marnanel: (Default)
Within this world, there waits a patient wood
that longs for recreation by your touch
to fall, be sold, be sawn, and seen as good.
Its oaks have pinned their hopes to suffer such;
its maples dream as much as they are able,
and every aspen whispers to itself:
they pine for you to bring them to the table,
or give them self-assurance as a shelf.
   Then there's yourself.  The elements essential
   within the raw material of you
   are scintillating stock, with star potential;
   still, steadily you work, and make them new.
And beauty's born, no matter where it lies,
for all the world reflects behind your eyes.

Hugs

Jan. 5th, 2010 10:25 am
marnanel: (Default)
I wrote this in 2000.  Some of you seem to need it today, though.

Among those born as humans on the earth
within their mind the mirrored planet lies:
the universe contained behind their eyes,
more tangible with every day since birth.
Within, each place you love is held for you
perfected; every friendship dwells therein;
and if you dare, a thousand tales begin,
and if you close your eyes you'll see it's true.
    Within that place a forest lies, more real
    than all on earth, and all you count as dear,
    wherever they may be, you'll find them here,
    just as in life of sight, of sound, of feel;
there you and I will stay, and always be:
and when you need a hug, come visit me.

marnanel: (Default)
Today is St Thomas's day-- Thomas the Doubter, not any of the other saints who bear that name. Here is the sonnet I wrote earlier this year for Thomas Cantilupe.

I have no patron saint. But if I should
I doubt that Doubting Thomas would be him.
Though well he worked with what he understood,
I cannot emulate my eponym:
too squeamish still to press your bloody palms,
too cowardly to bear the cross you bore.
too blind to fall and sing believing psalms.
With other saints called Thomas, all the more.
But then there's Thomas Cantilupe's career,
So concrete: he was born in 1218,
was chancellor of Oxford for a year,
gave countless counsellings to king and queen
and years of selfless service to his see;
and lives today recalled by God, and me.
marnanel: (Default)
I haven't posted for a while. Here are four things:

  1. Collabora have been supporting the CSS-on-window-borders project recently by letting me work on it during work hours. Here is a status update.

  2. Recent updates to shavian.org.uk include a gentle Shavian tutorial and translations of all the recent XKCDs into Shavian.

  3. Many years ago, I wrote a sonnet for use on a server's custom 404 page:
    So many years have passed since first you sought
    the lands beyond the edges of the sky,
    so many moons reflected in your eye,
    (familiar newness, fear of leaving port),
    since first you sought, and failed, and learned to fall,
    (first hope, then cynicism, silent dread,
    the countless stars, still counting overhead
    the seconds to your final voyage of all…)
    and last, in glory gold and red around
    your greatest search, your final quest to know!
    yet… ashes drift, the embers cease to glow,
    and darkened life in frozen death is drowned;
    and ashes on the swell are seen no more.
    The silence surges. Error 404.

    It's been spreading itself around, mostly without my permission, so I'm releasing it under a Creative Commons licence. Fly free, little sonnet! Please feel free to copy it onto your own sites, and if you would, let me know you've done so.

  4. I need to write more of the Maemo tutorials. They will be coming soon. Sorry; things have been busy.

marnanel: (Default)
This was in my head today.

I have no patron saint.  But if I should
I doubt that Doubting Thomas would be him.
Though well he worked with what he understood,
I cannot emulate my eponym:
too squeamish still to press your bloody palms,
too cowardly to bear the cross you bore.
too blind to fall and sing believing psalms.
With other saints called Thomas, all the more.
But then there's Thomas Cantilupe's career,
So concrete:  he was born in 1218,
was chancellor of Oxford for a year,
gave countless counsellings to king and queen
and years of selfless service to his see;
and lives today recalled by God, and me.

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marnanel: (Default)
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