The Parting Glass

"Of all the money e'er I had,
I spent it in good company.
And all the harm I've ever done,
Alas! it was to none but me.
And all I've done for want of wit
To mem'ry now I can't recall
So fill to me the parting glass
Good night and joy be with you all.

Oh, all the comrades e'er I had,
They're sorry for my going away,
And all the sweethearts e'er I had,
They'd wish me one more day to stay,
But since it falls unto my lot,
That I should rise and you should not,
I gently rise and softly call,
Good night and joy be with you all.

If I had money enough to spend,
And leisure time to sit awhile,
There is a fair maid in this town,
That sorely has my heart beguiled.
Her rosy cheeks and ruby lips,
I own she has my heart in thrall,
Then fill to me the parting glass,
Good night and joy be with you all."

The Parrott Family

The Parrott Family

Some Lucasorical Parkathos

Lunchtime Parkathos.

 I have waited all day to rip open this brown bag,

Tear its paper flesh.

And then reach my hand

Into its body and remove tasty intestines.

Sandwich and apple.

Twelve twenty-two is,

A feeding frenzy for famished fools who finally

Finish their fasting.

All day long we wait.

Clutching our pitiful, shrunken, persistent stomachs.

Drooling on the desk.

And then, oh we eat!

We shove whole burritos into our starving mouths and

Swallow our sirloins.

After such feasting,

We sit clutching our bloated, abused, packed-up stomachs.

Drooling on the desk.

We endure the pain,

Until we arrive home again, hungry once more for

Future leftovers.

To pack into bags,

To long for all day and eat in a way that we

All drool on our desks.

-L. Smith

Chickens

“Birds of a feather flock together,”

But chickens are a different brood.

The garrulous chicks form their own cliques

And gossip over their food.

Squawking away in a cacophonous way

Complaining their pitiful ballads

They shout and snicker, bite and bicker

And cluck moodily over their salads.

My own flock are well-led by a cockerel,

Chanticleer, and Sonya the drake.

And thirteen hens who pretend to be friends

For mine and the bachelors’ sake.

But behind those smirks, animosity lurks

For they each want the men for their own.

When I’m out walking I hear them squawking

To get Chanticleer and Sonya alone.

All chickens, I know, always argue so,

But they aren’t the only quarrelsome being.

You’d find a demure, docile bird

Before you find two people agreeing.

-L. Smith

A Poem for Spring

May

Tiny snowdrop clusters who

In early March together grew

Are now tulips, planted two-by-two!

“May is here,” Mother said,

“For in the corner flower bed

White’s exchanged for merry red.”

‘Tis the work of someone sweet,

In the dirt, sets of footprints meet,

The tiny tracks of faerie feet!

-L. Smith

The Greatest Obsession Story

My AP Literature and Composition class is currently reading Wuthering Heights, by Emily Bronte. Twice a week we write a reflection on what we have read and then convene into small groups and dicuss themes, motifs, etc.
Yesterday one of my classmates made the offhand comment that Heathcliff loved Catherine, and that she loved him in return. This would normally be a harmless point to make, but I think that the definition of "love" is being stretched a little too far in this case. I have also been charged by George Orwell not to change the defintions of words to fit my meaning, but to change the words that I use and find the most specific and concise words possible.
I do not believe that the emotion Heathcliff and Catherine feel for eachother is love. It may have been love at one point, but it has been so changed by their perversions and selfishness that it is similar to love the way a raisin is to a grape. (The raisin is still technically a grape, but ask Calvus if they are really the same.) How can we use love to describe Heathcliff and Catherine's passion when we also say that Jesus loves his creation? Jesus' own description of love does not even begin to resemble the selfish obsession that Heathcliff and Catherine mistake for something grander. "Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. 1 Corinthians 13:4" 
Obsession would be a better word to use for these two characters. Heathcliff does not care for Catherine's happiness, he is too concerned with his own desires. He actually curses her spirit to wander the earth on her deathbed, and hopes to keep her from paradise so that he may have something left of her. He marries a woman that he despises just to anger Catherine, and ruins the life of every character he comes into contact with because of his twisted and perverted idea of "love."
Edgar, on the other hand, is a man who truly loves his wife. He loves Catherine in spite of her, as C.S. Lewis would say. He allows Catherine to continue her friendship with an obviously infatuated man until he begins to make advances towards his sister, he tends to her when she purposely makes herself sick, and he does not destroy those around him just to be with Catherine. Even after her death, Edgar displays true love by grieving for a time, but then loving his daughter all the more and allowing the memory of his wife to be at peace. Heathcliff and another character, Hindley, cannot be at peace after their lover and wife are gone. The former abuses his wife and child, and becomes a menace to all who come in contact with him, while the latter becomes a drunkard and a fiend, neglecting his son and allowing him to become a savage.
I think that love is too easily confused with selfishness and obsession. I am not sure if this is because the modern portrayl of "true love" is so inaccurate or because we have too insufficient a vocabulary to describe certain relationships. But even if I am completely wrong with my analysis and Heathcliff really does love Catherine, his conduct is in no way justified.