Do we get old before we look old,
or look old before we get old?
I have just asked myself this.
But, it’s too early in the morning
for sensible debate,
so, the answer is…
another cup of coffee.
Best answer for many questions.
Do we get old before we look old,
or look old before we get old?
I have just asked myself this.
But, it’s too early in the morning
for sensible debate,
so, the answer is…
another cup of coffee.
Best answer for many questions.
I
am the most interesting person
in this room;
and, yet, I am still lonely.
Cats
A white cat in the snow,
or a black cat in a coal cellar?
A cat of nine lives
or a cat of nine tails?
A cat on a hot tin roof
or a cat not on a hot tin roof?
Cool for cats
or warm for cats?
Everyone wants to be a cat
or a cat wants to be everyone?
Choices.
What on Earth
is all the above about?
Questions?
Cats?
Cat’s all folks!
Well, I say
(or write),
questions have this way
of putting you on the spot.
Not that I ask questions a lot,
do I?
But answers are another thing entirely.
Ask a question and see what you get:
ask an answer…
Yet, I do try my best,
to invest
my life
with the occasional Q&A.
What more need I say?
Answer: on a postcard to me, here.
Thank you for watching – did you enjoy the show?
I saw a rainbow in the sky,
someone had put it there,
I don’t know why;
I don’t know who,
I don’t know why,
they must’ve had a reason,
perhaps it is the rainbow season.
I asked myself, ‘Graeme, What is a book?’
I found a dictionary, took a look,
and under ‘b’ there were a plethora of words:
butterflies, broomsticks, bees, and birds,
and so on;
looking carefully, I found the word, ‘book’,
and in great detail it explained to me:
‘A book is more than life, you see;
without a book, what could you read?’
And, on this point, I most heartily agreed.
‘A book is stories old and new,
some made up, some almost true;
a book is there to make you think,
you read a book, and then you blink,
in wonder’s wide and amazements hue,
in such disbelief, and often fear.’
‘What is a book? I asked myself.
I picked up another book,
to took a look.
What am I?
Partly animal,
mostly something else;
who am I to say
what I am?
Too many questions
for a Sunday morning?
How many – what percentage –
questions are rhetorical?
was that one?
Do you have to answer that?
Do you care?
Is this poetry?
Would I dare?
Are there rhymes?
Is it written in any recognisable poetic form?
Is there a discernible rhythm?
Does it use assonance and dissonance
in the correct quantities?
Does it avoid the mention of Quantum Physics?
Then it probably is a poem?
Did that last line have an unnecessary question mark at the end.
¿Did that last line have a missing question mark?
¿Was that last line written in Spanish?
¡Yikes!
How much of the above is wrong?
Has this gone on Forfar too long?
Everything under the sun,
must mean everything;
but, what about when the Sun goes off to bed?
Everything under the Moon?
But, the Moon isn’t always there
when the Sun is off getting some shut-eye
So, when the Sun and the Moon
are off wherever they go to at night,
is there anything left?
“Where were you
when the lights went out?
I’ve written that before
without a doubt;
but, you never told me
When I asked you then,
and that is why
I’ve asked you again.”
Vox: There are more songs about questions than there are songs about answers. For example: How deep is your love? Where is the love? Is this love? What’s love got to do with it? Why am I in love with a German Film Star (I once saw in a film)?
And the answers to those question songs: Baker Street; Our House; Gimme Gimme Gimme (A Man After Midnight); Sweet Home Alabama; and Wild Thing, or the like.
Anyway, here is a question song for you.
Cmaj7
Man goes in a fruit shop …
Gmaj
… what does he do then?
Cmaj7.