Every look we cast at others strikes

July 25, 2017

Before we go to bed we vegetate
No need for teacher but a compost heap.
And as we vegetate, we drift to sleep
While in our dreams our other mind debates

But mostly we’re unknowing in this dark
Where God himself may manifest at will.
His dazzling darkness makes our souls be still
And wait a strike by living, glowing spark.

But in the morning, we come back to strife
Take up our work and suffer every stroke.
From sapling to the oldest, strongest oak
Each thing must choose again its proper life

Every look we cast at others strikes
Reflects and shows us what we have become
And when there is no movement, we are done
Our mind and heart have chosen what they like.

So in our end, we vegetate again
And no more rise to labour in the day
For now, we fertilise the fields passed on our way
And show the end of woman and of man.

A daily round becomes our life and death.
We live because we’re breathed by sacredness.

Why is Shakespeare right about Julie’s tweezers ?

Why did Lady Macbeth hace such a bad amputation?

Who said, a thing of beauty is a toy forever?

What is the right time?

Why do people say it sucks when it’s babies that suck?

But can you think of any?

I can’t

How is it that children fail maths at school yet they can do do anything at all with computers tablets smartphones or without really seeming to make an effort?

It must be osmosis.

Why can’t you learn mathematics by osmosis?

They don’t want you to to because it would take work away from us nerds.

So just forget it

The four letter words are two common now so we will have to have 5-letter words.

 

A, an, and the: how to use articles in English

Extract:

Many learners of English have problems with articles (the words a, an and the), especially when they don’t exist in their own language. This blog looks at some of the basic rules.

The number one rule is this: if a word is countable (e.g. one book, two books), you must always use an article (or my, his, etc.):

 

I read a book. √

I read book.

This is true even if there are adjectives before the noun:

He drives an old car. √

He drives old car.

Never use a or an with a word that is plural (e.g. books, trees) or uncountable (e.g. water, advice):

I asked her for advice. √

When will we find out own song to sing

Where is the melody where are the words?

Two different parts that make up one song

The fiddlers will play and the church bells will ring

High in the sky is the warbling of birds

When will we discover our own song to sing?

All over the world we speak different tongues

That won’t detract from the beauty we heard

Two complete parts that make up one song

Inside out being our human heart stirred

The music a shelter to which we can cling

The community choir the happiest throng

The love of the madness,the love of the word..

Don’t wait forever to find your own song

Our human gifts will take life when they’re shared

Let nothing destroy love, let us not be scared

We are not enemies we can belong.

The Far and the Near contribute to this end.

https://www.theatlantic.com/education/archive/2014/04/why-teaching-poetry-is-so-important/360346/

“Students can learn how to utilize grammar in their own writing by studying how poets do—and do not—abide by traditional writing rules in their work. Poetry can teach writing and grammar conventions by showing what happens when poets strip them away or pervert them for effect. Dickinson often capitalizes common nouns and uses dashes instead of commas to note sudden shifts in focus. Agee uses colons to create dramatic, speech-like pauses. Cummings of course rebels completely. He usually eschews capitalization in his proto-text message poetry, wrapping frequent asides in parentheses and leaving last lines dangling on their pages, period-less. In “next to of course god america i,” Cummings strings together, in the first 13 lines, a cavalcade of jingoistic catch-phrases a politician might utter, and the lack of punctuation slowing down and organizing the assault accentuates their unintelligibility and banality and heightens the satire. The abuse of conventions helps make the point. In class, it can help a teacher explain the exhausting effect of run-on sentences—or illustrate how clichés weaken an argument.

Yet, despite all of the benefits poetry brings to the classroom, I have been hesitant to use poems as a mere tool for teaching grammar conventions. Even the in-class disembowelment of a poem’s meaning can diminish the personal, even transcendent, experience of reading a poem. Billy Collins characterizes the latter as a “deadening” act that obscures the poem beneath the puffed-up importance of its interpretation. In his poem “Introduction to Poetry,” he writes: “all they want to do is tie the poem to a chair with rope/and torture a confession out of it./They begin beating it with a hose/to find out what it really means.””