For: shadow shot Sunday
He is that fallen lance that lies as hurled,
That lies unlifted now, come dew, come rust,
But still lies pointed as it ploughed the dust.
If we who sight along it round the world,
See nothing worthy to have been its mark,
It is because like men we look too near,
Forgetting that as fitted to the sphere,
Our missiles always make too short an arc.
They fall, they rip the grass, they intersect
The curve of earth, and striking, break their own;
They make us cringe for metal-point on stone.
But this we know, the obstacle that checked
And tripped the body, shot the spirit on
Further than target ever showed or shone.
For: Nurturing Thursday
“Valour is stability, not of legs and arms, but of courage and the soul.” ~ Michel de Montaigne
“At the end of another long day, and too many more ahead to even think about about, Sam took a moment to gather his thoughts.”
He yearned for peace in his waking hours. The flames were still bright red. Burning for safety. Pebbles rolled along the cliffs and soft sedimentary rocks had eroded away. Sam bent to touch the clay beneath his feet. Gathering his thoughts, he remembered his friends who were injured and those who didn’t come back alive. Numerous friends and comrades who had shown great valour and courage during the war. He knew that the war was over but the cost to people in human suffering was immeasurable.
Cagestruck (via Yves) to be clueless of the customs, dialect/language/slang, and haunts of an unfamiliar city.
Ardle (via Michael) a person who urinates whenever and wherever the mood strikes them.
Shiprighteous (via KO) A smugly moralistic ship.
Figimaled (via Jules) Primarily Farklempt; distressed, confused, annoyed, dismayed.
Aarambham (via Two Paise Poems) Indian for the beginning.
Avasaanam (via Two Paise Poems) Indian for the end.
Punarjanmam (via Two Paise Poems) Indian for rebirth or reincarnation.
Teekva (via a darkened house) Russian for a pumpkin.
Skuddling (via a darkened house) side-ways, skitterish motion
Maganda (via Ladyleemanila) Filipino word for beauty, refers to the beauty of both form and spirit.
Sayang (via Hank) Malay/Indonesian word referring to a loved one. Also used to express one’s affectionate feelings to a lady – whispered softly while nibbling the ear lobe.
Appraisal (via Ranted Crow); The act or result of judging the worth or value of something or someone.
In the aarambham, there was a maganda lady called Marikit. She went to a strange land and was cagestruck. New language, new customs and tradition, new way of living. She wanted to fit in but didn’t know how. Makisig is a malakas (“strong” or “powerful” in Filipino) man. He saw Marikit and introduced himself to her. He showed her their ways and how to fit in. Eventually, they fell in love. Marikit was now Makisig’s sayang and they whispered sweet nothings to each other. And they lived happily until the avasaanam.
For: Bonus Wordle
The Philippines is never new to earthquakes, with the country on the Pacific Ring of Fire. That means we have frequent seismic and volcanic activity. One of the earthquakes that stuck on my mind was the one that hit Luzon in 1990. I remembered that the Hyatt Terraces Baguio collapsed with more than a thousand people dead. Destruction to buildings, infrastructures and properties amounted to at least 10 billion pesos, a part of it cause by ground shattering. Most of the damage rest on on the physical integrity of the building and effects of local geography and ground situations.
For: Friday Fictioneers
Finish the story begins with: “She lived a life that some would describe as being on edge.”
She’s always loved swimming – in swimming pools, rivers, lakes or seas. She’s been down in every imaginable piece of diving gear known to man as well as a wide array of underwater submersibles and crafts. In one of these diving trips, she found a couple of old nickels and kept them as souvenirs. She put a hole in the coins and wore them as her necklace. With them around her neck, she did other extreme sports – skateboarding, mountain rock climbing, jet skiing and bungee jumping. Like the bulls in her coins, she’s always charging full on.
Having said that, she needed money to pay for all these extreme hobbies. She had some jewellery given to her by her mother and she went to the antique shop to have them valued. She got some money for them, then the man saw her necklace. He said that old coins would have fetched a considerable amount, but because she put a hole in them, now they don’t have any value.
THIS WEEK’S WORDS come from “Dome Riddle” by Natalie Diaz, one of the poems in When My Brother Was an Aztec: melon, whorehouse, oubliette, wearing, rattle, sleeping, touching, vanilla, mania, bone, smite, spitwad
At the back of a whorehouse, a strange hole bigger than a melon was found. The people were still sleeping, tired from last night’s rattling and reverie. There was a mania for the latest hot rock star who was in the vicinity last night. The way he connected with his fans was really touching.
Some people gathered around the hole. A man wearing his dungarees smote the edge of the hole with a heavy weapon. Others followed and they dug the hole. Inside they found some vanilla coloured bones and artefacts. Experts were called in and after some time, reports were in. They have discovered something historical.
In this empty vessel
The end full of brambles
My body’s bleeding
My veins’ weeping
In search of penitence
Not the end of judgment
For things I’ve done
No facts, just cheap pun
And things I’ve omitted
I’d go back if I would
Hush, don’t say a word
I know I have erred
Don’t mention my name
It’s such a shame
Until I have paid for my sins
When I can raise high my chin
Corrected the wrong ones
Give hope to my sons
Walked the dusty long road
A steady support flowed
Swam the deep blue seas
And walk with ease
Made a big burning fire
People can admire
And turned the stone
New leaf on my own
Tree At My Window
by Robert Frost
Tree at my window, window tree,
My sash is lowered when night comes on;
But let there never be curtain drawn
Between you and me.
Vague dream-head lifted out of the ground,
And thing next most diffuse to cloud,
Not all your light tongues talking aloud
Could be profound.
But tree, I have seen you taken and tossed,
And if you have seen me when I slept,
You have seen me when I was taken and swept
And all but lost.
That day she put our heads together,
Fate had her imagination about her,
Your head so much concerned with outer,
Mine with inner, weather.
For: Tuesdays of Texture