Tower of Babel - Creative Wall by Stay At Home Choir

Exert from Tam O'Shanter

2022-09-28 10:09:52 UTC

When chapman billies leave the street,
And drouthy neebors, neebors meet,
As market-days are wearing late,
An’ folk begin to tak the gate;
While we sit bousing at the nappy,
And getting fou and unco’ happy,
We think na on the lang Scots miles,
The mosses, waters, slaps and styles,
That lie between us and our hame,
Whare sits our sulky sullen dame,
Gathering her brows like gathering storm,
Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.

This truth fand honest Tam o’ Shanter,
As he frae Ayr ae night did canter,
(Auld Ayr, wham ne’er a town surpasses,
For honest men and bonny lasses.)

O Tam! hadst thou but been sae wise,
As ta’en thy ain wife Kate’s advice!
She taul thee weel thou was a skellum,
A blethering, blustering, drunken blellum;
That frae November till October,
Ae market-day thou was nae sober;

That ilka melder, wi’ the miller,
Thou sat as lang as thou had siller;
That every naig was ca’d a shoe on,
The smith and thee gat roaring fou on;
That at the L—d’s house, even on Sunday,
Thou drank wi’ Kirkton Jean till Monday.
She prophesied that late or soon,
Thou would be found deep drown’d in Doon;
Or catch’d wi’ warlocks in the mirk,
By Alloway’s auld haunted kirk.

Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet,
To think how mony counsels sweet,
How mony lengthen’d sage advices,
The husband frae the wife despises!

But to our tale: Ae market-night,
Tam had got planted unco right;
Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely,
Wi’ reaming swats, that drank divinely;
And at his elbow, Souter Johnny,
His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony;
Tam lo’ed him like a vera brither;
They had been fou for weeks thegither.
The night drave on wi’ sangs and clatter;
And ay the ale was growing better:
The landlady and Tam grew gracious,
Wi’ favours, secret, sweet, and precious:
The Souter tauld his queerest stories;
The landlord’s laugh was ready chorus:
The storm without might rair and rustle,
Tam did na mind the storm a whistle.

Care, mad to see a man sae happy,
E’en drown’d himsel amang the nappy:
As bees flee hame wi’ lades o’ treasure,
The minutes wing’d their way wi’ pleasure;
Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious,
O’er a’ the ills o’ life victorious!

But pleasures are like poppies spread,
You seize the flower, its bloom is shed;
Or like the snow falls in the river,
A moment white—then melts for ever;
Or like the borealis race,
That flit ere you can point their place;
Or like the rainbow’s lovely form
Evanishing amid the storm.—
Nae man can tether time or tide;
The hour approaches Tam maun ride;
That hour, o’ night’s black arch the key-stane,
That dreary hour he mounts his beast in;
And sic a night he taks the road in,
As ne’er poor sinner was abroad in.

The wind blew as ’twad blawn its last;
The rattling showers rose on the blast;
The speedy gleams the darkness swallow’d;
Loud, deep, and lang, the thunder bellow’d:
That night, a child might understand,
The Deil had business on his hand.

Weel mounted on his gray mare, Meg,
A better never lifted leg,
Tam skelpit on thro’ dub and mire,
Despising wind, and rain, and fire;
Whiles holding fast his gude blue bonnet;
Whiles crooning o’er some auld Scots sonnet;
Whiles glowring round wi’ prudent cares,
Lest bogles catch him unawares:
Kirk-Alloway was drawing nigh,
Whare ghaists and houlets nightly cry.—

2022-09-28 17:56:05 UTC

I thought I might recite the new poem
by the Poet Laureate, Simon Armitage. It’s called “Floral Tribute” and describes Lilies of the Valley, one of the late Queen Elizabeth’s favourite flowers. The poem is his tribute to Her Majesty

Genesis 11:1-9 in my mother tongue (Finnish)

2022-09-28 18:25:59 UTC

[1] Koko maailma käytti samoja sanoja ja puhui yhtä kieltä. [2] Kun ihmiset siirtyivät itään, he löysivät Sinearin maasta tasangon ja jäivät sinne asumaan. [3] Ja he sanoivat toisilleen: »Tehkäämme tiiliä ja polttakaamme ne koviksi.» He käyttivät savitiiltä rakennuskivenä ja asfalttipikeä muuraamiseen. [4] He sanoivat: »Rakentakaamme itsellemme kaupunki ja torni, joka ulottuu taivaaseen asti. Sillä tavoin saamme mainetta emmekä myöskään hajaannu yli koko maan.»
[5] Herra tuli katsomaan kaupunkia ja tornia, jota ihmiset rakensivat, [6] ja sanoi: »Siinä he nyt ovat, yksi kansa, jolla on yksi ja sama kieli. Tämä, mitä he ovat saaneet aikaan, on vasta alkua. Nyt he pystyvät tekemään mitä tahansa. [7] Menkäämme sekoittamaan heidän kielensä, niin etteivät he ymmärrä toistensa puhetta.» [8] Ja niin Herra hajotti heidät sieltä kaikkialle maailmaan, ja he lakkasivat rakentamasta kaupunkia. [9] Kaupunki sai nimen Babylon, sillä siellä Herra sekoitti ihmisten kielen ja sieltä hän hajotti heidät kaikkialle maailmaan.

I would like to read some poems by Emily Dickinson. I can submit my list once I've chosen a few. I know this needs approval. Thank you for including us in this fascinating project.

2022-09-29 22:31:45 UTC

Text for Babel (Doric) - about language

2022-09-29 23:02:11 UTC

Changing Times (McKenna, Elizabeth)

We got a new dominie at oor wee bit squeel,
A Sassanach, aye, bit nae a bad chiel,
Bit ae thing wis certain he'd nae clue at a
Fin we spoke wir ain tongue, he'd ging clean up the wa.

Queen's English, he'd say is what you require
If to useful employment you hope to aspire.
He insistit we ca oor denner, oor lunch.
An thocht we were aa a fair ignorant bunch.

He dreeled and he harried and gied's recitation
An efter a file, oot o sheer desperation,
The classics, he thocht that's what I will do
All seen hae them saying a cow, nae a coo.

It wisna ower lang till he brainwashed oor folk,
An some o oor mithers tried spikin pan loaf,
They fair thocht it richt for us bairns d' ye see
Bit King Lear an Shakespeare did nithing for me.

Bit fit dae ye think happint last wikk?
I wis telt that the Doric is fit we can spick
An aa you wee bairnies can say "Ere's a coo"
An a pigeon eence mair can be ca'ad cushie doo.

Babel on Swiss German

2022-09-30 14:55:52 UTC

D Wält isch im Umbruch, d Ärde wehrt sich. So wie Gott sich z Babel gäge d Überheblichkeit vo de Mänsche gwehrt hät, so wehrt sich im Momänt d Natur gäg d Überheblichkeit vom Mänsch! Mänsch! Überdänk Dini Handligä, Dini Tate!

2022-09-30 15:03:37 UTC

Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and

remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons.

Speak your truth quietly & clearly; and listen to others,

even the dull & ignorant; they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter;

for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your own career, however humble;

it is a real possession in the changing future of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery.

But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;

many persons strive for high ideals;

and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.

Especially, do not feign affection.

Neither be cynical about love;

for in the face of all aridity & disenchantment it is perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,

gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.

But do not distress yourself with imaginings.

Many fears are born of fatigue & loneliness.

Beyond wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars;

you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you,

no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,

whatever you conceive Him to be,

and whatever your labours & aspirations,

in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery & broken dreams,

it is still a beautiful world.

Be cheerful.

Strive to be happy

Babel babble

2022-10-01 02:10:01 UTC

Hiya,
I'm thinking probably "proper" Cornish babble for Babel & us'll get around to un dreckly!
Love, Janine xx

Poem I wrote & said at my Brothers internment - some of the words bring out my northerness! Jill Wilkins

2022-10-01 15:52:45 UTC

He may not be beside us in the form we loved and knew but he's with us in our memories and that will see us through.
He may have left us far too soon but give thanks for the times that we had,
as we lay him in his resting place back safe with Mum and Dad.
Our time on earth it may be short but forever in our hearts he'll stay
So rest in peace dear Duncan till we meet again one day 🙏

Some of my late Dads common phrases! Jill Wilkins

2022-10-01 16:01:34 UTC

Its a great life if you don't weaken.
MacMillan was quite right you know, we've never had it so good.
Its all rush rush rush!
Have you heard from that Brother of yours?
Good night, God bless see you tomorrow!
It'll soon be Christmas (all year round!)
How many photos can you fit on that gadget of yours?
Who's that there with no teeth?!

2022-10-01 17:29:57 UTC

I’m using the text of a song by Jean Rohe. The chorus:

Arise! Arise!

I see the future in your eyes,

To a more perfect union we aspire,

And lift our voices from the fire.

Here she is performing it: https://tinyurl.com/5ytfm8rp

The words, brass accompaniment, and community singing all remind me of One World and SAHC.

NPPF Chapter 16. Conserving and enhancing the historic environment

2022-10-02 09:57:50 UTC

89. Heritage assets range from sites and buildings of local historic value to those of the highest significance, such as World Heritage Sites which are internationally recognised to be of Outstanding Universal Value. These assets are an irreplaceable resource, and should be conserved in a manner appropriate to their significance, so that they can be enjoyed for their contribution to the quality of life of existing and future generations.

190. Plans should set out a positive strategy for the conservation and enjoyment of the historic environment, including heritage assets most at risk through neglect, decay or other threats. This strategy should take into account:
(a) the desirability of sustaining and enhancing the significance of heritage assets, and putting them to viable uses consistent with their conservation;
(b) the wider social, cultural, economic and environmental benefits that conservation of the historic environment can bring;

2022-10-02 14:11:18 UTC

Babel Babble

2022-10-03 09:12:47 UTC

I will be reading some of the lyrics from the song "Heal the World" ... including "Heal the World - Make it a better place for you and for me and the entire human race ..."

I am adding the Wendell Berry poem, "The Peace of Wild Things" It goes as follows: When despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I come into the presence of still water. And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light. For a time, I rest in the grace of the world, and am free. (Shared by Kathryn McConnell)

2022-10-03 15:03:11 UTC

Een pleidooi voor gelijke kansen!

ritavan_geem — 2022-10-03 15:16:53 UTC

Losgeld (Ruth Lasters)

Olie-, oliedomme staat

die leerlingen vanaf twaalf jaar

nog altijd letterlijk met ‘A’ labelt of ‘B’. Welkom in het middelbaar!

Aan Vlaanderen een vraag: wanneer ligt de maatschappij volledig plat?

Is dat wanneer de notarissen en de senators staken?

Of als de loodgieters, de bakkers en de havenarbeiders niet opdagen?

Ah, inderdaad! Het land ligt op zijn gat als de dakwerkers nakateren,

als alle winkeliers hun schup afkuisen, als de onthaalmoeders

de luiers zelf aandoen, als koks hun kat sturen naar Nam Fong,

Mister Spaghetti en naar alle internaten.

En wie is nu het slimst, iemand die weet

waar de Aconcagua ligt (vraag uit De slimste mens ter wereld)

of wie het hele stroomschema kan tekenen en uitvoeren

voor een schoolkeuken, het Sportpaleis, Wetstraatvergaderzalen?

Iemand die weet hoeveel een flamingo weegt of iemand die een tillift kan

bedienen zonder dat de bomma valt op koude tegels voor het licht uitgaat?

Wij moesten maar eens over A- en B-ministers praten.

Dan zouden ze misschien verstaan hoe het aanvoelt. Alsof wij tweede keus zijn,

alsof een stiel leren slechts een plan B kan zijn

voor als de A-richting iemand niet ligt, niet gaat.

Straks vraagt gij, Vlaanderen, nog losgeld voor het woord ‘intelligent’

dat gij al eeuwenlang gegijzeld houdt, alleen voor quizzers reserveert,

voor dokters, architecten, wetenschappers, voor mevrouw Michiels en advocaten.

Terwijl wij, trappenmakers, de hellingsgraad berekenen,

de ideale afstand tussen treden.

Kunt gij dat, Vlaanderen? En weet gij alles, zoals wij, mecaniciens,

over de juiste spanningskracht

op bouten van de nokkenas of hoe de distributieriem vervangen dient

voor een perfecte kleptiming?

Zolang gij, Vlaanderen, niet ook de vakman slim noemt

in kranten, spelprogramma’s en journaals,

zijt gij de A’s in uw naam VlAAnderen niet waard.’

What is this life if full of care? We must do all we can to look around us and enjoy the jewels offered by the natural world and protect and preserve it.

2022-10-03 15:25:41 UTC

Alyson Elliman

2022-10-03 19:27:43 UTC

CONFESSION:

a poem for the Earth

Dear Mother,

we have abused

your generosity,

used you

without stopping.

We have taken,

taken,

taken.

Our thoughts have been

on ourselves,

not our children.

Our eyes have been

on now,

not the future.

We have scarred your beauty,

toppled your trees,

poisoned your water,

your air.

Now we watch

as you weep torrents,

as your anger burns.

We ask, “Why?”

we ask “How?”,

reluctant to accept

our part

in your pain.

Mother,

are there arms wide enough

to comfort you?

Is it too late

for

forgiveness?
©Cynthia Cotten , 2022

Trasna na dTonntaTrasna na dtonnta, dul siar, dul siar,Slán leis an uaigneas ‘is slán leis an gcian;Geal é mo chroí, agus geal í an ghrian,Geal bheith ag filleadh go hÉirinn! Chonaic mo dhóthain de Thíortha i gcéin,Ór agus airgead, saibhreas an tsaoil,Éiríonn an croí ‘nam le breacadh gach lae‘S mé druidim le dúthaigh mo mhuintir! Trasna na dTonnta, du siar, dul siarSlán leis an uaigneas 'is slán leis an gcianGeal é mo chroí agus geal í an ghrian,Geal a bheith ag filleadh go hÉirinn! Ar mo thriall siar ó éirigh mo chroíAn aimsir go hálainn is tonnta deas réidhStiúradh go díreach go dúthaigh mo chliabh‘S bheidh mé in Éirinn amárach! Trasna na dTonnta, dul siar, dul siarSlán leis an uaigneas, 'is slán leis an gcian:Geal é mo chroí agus geal í an ghrian,Geal bheith ag filleadh go hÉirinn! Muintir an Iarthair ‘siad cairde mo chroí,Fáilte ‘is féile bheidh romham ar gach taobh.Ar fhágaint an tsaoil seo, sé ghuidhim ar an RíGur leosan a shinfear i gcill mé. Trasna na dTonnta, dul siar, dul siar,Slán leis an uaigneas ‘is slán leis an gcian;Geal é mo chroí agus geal í an ghrian,Geal bheith ag filleadh go hÉirinn! ENGLISH TRANSLATION. Over the waves, going west, going west!Good-bye to loneliness and to the distant remoteness;Bright is my heart and bright is the sun,Happy to be returning to Ireland! I saw my fill of countries abroad,Gold and silver, the wealth of the world,My heart rises in me with the break of each day,As I draw closer to the land of my people! Over the waves, going west, going west!Good-bye to loneliness and to the distant remoteness;Bright is my heart and bright is the sun,Happy to be returning to Ireland! On my journey - oh! my heart rises!The weather is beautiful and the waves are settledSteering directly to land of my bosomAnd I'll be in Ireland tomorrow! Over the waves, going west, going west!Good-bye to loneliness and to the distant remoteness;Bright is my heart and bright is the sun,Happy to be returning to Ireland! People of the West, they're the friends of my heart,Welcome and celebration awaits me on every side.Leaving this life I pray to the LordThat it's with them I'll be stretched in the graveyard! Over the waves, going west, going west!Good-bye to loneliness and to the distant remoteness;Bright is my heart and bright is the sun,Happy to be returning to Ireland!

2022-10-03 19:44:23 UTC

Happy childhood memories of cousins teaching me this song in Irish on holiday to family. Now I live on the west coast of Ireland with my own family who were taught this in primary school here.
https://youtu.be/bCHyKWvxAY0

In Memoriam GoldTies'70 Camille Albert, Pam Benson, Terlyn Bridges, Kathleen Bronder, Kathleen Collins, Kathy Duteau, Gayle Jordan, Denise L’Homme, Kathy Lyle, Cathy Martin, Libby Orlandi, Rosemarie Perez, Roslyn Piernes Hills, Michelle Radle, Cassandra Scott, Karla Tooley, Christine Viau, Therese Willging. What was once enjoyed and deeply loved we can never lose, for all we loved deeply becomes part of us. (Helen Keller) We have a unique opportunity to reach out to one another with joy and compassion, to look to the future with hope for ourselves, each other, and our world. May we all find new meaning in the unity of being remarkable for having found our voice with SAHC.

2022-10-03 19:45:07 UTC

2022-10-03 20:19:58 UTC

I am thinking of reading something like this: Psalm 96

2022-10-03 20:41:39 UTC

I plan to use the Biblical text of the Tower of Babel in Italian (my 2nd language).

Babel-Chaos

2022-10-03 21:22:44 UTC

Would it be too crazy if i just read a poem? It has been my favorite poem for 42 years and it would be in German.

Greetings, Anja Jakob

Слава Україні! Glory to Ukraine!Слава Україні! Glory to Ukraine!Слава Україні! Glory to Ukraine!Слава Україні! Glory to Ukraine!Слава Україні! Glory to Ukraine!Слава Україні! Glory to Ukraine!Слава Україні! Glory to Ukraine!Слава Україні! Glory to Ukraine!

2022-10-04 02:34:06 UTC

العزة لله,العزة لله,العزة لله,العزة لله,العزة لله,العزة لله (Glory to God)

2022-10-04 02:35:57 UTC

Nonsense language

2022-10-04 08:15:41 UTC

I have researched and printed off a list of English nonsense words or words which are used to describe something which is incomprehensible. I shall enjoy reading and saying a lot of complete nonsense!

Margaret Armitage

2022-10-04 09:13:53 UTC

The theme of connection & exploration keep popping up when I hear & think about whole composition. For some reason I link Babel which is ancient to space exploration! My words will try to reflect what I see as Karl’s unbounded belief in humanity. Work in Progress.

Robert Burns, A Man's a Man for a'That read in Scots

2022-10-04 11:37:50 UTC

I thought of this poem early on in the project and feel the last line is particularly appropriate - "that man to man the warld o'er shall brithers be for a'that"
To make sure that sentiment is included I'll need to either read really fast or skip a verse in the middle!!

Part of a piece I wrote for an anthem (Lorna Gralton). I might translate it into French

2022-10-04 12:13:05 UTC

What is Choir for me?

I look forward to choir night. I even set off early when I can.
For a few hours I will not be a mother, a housekeeper, a wife; I will be a singer.
I will immerse myself in choral art, contributing a small part to a glorious whole.
I will breathe in synch with my section;
together we will swell and wane as music fills the room.
And there will be chats, anecdotes, well-wishes, comfort,
and the odd bit of choir ‘business’.

Singing makes me smile. Singing makes me breathe deeper and better.
Regular singing clears my throat and lungs.
Sometimes when I sing, I get lightheaded; so much air leaving my body quickly.
Singing makes me emotional: tears of joy, tears of sadness.
I have sung goodbye to good friends and I have sung in celebration of life.

Hearing that pin-drop moment when the audience knows we have achieved something special
and then acknowledges all our hours of effort.
That beautiful occasion when, as performers and audience,
we realise we have shared a special emotional experience.

And then the performance: that delicate balance of nerves, courage,
confidence in the conductor and each other, topped off with anticipation and joy in the moment –
that glorious moment as we sing together and
without having to look at each other KNOWING that we have done it.

Homeland

2022-10-04 12:21:41 UTC

My father wrote this poem when he was allowed to visit his homeland again after 59 years.

Heimat

In einem Dorf, was meine Heimat war,
bin ich geboren auf einem kleinen Berg.
In einem Fliederbusch am Berg wohnte mein Freund
der kleine Zwerg. |
Wir spielten zusammen und haben gelacht
und haben viele Späße gemacht. |
Doch eines Tages war es aus.
Wir mussten raus aus unserem Haus.
Der kleine Zwerg wollte mit mir gehen.
Doch das durfte nicht geschehen. |
Ich sprach „Mein Freund. Du musst nicht traurig sein.
Eines Tages komm ich wieder heim.“ |
Nach 59 Jahren ist es dann geschehen.

Ich fuhr zu meinem Heimatdorf,
um nach den Berg zu sehen.
Ich fand den Fliederbusch
und mein Herz wurde schwer. |
Ich fand meine Kindheit,
den Zwerg aber nimmermehr.

Birgit, in memory of my father

Jumbled language for Babel

2022-10-04 15:57:34 UTC

I plan to read some nonsense verse by Edward Lear. An old favourite THE OWL AND THE PUSSYCAT
or THE JABBERWOCKY by Lewis Carroll -
’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:

All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.

My Mum and I came up with this ditty

2022-10-04 16:16:59 UTC

We came into this world so tiny and small,
as tiny footsteps moved forward through the years, many languages within our world were created along with music that united us all.
A miracle and wonder,
that God above could not put asunder.
By Barbara & Ali F-T

In memory of my Dad, his favourite poem. 'I Wondered Lonely As A Cloud' by William Wordsworth

2022-10-04 16:37:44 UTC

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed—and gazed—but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.
(Best wishes Ali F-T xXx)

Gettysburg Address, Abraham Lincoln

2022-10-04 18:36:34 UTC

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth, upon this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived, and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting-place for those who here gave their lives, that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate, we can not consecrate we can not hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here.

It is for us, the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here, have, thus far, so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they here gave the last full measure of devotion that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

I will read from Khalil Gibran's book "The Prophet" a text about Love (German version) "Wenn die Liebe dir winkt, folge ihr, sind ihre Wege auch schwer und steil. Und wenn ihre Flügel dich umhüllen, gib dich ihr hin..."

2022-10-04 18:54:36 UTC

I will use the text from a gaelic song we call 'Hairy Bannock'! The spelling is something like Ha Rigdh Bannach and it is a Christmas song

2022-10-04 20:19:08 UTC

Adventures in the Cath Lab

2022-10-04 21:15:43 UTC

I wrote an article about my experience of undergoing a cardiac catheter which was published in the newsletter for the patient group I belong to I’m going to read that for my text.

The beauty of learning a new language

2022-10-04 22:07:11 UTC

Having spent two years learning Georgian songs as part of an online group, I thought I would recite the words from one chorale piece. The language is quite difficult but I have thoroughly enjoyed the challenge of learning something completely different. The words will be from the song Gazapkhuli (about Spring), which we are in the process of recording in three part harmony.
I would like to dedicate this to our group members and especially to our leader, Derek.
Susan Drake x

WONDERFUL MEMORIES OF SLOVENIA

2022-10-04 22:46:12 UTC

How much further?

Why this walk is never ending?
It's because the path keeps bending.
Up & down, left & right
Steep bits giving us a fright!

Aches & pains are all worth while
When we're greeted with a smile,
Everyone say "Doberdan"
Whether woman, child or man.

Time to stop, time to eat
Time to rest our throbbing feet.
Once refreshed we're on our way
Why does it seem so far today?

On we go a few more metres
A long, long walk, it didn't beat us.
Home at last - it's so nice,
Now we're drinking schnapps on ice!!

Vitranc (a mountain peak )

Swinging in the chairlift,
High amongst the trees,
Maureen was a little scared
When she felt the breeze.

High up in the mountain,
Chose our picnic spot.
Beneath us in the valley
Kranjska Gora was a dot.

Back down in the chairlift,
Pat without a care,
Taking lotsa photos
And waving here & there.

Back relaxing at the Lipa
And now warra u fink?
Maureen's on the balcony knitting
Pat's quietly sneaking a .....?

Tower of Babel Babble

2022-10-04 23:38:53 UTC

I'm going to read the story of the Tower of Babel in Dutch which is my second language.

International Bible Society Dutch Bible (2007)

In die tijd spraken alle mensen één taal.
De bevolking groeide en trok in oostelijke richting. Toen ontdekte men in het land Sinear een grote vlakte, waar het goed wonen was. Veel mensen trokken daarheen en het werd een dichtbevolkt gebied.
(3-4) De bewoners van die vlakte waren van plan een grote stad te bouwen. In die stad moest een grote tempeltoren komen te staan, die tot in de hemel reikte. Een eeuwig monument voor de bouwers. "Op die manier krijgen we een centrale plaats voor onze mensen, zodat we niet steeds verder hoeven te zwerven", meenden zij. En zo begon de bouw van de stad. Er werden grote hoeveelheden stenen gebakken en als cement gebruikten zij asfalt.
(5-6) Toen de HERE de bouw van de stad en de toren zag, zei Hij: "Kijk eens wat zij al bereiken nu ze nog maar aan het begin van hun samenwerking staan. Voor dit volk met zijn ene taal zal voortaan niets meer onmogelijk zijn!
Laten Wij afdalen en hun verschillende talen geven, zodat zij elkaar niet meer begrijpen!"
Op die manier verspreidde God de mensen over de hele aarde en zij stopten met de bouw van de stad.
Daarom werd die stad Babel (Verwarring) genoemd. Dat was de plaats, waar de HERE verwarring onder de mensen stichtte door hun verschillende talen te geven en over de hele aarde te verspreiden

Liane Burnett

tlc88 — 2022-10-05 02:27:31 UTC

This is a poem I wrote back in 2000.

December Night

The snow had only begun to fall,
And yet the sky had long been gray in the winter twilight.
As the wind stirred each crystalline flake
Into a frenzy of cold and ice,
Choreographing a whirling dance for a December night.
Pedestrians were few,
Huddling against the cruel arctic elements.
The sullen frigidity silenced all in its path,
Muting them in their attempts to stay warm.
The moon, full and bright, hid tentatively among the stars,
Behind the clouds,
Afraid to face the cold winds of wintertime.
In the distance, chimes rang out in the billows,
Hauntingly beckoning to ghostly images passing by,
Yet repelling those whose blood still flowed hotly
Fearfully.
With time passing,
A blanket of white settled upon fields and hills.
Boughs snapped under their burdens,
And the ground lay smothered,
Lifeless,
Beneath the layers of ice.
And yet, somehow, streams forged onward
Under a shroud of mist,
Demonstrating a persistence to survive.
With the dawning of a new day,
The sun shone brightly,
Reflecting off the night's snowfall,
Bringing warmth
And renewing hope for days to come.

Tanya Chang (Canada)

I could not resist reciting from a patter song by Gilbert and Sullivan. "This particularly rapid, unintelligible patter..." seemed appropriate!

2022-10-05 09:19:32 UTC

The Dumnonian Compass by S B Postlewhite

sharonpostlewhite — 2022-10-05 10:01:02 UTC

I'm a published author so am choosing to share an excerpt from my 2021 book, The Dumnonian Compass. It will only represent a few lines of the work, but it is very special to me, and I want to contribute something that is personal to this wonderful project.

2022-10-05 10:15:37 UTC

As a former Latin teacher, I can't help but recite a Latin text, Psalm 136/137 “Super flumina Babylonis illic sedimus et flevimus" - “By the rivers of Babylon we sat and wept", which speaks of oppression, misery and despair - and of revengeful thoughts, which may be understandable, but will never lead to peace. I am thinking of the situation in Ukraine.

A suitable poem by Chris G Vaillancourt

2022-10-05 10:31:23 UTC

We are One World,One People
Around and around the blood flows warmly through the veins
Beating heart sustains the body and the body holds the soul.
We were discussing the ways & means of uniting every breath
Recycling the memories that permeate like daggers through every shade of perspective.
We are one world, one people
One voice of gladness and misery jostling the ozone with our shared journeys that we are walking.
A faceless distance that together we are hoping to avoid.
We are one Beating mind seeking the jumble of God.
Clear it up for us Lord, Teach us again how we have fallen away from the words of Your Son.
We are 1 world, 1 people.
One magic circle of completeness, of open spaces crowded by impersonal cities. Hands raised in begging mode, eyes averted to avoid the world we have made.
Find us Lord, bring us back to those ideal scenes of the garden You wanted us to share.
We burnt the trees and ate the plants. Killed the animals and one another. Jumped the fence and played at creation. Endless wasted seconds we can't be bothered to admit.
We are One World, one people.
Atie xxx

Hailing from Lincolnshire, England (I also happen to be there now, and will record from here) I thought a poem by Lincolnshire born Alfred Lord Tennyson would be appropriate. (Jane Tipler, USA)

2022-10-05 11:27:00 UTC

Break, Break, Break

BY ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON

Break, break, break,

On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!

And I would that my tongue could utter

The thoughts that arise in me.

O, well for the fisherman's boy,

That he shouts with his sister at play!

O, well for the sailor lad,

That he sings in his boat on the bay!

And the stately ships go on

To their haven under the hill;

But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand,

And the sound of a voice that is still!

Break, break, break

At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!

But the tender grace of a day that is dead

Will never come back to me.

An Act of Remembrance

2022-10-05 11:43:55 UTC

Our One World is still ravaged by war in many parts; in Europe we hear of the devastation of young lives in Ukraine. I plan to read the full version of Laurence Binyon's First World War Poem: "For the Fallen". There is one line that stands out: "There is music in the midst of desolation".

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.

Solemn the drums thrill: Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres.
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam.

But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain,
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.

HOPE, LOVE AND HUMANITY

2022-10-05 12:03:09 UTC

I will read the lyrics of a lute song, either by Thomas Morley or Edward Filmer. Both very intense and with profound words about how important it is to talk to each other and there is a higher power from which we gain our strength.

As a very proud East Yorkshire lass I thought I would recite a couple of poems in broad Yorkshire dialect which also reminds me very much of my late Grandpa, a proud Yorkshire farmer, ship builder and Navy Veteran!

2022-10-05 13:47:43 UTC

As a proud Yorkshire lass I will be reading a poem Yorkshires flag

2022-10-05 15:24:28 UTC

Tower of Babel

2022-10-05 16:27:25 UTC

I'm reading Hiraeth, an old Welsh song, with apologies to those more fluent than I am!

Dwedwch fawrion o wybodaeth

O ba beth a gwnaethpwyd hiraeth

A pha ddefnydd a roedd ynddo

Na ddarfyddo wrth ei wisgo ?

Derfydd aur a derfydd arian

Derfydd melfed derfydd sidan

Derfydd pob dilledyn helaeth

Eto er hyn ni dderfydd hiraeth

Hiraeth mawr a hiraeth creulon

Hiraeth sydd yn torri 'nghalon

Pan fwyf dryma'r nos yn cysgu

Fe ddaw hiraeth ac a'm deffry

Hiraeth hiraeth cilia cilia

Paid a phwyso mor drwm arna'

Nesa dipyn at y erchwyn

Gad i mi gael cysgu gronyn

‘To be or not to be’ in Indonesian

2022-10-05 16:41:07 UTC

The first language I spoke was Indonesian until I was 9 years old, and now I’ve been an English literature teacher longer than I’ve been anything else. I’m not even sure I’ve translated Hamlet’s soliloquy correctly here, but if it fits the ‘chaotic text’ requirement, then it’s thanks mainly to Google Translate!

From a Railway Carriage by Robert Louis Stevenson

2022-10-05 16:44:17 UTC

Learnt this at Primary school…but had to look it up to fully recall the text! Love the rhythm of the words giving the feeling of being on the train flying past the countryside.

Think this will be my choice…. Anne B

Mine is as random as it can get. It will be in Tagalog talking about that actual moment of saying something in that language for that part of the song. It will be based on what I feel as I record and check the measures. I'm sure that it's chaotic in itself, haha.

2022-10-05 16:54:15 UTC

A chat between people in 5 different languages

2022-10-05 18:13:42 UTC

I have decided to write a chat/discussion between 3 persons who meet one day but there are some problems in comunications and they try to find a solution speaking in 5 different languages. All the conversation will be proposed in one person perspective only! - Alessia P.

I'm reading a poem I wrote myself a couple of years ago. It's about freedom. Sluit je ogen, Adem in, Adem uit, Denk… Je bent een vogel, Hoog in de lucht Je ziet de wereld Klein en ver beneden En je droomt… Waarheen zou je gaan? Je vliegt, Hoog in de lucht. Je bent een vis, Je zwemt helemaal tot op de bodem van de zee, Je ontdekt de mooiste kleuren De schitterendste vormen In het rif. Je denkt Je bent Je bent vrij. Lieve Peeters

2022-10-05 18:39:31 UTC

First I considered "babbling" in the Welsh language because like Sir Karl, I grew up in Wales. Then I remembered this song: "WORDS" by The Real Group (Swedish vocalists) and I think I will have a lot of fun "babbling" this appropriate text!

2022-10-05 22:37:34 UTC

Warm regards to all Homies,
Amanda from Austria

2022-10-05 22:51:01 UTC

This text is an excerpt from a poem by the Native American poet, Gail Tremblay, from the Onodaga (People of the Hills in New York State, USA, south of Syracuse) and Mi'Kmaq (Maritime provinces and Gaspe Peninsula of Canada, and northeastern Maine, USA) tribes. This is an excerpt from her poem,
"Indian Singing in the 20th Century America"
We wake; we wake the day,
the light rising in us like sun--
our breath a prayer brushing
against the feathers in our hands....
and we dance in two worlds, inevitable as seasons in one,
exotic curiosities in the other...
which... explains
us to its children in words
that no one could ever make
sense of. The image obscures
the vision, and we wonder
whether anyone will ever hear
our own names for the things
we do. Light dances in the body,
surrounds all living things--
even the stones sing
although their songs are infinitely
slower than the ones we learn
from trees. No human voice lasts
long enough to make such music sound....
we're always there-- singing round dance
songs, remembering what supports
our life-- impossible to ignore.

Hi from the US. I'm thinking of reading a favorite poem of mine, which is about an American topic: baseball.

2022-10-06 00:21:11 UTC

Assignment #1: Write a poem about Baseball and God

by Philip E. Burnham, Jr

And on the ninth day, God
In His infinite playfulness
Grass green grass, sky blue sky,
Separated the infield from the outfield,
Formed a skin of clay,
Assigned bases of safety
On cardinal points of the compass
Circling the mountain of deliverance,
Fashioned a wandering moon
From a horse, a string and a gum tree,
Tempered weapons of ash,
Made gloves from the golden skin of sacrificial bulls,
Set stars alight in the Milky Way,
Divided the descendants of Cain and Abel into contenders,
Declared time out, time in, stepped back,
And thundered over all of creation:
"Play ball!"

This is a poem in the Irish language I remember learning at school. About a magical land at the back of the house!!

2022-10-06 11:05:03 UTC

Cúl an Tí

Tá Tír na nÓg ar chúl an tí,
Tír álainn trína chéile,
Lucht cheithre chos ag súil na slí,
Gan bróga orthu ná léine,
Gan Béarla acu ná Gaeilge.

Ach fásann clóca ar gach droím
Sa tír seo trína chéile,
Is labhartar teanga ar chúl a’ tí
Nár thuig aon fhear ach Aesop,
Is tá sé siúd sa chré anois.

Tá cearca ann is ál sicín,
Is lacha righin mhothaolach,
Is gadhar mór dubh mar namhaid sa tír
Ag drannadh le gach éinne,
Is cat ag crú na gréine.

Sa chúinne thiar tá banc dramhaíl,
Is iontaisi an tsaoil ann,
Coinnleoir, búclaí, seanhata tuí,
Is trúmpa balbh néata,
Is citeal bán mar ghé ann.

Is ann a thagann tincéirí
Go naofa, trína chéile,
Tá gaol acu le cúl a’ tí,
Is bíd ag iarraidh déirce
Ar chúl gach tí in Éirinn.

That last post about the Irish poem was from Dolores Trayner, born and brought up in Cork, Ireland , now living in Surrey

2022-10-06 11:12:28 UTC

I'm not very creative so I'm planning to read aloud from the book I'm reading at the time of recording

2022-10-06 13:30:10 UTC

Poem by Lilian Butler Looking to the Future

2022-10-06 13:58:43 UTC

I am going to read a poem by my late mum and sharing it with you all here. Rachel J Smith...
Looking to the Future

We can never tell for certain
what our life holds:
sorrow, pleasure, chains or freedom,
failure or goals;
but the cloud of our unknowing
serves to keep a small faith growing
Seeds of hope we're always sowing
So love unfolds.

Prophets warned of future torment,
true to their role.
"God Himself will come in judgement",
people were told.
"Change your ways. Your selfish living
Faithless worship, rife deceiving
devil deeds you think are hidden
makes love grow cold".

We might criticise these people
of long ago.
But is worship empty ritual?
Do our lives show
ignorance, when all our learning
fails to set our cold hearts burning,
fails to note another's yearning.
Love cannot grow.

As we move into the future,
O Lord we pray..
Love, peace, hope and faith will conquer
yet in our day.
May right living, like a river
flow into our world for ever.
Let your justice roll O Saviour,
Love come to stay.

A recent poem I wrote, titled: Heart of our World, feels appropriate for this project. ♥🌎

2022-10-06 13:59:37 UTC

One of my (April Schultz) favorite poems by a favorite Irish poet, Michael Coady:

2022-10-06 16:06:37 UTC

Though There Are Torturers

Michael Coady

Though there are torturers in the world
There are also musicians.
Though, at this moment,
Men are screaming in prisons,
There are jazzmen raising storms
Of sensuous celebration,
And orchestras releasing
Glories of the Spirit.

Though the image of God
Is everywhere defiled,
A man in West Clare
Is playing the concertina,
The Sistine Choir is levitating
Under the dome of St. Peter’s,
And a drunk man on the road
Is singing, for no reason.

Hendrik Haan uit Koog aan de Zaan, by Annie M.G. Schmidt

2022-10-06 18:58:17 UTC

A song in Dutch about ladies who are gossiping about something that happened to someone they know (Hendrik Haan). The story becomes bigger and bigger: Hendrik left the tap running for 7 months and the entire city was flooded. Then Hendrik passes by and they ask him about what happend, and he says 'it wasn't long at all, just the kitchen mat got wet'. And all the ladies, disappointed, go back home.

1. Dag mevrouw van Voort, heeft u´t al gehoord