901

A Woman's Lesson
by Nancy Wood

A woman's lesson is a simple lesson:
Whatever life asks, answer with love.

A woman's lesson is a wise lesson:
Whenever conflict threatens, go forth in harmony.

A woman's lesson is an enduring lesson:
Whatever is taken from you, give back in generosity.

A woman's lesson is a gradual lesson:
Whenever there is a storm, remain a calm center.

A woman's lesson is a courageous lesson:
Whenever there is despair, sow the seed of hope.

A woman's lesson is a practical lesson:
Wherever there is dryness, go and get the rain.

A Man's Lesson

A man's lesson is a significant lesson:
Whatever a woman wants, most happily provide it.

A man's lesson is a behavior lesson:
Whenever she is depressed, offer her foot massages.

A man's lesson is a kowtowing lesson:
Whenever the woman scowls, get her a trinket.

A man's lesson is an attitude lesson:
Whenever she is critical, correct your own ego.

A man's lesson is a reality lesson:
Whenever your woman is careworn, acknowledge her.

A man's lesson is a lifelong lesson:
Wherever your woman shows a need, encourage her...stay in bed!

902

An award should go to the Virgin Airlines desk attendant in Sydney some months ago for being cool, smart and funny, while making a point, when confronted with a passenger who probably deserved to fly as cargo.

On January 13th, a crowded flight was cancelled after the airline's 767s had been withdrawn from service. A lone female attendant was re-booking a long line of inconvenienced people.

Suddenly an angry passenger pushed his way through to the desk. He slammed his ticket down on the counter and shouted, "Look, I HAVE to be on this flight and it HAS to be FIRST CLASS".

The airline attendant replied, "I am sorry, sir. I shall be happy to help you, but I have to help these people first; although I am sure we'll be able to work something out."

The haughty passenger was unimpressed. He asked loudly, so that all the passengers behind him could hear, "DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?"

Without hesitation, the attendant smiled and reached for her public address microphone:

"May I have your attention please, may I have your attention please," she began - her voice clearly audible throughout the terminal.

"We have a passenger here WHO DOES NOT KNOW WHO HE IS. If anyone can help him to find his identity, would you please come to Desk 14. Thank you."

With all the folk behind him in the queue laughing hysterically, the man glared at the woman, gritted his teeth and hissed, "F... you!"

Without flinching, she smiled and said:

"I'm sorry, sir, but you'll have to get in line for that too."

Vic was playing, partnerless, on the front nine of a very complicated golf course and became confused as to what hole he was at.

Looking around, he saw a lady playing in front of him. Walking up to her, he said, "Forgive me; I've got rather confused - do you know what number hole I'm playing?"

She replied, "Well, I’m on the 7th and you're a hole behind me, so you've got to be on the 6th."

Vic thanked her and went back to playing.

On the back nine the very same thing happened and he approached her once more with the same request. She said, "I’m on the 14th, and you're still a hole behind me, so you've got to be on the 13th."

Once more, he thanked her and went back to playing.

After finishing the round, Vic went into the club house and saw the lady golfer sitting at the end of the bar, so he asked the bartender if he knew her. The bartender said she was a saleslady who played the course often.

Vic approached her and said, "I insist on buying you a drink to show my appreciation for your assistance earlier. I understand that you're in sales... well, I'm in sales also. What do you sell?"

"If I told you, you'd laugh," she grinned in reply.

"No I wouldn’t," he bantered, and persisted in asking her what she sold.

"Well if you must know," she blushed, "I sell tampons."

With that, Vic fell to the floor, laughing so hard that he almost wept.

"See I said you'd laugh," she lamented, regretting telling him.

"I'm sorry; that's not what I'm laughing at," he said; "It's just that I’m a toilet paper salesman, so... I’m still a hole behind you!"

903

SAILING
by Rod Stewart - the lyrics/words
 
I am sailing, I am sailing,
Home again cross the sea.
I am sailing, stormy waters,
To be near you, to be free.

I am flying, I am flying,
Like a bird cross the sky.
I am flying, passing high clouds,
To be with you, to be free.

Can you hear me, can you hear me
Thro the dark night, far away,
I am dying, forever trying,
To be with you, who can say.

We are sailing, we are sailing,
Home again cross the sea.
We are sailing stormy waters,
To be near you, to be free.

Oh lord, to be near you, to be free.
Oh lord, to be near you, to be free,
Oh lord.

AILING (obvious ABBA hit)

Ay, Ma's ailing, ay, Ma's ailing,
Cystitis - reason she doesn't wee.
Ma's bile is grey, her water bloody,
O, to urinate, to wee freely...

Ma's trying, Ma's trying,
Breaking into a big cold sweat.
Ay, Ma's trying but passing out,
O, to urinate, to wee freely...

Doc, heal her, can you heal her
Or say you know the way.
Ay, Ma's crying, almost dying,
O, to urinate, o, say how...

She is failing, she is failing,
Horrid fright (sob!) that'd be!
We are waiting - bladder's breaking,
O, urinate, free her wee...

O, chloroform her, o Ma, be free.
O, chloroform her, see Ma free,
O, mercy...

904

MATCHSTALK MEN AND MATCHSTALK CATS AND DOGS
By
Brian and Michael

He painted Salford's smokey tops
On cardboard boxes from the shops
And parts of Ancoats where I used to play
I'm sure he once walked down our street
Cause he painted kids who had nowt on their feet
The clothes we wore had all seen better days.

Now they said his works of art were dull
No room, all round the walls are full
But Lowry didn't care much anyway
They said he just paints cats and dogs
And matchstalk men in boots and clogs
And Lowry said that's just the way they'll stay

And he painted matchstalk men and matchstalk cats and dogs
He painted kids on the corner of the street with their sparking clogs
Now he takes his brush and he waits outside them factory gates
To paint his matchstalk men and matchstalk cats and dogs

Now canvas and brushes were wearing thin
When London started calling him
To come on down and wear the old flat cap
They said tell us all about your ways
And all about them Salford days
Is it true you're just an ordinary chap?

And he painted matchstalk men and matchstalk cats and dogs
He painted kids on the corner of the street with their sparking clogs
Now he takes his brush and he waits outside them factory gates
To paint his matchstalk men and matchstalk cats and dogs

Now Lowries hang upon the wall
Beside the greatest of them all
And even the Mona Lisa takes a bow
This tired old man with hair like snow
Told northern folk its time to go
The fever came and the good Lord mopped his brow

And he left us matchstalk men and matchstalk cats and dogs
He left us kids on the corner of the street with sparking clogs
Now he takes his brush and he waits outside them pearly gates
To paint his matchstalk men and matchstalk cats and dogs.

THE SURREAL WORLD OF MR SALVADOR DALI
To commemorate that most potty of art's enfants terribles.

He painted strange, distorted themes
That most folk only see in dreams,
His odd imagination just ran wild,
Eccentric, non-conformal too,
He portrayed scenes that just couldn't be true,
And he had a rather bold, flamboyant style.

Most folk tut-tutted, "That poor bloke's mad,
His work's so dotty it must be bad,"
But Dali didn't care what most folk said,
They'd mock that odd, upturned moustache
And snort: "that crackpot has no class;"
He'd just retort, "I show what's in my head."

And he painted elephants with tall, kinky matchstick legs,
Contorted landscapes and a crouching man whose head's an egg,
And melting watches, a dark-red sky, a naked lady with stout thighs
And a topless woman with a loaf upon her head!

This former draftsman then became
Obsessed with cash, obsessed with fame,
But, nonetheless, his genius was real,
He was a mock-Renaissance cross
'twixt Van Eyck, Tintoretto, Bosch,
And he played a fool, but his art had mass appeal.

And he painted elephants with tall, kinky matchstick legs,
Contorted landscapes and a crouching man whose head's an egg,
And melting watches and stark-red skies, a naked lady with stout thighs
And a topless woman with a loaf upon her head!

Is he blessed in Heaven or damned in Hell?
What world he's in, I know full well,
It's not as strange as the world that filled his head.
A scary crackpot? Maybe so,
And arrogant clown, that's true, we know
Yet his memory lingers on, now that he's dead

And he left us elephants with tall, kinky matchstick legs,
Contorted landscapes and that crouching man whose head's an egg,
And melting watches, a storm-dark sky, a naked lady with stout thighs
And that topless woman with a loaf stuck on her head!

905

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906

SYRIA: A POEM FOR HER
by Amin Astewani

Standing by my window
I gaze out beyond
And see gleaming tarmac
And pavements and cars

Standing by her window
She gazes out beyond
And sees blood stained rubble
And bodies and shards

I open the door
And inhale the breeze
I step onto the tarmac
In solitude and peace

She opens the door
And inhales the smoke
She steps over the bodies
In terror, no hope

I lower my head
In sadness and shame
How can I smile
When she feels such pain?

So I drop to my knees
And look to the sky
And pray for that girl
And cry, just cry.

POISONED: A CHAINED AND DOWNTRODDEN NATION

Late in the evening hour...
Embraced by sleep.
Atropine in your head,
Dreams had been deep.

Echoes in my room,
Razors in a cell,
Blasts in the dark,
A sojourn to Hell.

Satan's ascendancy
He haunted by banned gas.
Attaches to their skin.
Reasons must pass --

Hades wondered why.
A harsh wind as we awoke...
Filtered in his wormwood,
Envisioned to choke.

Zapping my energy,
A shortness of breath.
Lost by the dozens;
Anonymity in death.

Shuttered inside me,
Slipping from my grasp --
A doomed baby beside
Does one last gasp.

907

There is no Frigate like a Book
To take us Lands away
Nor any Coursers like a Page
Of prancing Poetry--
This Traverse may the poorest take
Without oppress of Toll--
How frugal is the Chariot
That bears the Human soul.

Emily Dickinson

They say to read helps you to think
And travel makes you smart.
Both transport us, promise things -
They are like works of art
All can appreciate or hate, I feel
No teaching helps us know.
I use libraries as an office
To work I ought to go.

908

[For the 1 year anniversary of Neil Armstrong's death, the poem Sonnet to the Moon is anagrammed into a sonnet that celebrates Neil in 3 different ways, detailed below:]

Sonnet to the Moon, Sir Philip Sidney

With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies,
How silently, and with how wan a face!
What may it be, that even in heavenly place
That busy Archer his sharp arrows tries?
Sure, if that long with love acquainted eyes
Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's case;
I read it in thy looks, thy languished grace
To me that feel the like thy state descries.
Then, even of fellowship, O Moon! tell me,
Is constant love deemed there but want of wit?
Are beauties there as proud as here they be?
Do they above love to be loved, and yet
Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess?
Do they call virtue there ungratefulness?

The Sweetest Pilot Who Touched The Heavens


No, Heaven's truest board of awesome worth
Evaluating deeds should not have fretted;
It never will receive a soul from Earth
Less worthy than the easy catch they've netted:
A wholesome knight that's still beloved today
And vowed to pay mankind one welcome service,
Respected truly for his small-town ways
More than this 'leap and step' on stony surface,
Shall join these giants, for he chose to be
The first of this one-in-a-billion crew.
Relieve this healthy Man of Piety,
Obey these ceaseless calls to let him through:
No birth upon this sphere - above it, too -
Gave us a buddy that was quite like you.

[Much like my tribute to Steve Jobs a couple of years back, this sonnet contains an acrostic (Neil A. Armstrong) and his famous quote ("That's one small step for [a] man, one giant leap for mankind") - which itself draws the outline of a full moon, as displayed in this animated image:]