poha, raita (made from yoghurt) and red chilli pickle
poha, raita (made from yoghurt) and red chilli pickle
choc chip LCM
Odwalla Strawberry C drink and a cheese burrito.
Do, or do not. There is no try. - Yoda
A pizza...
Whats the point of exercising if I eat all such stuffDidnt feel like cooking...
delicious milk....
rice and matar-paneer curry (made from peas and cheese)
and raita...
Coffee and apples, not quite my usual healthy breakfast, but fitting for a lazy sunday.
Pinot noir, bread for dipping into a olive oil and balsamic vinegar mixture.
hula hoops! possibly the best crisps ever! (after Quavers of course!
"Come away O human child!To the waters of the wild, With a faery hand in hand, For the worlds more full of weeping than you can understand."
W.B.Yeats
"If it looks like a Dwarf and smells like a Dwarf, then it's probably a Dwarf (or a latrine wearing dungarees)"
Artemins Fowl and the Lost Colony by Eoin Colfer
my poems-please comment Forum Rules
we should have a thread - 'what do you WISH you were eating now?'
We can never know what to want, because living only one life we can neither compare it with our previous lives, nor perfect it in our lives to come'
Milan Kundera,The Unbearable Lightness of Being
Parce que c'est toi, parce que c'est moi
Tea and Orange Chocolate covered rice cakes.
Good idea Opti. you should do it!
"Come away O human child!To the waters of the wild, With a faery hand in hand, For the worlds more full of weeping than you can understand."
W.B.Yeats
"If it looks like a Dwarf and smells like a Dwarf, then it's probably a Dwarf (or a latrine wearing dungarees)"
Artemins Fowl and the Lost Colony by Eoin Colfer
my poems-please comment Forum Rules
Wholemeal bread rolls filled with extra mature cheddar cheese and salad.
"Books don't offer real escape but they can stop a mind scratching itself raw." David Mitchell
I'm eating a poem. A sonnet by Keats.
"When I have fears that I may cease to be...."
This was finished early in1818. Keats was about twenty-two-years of age. Both his parents had died, his mother of TB. His brother Tom would die of the same disease that year and it would be confirmed that he himself was suffering from the same illness that year also.
It's a Shakespearean sonnet -- three quatrains and a couplet. The enjabement serves to make these divisions less abrupt. The first four lines refer to his sense of loss should his death come too soon for him to have written all the poetry he would like to write. It suggests that he feels the need to write at length before his poetry will be mature enough to be valuable. The poetry is something from within himself, from within his imagination. In that sense the first quatrain refers to the destruction of his inner world.
The second quatrain makes reference to the outer world of nature and observed reality of the inspiration of those things and how they can be delt with by the poetic imagination, "the magic hand of chance".
The third quatrain is about the love of women. (Keats never married but he was engaged to one Fanny Brawne - now THERE'S a name!)The woman referred to in this sonnet however is a female he met by chance while out for a walk - someone he was unlikely to see again anyway but who had an effect on him. It may have been her beauty or her personality that struck him but the effect was instantaneous. In his view such love or passion is elemental - not a rationalisation and at its most intense almost supernatural.
These are the things his early death will deprive him of: the world, the poetry he would have written and the love of woman. However the final couplet concludes that having been made to examine his definite early death, by thinking it becomes manageable as neither fame nor love are terribly significant. Personally I couldn't care less about the former but to miss the latter would be to almost not have lived at all. Still TB was a virtual death sentence in his day and very frequently fatal here until the early nineteen fifties.
I hope that sketchy summary might help someone.
Last edited by ennison; 03-02-2009 at 12:38 PM.
I'm demolishing a grapefruit that I cut in half the wrong way. D'oh
Naked except for a cigarette, you let your mind drift and forget your disbelief. Feel the chill down your back and the flutter of wings through dandelion fields, and forget the pull of gravity in a night without stars.
I lack eloquence and commitment to my arguments. They are half baked, and I will begin passionately, and then abandon them.
Anniseed balls.
"Come away O human child!To the waters of the wild, With a faery hand in hand, For the worlds more full of weeping than you can understand."
W.B.Yeats
"If it looks like a Dwarf and smells like a Dwarf, then it's probably a Dwarf (or a latrine wearing dungarees)"
Artemins Fowl and the Lost Colony by Eoin Colfer
my poems-please comment Forum Rules
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