An odd lot we all are
All sorts in shapes and sizes
Male and female both
All with different aspirations
Which we know or don't know about
One wonders how other people
See or wonder about
You or me
Us as a group
Is it when we do things nor nothing
Want to be loved
Is it wanting space
Not in touch with other people?
More questions than you and I can answer
Nice to be in touch
Is't what's all about?
How mad it makes you
Not hitting the little ball
Well or not at all
Strange game to hit a little ball with a wood which is made from steel
And a ball with a mind of its own
Strangely attracted to trees, water and going out of bounds
With un unerring instinct homing in on anything in its path
Maybe a root, stone or bump
Thus sending itself on a course totally adverse to that planned by you and me
Its destination and point of the game ?
To place it in a little hole in the centre of a green bit of grass
Would it not make sense to take this little ball
Gently stroll along and put it in its little hole
Thus avoiding stressing you and the little ball and profitting from the gentle stroll?
Your coming home
A mental picture
An abstract view
You in the process of moving
ever nearer home
Memories from yesterday
This morning, today
The richness of being together
Our way of relating
Being aware of each other
The wholeness of us
Sharing our love
Relentless the waves of heat beat down
Bathing me with a blanket of hot sticky sweat
Rivulets form and gather speed running down
Tiredness and lethargy take over as the force in life
A trip in the car, even a visit to the Hyperdome is attractive
Cooling down and slowing down that seems to be our aim
Had a sleep, nap, reluctantly regaining my awareness, of life around
All in all a tiresome day one could say
A storm is brewing they say, but when?
A cooling down would be nice, but not too cold
Being cold is worse that being overheated
It all will pass, aways does
A rare commodity nowadays
All integrated into one
The green lawns when wet
The smell of rain
The fish gliding around in their tank
All for no reason
For every one to enjoy
Not often have I sat
Absorbing the sounds
Nuances of tones
Allowing those to vibrate within
Recollections from the past
Long time ago
Those cords then struck
Still new as then
Such a basic thing
Is alive and well
A very fine thing
Is not music King
The woes and tribulations of the computer,
The file is lost, dived into its central core, the hard disk, for ever more.
Sometimes not obeying me, or not about certain things.
All that seems in the distant past,
No longer the problem of the shifting line or paragraph
Unwilling to get back into line,
Defying manipulation of it's keys.
Yet problems still lurking under ground, as,
Why should some files open and others not,
How do I discover what is in all the program files ,
Those which either don't open at all,
Or display those funny symbols I cannot understand.
Mr DOS is even more difficult to get to obey to my commands.
Printing from there is an hazardous thing,
Never mind, in the main this computor is a good thing
Useful at that.
Hennie van Dyk