In the land which dreams dwell in where love and joy and life begin; how swiftly the deep rivers flow from those lost lands of long ago. I wander through wild poppy fields Underfoot the dark earth yields…. I see the flowering fruit trees start Their blossoms gather round my heart… I hear the sparrows sing with joy And bees their busy wings employ. In those lost lands I saw your face And now I long for your embrace. Are you real,am I deceived? From this earth we all must leave. Earth to earth and ash to ash Glory,pride and boasting pass. Leave me now,my dearest one Soon I too will be called on. Nothing lasts but truth is real Keep the truth and your ideals.. Earth to earth, we rest in clay We must give all self away Softly on this earth I roam Seeking still my love and home, for until the very end Love and kindnss may descend. Soft as wings of butterflies Tears well up and wet my eyes. My heart has melted into yours Thus we grow and die like flowers
Day: August 22, 2016
Merriam-Webster:Lenient
lenient
Definition
1 : exerting a soothing or easing influence : relieving pain or stress
2 : of mild and tolerant disposition; especially : indulgent
Examples
Because Kevin didn’t have any past violations on his driving record, the officer decided to be lenient and let him off with a written warning.
“In February, he pleaded guilty to a bribery count and a tax count. His attorney … has said federal prosecutors have recommended a lenient sentence in exchange for his cooperation.” — Jimmie E. Gates, The Clarion-Ledger (Jackson, Mississippi), 18 July 2016
Did You Know?
Lenient is a word with a soothing history. It derives from the Latin verb lenire, meaning “to soothe” or “to soften” (itself from lenis, meaning “soft or mild”). The first, now archaic, sense of lenient referred to something soothing that relieved pain and stress. That meaning was shared by lenitive, an earlier derivative of lenire that was commonly used with electuary (a “lenitive electuary” being a medicated paste prepared with honey or another sweet and used by veterinarians to alleviate pain in the mouth). Linguists also borrowed lenis to describe speech sounds that are softened—for instance, the “t” sound in gutter is lenis. By way of comparison, the “t” sound in toe is fortis.
A wig for Stan
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Stan wore a wig in bed so his cat Emile could stick his claws into it without scratching Stan………..though the lady in the shop where Stan bought it assumed he was a transvestite.This is what happened in the shop:

After being scratched on the head by Emile, who slept on Stan’s pillow,Stan had decided he must buy himself a wig.Seeing as it was a very cold summer it would keep him warm.He went out and took the car onto the road.
Come on Emile,you can read the map for me to get us to the wig shop
on the other side of Knittingham.
Why don’t you get Sat Nav? the naughty little cat answered rudely
Why should I when I prefer Cat Nav…. and you are always good company.
How flattering, purred Emile,putting on his spectacles which had gold rims.
When they reached the Wig Shop “Fakes and Fantasy” in Eastside Road Emile was so tired with navigating he went to sleep and Stan ventured nervously into the shop as it was in new hands.
Are you alright, sir? a charming young lady asked.
What are you looking for? Some viagra perhaps?
No, no! Stan muttered
A vibrator? She offered calmly
I get enough vibration in my old car!I am looking for a wig.
But your hair is quite thick!Ah,I see… a lady’s wig?
Yes,he whispered,Exactly.
I think an auburn wig would suit you.
The colour is no concern…I shall only wear it in bed.
Does your wife not mind you being a transvestite?
I’m not a transvestite,I sleep with the cat! My wife wouldn’t mind if I wore a steel pan on my head.
Well,whatever turns you on as long as it does no harm to anyone or the cat.It’s a free country.
A free country ? pay my income tax gladly…for if I was not getting a pension from the Civil Service I would not be liable for tax.It’s a privilege to pay tax!
I am glad you feel that way,the lady replied,I am a liberal myself but of the “lefter than thou” school of thought.
A leftover liberal,he joked feebly
And it’s no longer very free here..soon they will monitor our emails.
I’ve not written you any emails,Stan murmured softly.
Not yet,but most men I meet send me emails!
Well,what’s your address,he asked seductively.
It’s katlover.me@yoohoomail.co.uk ormary.isaac-newton78@googledmail.com
Why have you got 2 addresses,he whispered to her
Oh,I can’t remember.I also have a gmail one.My user name is covetgarden.rose
Don’t you mean coventgarden?
Well,it’s too late now.I’ve just applied as covet!
You should be more careful.You may attract the wrong type of person.
Do you think there is a wrong type?
Well,avoid a very egocentric person or one who seems to be after your money or your maidenhead.
I am 25 years old and after a few boxes of super large tampax I no longer have a maidenhead.
That’s why the Bishop’s banned them! He informed her
All I say is.. let a Bishop experience menstruation,commuting and modern tight clothes and then I shall heed their advice.
I see,muttered Stan,You seem a very intriguing young lady.Have you ever thought of having a blog?
No,never.I am unable to think of a blog title.
How about,
“It’s bleeding obvious.”?
What is?
That’s the title.
I see.It’s a bit rude.
Well,you need to draw attention to yourself.
I have enough already,she answered lightly
Thank you so much.I do feel I am your man despite the age gap.
To get back to my purchase…I’ll take a long red wig that is machine washable.
Very wise,the girl responded.I do hope your cat will like it.It’s polyester but feels very nice.
How much is it? asked Stan.
Half a crown,she replied.
Here you are I have a florin and two three penny bits.
I’ll save those for my Xmas pudding,she cried happily.
What a good idea,Stan howled. merrily
Clutching the wig in one hand he tried to get out of the shop without knocking over a mound of vibrators stacked by the exit.What is it with modern technology,he whispered to himself
In my day,we never needed a vibrator,he told the assistant.
We could vibrate naturally.
Oh,those good old days…. when love was as natural as a flash of lightning or a shower of hailstones…
As natural as having a very clever Prime Minister like Harold Wilson..
Those were the days,my friend
When we thought we could change the world
And now we are disillusioned
But we may as well love each other,anyway.
They even say,
It’s love that makes the world go round.
So love someone today,please.
Visit an old person or a lonely neighbour.
Throw a party tonight!
The fruit
Ah,did you throw away the ripened fruit Because inside it hid a hardened stone? As anything not total does not suit Love’s ambivalence seems to you a crime Don’t throw away my love when I offend For I am human too and lose my sense As tension makes it difficult to bend And sometimes even love is too intense. Rather , see how much love there still may be And balance that against my human faults Instead ,one mark ,one sin one thought unfree Weighs more than years of love ,binds me in guilt. As panic will grow less when we just wait In such a way , real love can contain hate
My canny lass
I can see you in the distance in the meadows
You’re walking all alone, though it is late
I’m watching you and wondering what to do.
I always keep to roads that run dead straight.
I’m sorry if you’re weary and forlorn
I’m afraid to leave the beaten track.
I even have a sat nav on my bike
Perhaps if I shout out,you will come back.
I think you should avoid the fields and hills
For you are old and stiff and mad
I phone you on your Windows phone again
To tell you ,you are being very bad.
toBut you asked me to join you in the grass
To see wildflowers and in blue heather lie
But can’t you see the dangers ever near?
Is it weakness on my side or am I wise?
I once lay down myself on heathery moors
The Cleveland Hills, so beautiful a view
But later I saw I ‘d edged a cliff
So near to falling off,I never knew.
Since then I’m careful where I walk
I study charts and maps and feel afraid
I get the weather forecast ,wear a mac
But is it a wise decision I have made?
I see that you are sinking in a bog
I vault the gate and speed across the grass
I grab you and I pull you to dry earth
I always did admire you,canny lass.
Oh,I’ll take you in my arms and get you warm
I won’t admonish you or make a pass
I’ll give you hot tea,check if you are harmed.
I love,I love ,I love my canny lass.
As brave as the old Vikings in longboats
As wild as a cat demon in the hills
As bright as a bronze shield in Northern sun
Oh,canny lass, be mine, please say,I will.
.
Daisied fields
What shall I do ,the widow asked her friend.
I feel this knife inside my heart again
What can I do to make my sorrow end
What can I do to stop the bloody pain?
Do nothing, the sweet friend gently replied
Your task is to accept your own despair
The wisdom in your mind will work,she sighed.
Your body hurts and for such pain we care.
Sit here and count the daisies i n the lawn
No need to talk or even think or will.
As in this peaceful sitting for a day
Your mind will rest and hope and trust may call.
Receptive to the shivering, daisied fields,
The heart releases; to its grace we yield
I know you well enough to wish to care
I knew you well for just the everyday
The little happenings which we have shared
But in your grief, I don’t know what to say.
How many losses hit you on your way?
I know you well enough to wish to care
I knew you well enough for every day
Is sorrow what survivors have to pay?
I’m afraid to feel my dark emotions bared.
So in your grief, I fear what I might say.
On your hand,my hand I gently lay
I lived near you when all was kind and fair
I knew you well enough for every day.
I ‘ll comfort you perhaps just for one day
We’ll live this darkness hour by pained hour
Oh,in your grief, I don’t know what to say.
We’ll take a walk ,and movement shall be prayer.
We’ll smell the damp green lawns and lavenders
I knew you well for just the everyday
But when you grieved, I knew not what to say
The second coming
http://www.poemhunter.com/poems/grief/page-1/14033/
TURNING and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of i{Spiritus Mundi}
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at laSt,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?


