ISSUE 296 Date: 26th July 2013

LIFE OBSERVATIONS

Facebook quote: When the rich rob the poor it‘s called business, when the poor fight back it‘s called vio-

lence. ‗Free‘ images: too many, so called, free image websites seem misleading and probably wouldn‘t be allowed

on the High Street in the UK. Other countries do not seem to have consumer rights legislation like ours and when challenged some of these sites don‘t seem to have heard of ‗social inclusion‘.

The best mirror is an old friend. You can tell a good person by their choice of friends.

On the “Today” programme this week, there was a feature about benefits. A government minister was dis-cussing the new cap of £26,000, which came into effect that day. He said that it was a „misconception‟ to think that single mothers would suffer. Was I the only person who smiled at the choice of those two most ap-propriate words, „cap‟ and „misconception‟? A young woman who was a survivor of the Costa Concordia ferry disaster commented, on the TV news:- “I knew it was a 50/50% chance that I would live or die”. Remembering my school maths lessons, I‟d say the odds were more like 100% that she would either live or die! HOT OFF THE PRESS! 7.45am 22nd July, John Prescott tweeted:- “Great news that the Duchess of Cambridge is in labour! I wonder if she‟s an affiliated member?”

Issue 296

Page 2

Pagoda n Buddhist temple tower with series of

projecting roofs

A pagoda is the general term for a tiered tower, built in the

traditions originating in historic East Asia or with respect to

those traditions, with multiple eaves common in parts of

Asia. Some pagodas are used as Taoist houses of worship.

Most pagodas have a religious function, Buddhist, and were

located near viharas. The modern pagoda is an evolution of

the Ancient Nepal stupa, a tomb-like structure where sacred

relics could be venerated. The architectural structure of the

stupa has spread across Asia, taking on many diverse forms.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pagoda

Riven adj torn apart

Carrel n private space for individual study; e.g. cubicle

in a library

Ma’at n (thought to have been pronounced

[muʔ.ʕat]), also spelled māt or mayet, was the ancient

Egyptian concept of truth, balance, order, law, morality, and jus-

tice. Maat was also personified as a goddess regulating the stars,

seasons, and the actions of both mortals and the deities, who set

the order of the universe from chaos at the moment of creation.

Her counterpart was Isfet. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maat)

CLIVE’s three FREE e-books

NOW PUBLISHED on RBW and issuu

http://www.risingbrookwriters.org.uk/DynamicPage.aspx?

PageID=52

http://issuu.com/risingbrookwriters

Issue 296

Page 3

Steph’s two FREE poetry e-chapbooks now published on www.issuu.com/

risingbrookwriters

and on RBW main site

http://www.risingbrookwriters.org.uk/DynamicPage.aspx?PageID=52

2012: RBW FREE e-books NOW

PUBLISHED on RBW and issuu.com

http://www.risingbrookwriters.org.uk/

DynamicPage.aspx?PageID=52

http://issuu.com/risingbrookwriters

Random Words : Greece, Latin, West, craving, greenhouse, afi-cionado, diameter Assignment: Monarchy or life on the allotment

Josh enjoyed cubs. He liked working towards badges, and loved it when they went on camp. But he was a bit scared of Arkala, because she could be ferocious. So he was anxious when asked to play drums in a Gang Show event for the parents. Arkala was snappy, as she applied the stage make-up to her small charges. “Less is more!” she barked, vigorously dabbing powder on shiny noses. The curtain rose, and the audience clapped. All went well, till it was Josh’s turn.He looked around in blind panic. His drumsticks were nowhere to be seen. It was a puzzle. He‘d had them before coming on stage. Tony Phillips must have hidden them for a joke. Then he spotted his mum at the front, and the bulging shopping bag. He grabbed two sticks of rhubarb and pretended to beat a paradiddle with them on his drum. The audience erupted into a collective cheer, and were unanimous that Josh’s act was the most entertaining of the night. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Rheum_rhabarbarum.2006-04-27.uellue.jpg

Issue 282

Page 5

Issue 296

Page 4

Alfons Maria Mucha 24 July 1860 – Prague, 14 July 1939), often known as Alphonse Mucha, was a Czech Art Nouveau painter and deco-rative artist, known best for his distinct curvaceous style. He produced many paintings, illustrations, advertisements, postcards, and designs and was interna-tionally well known. Irene Jones has been researching this artist‘s life and works and is working on in depth articles for RBW Online which, hopefully, will be featured shortly. Here is just a taster ...

wik

iped

ia i

mag

es

Reasons not to be cheerful: 2013 Moan about the weather; we‘re all in it together: darker roots Bankers playing roulette; now we‘re on a budget: no reproof Nippers queue in foodbank; mums in tears ‗n heart sank: tinned fruit Shame on DLA atrocity; blind ‗n crippled no philosophy: sui-cide Blocking up the doorway, bedroom tax; kids confused ‘n hungry, lots o‘ smacks: St Georges picking up the pieces; real blokes now in creases: just wrong No jobs, no trainin‘ places; upside down smiley faces: NEETS Gorra mobile? Y‘can Twitter; one brain cell to chatter: game shows Red ants in the garden, multiplying thriving: Blumbly bees are dying: pesti-cides I‘mallrightjack Tories going off on cruises; tangos and boozes: gold hand-shake Cooking‘s nice on the telly; all we‘ve got is jelly: no cake Bromide that‘s Daytime-TV; post a letter 50p: Bargain Hunt Email beonashow: how does your garden grow?: family tree Standing still: running in the gym; don‘t let the daylight in: sweaty palms Bidding wars on ebay; didn‘t want it anyway: online bingo Kids dressed up like brasses; high heels ‗n eyelashes: Jimmy So-vile Soldiers: homecoming heroes; ten fingers but no toes: wives‘ heartbreak Wheelers ‗n dealers; knock off fags ‘n DVDs: dodgy car-boot Billions for Trident: train lines we don‘t want: N H S Too many old folk; growin‘ old is no joke: mealsonwheels Frozen: mealsonwheels, Frozen: mealsonwheels, Slap it the micro, gran‘ma: Mealsonwheels, Mealsonwheels. ©SMS 2013 Respect to all rappers adapting ancient rhyme schemes for modern times

Footprints has been voted as the title for the RBW 2014 poetry collection.

An alexandrine is a line of poetic meter comprising 12 syllables. Alexandrines are com-

mon in German literature of the Baroque period and French poetry of the early modern period. Dramatists in English often used alexandrines before the days of Marlowe and Shakespeare, who

changed over to iambic pentameter (5-foot verse). Nowadays if you listen to rappers, and all credit to them, you will often hear a split line formula being adapted with an additional caesura and dramatic

double beat at the end of a line. Single Alexandrines are like Haiku. They contain a beautiful and po-etical image. They must be pleasant to hear and pronounce. They could be a witty joke: a single Alex-andrine contains images and evokes emotion. An Alexandrine alone can be a fully formed poem.

SOURCE MATERIAL: Wikipedia and other web sources: Source one: Put simply the alexandrine is a line of six iambic feet;

one foot longer than the iambic pentameter. In syllabic verse, such as French poetry, the alexandrine is a line of twelve syllables. In modern English verse, which is usually accentual-syllabic, the twelve syllables are counted as six iambic feet, that is, iambic hexameter. There are very few examples available online for further study. Here‘s one: http://

www.instructables.com/id/How-to-write-Alexandrines-.../step2/Here-is-an-example-a-very-simple-one-/ The alexandrine is used as a contrast to the more common five-foot iambic pentameter line. Alexander Pope‘s couplet de-

scribing the alexandrine is often used as an example: ‗A needless alexandrine ends the song / that like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along.‘

A few lines later the pattern is repeated:

‗Not so, when swift Camilla scours the Plain, / Flies o'er th'unbending corn and skims along the Main.‘

Source two: The alexandrine verse form consists of a line of 12 syllables with major stresses on the 6th syllable (which precedes the medial caesura [middle pause]) and on the last syllable, and one secondary accent in each half line. Because six syllables is a normal breath group and the secondary stresses can be on any other syllables in the line, the alexandrine

is a flexible form and adaptable. Its structural metrical principle is stress according to sense; the form thus lends itself to the expression of complex emotions, narrative description or patriotic sentiment (it is known as the heroic line in French poetry). The name alexandrine is derived from the French Roman d‘Alexandre, a collection of 12th century romances about

Alexander the Great. Revived in the 16th century by the poets of La Pléiade, especially Pierre de Ronsard, the alexandrine became the most used form for French dramatic and narrative poetry. The format reached its highest advancement in the tragedies of Pierre Corneille and Jean Racine. In the late 19th century Paul Verlaine adapted the form; poets often used a

modified alexandrine, a three-part line known as vers romantique, or trimètre. Vers libre (free verse) eventually replaced the alexandrine as the leading form of French poetry. The alexandrine, also called iambic hexameter, contains six primary accents rather than the two major and two secondary accents of the French. It reached England in the 16th century and

was adapted to German and Dutch poetry in the 17th century.

2014 poetry collection

We‘re all ... 100% TAXPAYERS

One thing many fail to comprehend and cannot grasp. Only 26p in the pound comes from income tax. 75% of all taxes come from Indirect Taxes and VAT, even on food.

So there is no such thing as a non-taxpayer, in or out of work, and however long we live.

We are 100% taxpayers. So there is no such thing as a scrounger. If income tax was so important, how come the richest third of a million in the UK got a 5%

tax cut from 2013 onwards in a recession? THE OLD ARE NOT A BURDEN TO ANYONE

Just when pensioners lost their higher age related tax allowance at 65, when the costs of being at home all day are greater, the finance boffins say that pensioners need on average

about £10,500 for basic survival, with London pensioners needing £12,500. Most pensioners do not reach those lofty heights, but then those that do are penalised. And heaven help

them if one of them goes out to work, with the joys of emergency tax codes that rubbish pay for up to 2 years.

The co-called money saved from the state pension by not giving it to women at 60, so los-ing them about five grand a year (total around £38,000 between 60 and 66 according to tax

accountants on the net) from 2.5 million women, is not a benefit, but deferred wages from our youth, not some generous gift from government to be withdrawn at whim.

Tens of thousands of women will never get a full state pension after 2016 after the rise from 30 to 35 years needed in contributions.

Married women (without a work outside the home history) will also not get a state pension

from all the extra contributions of their husband's going to waste, as their retirement age has risen has well.

This at a time when chronic sickness and disability benefits are being lost, yet most over 50s unemployed women are because of that, and so the loss of state pension at 60 is a fis-

cal cliff leaving them penniless, with no other source of income. They'll not get a job over 55. At 60, both men and women suffer over 75% unemployment rate, whereas over 50s

just 50% (sic) even if able-bodied. And we are not an ageing population because we have had half a century of mass immigra-

tion of young people, who have a higher birth rate than of those living in the UK before the 1950s. These migrant citizens have businesses, have educated their kids and grandkids at

universities since then. So paid their share of stealth taxes like us all, income tax and busi-ness rates and corporation tax. But then no-one reliant on benefits or on a state pension is a scrounger, not contributing anything to society. They self-fund their own money from the

75% of taxes that are Indirect Taxes and VAT, even on some food.

LEAVE THE STARVING TO GO HUNGRY

The food banks are not something to rely on for food. You have to get referred by Social Services and you get one, at most two grocery shops worth.

That is according to the Trussell Trust and other such charities. The food banks operated by Salvation Army do not appear to be everywhere.

Councils took the devolved budget of the Social Fund and kept it, informing people of charitable food banks. About half a million people rely on food banks in the UK from time to time.

THE FALLACY OF THE BEDROOM TAX Bedroom Tax is a tax on the taxpayer, taking the food money from those on benefit, for what politi-

cians prefer to call a Spare Room Subsidy. If it is a Spare Room Subsidy, then is it also a subsidy for politicians' extra bedrooms in their own home and the second home bought or rented on taxpayer funded expenses. This for politicians earning on average about £60,000 a year. Or the £100,000 spent

on refurbishing the House of Lords toilets.

AUSTERITY AND WELFARE REFORM SAVES NOTHING - ACTUALLY ADS TO PUBLIC DEBT Austerity and Welfare Reform is also another Big Lie saying it helps the economy recovery from reces-

sion. But that is for our high finance world to finally realise. All we struggle to do is survive in a society that believes the poor, old, sick and disabled are getting

something for nothing.

Yet no-one else would have paid my benefit or state pension if I had got any. The working class life-style has more tax as a percentage upon it, than any other income level.

My car is a pure cash cow with all the VAT on stuff for it: 60% of petrol is tax. Us poor with old cars pay more car tax than the rich with new fancy cars, with long-term warranties,

whereas the poor with old bangers pay VAT on repairs. The unaffordable central heating (now permanently shut off) still pays two taxes.

The insurances for car and house needed incur tax. The cheap food I eat has tax on it. And the biggest bug bear said constantly loudly by people with middle, not working class, incomes, is

the poor that drink and smoke. Yet conveniently forget that most of those pleasures are taxed to the hilt. And yes look at the tax on things for the kids you buy.

What if all the costs to the taxpayer of Austerity Cuts and Welfare

Reform were actually not saving a penny, yet leaving the poor, old, sick and disabled penniless.

It is right in front of us, but many choose not to see. Society wants to blame easy targets.

There was a book published in May 2013 Recession Hurts,

Austerity Kills, Stuckler and Basu http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Body-Economic-Austerity-Kills/dp/1846147832

But I don't need to read it, I am living it. I am bad off, but there

are those who have fallen through the floor and still being thrust further down. The horrors of the Workhouse have returned.

ACW

http://www.trusselltrust.org/resources/documents/Press/General_Foodbank_Appeal2012_NORDO.pdf

http://www.trusselltrust.org/

map

MR. PARADIDDLE Mr Paradiddle could be slightly embarrased by his name. He shared this

embarrassment with people called "Pinkle" or "Shiftybottom" or "Droop". How did Paradiddle get his silly name? Well, you have to go back a few hun-dred years. One of Paradiddle's pre-literate serf ancestors had made the mis-take of upsetting the local scribe during a medieval "count the peasants" event and so had ended up being called "Paradiddle " in the official record partly as punishment and partly to amuse the other monks on census duty. Just because the ancestor had had to queue for three hours it had been a mistake to ask the monk if he was in the habit of keeping people waiting.

So it was that the modern day Paradiddle was often made fun of. He was not taken seriously, his skills were not appreciated they just heard his name and made daft rhymes such as "Paradiddle did a widdle , can‘t aim straight, he has to fiddle!".

But Paradiddle was underestimated. In pursuit of his pastime - entering rhubarb growing competitions he was ferocious. He feared no opposition. He cut them down like limp rhubarb stalks! There was no Socialist Collective down on the allotment. There was no rhubarb growers of the world unite! It was every compulsive obsessive for him or herself! Oh how bitter the rhubarb world could be at times!

Paradiddle had a world wide reputation in the rhubarb world. The opinions were unanimous - Paradiddle Rhubarb was the best. How he managed to produce such magnificent specimens was a puzzle to his friends and oppo-nents alike. Horse manure was suspected as his secret weapon and he was known to argue when questioned about his good fortune at winning so many prizes "It‘s not Luck — It‘s Hoss muck!!".

Paradiddle kept his special techniques a tightly guarded se-cret, hidden behind a curtain of allotment intrigue and mystery (or in his garden shed basically!) Paradiddle was loved and en-vied. Other male growers were jealous of his proud stalks. Women travelled miles for a peek to admire those sturdy stems and would be ecstatic if offered a little nibble sweetened with just the tiniest bit of sugar. With his fame Paradiddle minded his surname less and less. His surname made him unique. However, he could still be angry with his parents giving him the first name "Camp". Camp Paradiddle, champion rhubarb grower, eco warrior and sex symbol a quiet, British hero, subtle in technique and touch, mod-est in his achievements. Less is always more. Paul Pittam July 2013 (penned with tongue in cheek and unani-mously forgiven for extending beyond 150 words)

Image Wikipedia

Assignment.

Weddings I think weddings is all about show. About how many people you know. About spending a lot Of cash you ain’t got- But you’ll just have to borrow the dough. You must have a big puffy dress, Costing eight hundred quid and no less. It’ll cover the bump, Though you may look a frump, And leave all those gossips to guess. Although you’ve been living in sin

Since the universe did begin, Your nine kids can be pages

All sizes and ages

Eight daughters of yours and one son. You’ve got of course to wear white, Though in truth, it really ain’t right. But you must look the part When married life you do start And your troth you turn up to plight. You’ll want photos to capture the day

And even though you don’t pray

A church is the place

For a backdrop that’s ace

Ain’t that what churches is for anyway?

Well I wish you both every joy, And that number ten is a boy. If you get over the strain, We’ll meet back here again

When your old man he starts to annoy.

Image Wikipedia

Issue 296

Page 12

A job well done (if you try hard enough) ...

Over my lifetime in farming there are not many jobs that I have not tackled, and as with every job, the more you do of that particular job the better you get at it. On the domestic side Take hair dressing for example, not that far fetched from sheep shearing, or cattle clipping, when we were kids (four of us lads), father used to cut our hair with clippers that he had to squeeze with his hand to operate the blade. The problem was when he was in a hurry, which he often was, he would push the clipper up the back of ya neck faster than what he was operating the blade, the result was he was pulling our hair by the roots. He did make a good tidy job, and many compared it with how he thatched his ricks of hay and corn, combed down to the eves and clipped up the sides. On the workshop side Take welding, unless you get a bit of tuition, and then get plenty of time to put into practice what you have just learnt, it‘s no use. In my case it‘s a mat-ter of tapping the rod onto the metal until you get a spark, then keep melting the rod into the joint. In reality, the rod more often than not gets stuck and welded to the job. After a vigorous twisting and pulling it bleaks free, peeling and cracking the coating off the rod making it impossible to strike an arc to get going again. Must admit, my welding has been likened to pigeon *** welding. So I get by on doing repairs that are not too crucial or to essential, just bog standard welding. I‘ll never be a ―sparkie‖ All things electrical are very mystical to me, as soon as a wire disappears into a wall, it come out a different colour at the other end. Two way light switches, for example, they beat me every time, it‘s okay to fit a new bulb holder, or new three pin plug and simple thing like that. Another thing that is always awkward for me that does not crop up very often is the trailer light sockets and plugs, with , is it seven or nine wires to connected in to correspond to what the vehicle wires want to convey. Wiring looms, alternators, and the back or the inside of a vehicle dash boards are way beyond my comprehen-sion. Fuses I can manage, but on the modern trac-tor there can be thirty or more, thank goodness for the instruction book, it lists and numbers them and what strength of fuse to use. I don’t know the key to success, but the key to failure is trying to please everybody Bill Cosby (1937)

RBW does not endorse any competition, workshop or event held by third parties

Isn‘t the concept of Freecycle wonderful ... Who would have thought a pile of old bricks

would be the answer to someone‘s prayers. But they are. Just slap up an

OFFER: free bricks

and folks flock to snap them up which saves tonnes of stuff from landfill,

even old bricks, and if anyone wants some

I‘ll have loads available shortly: Imperial, hard to source in some reclamation yards.

Issue 296

Page 14

My lost poet this week is Langston Hughes (1902-1967) writes

Mal Dewhirst

Hughes was born in Joplin Missouri and raised by his Grand-

mother in Kansas. He later moved to New York where he was

part of the Harlem Renaissance, which saw a racial pride focus

on uplifting the voice of the Negro through intellect, literature,

art and music.

He is described on wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/

Langston_Hughes as

“Hughes stressed a racial consciousness and cultural nationalism

devoid of self-hate that united people of African descent and

Africa across the globe and encouraged pride in their diverse

black folk culture and black aesthetic.”

He was one of the few Black writers in his time, to promote racial

consciousness as an inspiration for black writers and was to influence writers such as Jacques

Roumain, Nicolás Guillén, Léopold Sédar Senghor, and Aimé Césaire.

Patricia E Bonner describes Hughes poetry:

“Langston Hughes’ harmonious fusion of poetry and music produced an exciting and provocative

new poetic style and art form that sang the blues and crackled with the fire of jazz”. The text holds

weight with its fluent, comprehensive, and comprehensible language.”

Bonner continues by offering brief but crucial of blues and jazz, in order to give the reader a sense

of why Langston Hughes was influenced by the music.

“The text succeeds in concentrating on the poetry rather than just on the music. “

Also, Bonner delves into the impact jazz had on Hughes’s life, and not simply his writing, which

effectively personalizes and explains his desire to fuse music and writing. The article provides es-

sential background of the music, as well as shedding light on why the music influenced Hughes,

culminating in the establishment of Hughes as the founder of the jazz poetry movement.”

(From Bonner, Patricia E. (1990). Cryin’ the

Jazzy Blues and Livin’ Blue Jazz. West Geor-

gia College Review, 20, 15-29.)

What a wonderful description, poetry that

“sang the blues and crackled with the fire of

Jazz”, it is my love of the Blues and Jazz,

which first introduced me to the works of

Langston Hughes. His poetry exploring the

world through the musical timings and cadence fused with words of solitude and

anguish, to create the new form of Jazz poetry. It sings of Cotton Hollers, Bebop,

Gospel, Jazz and the Delta Blues.

His first collection the Weary Blues published in 1926 includes “The Negro speaks of Rivers”,

which he wrote in 1920 whilst on a journey to St Louis when the train crossed the Mississippi.

Lines from this poem are inscribed on the granite wall of the Rivers of Tennessee Fountain in the

Bicentennial Park in Nashville and for me are the only words on the wall that really mean any-

thing.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers. I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young. I danced in the Nile when I was old I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep. I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it. I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln went down to New Orleans, and I've seen its muddy bosom turn all golden in the sunset. from "The Negro Speaks of Rivers" (1920), in The Weary Blues (1926)

The night is beautiful, So the faces of my people. The stars are beautiful, So the eyes of my people Beautiful, also, is the sun. Beautiful, also, are the souls of my people. "My People" in Crisis (October 1923)

"The Negro Artist and the Racial Mountain" The younger Negro artists who create now intend to express our individual dark-skinned selves without fear or shame. If white people are pleased we are glad. If they are not, it doesn't matter. We know we are beautiful. And ugly, too. The tom-tom cries, and the tom-tom laughs. If colored people are pleased we are glad. If they are not, their displeasure doesn't matter either. We build our temples for tomorrow, strong as we know how, and we stand on top of the mountain free within ourselves. from The Nation in 1926

Hughes 1928: all images wikipedia

If you are a subscribing email recipient to leave RBW Online is easy just email and say ‘unsubscribe’ and you will be immediately removed from the list. If you have any suggestions for improvement to this service please let us know. You don't have to take an active part to receive this workshop bulletin you can just sit back and enjoy the ride, but if you could send back KUDOS feedback it is greatly appreciated. RBW Privacy Promise: A few simple contact details are all that are required and they will only be used for this bulletin service. RBW promise to:

Only send you details via the newsletter.

To never pass on your details to anyone else.

To always allow recipients to opt-out and unsubscribe at any time.

www.risingbrookwriters.org.uk

To contact RBW please use the website contact box.

PATRON Ian McMillan www.ian-mcmillan.co.uk

Memberships and funders.

Rising Brook Writers strives to be compliant with the requirements of the Data Protection Act. RBW strives for accuracy and

fairness, however, can take no responsibility for any error, misinterpretation or inaccuracy in any message sent by this mode of

publishing. The opinions expressed are not necessarily in accordance with the policy of the charity. E-mails and attachments

sent out by RBW are believed to be free from viruses which might affect computer systems into which they are received or

opened but it is the responsibility of the recipient to ensure that they are virus free. Rising Brook Writers accepts no responsi-

bility for any loss or damage arising in any way from their receipt, opening or use. Environment/ Recycling: Please consider care-

fully if you need to print out any part or all of this message.

To the best of our knowledge and belief all the material included in this publication is free to use in the public domain, or has

been reproduced with permission, and/or source acknowledgement. RBW have researched rights where possible, if anyone’s

copyright is accidentally breached please inform us and we will remove the item with apologies. RBW is a community organisation,

whose aims are purely educational, and is entirely non-profit making. If using material from this collection for educational pur-

poses please be so kind as to acknowledge RBW as the source. Contributors retain the copyright to their own work. Fiction:

names, characters, places and incidents are imaginary or are being used in a fictitious way. Any resemblance to actual people living

or dead is entirely coincidental.

This bulletin is produced by volunteers.

© Rising Brook Writers 2013 — RCN 1117227 A voluntary charitable trust.