Miles Whinfrey

Miles Whinfrey (c) April 2014.

What do you think Bertrand?

Let me introduce myself- Bertrand, Bertrand Russell
What worries me is the state of the universe, the
spheres
But I have never been more moved than with Ludwig
Reinvigorated by his unique ensemble
What he writes and says and does I don’t
Which is the joy
I have read and ruminated and stewed over so many
books it is a wonder
We have spoke and shared but in so many ways I am
still at a loss
I feel older, though he doesn’t know, but how can this
be?
The words find their way granted
I will survive not knowing the answers to the big
questions, but there is something else- that is my issue,
I can’t live without colour to the slide or a bellwether
I have reached this point over a wide search that has
both gone everywhere, and stayed local in a neighbours
yard
I have both a Halifax in a reservoir and a nailed on
conviction for murder 1 in the Jones demise, though it
is a paper exercise like Cluedo and ment to satisfy
But what of Ludwig-
What do I like?
Is it because he is from a land I don’t understand?
Maybe
We laugh, sometimes we laugh in sympathy, not always
Is there something there- an understanding and good
will?
Yes.
Is it no-one’s effort to claim? Maybe not if I am not too
old.
I can prove it isn’t if I can change which I can because
they can teach old dogs new tricks.
I am a silly old sod
Hopefully we laugh
He quips:
‘Go seek Fido.’

Coop Himmelblau (C) 1980.

Poem written for exhibition at Technical University Graz, the ‘Flaming Wing.’

Architecture Must Blaze

You can judge just how bad
the 70’s were when you look
at it’s super tense architecture.

Opinion polls and com-
placent democracy live behind
Biedermeier- facades.

But we don’t want to build
Biedermeier. Not now and at
no other time.
We are tired of seeing Palladio
and other historical masks.
Because we don’t want
architecture to exclude every-
thing that is disquieting.

We want architecture to have
more. Architecture that bleeds,
that exhausts, that whirls and
even breaks. Architecture that
lights up, that stings, that rips,
and under stress tears.
Architecture should be cavern-
ous, firey, smooth, hard,
angular, brutal, round, delicate,
colourful, obscene, voluptuous,
dreamy, alluring, repelling, wet,
dry and throbbing. Alive or
dead. Cold- then cold as a block of ice.
Hot – then hot as a blazing wing.
Architecture must blaze.

Hooray I have done it- speech 10 done and I won Best Speaker on the night. It is perfect- and I am going to TM in Leicester on Saturday too, so that’s a good social occasion. You must join Toastmaster’s and get my own very perculiar type of illness. Cheers everyone…

I have been reading Shakespeare and couldnt put down my commentary of King Lear last night. When I am at my most relaxed I just love the off hand way the Fool chides Lear in the Storm scene. Edgar is also pretty amazing as Poor Tom when he is trying to save the interests of his family in a very sensitive situation. I would love to speak those words from either of those 2 people and it just goes to show how cleverer observer of people Shakespeare was- And Ben Jonson thought he was thick and not very devoted to literature.

Not very long to my final speech in CC, should get on with learning it and get away from frothy website posts. Cheers everyone.

Janice Fisher (c) March 2014

The Journey

The day began as an ordinary day,
I boarded the train to collect my granddaughter,
We headed home planning a weekends play
Chugging along, nose peering out of carriage windows,
The usual railway sightings- of diggers on building plots
And fuming factories,
Allotments with their wigwam sheds and scarecrows,
Rivers winding, ponies standing , cows grazing ,
sheep chewing,
And oh- look Daisy- new born lambs,
Time to alight, steady walk to catch the bus home,
A bit peckish now,
Bangers and mash for tea.
The usual bedtime routine:
bath bubbles and bedtime book,
Nothing out of the ordinary,
Then Daisy said- ‘What will I dream of Nan?’
I don’t know Daisy- what will you dream of?
She thought and said quite matter of factly –
‘I shall dream of you Nan.’
I had by those sweet words been transported to
the land of fairytale castles,
Unicorns, mermaids and pixie dust.
My soul lit up,
The day ended in an extraordinary way.

Two weeks and a day to my speech 10. Pretty exciting. I want to put across to people the real sense of achievement I feel on finishing, and the persistent worry it has caused me during being a competent communicator toastmaster. I also want to be convinced that I am holding attention and coming across well. This one is 10 minutes long which is a full 3 minutes longer than the typical speech in this set of challenges. It will be different so I will need to prepare properly and have good material. Thanks everyone….

Alexander Pope

On a certain Lady at Court

I know the thing that’s most uncommon;
(Envy be silent and attend!)
I know a Reasonable Woman,
Handsome and witty, yet a friend.

Not warp’d by Passion, aw’d by Rumour,
Not grave thro’ Pride, or gay thro’ Folly,
An equal Mixture of good Humour,
And sensible soft Melancholy.

‘Has she no Faults then (Envy says) Sir?’
Yes she has one, I must aver:
When all the world comspires to praise her,
The Woman’s deaf, and does not hear.

Alexander Pope

On Mr. Gay

Of Manners gentle, of Affections mild;
In Wit, a Man; Simplicity, a Child:
With native Humour temp’ring virtuous Rage,
Form’d to delight at once and lash at the age:
Above Temptation, in a low Estate,
And uncorrupted, ev’n among the Great:
A safe Companion, and an easy Friend,
Unblam’d thro’ Life, lamented in thy End.
These are Thy Honours! not that hear thy Bust
Is mix’d with Heroes, or with Kings thy dust;
But that the Worthy and the Good shall say,
Striking their pensive bosoms-
Here
lies GAY.

Alexander Pope, The Twickenham Pope, published, 1731.

Epistle to Richard Boyle, Earl of Burlington

One of societies ‘friendly poets’, he had to apologise to Lord Burlington quite a lot. He got told off for innuendo- and must at times thought he was invulnerable. The situation he was in is that he was giving up his freedom to be a richer man (and to an extent more respected).

Not sure I agree with the rather sexist tone of the end of the first stanza, but Pope is certainly passionate and whether it be to do with sexual love or not what he is saying is it is never a good thing to be the ‘net loser.’

STANZA 1
‘Tis strange, the Miser should his cares employ,
To gain those Riches he can ne’er enjoy:
Is it less strange, the Prodigal should wast
His wealth, to purchase what he ne’er can taste?
Not for himself he sees, or hears, or eats;
Artists must chuse his Pictures, Music, Meats:
He buys from Topham, Drawings and Designs,
For Pembroke Statues, dirty Gods, and Coins;
Rare monkish Manuscripts for Hearne alone,
And Books for Mead, and Butterflies for Sloane.
Think we all these for himself? no more
Than his fine Wife, alas! or finer Whore.

STANZA 2
For what has Virro painted, built, and planted?
Only to show, how many Tastes he wanted.
What brought Sir Visto’s ill got wealth of waste?
Some Daemon whisper’d, ‘Visto! have a taste.’
Heav’n visits with a Taste the wealthy fool,
And needs no Rod but Ripley with a Rule.
See! sportive fate, to punish aukward pride,
Bids Bubo build, and send him such a Guide:
A standing sermon, at each year’s expense,
That never Coxcomb reach’d Magnificence!

STANZA 4
Oft have you hinted to your brother Peer,
A certain truth, which many buy too dear:
Something there is more needful than Expence,
And something previous ev’n to Taste- ’tis Sense:
Good Sense, which only is the gift of Heav’n,
And tho’ no science, fairly worth the sev’n:
A Light, which in yourself you must percieve;
Jones and Le Notre have it not to give.

STANZA 7
Still follow Sense, of ev’ry Art and Soul,
Parts answ’ring parts shall slide into the whole,
Spontaneous beauties all around in advance,
Start ev’n from Difficulty, strike from Chance;
Nature shall join you, Time shall make it grow

Miles Whinfrey (c) February 2014
Acrostic on subject of (1) Wood and (2) Fear
Forest Fit-out Fix
As things stand no reprieve,
Sherwood Forest has many;
Hollow for vagabonds.

Don’t mix Ash specimens,
It spreads disease,
England’s strife.

Boles in short supply,
Armies of purchasers look abroad,
“Can we get this?”
Kaleidoscopic wood of highest request.

Miles Whinfrey (c) February 2014
On subject of (1) Paper, and (2) Serious.

Joshing to lift the spirits

I don’t know everything Chris has said-
But I have read the paper today,
About what is happening to other people.

Soon your hostess tray will float to you,
You’ll never have to mow the grass- it’ll be kelp,
Forget trips to the council pool- if you loose something
at home soon it will all be sub-aquatic exercise,
You can’t have domestics with 8,000 gallons in your
front room,
And that’s not counting those that have their stuff out
in the four corners of the earth- silly people.

Were lucky we have the early lessons of Atlantis.
Can anyone remember?
Have I got that right?
Before it all got too much.

Realise- It’s not been this bad since 1700.
No-one’s particularly sorry-
So he has to do everything for them now,
Holland- what the Dutch? It’s nothing like that, no
comparison.

Give them some time to get around to other people’s
problems,
It’s them or you who’re left there,
Constant carping,
It seems that many have lost a sense of humour,
If we can’t laugh at ourselves, well that’s a poor show.