At housework,I am liable
To be unreliable.
At suggestions I am liable
To be pliable.
At wishes I am liable
To be undeniable.
At clothes, I am liable
To rely on ’em.
At reading I am liable
To avoid the Bible.
In distress I am liable
To be inconsolable.
liable
| synonyms: | responsible, legally responsible, accountable, answerable,chargeable, blameworthy, at fault, culpable, subject, guilty, faulty,censurable
“he held the defendants liable for negligence”
|
| antonyms: | exempt, unaccountable |
| synonyms: | likely, inclined, tending, disposed, apt, predisposed, prone, given;
informalon the cards
“my income is liable to fluctuate wildly”
|
| antonyms: | unlikely |
| synonyms: | exposed, open, prone, subject, susceptible, vulnerable, in danger of, at risk of, at the mercy of
“you are more liable to injury when you exercise infrequently”
|
***
BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE
|
Early each spring, Nebraska hosts, along a section of the Platte River, several hundred thousand sandhill cranes. It’s something I wish everyone could see. Don Welch, one of the state’s finest poets, lives under the flyway, and here’s his take on the migration. His most recent book is Gnomes, (Stephen F. Austin State Univ. Press, 2013). With Spring In Our Flesh With spring in our flesh
the cranes come back,
funneling into a north
cold and black.
And we go out to them,
go out into the town,
welcoming them with shouts,
asking them down.
The winter flies away
when the cranes cross.
It falls into the north,
homeward and lost.
Let no one call it back
when the cranes fly,
silver birds, red-capped,
down the long sky.
|
Juxtaposing his three ex-wives made the wealthy man laugh as he compared their appearances and their expressive faces.However it did him no favours as he was now living with only a cat.And occasionally a rat.
This was well known to all except him.He believed he had another wife but it was merely a dress on a coat-hanger.Still,it saved another woman from his destructive “intimacy.”
By juxtaposing his wives, he was showing off.,as each was more beautiful than the last.
Better if they had not agreed to sit side by side on the stage.Even this beauty had nor kept him faithful because as they say,beauty is in the eye of the beholder.Or even in the I of the beholder?And this man had no I at all.
So if you are divorced never allow a man to show you up like this.You are not part of a set of dolls.
: to place side by side (as to compare or contrast)
Darlene has a keen eye for fashion, and she likes to juxtapose vintage pieces with contemporary styles to create new looks.
“ESPN posted an image of poverty outside Havana’s sports stadium last week, to juxtapose the well-kept stadium with the shabby neighborhood around it.” — Carolina Miranda, The Los Angeles Times (latimes.com), 28 Mar. 2016
A back-formation is a word that has come about through the removal of a prefix or a suffix from a longer word. Etymologists think juxtapose is a back-formation that was created when people trimmed down the noun juxtaposition. Historical evidence supports the idea:juxtaposition was showing up in English documents as early as 1654, but juxtapose didn’t appear until 1851. Juxtaposition is itself thought to be a combination of Latin juxta, meaning “near,” and English position.
The work of the artist is to express what is repressed or even to speak the unspoken grief of society. Michael Leunig
Read more at: http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/keywords/grief.html
[Butterfly by Mike Flemming]
I am crying today like the willow that weeps
As it stands by the lake with its roots in the deep.
The willow is bowed as it lets itself go.
The deep roots support this tormented flow.
The memories of happiness don’t give me joy
I can’t feel the same way as I did before.
But the peace of his face as he lay as he died
Gives me some comfort and peace new allied
It is hard to let go of a love or a friend
We iake them to the river where all lives must end
But harder,much harder it is to return
To leave them forever,forever to yearn.
The river bank’s steep and I falter again
Shall I go back and die with my man?
But if all of my being desired its own death
I would not be writing or taking in breath.
As caterpillars die in their little cocoons
They turn into butterflies in May and in June>
These hidden forces are there in me too
One day I’ll come back and be someone new.
But there is a discomfort that surrounds grief. It makes even the most well-intentioned people unsure of what to say. And so many of the freshly bereaved end up feeling even more alone. Meghan O’Rourke
Read more at: http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/keywords/grief.html
The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing… not healing, not curing… that is a friend who cares. Henri Nouwen
Read more at: http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/keywords/grief.html
I didn’t hear you coming,
then you were by my side.
Happiness fills me.
Standing in the garden
looking at red leaves,
I hold your hand gently,
and share the sweetness
of these green leaves,
the distant doves cooing,
the sun dipping to the horizon.
Life is good.
We hear together
the music
of this silence
Blood, blood,wonderful blood..
It’s needed by all those who’re not made of wood.
Blood runs throughout us in arteries and veins.
It may feel quite pleasant when it feeds our forebrains.
Blood,blood sing it again.
Blood for all women and blood for all men.
I’d like to see it on some kind of scan…
As it runs down to my feet and back up to my brain.
Even when we are all asleep in the night
Our blood is still working to keep us alive.
Let us be merry and drink plenty of tea.
Then we won’t run out of the water for wee.
For the kidneys are filters which take out the dross
And it flows down to the bladder till out it gets passed
So the kidneys are partners with our own life blood.
Isn’t that clever and isn’t life good?
I’ve sung my wild singing in time gone before
But I don’t want to sing now
Oh,never no more.
And it’s no nay ,never
No,nay,never no more
Shall I use my voice here…
Nor out will it pour.
My name is Allanah,or Eileen. perhaps
And I came here from Ireland
with outdated maps
And it’s,Why,why ever,
Why ever and more
Did the Brits give no votes to
The poor Catholics?
My sister and brothers
All died from T.B.
And an early dark grave
is here waiting for me.
But I bore six children
And I cared for my man
As he came home so filthy
From the old coal diggin’
We had no free doctor
And no kind midwife.
So though my son’s born,
Strain is takin’ my life.
Always and ever
The rich will maintain
That without them this country
Will go down the drain.
But why don’t you try it
As a memorial to me.
Let the rats all depart
And what shall we see?
No,nay,never,nay never no more
Shall I bear my man children
No nay never
Not ever again.
I looked down from heaven
Where God has put me
What did I find
When out did I see?
I saw that the world
Turns round once every day
The beggars and homeless
Kneel down and they pray
Oh,no no never,
dear God help the rich.
Your son tried to larn them
But they were n’t bewitched.
They have their accountants
And they have all their laws
They find their amusement
In troubles and wars.
They think that they own you
But,dear God,you’re not theirs
We saw your son Jesus
And he said you are ours
So when will you come down
To make that judgment?
My pen it has broken
My life force is spent.
So it’s no,nay never
Not ever again
Will I sing my old songs
Nor shall I love my own man
Stan was teaching social statistics to a group of elderly neighbors.Since he was 101 it gave much hope to them to see him demonstrating his prowess with various techniques on the overhead projector,.He was planning to do some logic and some philosophy too.Annie was sitting by the door so she could answer the bell if any paramedics turned up for tea or supper…
I’m not going to calculate ” the standard deviations” he murmured.”I just want you to grasp the general purpose.”
“Deviations,they’re not normal are they?” enquired his neighbour “Henry,an ex-English teacher.”So how can they be standard.It’s utterly confusing..”
“Are you thinking of deviants?” Stan enquired calmly yet nervously
”Certainly not,at my age I’m long past that!”
” Still it adds a bit of excitement to the class.” he thought.
How do words in ordinary language relate to those in Statistics?”asked Henry kindly.
“They are just more precisely defined in statistics.To say someone is a deviant is a rather vague term.”
“No,it’s not!My neighboru is a deviant.He always dresses entirely in yellow.”
“Well,that must be hard to do.Certainly unusual.” Stan agreed boldly.
“But in another country that might be the norm.So it’s a matter of context.In statistics it’s more prosaic..There’s a formula.It’s totally independent of context.Have you ever wondered why so many mathematicians have a touch of Asperger’s syndrome?”
“No,it’s not something that meanders through my mind much”replied Henry wittily.
A shudder passed through the audience on hearing the word “formula“,which perhaps they considered something of a deviant word. Anything with letters and numbers mixed together is certainly not welcome in many people’s minds, along with their more unusual sexual tastes,desires and inclinations which were kept secret even from themselves in many cases.So Lacan appeared to think.As I am unable to understand his writing myself,I cannot be sure if he was right or even half right.
“Time for tea.” called Annie,hoping to divert their attention to the everyday realm of food and drink..She carried in a platter of mouse [mice?] sandwiches kindly donated by the local ambulance service and some iced Victoria sponge she and Stan had made the day before in her new oven.
“Just a quick word about next week.We’ll take a look at ratios and proportions and maybe see how that relates to the concept of rationality.”
“That sounds fun!” Annie called encouragingly.Henry decided to act on a deviant desire and fell onto her lap
”Oh,dear!” she gasped loudly as the chair collapsed under her.”Why can’t you be deviant at home?”
“My wife won’t let me!” He kindly answered.And it’s impossible truly.
“And look,” Stan continued,”we’ll have to ring 999.This chair is in fragments.I thought for one day we’d be able to avoid calling them out!”
“Well,life is not controllable.” said a quiet but fierce looking lady with sharp green eyes.”That’s what makes it tolerable“
She then greedily consumed a large piece of iced sponge cake .
“I can stand the thinking if the cake is good” she whispered to her shy friend Amy.
”That’s rather a feeble argument,”Amy retorted.”You can’t really compare cake and statistics.”
“I’ll compare anything I like!” the green eyed woman snarled loudly.
“You do what you like but you must keep a sense of proportion!”As we all know….
“Now then,have you rung 999?” Stan queried of Annie.”Yes,here they are,and they’ ve got a stretcher for the chair!”
“Well,that’s certainly unusual,even deviant“,Stan thought anxiously to himself.
”Where do they get their funding? Is there a fund for distributing money to help chairs which are not normal?
..i…
When mere genius and expert create art
And commoners no longer sing and play
Then in this world I wish to play no part
For violins of gypsies I do pray.
Folk dances and melodies divine
To the public people once belonged
On Feast Days we all met with joy again
With roasted pig and cider we did sing.
Society is now truly at its end
Our rain water to Spanish banks belongs.
Can we into hell further descend
While famous tenors ravish us with song?
My reservoir is empty and I’m sick;
For all we had is taken by these tricks
Next year in Eden sweet I hope to be.
Tasting pears and apples in delight,
Or fruits exotic I have not yet seen
And other glories now hidden from sight.
Yet, for now, I struggle on my way
As if uncertain whether it is right.
Must I ,alone, decide the price to pay,
And stumble in the weeds in dim twilight?
At times I search my dreams for their insight
Or, as if blind, ignore a potent sign.
Anxiety and doubt bring me no light.
To shades and shadows I must be resigned.
Faith and hope we keep or we shall die.
Can Love itself be nothing but a lie?
A home can be a comfort or a cage;
A place to leave or rest in comforts dear.
We may feel like the bears that danced on stage
Or sometimes find a sanctuary from fear
Uncertain of our love a spouse may be.
And so they test us when there is no need
Is it not so clear to those who see
The test itself may make our love’s heart bleed?
Testing to destruction is a crime;
To kill to feel a semblance of our powers.
To test is to make invalid good times
Murderers of the heart are frightened cowards.
A home is not a place for setting tests
Be no murderer if you long for rest.
Stan was feeling somewhat glum,nay even despairing,on Monday morning.
Mary had gone to work on her new folding 6 gear bicycle with own basket and an extra basket from Wells-next -the- Sea 1995[the wicker basket now somewhat gray in hue.]
He was left at home sorting out all his art work and materials as well as doing the baking and bathing Emile,the delightful yet trying male cat.
Sunk in dark misery,Stan sat in an old uncomfortable chair in the darkest part of the room, while Emile snored on the rug by the bright French windows.Stan went through all the possible reasons for his state of mind.
Was he guilty about his flings with his alluring next door neighbou rAnnie?
Could it be his failure to toilet train Emile? ~Or his omitting to carry out the penance given by Father Brown after Stan confessed to stealing sweets on the way to Confession in 1956?
The longer Stan brooded the more reasons he found for his depression.
He could hardly get up to make a cup of coffee ..even instant seemed too much trouble.Would he even clean his teeth which somehow he’d failed to do?
The doorbell rang… it was a new cord for his laptop as Emile had been chewing the current one ,and 29 books in a sack from Amazon which his wife must have ordered,as he had no recollection of any such foolish spending.How would they pay the bill on the credit card? he ruminated.
Later in the day ~Annie peered through the window.She tapped on the glass with her well manicured blue finger nails.
Let me in she cried.
I’m too tired for any hanky panky he murmured lovingly as he ran his fingers through her thick red tresses.What is this delightful perfume,beloved?he questioned her.
It’s Poison! she replied.Oh no,sorry it’s Iris and Jasmine Eau de toilette from the Bodyshop.
Despite his lowly sunken state Stan loved this perfume.He sniffed rabidly at her well rounded form.
Well,shall we have some tea?She enquired.
Stan sat there hand on chest.
I’ve been feeling a little gloomy,he muttered.She peered at him.You look terribly pale,Stan.I can’t recall,he said.Oh,here it is in my vest.
What a strange place to keep it,she responded.
Mary made pockets for all my vests.at one time you could buy vests with pockets
She’s good at sewing despite being so clever.In fact she loves doing things with her hands.
Annie got the GNT spray out and handed it to him.
Have you got a pain?
Well,yes,now you mention it,I do,he replied verbosely.
Well,in the name of God, use the bloody thing,she whispered endearingly into his left ear.
He opened his mouth,raised his tongue and with his hand resting lightly on his chin he pressed the button with his forefinger.
His head began to throb.
Annie appeared with a cup of Earl Grey tea and a biscuit.
Why,you look a little better.Do you need another dose?
No,I feel much better now.I’ve had it before.He drank the tea but didn’t eat the biscuit which he threw out later in crumbs for the field mice in the shed.
His spirits began to rise.Why did he always forget that physical ailments can worsen a mood?He still felt a trifle glum but nothing a meringue wouldn’t put right.
OK,what shall I make for Mary’s supper? he enquired.
You sit there in the window and I’ll just make my special spaghetti,Annie replied gaily,as long as I can stay too.
Yes,I’ll open some red wine he said youthfully,and we can have fried apples and bananas for pudding with non fat Greek yoghurt.
What a wise choice she murmured gently into his ear………that will use up some of the newly picked apples,the bananas were from Lidl’s as usual.
Well,Stan you look better.said Mary happily,You’ve been pale all weekend.Was it Annie who cheered you up,not to put too fine a point on it?
Actually it was nitroglycerine,he said roguishly,but Annie made me use it.
But for us women you’d be dead,she replied equably.
But for you delightful creatures I wouldn’t be here at all,he moaned ecstatically.
Now then Stan,control yourself she urged,After all we have a visitor,Annie!
What a hoot,he thought as he twisted spaghetti round his fork in a careless manner splashing tomato sauce all over his new acrylic jumper.
Thank the Lord for washing machines,Mary said.
I didn’t know Jesus invented them,Annie said with a tone of mild sarcasm but no-one bothered to reply.
As told by Emile to the local paper last week.
In statistics we use very odd words;
Quartiles and deciles absurd.
But we need them to perceive
How raw numbers deceive.
To get a grip so that knowledge is shared.
The more deeply we wish to see
The more words unusual there’ll be.
Deviations and ranges—
How what we see changes
Uncertainly we make our plea.
I said I want a fried egg, not tickle my leg
I said is it colder at night,not when’s your flight
I said where’s my nightdress,not your royal highness.
I said let’s make the bed. not forsake the dead
I said where’s the emotion, not what a commotion
I said what’s a vibrator, not you’re a gyrator
I said I feel worn not I feel scorn.
I feel so alone,not I want a scone.
I feel like the world has swung too far,not I’ll be hanged for a guitar
I said,isn’t life fun, not you are the one.
I said,geometry’s curved ,not George’s car swerved.
I said how nice is Obama,not I am the Dalai Lama.
I said,I make my own bread, not bring back the dead.
I said what is the time,not did you like my mime?
I’m off to bed and I am nearly dead
I want some egg and bacon,not to make a career of fakin’
I wanted to have a hot bath not to provoke bitter wrath.
I wanted to conceal my menstruation not to give men an invitation
I was telling the truth ,not mending the roof
I was washing my ears not enjoying his leers
I said I fell out of bed.Not,I am dead.
My knees are annoying but I don’t permit toying.
I said I prefer the rural life , not his alluring wife.
I said give me a rest, not you are a pest.
I said,where is my tea,not I love her knee.
I asked if you had wine,not are you a swine.
I said I feel terribly tired, not you were a terrible squire.
I said her mother has dementia,not that she torments her.
I said where’s my pink lipstick, not I am a mystic.
I said try meditation,not grow vegetation.
I said,Are you quite mad,not are you my dad
I said I need speech therapy not your hips creak terribly.
I said are you going deaf not I’m short of breath.
I said ,try a few eggs not I love your legs
My husband is a very good man
He gets convicted as much as he can
For if he’s in jail
I save on the ale
And I make no hot dinner in my pan.
I found it quite funny, you see
For he looked unconvincing to me
He was wearing the gear
But he never went near
So he committed no crime LSD.
However he now has convictions quite strong
He believes Jesus Christ had it wrong
The meek get pushed down
And the wise attract frowns
So he’s uttering both sermons and songs.
Being a prisoner’s so tough
The bed linen’s terribly rough
The food is abysmal
The surroundings are dismal
I really think he’s had enough.
But now he has seen the great Light
I shall see the entire bulb tonight.
It looks like a moon
But it plays a loud tune
Appealing to both hearing and sight.
Stick to your convictions and pray
That man will be wiser one day
For if we don’t falter
Our course will not alter
And ,with a bang ,we will fly far away
I was gazing with a sharp but narrow focus
into what I thought was the real.
But the precision of my gaze
left out the surroundings, the other doors and rooms
that I might have inhabited.
As he came to me and opened his arms with no rancour,,
so my eyes opened wider,I took in the new wide vision
and left my crouched and aching position
no longer attached like a magnet to your force.
He was there with his sea eyes.
He knew the human condition
And how to inhabit a conversation.
Of course he’s had his wounds but never failed to feel
for himself and others.
In the night he went through in his mind’s eye the faces
of his friends;holding them ,like he’d once held fragile rose buds
when we were married,
and asked silently for grace.
The keyhole no longer seemed important
I suppose narrowing the focus can keep out knowledge of pain..
But the pain is atill there;
I have always loved the word “Acknowledge.”
And now I use it. I acknowledge this pain
| synonyms: | uncertainty, lack of certainty, unsureness, indecision, hesitation,hesitancy, dubiousness, suspicion, confusion; More |
| antonyms: | certainty, conviction, confidence, trust |
| synonyms: | disbelieve, distrust, mistrust, suspect, lack confidence in, have doubts about, be suspicious of, have suspicions about, have misgivings about, feel uneasy about, feel apprehensive about, call into question, cast doubt on, query, question, challenge, dispute,have reservations about;
archaicmisdoubt
“they did not doubt my story”
|
| antonyms: | trust |
| synonyms: | be undecided, have doubts, be irresolute, be hesitant, be tentative,be ambivalent, be divided, be doubtful, be unsure, be uncertain, be in two minds, hesitate, shilly-shally, waver, falter, vacillate, dither,demur;
informalsit on the fence
“stop doubting and believe more firmly!”
|
| antonyms: | believe |
I have found God in the depths
Where with kindness he surrounds those who’ve wept
But he makes no demands
As his Love understands
To the paths of our own truths we’ve kept
A wonderful word is coercion
On it I cast no aspersions.
But to coerce is not good,
Force unwithstood
Is not what will grow our nasturiums.
Sometimes our will is a force
But virtue can’t come just by choice.
Like a flower from a seed
Our virtues we breed
As we listen for that still,little voice.
In school we were given an impression
That knowledge implies good decisions;
So we learned virtues and vice
The wrong and the nice
The existence of hell as a prison.
Believing that terror is a good,
They frightened us with their cold blood
In the Confessional we shivered;
And the wood round us quivered
They’d have tortured us more if they could.
So this education itself was a vice
The nuns and the priests hit us twice
Once in the class
And again during Mass
Where we wondered if the Wafer was Christ.
And having this question in mind
Was a sin of a serious kind
We sinned against Faith
That delicate Wraith
So no personal truths could we find
I have found God in the depths
Where with kindness he surrounds those who’ve wept
But he makes no demands
As his Love understands
To the paths of our own truths we’ve kept
: to make (someone) do something by using force or threats
: to get (something) by using force or threats
coerced coercing
1: to restrain or dominate by force <religion in the past has tried to coerce the irreligious — W. R. Inge>
2: to compel to an act or choice <was coerced into agreeing>
3: to achieve by force or threat <coerce complian
A confession was coerced from the suspect by police.
<was coerced into signing the document>
Middle English cohercen, from Anglo-French*cohercer Latin coercēre, from co- + arcēreto shut up, enclose — more at ark
First Known Use: 15th century
And this in the News for Today
The PM admitted that PPE is a degree which does not cover statistics,ethics,value judgements,spelling, and kindness.
On the other hand it’s easier than Greats which has Latin,Greek and Philosophy over a 4 yeat period.Now what’s what I call a real education.
Studying Art is also a good education because you learn about Perspective,Proportion and Ratios.And the Golden Mean.
How my heart sings 