Friday, December 30, 2011
Who Made the Potato and a Poet Known as Sir Walter Raleigh
I was working once as a directory assistance operator and got a call from someone who was having a serious debate with his friends. They were in a muddle so they decided to ask my professional advice on a very serious question: Who made the potato, The English or the French? The existence of the French Fries and the English Fish and Chips being a serious matter to consider made it harder to decide.
But this is not about the potato, this article is about a poet who brought the potato to the English courts. Sir Walter Raleigh was an English aristrocrat, explorer, poet, writer and many more. He brought not only the potatoes in England but also the tobacco and the tales of El Dorado. Twice he was imprisoned for love, of which the second caused him his life.
In 1591 he married one of Queen Elizabeth's ladies-in-waiting Elizabeth Throckmorton in secret without informing the queen. This caused both him and his wife imprisonment in the London tower, the sentence didn't last but the marriage did.
His second love was not that of a woman but for adventure which beckoned in the form of El Dorado, the famed city of gold. Sir Walter Raleigh did not find the city, like everyone else who tried after him, but it did cause the ire of a Spanish ambassador which asked for his life as payment. As the sharp blade of the English axe whoosed to cut the breathe that fuels this man's life he cried, "Strike, man! Strike!"
A poet of the Renaissance period, his style was not elaborate nor superflous as were his contemporaries. He attacked poetry as he attacked life, honest and direct to the point. And though he lost his life for one love, in another he gained his life. Of the life he lived we can only take a peek from the poetry he has left us with.
The Lie
By: Sir Walter Ralegh
1552–1618
Go, soul, the body’s guest,
Upon a thankless errand;
Fear not to touch the best;
The truth shall be thy warrant.
Go, since I needs must die,
And give the world the lie.
Say to the court, it glows
And shines like rotten wood;
Say to the church, it shows
What’s good, and doth no good.
If church and court reply,
Then give them both the lie.
Tell potentates, they live
Acting by others’ action;
Not loved unless they give,
Not strong but by a faction.
If potentates reply,
Give potentates the lie.
Tell men of high condition,
That manage the estate,
Their purpose is ambition,
Their practice only hate.
And if they once reply,
Then give them all the lie.
Tell them that brave it most,
They beg for more by spending,
Who, in their greatest cost,
Seek nothing but commending.
And if they make reply,
Then give them all the lie.
Tell zeal it wants devotion;
Tell love it is but lust;
Tell time it is but motion;
Tell flesh it is but dust.
And wish them not reply,
For thou must give the lie.
Tell age it daily wasteth;
Tell honor how it alters;
Tell beauty how she blasteth;
Tell favor how it falters.
And as they shall reply,
Give every one the lie.
Tell wit how much it wrangles
In tickle points of niceness;
Tell wisdom she entangles
Herself in overwiseness.
And when they do reply,
Straight give them both the lie.
Tell physic of her boldness;
Tell skill it is pretension;
Tell charity of coldness;
Tell law it is contention.
And as they do reply,
So give them still the lie.
Tell fortune of her blindness;
Tell nature of decay;
Tell friendship of unkindness;
Tell justice of delay.
And if they will reply,
Then give them all the lie.
Tell arts they have no soundness,
But vary by esteeming;
Tell schools they want profoundness,
And stand too much on seeming.
If arts and schools reply,
Give arts and schools the lie.
Tell faith it’s fled the city;
Tell how the country erreth;
Tell manhood shakes off pity;
Tell virtue least preferreth.
And if they do reply,
Spare not to give the lie.
So when thou hast, as I
Commanded thee, done blabbing—
Although to give the lie
Deserves no less than stabbing—
Stab at thee he that will,
No stab the soul can kill.
-----
Sources:
poetryfoundation.org
Wikipedia.org
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
A World Divided
The world has four corners
At least that's what it says
In Tolkien's and some other's tales
And since then
The world has divided into
Many more corners
I'd say
There's the right
To some it appears as the left
Which one is correct?
Bloods spill and children cry
And for what?
To reiterate the right from the left
But which is which
There are as many rights
As there are as many lefts
Dissected into microscopic proportions
One needs to invent
A telescope and a microscope
Combined to see what is what
I am right, you are right
She is right, he is right
Nobody admits
We could all be wrong after all
How to Celebrate Christmas in the Office
I guess I'm the lucky one, working in the office, that's my Christmas day gift. I'm glad I was working while the whole world was celebrating and having dinner and exchanging gifts. Otherwise I wouldn't have discovered these fun stuffs if I were out there too!
Let it snow
Let google supply you with the much needed spirit of the holidays by letting you have a white Christmas right there on your screen. It's quite easy. It's free. And there'll be nothing to clean up afterwards. Just type let it snow in your google search box and see what happens.
Learn to fear Chuck Norris
To find chuck Norris in Google Search click I'm feeling lucky and look for Chuck Norris.
Some of the things you have to know about Chuck Norris if you still love your life:
- One day Chuck Norris round-house kicked a truck, the truck turned into Optimus Prime instantly
- Bruce Lee is the only person that lived from a round-house kick from Chuck Norris. He died a year later.
- When a mosquito bites Chuck Norris, its blood gets drained.
- Chuck Norris knows the square root of -2.
- Chuck Norris can eat soup with chopsticks.
- Chuck Norris shaves with a belt sander.
- Chuck Norris wasn't born. He's always been here.
Learn the answer to life the universe and everything
It's amazing how the great philosophers and theologians and poets could have missed the answer to this. It's quite simple. According to Google search results the answer is 42.
This Christmas I learned a most valuable lesson: when life gives you lemons, google it.
Sunday, December 25, 2011
How I Found the Answer to Life the Universe and Everything
It wasn't easy I must admit
I've searched far and wide
For quite some time
The butterflies wouldn't talk
The flowers wouldn't talk
Silent as a tomb the stone sure didn't talk
I asked the old man with the purple beard
Sitting, contemplating for a hundred
No, maybe a thousand years
But was answered with a resounding snore
I followed the fly
It was circling round the old man's head
I thought maybe it'd have heard something
Flying, hovering
Round the old man's head
I thought it was about to speak
But a hopping frog swallowed the poor buzzing fly
Oh how cruel life sometimes could be!
The frog stopped
Swallowed and stopped
It swallowed again
And turned a purple-green-blue color
The frog suddenly started hopping
Hopping to the left, and then to the right
And then it hopped up and down, up and down
And then turned left and right
It made a weird sound as it hopped
And if the echoes are right
It went goo-gle-it, goo-gle-it, goo-gle-it
There never was a sound weirder
Than goo-gle-it, goo-gle-it, goo-gle-it
So scratching my head
I went my way
Thinking do I give up
Or do I go on
As I reached the mountain with blinking light
The trees blinked their blink
And I saw a bouncing purple-green-blue ball
It made a weird goo-gle-it, goo-gle-it, goo-gle-it sound
And I remembered the frog
That swallowed the flying fly
I was not sure if I saw a hopping ball
Or was it a bouncing frog?
Never mind, it's all the same to me
I followed the bouncing ball
Which sometimes turned into a hopping frog
I followed it hop up and down
up and down
I followed it hop left to right
right to left and up and down
Until in a clearing we came
And there I saw a giant pond
As round as the old man's head!
The bouncing ball hopped into the giant pond
Its blinking water
Turned into purple-green-blue
Blinking and blinking still
It blinked and blinked
And blinked some more
A burst of light came through the giant pond
It was blinking in silver, gold and green
The light turned and it hopped and it bounced
Until a giant form of blinking silver, gold and green was there
And there I found the answer to life the universe and everything
And there my journey ended and another began
The answer is 42 and I have to find the goo-gle-it
And let it snow
And then defrost with a click of the mouse
Friday, December 23, 2011
To Google or not to Google your Name
Googling ones name is perhaps a habit done by people who are bored enough and feeling so uninspired to do anything else that's more brain challenging. Like I sometimes am, which is why I google my name sometimes. Or like this afternoon.
If you are a famous celebrity it's probably a good practice never to google your name as it might turn out some nasty result you might not want to read about. Or if you are a wannabe famous celebrity perhaps you do google your name several times a day just to see who has you in the news reel and what they have to say about you. If it's something unflattering then you can rant to your friends what a jerk so and so is.
Well I'm not any of those, I'm more like the first kind, bored and well trying to see where my articles are actually going. On the first few pages the usual suspects turn up. Wikinut, Bukisa, Factoidz, etc. From time to time some unknown sites with a copy of my article like the one I wrote about coffee turning up in a website selling civet coffee. Or one with a garbled version of my article about learning spanish online. They probably used one of those article generator things. Probably used a very bad one because I couldn't make much sense of it. The bad news is that my name is on it. Another version of this same article is one that was translated into French. Didn't know I can speak French.
The one I like most though is the review that listed me as one of the most promising poetesses in FilipinoWriters.com. Not that I'm already famous or anything.
Just saying.
Labels:
google,
promising poetess
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