Well, this is what happens if you blog too much -- you begin to write bad poetry. I wrote the first of the two verses below at Zigzackly's blog some days back (guess the date?) and then noticed that a fountain of silly rhymes was starting to gush upwards and out. Not only that, but it occurred to me that in order to correct the imbalance in the Universe caused by an excess of WarmGushy Force following St Valentine's Day, we needed a day to commemorate the DarkIcky Force. According to the Britannica, St Valentine was most likely a figment of someone's wishful thinking, so it seems to me perfectly reasonable to create his logical opposite, St Gloomidor.
He was a shabby, hungry monk who wandered the middle ages groaning deeply, bathing not at all and worrying about everything. His symbol is a dark cloud and his trademark audio-signal is thunder. Though he is associated with all things mournful and shaded, the fact that he promotes rainful suggests that even he has his beneficial effect (rain, i.e., in case you were wondering.)
He is the patron saint of all depressives, singletons, hermits, self-abusers and others of that dismal but vast battalion of humans who do NOT celebrate Valentine's Day and, what's more, NEVER HAVE.
We need to find an appropriate date for him. If no-one suggests one, I WILL ... but I'll give yez the chance to try before proposing, seconding and passing by unanimous vote the one of my choice.
Meanwhile, here are the two worthless verses:
TOUGH LOVE
Won't you be my Valentine?
You'll be mine and I'll be thine?
I will bind thee tight in twine,
Whip thee with a cat o' nine,
While in boots and crinoline,
Thee will on these nails recline,
Drinking tender lilac wine --
Ah! My lovely concubine!
TOUGH LOVE(II)
Hit me soundly, hit me quick,
Hit me with a pointed stick,
And if I cry, "You went too far!"
Hit me with a choco bar.
---------------
Okay, and just to prove that I have flashes of normalcy, I'd like to share this week's Sun Bird Moment. It occurred yesterday morning. I was looking out through the glass door which leads from the dining room to the garden, when a tiny, jewelled sunbird, seeing only the reflection of the garden in the glass, flew towards the door. There he fluttered, shimmering, just a foot in front of my face, while I stood invisible behind the glass. We don't have hummingbirds here in the Old World, but sunbirds are excellent substitutes. They don't hover in the dramatic style of hummingbirds, but they DO resist gravity for brief periods, rowing the air frantically with their miniature wings before darting away and out of sight.
7 comments:
An utterly delightful rhyme is:
Roses are red
Violets are blue
I am schizophrenic
I am too
Not original, nevertheless delightful.
Well there is already good old St Patrick who turns rivers green and is pretty much all about the beer. You want to make Gloomidor his twin?
Good one, Quizman! I can sense my internal doggerel-maker stirring to life already ...
Urmea, won't the Irish object to a twin being imposed upon their best known saint??
How about the first Friday 13th of the year?
I like it -- a moveable feast!! This year it falls in May. What a cool idea. Unless someone comes up with a better one before I make my next new post, that's what it's going to be. Thanx Zig! Knew I could trust ya.
Haha, Amro! We'll call it "Gloomidwah's Anthem"! Yes, I 'member your piece for Roz, in TARGET. Was that around the same time I painted the big pink oil with the bright yellow leaves and one tiny (sun) bird silhouetted against them?
Meanwhile, on the subject of Gloomidor's Day, I propose that in place of a heart, the G.Day symbol should be a CLUB (as in the trefoil that appears on playing cards) and the keynote colour is, of course black. And maybe silver too? As in the well-known saying, "Every silver lining has a cloud attached to it"?
Suggested activities for Gloomidor's Day: sending around black envelopes filled with silver tears to fellow depressives; morbid jokes to cheer them up; tiny blades (broken off sections of boxcutters, for instance) with their edges blunted, sealed in cellotape, to symbolize solidarity in resisting the urge to end it all; news items about disasters around the world, to remind fellow sufferers of how fortunate (relatively) they are; the current list of Darwin Awardees (if you don't know what this is, Google it -- I suspect you won't be disappointed).
Here's more:
* all tv channels showing reruns of Ingmar Bergman or Guru Dutt films. * Radio playing Mukesh songs all day long (**shudder**)
* Sanjay Manjrekar commentating on reruns of Javed Miandad's last ball six.
* Your school library contacting you to return that book you borrowed in 3rd grade, with fines & interest for that period.
*All your aunts calling to ask, "Any good news yet? Pinky and Bunty already have 44 kids"
* Arundhati Roy publishing another essay.
But wait, the last one is not gloomy. It is sadistic. Woh kisi aur din.
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