December’s poems
Samuel plays with imaginary people. He used to give them borrowed names (“Batman,” “Robin,” “The Joker,” “Little Jack Horner”) or bland descriptors (“The Little Guy”). But his latest inventions are original: “Ms. Javey” and “Lorianna de Jour,” who season their food with something called cat de brun sauce.
(I don’t recall having put on any French TV recently.)
He also makes up soccer players and moves their tokens around on a little paper field. My favorite is a Dane named “Ontoast” – presumably, a combination of toast (Samuel’s favorite breakfast) and onside or on target (he talks a lot about “shots on target”).
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Daniel has been keen on George and Martha: One Fine Day, a book by James Marshall. This book is my inspiration for December’s poetry selections.
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(J. Patrick Lewis)
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And when this epistle is read among you, cause that it be read also in the church of the Laodiceans.
(T. S. Eliot)
“I want a hippopotamus for Christmas; only a hippopotamus will do … ”
(I don’t recall having put on any French TV recently.)
He also makes up soccer players and moves their tokens around on a little paper field. My favorite is a Dane named “Ontoast” – presumably, a combination of toast (Samuel’s favorite breakfast) and onside or on target (he talks a lot about “shots on target”).
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
Daniel has been keen on George and Martha: One Fine Day, a book by James Marshall. This book is my inspiration for December’s poetry selections.
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
A hippopotamusn’t sit
On lawn chairs, stools, and rockers.
A hippopotamusn’t yawn
Directly under tightrope walkers.
A hippopotamusn’t roll
In gutters used by bowlers.
A hippopotamusn’t fail
To floss his hippopotamolars.
The awful things a hippopotamusn’t do
Are just
As important as the lawful things
A hippopotamust.
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
(J. Patrick Lewis)
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⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
Similiter et omnes revereantur Diaconos, ut mandatum Jesu Christi; et Episcopum, ut Jesum Christum, existentem filium Patris; Presbyterus autem, ut concilium Dei et conjunctionem Apostolorum. Sine his Ecclesia non vocatur; de quibus suadeo vos sic habeo. – S. Ignatii Ad Trallianos.And when this epistle is read among you, cause that it be read also in the church of the Laodiceans.
The broad-backed hippopotamus
Rests on his belly in the mud;
Although he seems so firm to us
He is merely flesh and blood.
Flesh and blood is weak and frail,
Susceptible to nervous shock;
While the True Church can never fail
For it is based upon a rock.
The hippo’s feeble steps may err
In compassing material ends,
While the True Church need never stir
To gather in its dividends.
The ’potamus can never reach
The mango on the mango-tree;
But fruits of pomegranate and peach
Refresh the Church from over sea.
At mating time the hippo’s voice
Betrays inflections hoarse and odd,
But every week we hear rejoice
The Church, at being one with God.
The hippopotamus’s day
Is passed in sleep; at night he hunts;
God works in a mysterious way –
The Church can sleep and feed at once.
I saw the ’potamus take wing
Ascending from the damp savannas,
And quiring angels round him sing
The praise of God, in loud hosannas.
Blood of the Lamb shall wash him clean,
And him shall heavenly arms enfold,
Among the saints he shall be seen
Performing on a harp of gold.
He shall be washed as white as snow,
By all the martyr’d virgins kist,
While the True Church remains below
Wrapt in the old miasmal mist.
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
(T. S. Eliot)
“I want a hippopotamus for Christmas; only a hippopotamus will do … ”