Easter on the Marlborough Sounds (rondelet form)

Lazy rivers
spill in bays of saline silk, slow,
lazy. Rivers
tangling bush-greyed hills in slivers
of sea, use mermaid combs. They flow
on drowning paths laid out below.
Lazy rivers.


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Contact lenses

The plastic 'glass' is oblong
and the frames form bridge and arm:
my new specs cost a fortune
but there's more to this alarm...
As well as buying updates
I'm spending even more
and now I'm trying contacts
(never saw past cost before).

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The Change - a sonnet

Menopause

Invisible and hormone stoked, my sauna
sears with fifty minute interims
as steaming waves of tidal trauma
drown moon-cycle youth by sluicing limbs .

Instead of days spent draining wasted nests
of unproductive eggs each month, I mark
the hours in mammalian sweating crests.
I'm caged and leashed within a wildlife park.

I picnic anyway, there are more choices
when the years leave nothing much to prove.
There's fascination locked in long-lived voices,
value found in spending time. I move
with less allure, I hide as I endure,
determined to be gracefully mature.


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the meaning of life

Sorting socks is soothing.
So many monotone.
So many paired with partners now
but others left alone.

Life is like a drawer of socks.
Some tightly wrap around.
Some separate. Some lose touch.
Socks and people: so profound.



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ICT & PE

Our cluster group for ICT has planned another conference.
We did so well last year that a repeat was commonsense.
I've thought of several topics for presenters to present on
and started finding movies for some models (deconstruction
of movies showing sporting skills helps students want to learn them.)
And Youtube is a source of many such a sport gem.
Listing any skills that they can see while they're reviewing
creates success criteria we use for self reflecting.
Then photos or short videos on classroom cameras show what
the students have achieved in lessons - Tick their list or not?




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next challenge: flash

Now facebook has been sorted and I've added applications,
posted youtube movie links and photos of vacations,
I'm ready for another challenge: now I'll learn to Flash.
(I've tried it with a shareware app but only made a hash
of all the layers.) But collegues want to try it now - we'll work together solving
all those complicated bits that had my brain reverse-evolving.


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facebook

I've seen the way the kids all go
for online profiles on bebo
and heard about the adult look
of something like it called 'facebook'.
So I decided it was time
to sign up at this facebook. I'm
a member but I cannot see
anything but 'edit' me.
I want to make a page to view
but after checking tabs all through
I've left the site. Another time...
I'd rather watch some TV crime.

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Spent 2 weeks in Dunedin

My boy is 21 years old but nearly didn’t make it.
A broken nose meant abscess growth and septicaemia.
His arm swelled up but he was loath to leave his freezing flat
until his nose appointment so he also got pneumonia.
He staggered in and scared a nurse so much that she soon put him

in Intensive Care! Sick boy. That’s one place no one seeks.
He didn’t know how close he’d been to death – just one day off –
He didn’t know how long he’d be recovering – two weeks –
They operated, drained the dangerous abscessed nose and then,
they operated one more time to drain his elbow too.
Then operated yet again to drain his lungs and left
a dangling tube stuck in his back that poured infection through.
It snowed outside but he was stuck in bed. He slept a lot.
He moved four times to different wards and suffered pills and pokes,
He lived for dressing changes, food and visitors who came
in droves... so many girls who cared and even more good blokes.


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Yes

Watched a movie: "Yes" - in verse
by Sally Potter. Like a dream,
a fantasy, lost love and worse
submerged a 9/11 theme.

Visual tricks matched verbal feasts.
Stereotypes of lonely lives,
of dirty secrets, human beasts,
arab men and aging wives.

Contrasts: sterile empty mansions,
delapidated eastern streets;
busy kitchens, arguments,
hospital and catholic priests.

A cleaner understands this life,
moving dirt around. She'll guess
that zero dirt cannot exist.
Nothing? No, there's only Yes.


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Adventure racing

I've never been a sporty girl, I never hope to be one
but yesterday I went to watch adventure sporting be done.
I went to act as driver and 'support crew' was my role there,
delivering the mountain bikes and changes in their gear.

They didn't even know how many different sports there'd be
until the briefing on the night before (while I had tea.)
They had to run and hike and ride and go spell-dunking too.
They had to kayak on a lake and with a compass, follow clues.

I drove along clay country roads, slip-sliding down and scaring
myself a lot but found the places set aside for daring
parking... Hiking over paddocks... Getting shoes all wet.
My team survived and finished well. It's me who's overset.


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Teaching How to Think

REFLECTION ON 2007 L@S CONFERENCE:

I've heard a lot of theory spouted:
e-games held in high esteem,
problem solving skills undoubted.

It seems they lead to brave risk taking,
virtual, true, but consequential.
And lots of quick decision making...

All this visual strategising
teaches skills for future lives.
(That's the gamers' theorising.)

I believed, but second thoughts,
about commercial dumbing down
of movies, games and news reports...

have made me wonder at the value
of these numbing fantasies.
Is 'thinking' what they'd aim to sell you?

News is censored for appeal;
movies aim at teenage minds.
Computer games are just as real.

Do online feats co-operating,
co-ordinating ally moves,
teach body-language-cue translating?

Are e-rewards for perseverance
and using cheats to rise a level,
encouraging respect, forbearance?

Are the skills that gamers learn
essential for our future years?
Is life a game? Is it youth's turn?


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ICT Contract -the challenge-

A teacher who's truthful, confesses
that the secret to half her success is
not her planning as such,
nor evaluation so much
as experience - outwitting guesses.

An old teacher in term one confesses
she has wondered a lot what success is.
Is it constant revising
and more improvising?
Can change ever minimise stresses?

An old teacher of research confesses
that the secret to any success is,
to make reading a crime
that wastes valuable time
and display, as correct, all their guesses.

An old teacher who likes to inspire
all around to go forth and desire
to be learning each day
in a challenging way,
could be building her own funeral pyre.


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The surface shimmers with reflections waiting for
my toes to merge with their own imagery,
then ripples wrap my aching arch before
I step into the womb of luxury.

A hedonistic lowering of limbs
is slowly escalated into bliss -
as water rises, reaching bathtub rims,
immersion aids seduction with its kiss.

My worry stains wash off and then dissolve
while warmth massages flushing, heated skin.
A careworn creature leaves as I evolve
into myself again, renewed within.

Such private pleasure is a joy sublime,
erotic moments soaking up the time.

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'Twas The Night Before Christmas - Computer Version (I don't know the author)

'Twas The Night Before Christmas - Computer Version

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the shop,
The computers were whirring; they never do stop.
The power was on and the temperature right,
In hopes that the input would feed back that night.
The system was ready, the program was coded,
And memory drums had been carefully loaded;
While adding a Christmasy glow to the scene,
The lights on the console, flashed red, white and green.
When out in the hall there arose such a clatter,
The programmer ran to see what was the matter.
Away to the hallway he flew like a flash,
Forgetting his key in his curious dash.
He stood in the hallway and looked all about,
When the door slammed behind him, and he was locked out.
Then, in the computer room what should appear,
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer;
And a little old man, who with scarcely a pause,
Chuckled: "My name is Santa...the last name is Claus."
The computer was startled, confused by the name,
Then it buzzed as it heard the old fellow exclaim:
"This is Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen,
And Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen."
With all these odd names, it was puzzled anew;
It hummed and it clanked, and a main circuit blew.
It searched in its memory core, trying to "think";
Then the multi-line printer went out on the blink.
Unable to do its electronic job,
It said in a voice that was almost a sob:
"Your eyes - how they twinkle - your dimples so merry,
Your cheeks so like roses, your nose like a cherry,
Your smile - all these things, I've been programmed to know,
And at data-recall, I am more than so-so;
But your name and your address (computers can't lie),
Are things that I just cannot identify.
You've a jolly old face and a little round belly,
That shakes when you laugh like a bowl full of jelly;
My scanners can see you, but still I insist,
Since you're not in my program, you cannot exist!"
Old Santa just chuckled a merry "ho, ho",
And sat down to type out a quick word or so.
The keyboard clack-clattered, its sound sharp and clean,
As Santa fed this "data" into the machine:
"Kids everywhere know me; I come every year;
The presents I bring add to everyone's cheer;
But you won't get anything - that's plain to see;
Too bad your programmers forgot about me."
Then he faced the machine and said with a shrug,
"Merry Christmas to All," as he pulled out its plug,
"And to all, a good night!"



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HAVE A MICROSOFT CHRISTMAS (by Chet Raymo)

HAVE A MICROSOFT CHRISTMAS
(by Chet Raymo)

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, except father's mouse.
The computer was humming, the icons were hopping,
As father did last-minute Internet shopping.
The stockings were hung next the modem with care
In the hope that Santa would bring new software.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
With visions of computer games filling their heads.
Dark Forces for Billy, Doom II is for Dan,
Carmen Sandiego for Pamela Ann.
The letters to Santa had been sent out by mom,
To santa@toyshop.northpole.com -
Which now had been re-routed to Washington State
Where Santa's workshop had been moved by Bill Gates.

All the elves and the reindeer had had to skedaddle
To flashy new quarters in suburban Seattle.
After living a life that was simple and spare,
Santa now finds that he's a new billionaire,
With a shiny red Porsche in place of his sleigh,
And a house on Lake Washington just down the way
From where Bill has his mansion, and the old fellow preens
In black Gucci boots and red Calvin Klein jeans.
The elves have stock options and desks with a view,
Where they write computer code for Johnny and Sue.
No more dolls or tin soldiers or little toy drums
Will be under the tree, only compact disk roms
With the Microsoft label. So spin up your drive,
From now on Christmas runs only on Win95.

More rapid than eagles the competitors came,
And Bill whistled, and shouted, and called them by name.
"Now, ADOBE! now, CLARIS! now, INTUIT! too,
Now, APPLE! and NETSCAPE! you're all of you through,
It's Microsoft's SANTA that the kids can't resist,
It's the ultimate software with a traditional twist -
Recommended by no less than the jolly old elf,
And on the package, a picture of Santa himself.
Get 'em young, keep 'em long, is Microsoft's theme,
And a merger with Santa is a marketer's dream.
To the top of the NASDAQ! To the top of the Dow!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away - wow!"

And mum in her 'kerchief and me in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
The whir and the hum of our satellite platter,
As it turned toward that new Christmas star in the sky,
The SANTALITE owned by the Microsoft guy.
As I sprang from my bed and was turning around,
My computer turned on with a Jingle-Bells sound.
And there on the screen was a smiling Bill Gates
Next to jolly old Santa, two arm-in-arm mates.
And I heard them exclaim in voices so bright,
HAVE A MICROSOFT CHRISTMAS, and TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT.

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Saint Nichola

Santa is a woman who is dressed up and disguised,
I wonder why no one before has ever realised.
It's obvious if you consider all the preparation
That goes on every Christmas eve in almost every nation.

A woman deals with details, understands a child's list;
A woman won't forget the date, no presents will be missed.
Prove Santa Claus is really not a Nicholas at all?
What man that shape would dress in red when going to the mall?

Saint Nichola replies to all who send her Christmas mail
And that's a skill that's womanly, at which most men would fail;
And look at Santa's workshop where those male elves hang out-
Not many men would want his reputation: gay and stout!

Another circumstance that points to Santa being 'she':
Those reindeer have retained their racks for all the world to see-
A man would surely, long ago, have shot each trophy deer,
A woman's capable of planning for the coming year!

And even if a male Santa had a flying sleigh,
He'd soon be lost, pretending that, of course, he'd find his way,
He'd blame it on his compass making Southern Pole corrections...
If Santa were a male, he would never ask directions!

And as for stockings! Surely now, confusion must be gone,
A man would never notice one unless it was still on.
An empty shapeless knitted sock would hang loose and unfilled
Unless he was a business man but then we'd all be billed.

Devotion through a stormy patch is one more quality
That's seen when looking at time honoured Santa history.
Commitment is too much to ask for many men it seems
So Santa must be feminine, or else it's all pipe dreams!


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Santa's Workshop

The elves are rushing to and fro
And in and out across the snow
In mass production? No, no, no!
Here, toys are made from go to whoa
There's just one elf per toy and so...
Poor Santa's workshop is too slow

For 'though they rush about a lot
And elves are always on the trot
The elves take ages with each toy
And Santa needs a speed-up ploy
For time a-plenty he has not
A long 'good children' list he's got

Now, elf toy-making is an art
To change his ways might break his heart
So Santa watches every part
And Santa wonders where to start
In up-ing his production chart
For current methods are not smart

It's mass production that's the key
But how to help those elves to see?
So Santa said to one he'd watched
"Please show me parts that you have botched"
Of course the elf would not agree
No imperfection could there be

But Santa's hopes would not be slayed
"Show me the BEST part you have made!"
Then Santa called all elves he paid
"Please, stop your work!" Down tools they laid
Then gathered 'round him, elves so staid
"You'll tell me of your skills?" he prayed

The elf toy-makers all spoke out
Each elf preferred one part about
The process more than all the rest
Each elf declared one step the best
"Assembly lines will work, no doubt!"
Said Santa with a joyful shout.

But Santa failed to modernise
His elves all worked with bored, blank eyes
To make one part was so unwise
Now favourite skills each elf denies
The factory lie-up met demise...
"Back to basics!" Santa sighs

I hope this lesson none ignores
Give robots all the work that bores
For elves and people need more scope
Invention, challenge, vision, hope!
But unlike elves' imagined chores
We're the rebels without a Claus...


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Haven't used my webcam in years, or msn

The days of webcam conversations
seem so 'way back then'.
I've used one with net meeting and
Yahoo and msn.
But all this year in education
there's been lots of hype
about the programme used with phones,
the free one that's called Skype.
I have avoided getting it and
thought so what? But now
I'll need to use it with a class
and download, practise how...

The end of another long day, just watched Stargate Atlantis, now checking email.

Just look at me, I'm drooping here
this hot December night.
The day was sweaty, rooms too close
and now I feel a fright.
The air con in my PC suite
cannot defeat the heat,
it seems to squirt out hotter air
so coming home's a treat.
I do not have an air con here
or even use the fans
but lots of trees surround the house:
Reverse 'piration-trans'.

Got a Library fine for $14

Reading too much as usual. Great escape.



















The library is where I go to find the books I need;
escapism is how I cope, my form of gobbling greed.