rachel’s boyfriend is Sephardi, also my brother’s wife. It is interesting and fascinating as each has their own customs and different foods are permissible for Sephardi but not for Ashkenazi.
I won’t go into all the details of my personal Pesach cleaning, oy my poor back and you should see the state of my hands, but I recommended earlier that some of my darling internet friends find an orthodox Jewish woman in their neighbourhood and whisper the magic word “Pesach?” I should have told them to ask her:

  1. Are you busy?
  2. Are you tired?
  3. How’s your back?

Once it is all done and the search and burning of chametz is complete, there is a great sense of satisfaction and believe it or not, a sense of spiritual cleansing as well. Then we start on the cookathon. I make two sedarim and there are always family and friends at the table, mine and the children’s, Jamie and Lucy intend eating every meal here over the whole of Pesach and… mother’s coming to stay.

In the meantime I thought I would show you a picture of where Jamie and Lucy’s wedding will take place overlooking the sea. Having said that, the pool area was being renovated, so we couldn’t see exactly where the chupah (wedding canopy) will be. Not long now, only 17 weeks… and no, I have not lost any weight or bought the dress or shoes or bag or hat… oh dear! Still, neither has Rachel as bridesmaid and Jamie refuses to wear a suit… oy gevalt, what do I do with him? I know, I know, it is Israel, it will be very very hot and it’s fairly informal, but a nice lightweight linen wouldn’t look amiss… hmmm!
.
I was kinda designated to do the excel spreadsheet for the wedding invitations, but because of Pesach I simply haven’t had a chance to do it. Jamie will be home all next week. I have delegated… yes! Being a typical Aries, he likes to be in control, so I’m sure he won’t mind. By the way, Val, belated birthday greetings… another Aries. I lived with three male Aries, Jamie’s birthday on the 26 March, the ex on the 27th and Jon’s on 3 April… I didn’t stand a chance!



Couldn’t not post pics of my little sprogs. Bridgitte and Moriah on my last morning with them.

Boaz sans hair… makes him look all grown up.
Boaz playing with his new tractor… wonder who bought him that?

Finally a funny… seems to fit somehow. I have three enormous sacks of clothes ready for the charity shop sitting in my bedroom. If I haven’t worn it for a couple of years, out it goes. Only took half-an-hour to go, nah, nah, nah, nah… now I really can say I’ve got nothing to wear, except I still can’t possibly squeeze another outfit into my wardrobe if I wanted to. Or should that be, I can’t squeeze myself into another outfit if I wanted to?

… oh, and a couple of Jewish funnies…

A blind man is sitting on a park bench. A Rabbi sits down next to him. The Rabbi is chomping on a piece of matzah. Taking pity on the blind man, he breaks off a piece and gives it to the blind man. Several minutes later, the blind man turns, taps the Rabbi on the shoulder and asks, “Who wrote this?!!”

G-d: And remember Moses, in the laws of keeping Kosher, never cook a calf in its mother’s milk. It is cruel.

Moses: Ohhhhhh! So you are saying we should never eat milk and meat together.

G-d: No, what I’m saying is, never cook a calf in its mother’s milk.

Moses: Oh, Lord forgive my ignorance! What you are really saying is we should wait six hours after eating meat to eat milk so the two are not in our stomachs.

G-d: No, Moses, what I’m saying is, never cook a calf in it’s mother’s milk!!!

Moses: Oh, Lord! Please don’t strike me down for my stupidity! What you mean is we should have a separate set of dishes for milk and a separate set for meat and if we make a mistake we have to bury that dish outside…

G-d: Moses, do whatever you want….


The Harvard School of Medicine did a study of why Jewish women like Chinese food so much. The study revealed that it is due to the fact that Won Ton spelled backwards is Not Now.

Well guess I’ve prattled more than enough. I’m stilling plugging Yidoez… here’s the latest one of MoMo. Oh and another one featuring Boaz’s tractor. I wish I knew how to embed them straight onto here, but I don’t have a clue!

I shall probably be absent for a while again, see you here in about two weeks, but I will try and visit.

I wish you all a lovely lovely weekend, Shabbat Shalom and Chag Pesach S’meach.

It’s Thursday, so I took a peek at Poetry Thursday and thought well, why not?

I don’t link; I’m simply happy to have a stab at their prompt and post it here to my little blog for the one or two of you who kindly pass by.

I have to confess I do get lost around their blog and intellectually it is way beyond my little pea brain.


Wishing
Time stood still
That special moment
Magic casts its spell
Moments rare
Magic moments
Few, far between
Never, never
To happen again
Unattainable
Beyond my reach
Impossible to capture
Grasp, snatch, seize
As that moment slips away
From my hands
Between my fingers
Tiny grains of sand
Gone, gone, gone
In the blink of an eye
That magic moment
Has passed me by
.
.

copyright 2007 ann raven

She knows
She cannot help herself
She knows she is a fool
For ever at his beck and call
Always there for him
Strokes his ruffled feathers
Quells his qualms his fears
Tells him what he wants to hearShe knows
She cannot help herself
She knows she should say no
He laughs at her naivety
A puppy dog, wagging tail
Desperate to please
She has no pride
On this one way ticket ride

She knows
She cannot help herself
She knows she is drawn
Pulled by a power far too strong
What she would only do for him
What does he do for her?
Murmurs hollow words; I love you
But giving nothing more

She knows
She cannot help herself
She knows she is a fool
Blinded by a love
She believes she is unworthy of
The more she gives

The more he takes
This fool never learns by her mistakescopyright 2007 ann raven

The ghost kings are marching; the midnight knows their tread,
From the distant, stealthy planets of the dim, unstable dead;
There are whisperings on the night-winds and the shuddering stars have fled.

A ghostly trumpet echoes from a barren mountain head;
Through the fen the wandering witch-lights gleam like phantom arrows sped;
There is silence in the valleys and the moon is rising red.

The ghost kings are marching down the ages’ dusty maze;
The unseen feet are tramping through the moonlight’s pallid haze,
Down the hollow clanging stairways of a million yesterdays.

The ghost kings are marching, where the vague moon-vapor creeps,
While the night-wind to their coming, like a thund’rous herald sweeps;
They are clad in ancient grandeur, but the world, unheeding sleeps.

BULLETIN

Posted on: 20 March 2007

Oh look, this could be me, always putting my foot in it or is it putting my foot in my mouth? Hmmm…

I regret to announce there will be a short break in transmission. Normal service here and there will hopefully resume in about three to four weeks time.

.

However, there will still be intermittent poetic service on London~Love~Verse and the renamed London~Love~Vincent.

.

(Since posting I’ve actually posted The Ghost Kings from Always Come Evening by Robert E Howard; it seems to fit so perfectly with Eliza’s pic of Bob’s ghost walking off into the distant sunrise).

Time permitting, I do hope to visit you all; it is very very hard to resist and stay away. I may become one of those lurkers, like a voyeuse silently watching what you’re getting up to.
.
Oh dear… you know this thing called real life does get in the way of fun fun fun!

.

P.S. I should like to add that Cathy has opened a new blog with the *intent* of reviewing our uber-hero’s films; should be most interesting if everyone adds their tuppence worth, so please pay her a visit!

.

Can’t be bad; our ab fab fav subject, Vincent D’Onofrio and his work ::deep deep sigh::

.

On a final note… my boss told me his sister was rushed to hospital with food poisoning; she ate a daffodil bulb thinking it was an onion. Seems she’ll be out by spring. Boom Boom!

Gone

Posted on: 17 March 2007

Hungry for the missing link
Greedy for the words he no more speaks
Starved of affection her soul longingly seeks
Ravenous for the lessons he used to teach
Famished for the feel of his hand on her cheek
Voracious for valour, knowing she’s weak
Thirsty to quench flames’ desirous peaks
Gluttonous for his love now deceased
Insatiable cravings for these undeserved treats
Hollow, empty, worthless her life incomplete

copyright 2007 ann raven

Sorry, it is a very brief post, but I’m chasing my tail and I’ve got mother, brother and his tribe and others for dinner here tonight and I’m operating at a snail’s pace because whatever was making Jamie, Rachel and Daniel ill, hit me yesterday.


Just a couple of pics of my ab fab fav little people in the whole wide world. I actually took loads all by myself with my brand new little shiny red digital camera, the first time anyone has let me loose with one ever. Couldn’t not post one of my ab fab fav *dream fodder* looking particularly droolable over… sorry just wiping my mouth! He’s looking fitter, so he’s obviously not been tucking into my lockshen pudding.

… if the cap fits… LOL

Hopefully I shall find time to post something a little more meaningful next week… just don’t hold your breath. I’m itching to post some REH.

Also my son and daughter-in-law have set up a new Jewish video website called www.yideoz.com so if any Jewish visitors are passing please check it out. I am trying to work out how to download videos from it onto here… something called embedding. Maybe it’s the same as You Tube, but being the technophobe and computer incompetent that I am, I don’t have a clue. If anyone could give me directions that would be ab brill.

Still the trip to Israel was lovely, there’s lots and lots going on over there and over here and for those who know what I’m on about, Pesach is only two weeks away, which means slaving slaving slaving.

I wish you and yours well; I’m trying to catch up with you all and I’m sorry if I haven’t yet but again hopefully by next week I will. It’s a bit like the ironing, as soon as you’ve finished you have to start again.

Wishing my Irish friends a Happy St Paddy’s Day, wishing everyone else a wonderful weekend and wishing my fellow faith Shabbat Shalom

To Love

Posted on: 15 March 2007

A while ago Brian and I wrote a sestina together.
We gave each other six words to choose three
each. Brian posted the end result here. In my
wisdom, or rather lack of it, I thought to attempt
another sestina using the six words we’d rejected.

********************************************************

Delicious; a waft of aromatic food
assails her nose. Curious
she follows the trail. Behold a hidden garden.
Relaxed, reclines her dearest friend,
absorbed, engrossed in his open book,
strumming a soulful song

Her sweet voice joins him in song.
Savouring, tasting the delectable food
she wonders at the scribbled notes in his book.
Inquisitive, interested, curious,
comfortable in the company of her friend
secreted in his mysterious garden

Sun shines brightly warming them in his garden.
Dreamily, talk turns to love, music, song.
Musing, is he more to me than a mere friend?
What means he when he declares music is the food
of love? So many words unsaid. She curious
as silently, reserved, once more he gathers up his book.

Tenderly from his hands she removes his book
and gently sets it beside her upon the garden
table. She thinks to herself. She is curious,
as he speaks to her now of a romantic song
one filled with love and passion. Instinctively she feeds food
from her fingers to the sweet lips of her dear friend.

He catches her fingers in his and says, my friend,
there are no notes in my book
nor nectar and ambrosia the drink and food
of the gods, nor delicate blooms in my sacred garden
that match the joy, the pleasure of the song
in my heart. Need I hope? Need I wonder? Need I be curious?

My love, what do we know of each other? Curious
am I to know your touch, to know you. Are you just a friend?
My heart and soul sing a different song.
Each page I seek fresh meaning in my book
of life and love, for surely this is the Garden
of Eden and paradise the sweetest food.

Softly she whispers, be no more curious; close your book.
Enjoy me, savour me, love me my friend, as you do your cherished garden
and I shall sing for you a song of passion that my love may nourish you as the finest food

copyright 2007 ann raven

Ignis Fatuus

Posted on: 15 March 2007

I am not a real participant of Poetry Thursday
How can I be? I’m not a real poet, just someone
who throws words together, but having been alerted
to this week’s prompt, I thought I would try to throw
a few words together and create a mad definition
and what a hoot when I stumbled upon ignis fatuus
and didn’t have a clue what it meant.

******************************************************

Idly sifting through the dictionary
Doing as I’m told
Find a word you’ve never heard of
And make up something bold

Well…

Which one should I choose
Too many… I am ashamed to say
Since, I’m a total ignoramus
Still it’s just a poem wanted, not a whole essay

So I stumbled on ignis fatuus
And only one thought came to mind
It can only be about one subject
My enormous fat behind

That covers (almost, it’s so big) the fatuus
But, what about the ignis part
Sounds like an abridged ‘ignorant’
Oh dear, it must mean… I’m a big fat stupid ass

FYI: Ignis fatuus is another name for will-o’-the-wisp
[C16 from Med. Latin, lit: foolish fire]

copyright 2007 ann raven


the loves of my life

at the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet ~~~ plato

thank you…

... to everyone whose pictures and videos I have borrowed; if anyone would like theirs to be removed, please tell me and I shall be happy to do so

all words here are mine ~ I’ll tell you when they’re not!

from long ago

in case I forget what day of the week it is

March 2007
S M T W T F S
 123
45678910
11121314151617
18192021222324
25262728293031