Not everything has a name.

Perhaps I should elaborate on what I mean here.  Earlier I was wondering if the shavings left over when you sharpen a pencil have a particular name.
So, I have just done a search, and seeing as there appears to be a community of people who create art from pencil shavings, that must be what they're called.
I really was hoping for something more prosaic.  I think that they should have a better name.
What do you think?

kiss

kiss, the dictionary defines a kiss as follows;
touch with lips, esp. as sign of love, reverence, etc.; touch lightly. [verb]
touch of lips, light touch [noun]
(from the Little Oxford dictionary)
When you are small the person ho kisses you most often is your Mum, and possibly your Dad, Grandparents kiss their grandchildren. As you get older people tend to be more conscious of kissing, and before long young boys wriggle to get free of their Mum's and Gran's when they try to kiss them. Little girls dream of the perfect kiss, from the "handsome prince", and that they will then live happily ever after. Bigger girls day dream about the dishy, they think, pop stars, and the "perfect" boy at school. Not being male, I have no idea if boys think of the same thing. Then as you get older there are daft little things that you want. I don't know how, but I have found mine. It sounds really daft but to be held gently and kissed lightly on top of the head makes me feel all gooey inside, and although he's not said so, I could feel the love from the someone special in my life.
Who would have thought a simple kiss would mean so much?

Draft of poem

Thought I'd share this rough draft of a poem with you......I wrote it a couple of weeks back, it needs some tweaking, but it already says what I want it to.
Like all my poems, it doesn't yet have a title...to me you don't give a poem a title until it is finished, like you don't name a baby until it is born. I have made a couple of changes from the original whilst just typing it up.


Where were you,
When JFK was killed?
Do you remember,
or too young?

Where were you,
When Princess Di died?
Do you remember,
or didn't you care?

Where were you
When Michael Jackson died?
Do you remember,
or were you too young, or old, to care?

Where were you
When YOUR Grandad died?
Do you remember?
You weren't
too young,
too old,
or didn't care!

But were you there?
or walking on the Moors?
Or driving through the snow?
Listening to news of John Lennon's death?
Where were you
When YOUR Grandad died?

Hand Lotion

Only short, Blue gave me this "word" to free write around, it didn't expand so much as some subjects do.

Hand lotion, hand cream, call it what you will. I should use it much more often than I do. Working with paper and water makes my hands very sore, and the skin sometimes splits down the sides of my fingers, in line with my nails. ...Ouch!

After the plaster came off my ankle I massaged my scars with body lotion/hand lotion every night to help the scar tissue become supple.

Daft thing is the skin on my hands isn't too rough, it just seems to split really easily, which I am sure is for a completely different reason.

A few years I was treated to a manicure/pedicure and facial massage by a friend who was taking a beauty qualification , and needed a guinea pig. It was my birthday that day, so I felt rather pampered, and no, I haven't repeated the experience since.

I do buy good quality hand cream, and in winter when my skin splits very easily with cold I use Neem cream, a very well kept secret of India.

Why?

Why aren't people born complete with a remote control?

When children are young, and you haven't had any sleep..you could just press the mute button...and get your much needed sleep.

Or later on, after you've spent ages coaxing them to say their first word...and you wish that just for 10 minutes they would give it a rest...you could again...hit the mute button.

What if the change channels button could let you see what your child would be like in a few years time....you know....just press +10...and you get an idea what they would be like in 10 years time.

The button I would personally want right now is one to turn my feelings on....or off!
There is nothing worse than falling for someone, then splitting up..through neither of your faults...and trying to adjust.

Yes, that touches very close to something very dear, and has happened to me.

Hey...but when the kids were young I would have given anything....at some points to have a mute button for them.

Only kidding....they have all three worked out fine...which is something...seeing as my head sometimes seems so muddled.

Parachute

Usually umbrella-shaped apparatus allowing person or heavy object to descend safely from a height, esp. from aircraft. Yes, that’s what the dictionary says about parachutes. I remember the little parachuting things you could get in a lucky bag when I was young. A moulded soldier, with his own little parachute. If Chris would let us, we would throw them out of our bedroom window. Other toys would have parachutes made from cotton handkerchiefs, and they would be tested.
Most people who parachute have two, one spare in case the regular one doesn’t work, but what if the second one doesn’t work? I know the old joke, cross your legs so that when you hit the ground you’ll screw yourself in, then it’s easier to get you out. It’s not the fall that kills you, well, most of it does no harm, it’s just the last few feet, and the pull of gravity.
But what is a parachute? It’s a kind of safety device, like the safety net at a circus, when the acrobats go onto the high wire. Seat belts in a car as well, they are safety devices. I hate seeing people driving around with their kids no belted in, apparently the police can stop the car and charge the driver and standing fee of £25, or thereabouts, for each passenger not wearing a seat belt.
Anyway, back to the parachutes, I love the little parachutes on dandelion seeds. Even now I like to blow at a dandelion clock, and see all the seeds blow away. The part of me that weeds the garden doesn’t like me doing that, but the big kid inside me likes it. And I let the big kid have their fun every now and again.
Would I like to parachute jump? Well, no, not really, seems to me a very dangerous thing to want to do. If we were meant to jump from planes we would have wings. Although I wouldn’t mind paragliding, or whatever they call it, where you have a huge canopy and get the wind to lift you, and you travel on the thermals. I watched someone doing that at Heysham Head one day, it must be incredibly restful. Then there’s the one’s who have parachute like canopies, and surf boards, kite surfers I think. That looks so much fun, I think the thing that makes me like some activities and not others is the amount of control over a situation you can have.
During the war some women got married in dresses made out of parachute silk. Not quite sure where they got their parachutes from, or was it after the war, I’m not sure. If I had a character having their wedding dress from parachute silk I would check up the facts, and make sure I got the timing right.


I know I haven't posted much here lately, just thought this might amuse.

Disorientation

Drifting, floating
Rudderless
Soaring, dipping
Gliding,
Catching thermals
No control,
Sinking, drowning,
Deeper and deeper
Lines blur,
What is real
No longer clear
Left doubting
All you hold dear
When did the world
Shift?
Elemental forces
Guide life
Seismic shudders
Realign frontiers
New appearing
None there before



Ok, it has had some re-drafting, but the poem above is almost in the form it first appeared.