I was sitting here wondering how to pass my time this morning and I thought I’d write a little piece about games.
Believe it or not one of my favorite games is Scrabble ™. I like play it in either English or Italian, unfortunately, no one in my family likes to play with me, and this is the crazy thing, I always win. I suppose I could play it on-line, but somehow, it doesn’t seem the same to me. I also have a computer Scrabble game, but haven’t touched it in years. Now you’d think that a person who has to rely on a spelling corrector to write a poem or story would have problems with a game like this. It’s just one of those mysteries of life, I guess.
I also like “Zen” games. I have two miniature Zen gardens, which I rake, clean and rearrange from time to time, I like making new patterns in the sand. I wish I had a real garden, but that doesn’t seem like something that will happen in the near future. Here are two pictures of them:
Most of the pieces are tiny gifts for my garden, I made the tree in the lady’s garden from copper wire.
The other day I showed you my stone balancing game.
Recently I discovered that another pass-time that I like very much has a name, and it too is a traditional Japanese game, though I have my own variation! It’s called: Renga! You can see what it’s about traditionally by clicking the link.
Sometimes, I like to reply to your posts with a Haiku or poem. There has only been one person who has done this in commenting on my post and that was Geo Sans. I was so delighted and am always hoping he will pass by and comment, though I know he is very busy.
I’d done this several times over the past few months, some have liked the replies, others seemed disconcerted, but once, recently someone replied in kind! That someone is Cubby from Reowr on August 25th.
This is her poem:
When Chickens Cry
When chickens cry
I cannot eat
A single bit
Of chicken meat,
And though I’m not
I find that I
Eat salads more,
With chicken eggs
That lay beneath
Two little legs
As they remind
Me of the way
That they were sat
On night and day
By chickens who
Once clucked with pride,
Not knowing that
They would be fried
Or scrambled once
Eggshells are cracked,
I state this simply
As a fact.
But once you see
A chicken cry
You’ll ask yourself
The question why,
Why you can’t find
Of protein grams
For every course.
And even though
They’ll never be
Set free from farms
When chickens lay
So many tears,
Like eggs, they’re more
Than they appear.
I actually found this poem very delightful, but alas, sigh, the problem is I have some very militant vegan friends and I’m an omnivore, except for insects which I find disgusting. I have no quarrels with anyone who wishes to eat only vegetables and plants, though some people get moralistic about their choice. Of course, only a Jainist is coherent with the choice of being absolutely non-violent in their food choices. Though I honor these thoughts, as I said, I’m an omnivore, so I replied:
Ah…and when you look into the eyes
of lowing cows within their biars
or the dainty feet of baby sheep
what of the piglets as they sleep…
Although I think that fish can’t cry
unless they send out algae dry
I wonder too if they have tears
and what the nets do for their fears.
Ah…but what then of the lovely flowers
who’ve passed their days indeed their hours
growing seeds because they know
that future flowers soon will grow?
Can I think here of a tomato or a squash
unless my cheeks soon be awash
with flowing tears of inappetence
alas eating has become a cause of penance!
Loved your poem…I really did, but was inspired by years of friendly vegans to write this reply…
I didn’t really expect a reply, so, what a delight when this came over the notifications: