 plant to pulp
pulp to paper paper folded laid out bare laid along a journeying a pathway illuminated a journey across boundaries peace eased lengthways across and touching ethereal Ruth Field - 30/12/17
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 Happy Christmas from The Piano Blog - Paul & Ruth
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there. The children were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads. And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap, Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap. When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below. When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny reindeer. With a little old driver, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St Nick. More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name! "Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen! To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!" As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky. So up to the house-top the coursers they flew, With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too. And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. As I drew in my head, and was turning around, Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound. He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot, And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot. A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back, And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack. His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry! His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow. The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath. He had a broad face and a little round belly, That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly! He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself! A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread. He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk. And laying his finger aside of his nose, And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose! He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight, "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"  I
I heard an Angel singing When the day was springing, 'Mercy, Pity, Peace Is the world's release.' Thus he sung all day Over the new mown hay, Till the sun went down And haycocks looked brown. I heard a Devil curse Over the heath and the furze, 'Mercy could be no more, If there was nobody poor, And pity no more could be, If all were as happy as we.' At his curse the sun went down, And the heavens gave a frown. Down pour'd the heavy rain Over the new reap'd grain ... And Miseries' increase Is Mercy, Pity, Peace. William Blake  For Tall Ships - Farewell,
Sail on Will to life I've got a chest that burns a fearless red Everytime that you are near You illuminate the darkness That I find myself living within Tall Ships www.wearetallships.co.uk  For my good friend Britt, The Stone Carver
The blade slices into hard, grey stone creating details; similar to my layering thoughts but intellectual growth replaces them as my concentration exceeds capability Producing artful magic with hand, mind and soul at work like when I inscribe passion onto paper it escapes from my heart and becomes everlasting flying through time, present for all eyes I stand before the river gushing over countless pebbles dropped by immeasurable hearts Lauren Smith  And is it true ? For if it is,
No loving fingers tying strings Around those tissued fripperies, The sweet and silly Christmas things, Bath salts and inexpensive scent And hideous tie so kindly meant, No love that in a family dwells, No carolling in frosty air, Nor all the steeple-shaking bells Can with this single Truth compare That God was man in Palestine And lives today in Bread and Wine. John Betjeman  It's exactly a year now since I began this Piano Blog.
This is the 152nd piece of improvised music with Ruth's pictures I've posted. Thanks to all who follow it and get something from it. I shall keep going for as long as people want to listen so keep the comments, shares and likes coming. Cheers & God bless. Paul Field  In the bleak midwinter, the hungry and the poor.
Still wait for their Messiah to end prejudice and war. For still we fight each other, still our children die. If the Prince of peace has come to us, why won't the white dove fly? Paul Field/Judy Dunn  Sorry I've not posted for a while, sometimes life gets in the way.
A painting from Spain from Ruth and a poem for Advent. 'Let your advent Be a venture. Let your living Be an adventure. Insipidity Will not have validity. Idiocy Will not have prominence. Do not waste your days. Do not ruin your years. Have drive. Move to thrive As you are born rise like the sun. Grow with shine. Realise that you Are a human'. Rochish Mon |
