Yo-Yoing She’s always lived in the small town. It has one set of traffic lights on a highway with little action. For one year, near the lights, she test- spins the yo-yo up then down. During the day as a car nears the road lights, she suddenly loses rhythm. She has lately, made a change. Sleeping yo-yos moves work best when there are no vehicles. She reels off a song as she plays, in between the frequent gaps occurring in the town’s traffic. She takes a while to rehearse, then finds a tune to hum in keeping with the yoyo’s moves.
I wave. ‘Hello, Heroes in comedy
guys! I’m back. or drama, baddies
Sorry, I missed perhaps goodies?
the last class, The discussion
I was sick!’ pauses. I say
They greet me. ‘We’ve looked
All in a circle. at films only.
The tutor starts. what about
Pleasant topic. the theatre?’
Nearest to me The discussion starts.
a student turns – And it involves me.
a look of interest! That’s unusual
‘Excellent point! What’s new? Topic,
Did you ponder tone, team or accent?
a play by chance?’ Could be the latter…
He has actually The foreign accent ?
heard my words! It sometimes is !
The boat engine creeks signalling an imminent lock. A stillness follows allowing moments of discreet reflexion. This lull precedes a to-ing and fro-ing, a rhythm inapt to this boat’s magic allure when it floats over the expansive Rhine with no lock in sight, revealing to us all several picture postcard peaceful scenes. Early this morning the river managed to keep us well afloat. Castles emerged atop lush green forests while rows of houses came into view like decorated and gilded gems. Enchanted by this floating vision, I dream beyond the end of time and, breakfast, oh, dear I've missed it!
Arriving atop, I sit down. As I look up I take in a remarkable
dreamlike vision. Nestled against the river bank are three
pretty red roofed and yellow-fronted houses. Further back
there is a forest and on the side some lush green bushes.
Picture perfect. I take in the beauty of it, but soon
decide something ‘s missing. Not light nor extra
colour or features! I think it’s people.
The elements all make a lot of sense
Yet to create atmosphere you need
people. I long for the warmth
of human vision, touch
and talk. These make
The assistant can hardly see me. She waves pointing towards the bread 'Did you want the loaf sliced?' I nod, becoming aware of people queuing behind me, and quickly add 'And can I have two of these cakes please?’ ‘These are not cakes, they are gateaux’, she says. I shake my head in assent but I dare not point to the tempting curly pastry with shiny raisins in it. She’ll perhaps say that it isn’t a snail but an escargot. The next day if I wanted to buy an umbrella, would I call it a parasol or a parapluie?
You talk; some hear, some don’t. They have heard the words but not taken them in. There is no response. You shout. They turn around and ask: ‘What do you mean? You know they’ve heard you. You repeat the utterance so they don’t misunderstand. Later you start to talk again, but those people who listen rarely reply, you start walking around, flipping a hand up in the air as if you had nothing to say finally there is need for less shouting instead you stammer: ‘Just talking to myself’ shrugging your shoulders and flipping your hand in the air.
His parents were not surprised when he first produced a podcast that became very popular. Being the youngest child, he often felt whenever his siblings left the house without him. He resented being left behind and complained to be pushed aside, as if he was unimportant. Around that time his parents noticed that he had developed some astonishing sound making techniques. He made nonsensical and blabbering noises. He created such racket and clangour that they needed to give him their undivided attention to appease his so-called solitude. His family had discovered early how much he needed to be heard.
This occurs when you don’t have anything on your mind. You've stopped worrying about every thing around you. you forget you left the washing out, you don’t bother to put a heater on because you can stay warm under the bed covers. There is no doctor to visit Catch up with a friend for coffee? Can wait for another day. Check the letter box? Nobody writes any more. Some vacuuming? You swept under the table the day before. Lunch? Sit up and watch TV with a sandwich and a fruit. Water? There’s always a bottle at hand on your bedside.
You can knit outfits from yarn without looking
you can catch up stitches across rows
you can undo what you have just done
you can invent your own pattern
There are some who yarn while they knit
many sing and dance, moving about
others put it down with a sigh
only to pick it up with dreamy eyes
What of those like me whose feet punctuate the rhythm of their hands
following the cadence by keeping up to step
it is a simple beat.
Knit-Purl Step-Up with right foot
back to Knit-Purl Step-up with right foot
Lilting unto the end.
You’re trapped. You work from home and no one is checking over your shoulder you’re in charge, running the show Just send your report and you are paid, but so little! Or you choose to take a job in town where you are part of the team with back-to-back meetings while you smile to colleagues till your lips feel sore A well-paid job but you will never get your way. If sharing information is at stake yet you intend to offset the demands and maintain a balance keep your views to yourself Saving your wise opinions for an opportune time.