Monday's Sheep

Monday's sheep is full of woe
Thinking how his life will go
Calling out to all who'll hear
"Am I far, or am I near"

Monday comes and then it leaves
With its 'woe'ness on its sleeve
Can the next day be more fun?
Lets look up to see the sun

What if I can't see it there?
What if I start to despair?
Will I have to stop and say
"Welcome, Monday, everyday"

Is Monsieur Mouton OK?

I'm sure my regular readers will be asking themselves if I'm OK or not, bearing in mind that my writing has been somewhat sporadic of late? Then there's the question: What is OK? Does it mean that I am living, that I am happy, that I am unhappy but not desperate? OK is such a vague term, don't you think?

I am able to reassure you that I am OK in that I am not unhappy; nor am I actually happy. I am just here, standing. I stand, so I'm here. I know it's Christmas and I know that I am here in France for Christmas. If that means that I am OK, then I'm OK.

Apart from that, life goes on (and the like) as they say, in my neck of the woods, so to speak.........if I could speak, that is.....................

From Dada to Baabaa

You will remember that I had a series of posts protesting that sheep are more intelligent than you all probably think? Well, I would like to present to you a colleague of mine who is making a bit of a name for herself in the art world. Welcome to the new movement of Baabaaism.

I really am stardust

We really are stardust, you know. Joni Mitchell might have been singing just a song back at Woodstock, but it's true.

I was thinking about this when I had another look at one of the cards that Lisbeth was given for her birthday with a sheep on it. The front of the card had this little sheep going up a hill under a starry sky. The next has the other side of the hill where he would come down. Inside, it showed the little sheep actually coming down covered in stars.

I like to think that, because he struggled up the hill, the stars came down to meet him and they stuck to him all over. Now he's covered in stars and become stardust.

While I'm talking - you might be interested to know that I am still in the little room at the back of the house. My place in the hall continues to be taken up with Mr Dancer's wine!!

Am I myself?

Am I myself, or am I not?
Or have I lost my way?
Am I now wondering what I've got
to do, to be OK?

If I found out that I was here
existing in the world,
would I then know some dreadful fear
to rise, and be unfurled?

Or can I trust that all is well
and everything will be
just like some calming tolling bell
as I come home to me?

Woglinde

Lisbeth is still in contact with her friend in IBM (USA) and so gets regular updates on the goose, Boswell. Well, apparently, he has a companion called Woglinde. (That's another goose, by the way.) Now I, personally, have no idea where the name Woglinde came from, so I've googled it. (As a poor facebook-neglected sheep must do!)

Well, it's lots of things. You might like the exciting video clip: The Woglinde Falls. Then there's someone who calls himself Woglinde and who crops up all over the place. Then there's Ace Combat Skies. (Probably related to The Woglinde Falls) And then there's good old Wagner.

It's all in a name, as they say.

Winter Winds

Winter winds are cold and sharp
Wrapping round the cold and dark
Blowing up the chimney
Trying now to get me
Branches blow in my tree
Oh this winter wind

Winter winds do blow and gust
Making it a certain must
That we are to wrap up
Taking drinks to warm up
Something that can keep up
With this winter wind

Light a fire for good defense
And it really does make sense
That the fire can hearten
Even those most spartan
To inspire their part in
Living with the wind