Monday, May 16, 2011
Fine Chardonnay!
By Lella Dal Ferro
It's hard to believe I'm 39.
But am I aging like fine wine?
They say 39 is the new 25
Could someone please tell my thighs.
My make-up free days are a thing of the past.
I just hope my concealer lasts.
What are these grey hairs atop my head.
Tell me Miss Clairol, should I go red?
These lines on my face are beginning to furrow
Soon they'll be deep enough for a rabbit's burrow
But joking and silliness aside
This has been a wonderful ride
So 40 I'm ready, bring what you may
I've decided, I'm a fine Chardonnay!
It's hard to believe I'm 39.
But am I aging like fine wine?
They say 39 is the new 25
Could someone please tell my thighs.
My make-up free days are a thing of the past.
I just hope my concealer lasts.
What are these grey hairs atop my head.
Tell me Miss Clairol, should I go red?
These lines on my face are beginning to furrow
Soon they'll be deep enough for a rabbit's burrow
But joking and silliness aside
This has been a wonderful ride
So 40 I'm ready, bring what you may
I've decided, I'm a fine Chardonnay!
Monday, May 9, 2011
SONNET 130
by Shakespeare
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.
The Wind and the Sun
An Aesop Fable |
The wind and the sun argued one day over which one was the stronger. Spotting a man man traveling on the road, they sported a challenge to see which one could remove the coat from the man's back the quickest. The wind began. He blew strong gusts of air, so strong that the man could barely walk against them. But the man clutched his coat tight against him. The wind blew harder and longer, and the harder the wind blew, the tighter the man held his coat against him.The wind blew until he was exhausted, but he could not remove the coat from the man's back. It was now the sun's turn. He gently sent his beams upon the traveler. The sun did very little, but quietly shone upon his head and back until the man became so warm that he took off his coat and headed for the nearest shade tree. |
Sour Grapes
An Aesop Fable
A very hungry fox walked into a vineyard where there was an ample supply of luscious looking grapes. Grapes had never looked so good, and the fox was famished. However, the grapes hung higher than the fox could reach. He jumped and stretched and hopped and reached and jumped some more trying to get those yummy grapes, but to no avail. No matter what he tried, he could not reach the grapes. He wore himself out jumping and jumping to get the grapes.
"Those grapes surely must be sour," he said as he walked away, "I wouldn't eat them if they were served to me on a silver platter."
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