Some new words

It has been a long time since I last posted any new words on this blog, the reasons for this are manifold. I have of late been overladen with all sorts of academic activities, most prominent of all perhaps has been my Oh so facinating doctoral thesis, which slouches ever so painstakingly forwards. There has also been a lot of time devoted to reading all I can get my hands on relating to my fields of interest, this leads me further and further back in time as well as deeper and deeper into quaint and curious volumes of more or less forgotten lore. I can also add that my daily ritual of walking through the forest has, of late, resembled a struggle towards any of the snow laden cornes of the world, of which there seems to be quite so many of these days. Though my office is warm and comfortable, the thought of having to leave the building at the end of the day does seem to keep me here for great while longer than on sunnier days. But, I will not fall into any sour mood of complaints, I do get lots of time to my books, and there must be said; I have vast supply of Twinings Earl Grey.

I was somewhat surprised to see that within this last month several new followers have succumbed to the pleasure of the words posted on this blog, for this I am also very greatful. I hope in the future to be a bit more present, and will try to find ever more poems of depth and beauty.

What 'vaileth truth, or by it to take pain ?
To strive by steadfastness for to attain
How to be just, and flee from doubleness ?
Since all alike, where ruleth craftiness,
Rewarded is both crafty, false, and plain.
Soonest he speeds that most can lie and feign :
True meaning heart is had in high disdain.
Against deceit and cloaked doubleness,
What 'vaileth truth, or perfect steadfastness ?
Deceived is he by false and crafty train,
That means no guile, and faithful doth remain
Within the trap, without help or redress :
But for to love, lo, such a stern mistress,
Where cruelty dwells, alas, it were in vain.
What 'vaileth truth !
T.Wyatt

Poor Fellows

What it takes on this planet,
to make love to each other in peace.
Everyone pries under your sheets,
everyone interferes with your loving.
They say terrible things about a man and a woman,
who after much milling about,
all sorts of compunctions,
do something unique,
they both lie with each other in one bed.
I ask myself whether frogs are so furtive,
or sneeze as they please.
Whether they whisper to each other in swamps about illegitimate frogs,
or the joys of amphibious living.
I ask myself if birds single out enemy birds,
or bulls gossip with bullocks before they go out in public with cows.
Even the roads have eyes and the parks their police.
Hotels spy on their guests,
windows name names,
canons and squadrons debark on missions to liquidate love.
All those ears and those jaws working incessantly,
till a man and his girl
have to raise their climax,
full tilt,
on a bicycle.

P. Neruda