Monday's Child

Monday's child is fair of face,

Tuesday's child is full of grace,

Wednesday's child is full of woe,

Thursday's child has far to go,

Friday's child is loving and giving,

Saturday's child works hard for its living,

And a child that's born on the Sabbath day

Is fair and wise and good and gay.

New Years Are a Chance for a Beginning

New years are a chance for a beginning
Even when there hasn't been an end.
Wheels turn in an interminable bend,
Yet, marked in one spot, seem to wobble spinning.
Each year we hope to do a little better
Although we know that really nothing's changed.
Reason thinks that everything's arranged,
So we must dream if we would fate unfetter.

Happiness Depends on More than Years

Happiness depends on more than years.
All one's moments gather to a wave
Passing in a rolling swell of tears,
Passions too immense to name or save.
Yet New Year's is a crest on which to sing,
Now poised between the future and the past.
Each awaits what course the fates may bring,
Winds that never touch the things that last.
Years turn and turn with an hypnotic grace
Even as the depths of life lie still.
Although above one cannot silence face,
Remember that below the divers will

How Many Friends? The old man turned to me and asked "How many friends have you?" Why 10 or 20 friends have I, And named off just a few... He rose quite slow with effort And sadly shook his head "A lucky child you are To have so many friends," he said But think of what you're saying There is so much you do not know A friend is just not someone To whom you say "Hello" A friends a tender shoulder On which to softly cry A well to pour your troubles down And raise your spirits high A friend is a hand to pull you up From darkness and despair... When all your other "so called" friends Have helped to put you there A true friend is an ally Who can't be moved or bought A voice to keep your name alive When others have forgot But most of all a friend is a heart A strong and sturdy wall For from the hearts of friends There comes the greatest love of all!!! So think of what I've spoken For every word is true And answer once again my child How many friends have you??? And then he stood and faced me Awaiting my reply Softly I answered "If lucky...... one have "I" "You!!!!"

They're Made out of Meat

They're Made out of Meat

"They're made out of meat."

"Meat?"

"Meat. They're made out of meat."

"Meat?"

"There's no doubt about it. We picked up several from different parts of the planet, took them aboard our recon vessels, and probed them all the way through. They're completely meat."

"That's impossible. What about the radio signals? The messages to the stars?"

"They use the radio waves to talk, but the signals don't come from them. The signals come from machines."

"So who made the machines? That's who we want to contact."

"They made the machines. That's what I'm trying to tell you. Meat made the machines."

"That's ridiculous. How can meat make a machine? You're asking me to believe in sentient meat."

"I'm not asking you, I'm telling you. These creatures are the only sentient race in that sector and they're made out of meat."

"Maybe they're like the orfolei. You know, a carbon-based intelligence that goes through a meat stage."

"Nope. They're born meat and they die meat. We studied them for several of their life spans, which didn't take long. Do you have any idea what's the life span of meat?"

"Spare me. Okay, maybe they're only part meat. You know, like the weddilei. A meat head with an electron plasma brain inside."

"Nope. We thought of that, since they do have meat heads, like the weddilei. But I told you, we probed them. They're meat all the way through."

"No brain?"

"Oh, there's a brain all right. It's just that the brain is made out of meat! That's what I've been trying to tell you."

"So ... what does the thinking?"

"You're not understanding, are you? You're refusing to deal with what I'm telling you. The brain does the thinking. The meat."

"Thinking meat! You're asking me to believe in thinking meat!"

"Yes, thinking meat! Conscious meat! Loving meat. Dreaming meat. The meat is the whole deal! Are you beginning to get the picture or do I have to start all over?"

"Omigod. You're serious then. They're made out of meat."

"Thank you. Finally. Yes. They are indeed made out of meat. And they've been trying to get in touch with us for almost a hundred of their years."

"Omigod. So what does this meat have in mind?"

"First it wants to talk to us. Then I imagine it wants to explore the Universe, contact other sentiences, swap ideas and information. The usual."

"We're supposed to talk to meat."

"That's the idea. That's the message they're sending out by radio. 'Hello. Anyone out there. Anybody home.' That sort of thing."

"They actually do talk, then. They use words, ideas, concepts?"

"Oh, yes. Except they do it with meat."

"I thought you just told me they used radio."

"They do, but what do you think is on the radio? Meat sounds. You know how when you slap or flap meat, it makes a noise? They talk by flapping their meat at each other. They can even sing by squirting air through their meat."

"Omigod. Singing meat. This is altogether too much. So what do you advise?"

"Officially or unofficially?"

"Both."

"Officially, we are required to contact, welcome and log in any and all sentient races or multibeings in this quadrant of the Universe, without prejudice, fear or favor. Unofficially, I advise that we erase the records and forget the whole thing."

"I was hoping you would say that."

"It seems harsh, but there is a limit. Do we really want to make contact with meat?"

"I agree one hundred percent. What's there to say? 'Hello, meat. How's it going?' But will this work? How many planets are we dealing with here?"

"Just one. They can travel to other planets in special meat containers, but they can't live on them. And being meat, they can only travel through C space. Which limits them to the speed of light and makes the possibility of their ever making contact pretty slim. Infinitesimal, in fact."

"So we just pretend there's no one home in the Universe."

"That's it."

"Cruel. But you said it yourself, who wants to meet meat? And the ones who have been aboard our vessels, the ones you probed? You're sure they won't remember?"

"They'll be considered crackpots if they do. We went into their heads and smoothed out their meat so that we're just a dream to them."

"A dream to meat! How strangely appropriate, that we should be meat's dream."

"And we marked the entire sector unoccupied."

"Good. Agreed, officially and unofficially. Case closed. Any others? Anyone interesting on that side of the galaxy?"

"Yes, a rather shy but sweet hydrogen core cluster intelligence in a class nine star in G445 zone. Was in contact two galactic rotations ago, wants to be friendly again."

"They always come around."

"And why not? Imagine how unbearably, how unutterably cold the Universe would be if one were all alone ..."


the end

Elementary stories

It was two weeks before Christmas, and Mrs. Smith was very busy. She bought a lot of Christmas cards to send to her friends and to her husband's friends , and put them on the table in the living-room .Then when her husband came home from work, she said to him, 'Here are Christmas cards for our friends, and here are some stamps, a pen and our book of addresses. Will you please write the cards while I am cooking the dinner?'

Mr. Smith did not say anything, but walked out of the living-room and went to his study. Mrs. Smith was very angry with him, but did not say anything either.

Then a minute later he came back with a box full of Christmas cards. All of them had addresses and stamps on them.

'These are from last year, ' he said. 'I forgot to post them.'

تمبر،مهر	stamp	هفته	week
خارج از	out of	مشغول،مشغول بودن	busy
در اینجا اتاق مطالعه	study	گذشته buy ،خرید	bought
عصبانی	angry	کارت در اینجا کارت پستال	card
هم،دیگر	either	فرستادن	send
		قرار دادن	put on
		شوهر	husband
		اتاق نشیمن	Living-room
		آشپزی کردن،پختن	cook
		گذشتهsay،گفت	said

Eliza Riley

Eliza Riley

Return to Paradise

Lisa gazed out over the Caribbean Sea, feeling the faint breeze against her face - eyes shut, the white sand warm between her bare toes. The place was beautiful beyond belief, but it was still unable to ease the grief she felt as she remembered the last time she had been here.
She had married James right here on this spot three years ago to the day. Dressed in a simple white shift dress, miniature white roses attempting to tame her long dark curls, Lisa had been happier than she had ever thought possible. James was even less formal but utterly irresistible in creased summer trousers and a loose white cotton shirt. His dark hair slightly ruffled and his eyes full of adoration as his looked at his bride to be. The justice of the peace had read their vows as they held hands and laughed at the sheer joy of being young, in love and staying in a five star resort on the Caribbean island of the Dominican Republic. They had seen the years blissfully stretching ahead of them, together forever. They planned their children, two she said, he said four so they compromised on three (two girls and a boy of course); where they would live, the travelling they would do together - it was all certain, so they had thought then.
But that seemed such a long time ago now. A lot can change in just a few years - a lot of heartache can change a person and drive a wedge through the strongest ties, break even the deepest love. Three years to the day and they had returned, though this time not for the beachside marriages the island was famous for but for one of its equally popular quickie divorces.
Lisa let out a sigh that was filled with pain and regret. What could she do but move on, find a new life and new dreams? - the old one was beyond repair. How could this beautiful place, with its lush green coastline, eternity of azure blue sea and endless sands be a place for the agony she felt now?
The man stood watching from the edge of the palm trees. He couldn't take his eyes of the dark-haired woman he saw standing at the water's edge, gazing out to sea as though she was waiting for something - or someone. She was beautiful, with her slim figure dressed in a loose flowing cotton dress, her crazy hair and bright blue eyes not far off the colour of the sea itself. It wasn't her looks that attracted him though; he came across many beautiful women in his work as a freelance photographer. It was her loneliness and intensity that lured him. Even at some distance he was aware that she was different from any other woman he could meet.

Lisa sensed the man approaching even before she turned around. She had been aware of him standing there staring at her and had felt strangely calm about being observed. She looked at him and felt the instant spark of connection she had only experienced once before. He walked slowly towards her and they held each other's gaze. It felt like meeting a long lost friend - not a stranger on a strange beach.
Later, sitting at one of the many bars on the resort, sipping the local cocktails they began to talk. First pleasantries, their hotels, the quality of the food and friendliness of the locals. Their conversation was strangely hesitant considering the naturalness and confidence of their earlier meeting. Onlookers, however, would have detected the subtle flirtation as they mirrored each other's actions and spoke directly into each other's eyes. Only later, after the alcohol had had its loosening effect, did the conversation deepen. They talked of why they were here and finally, against her judgement, Lisa opened up about her heartache of the past year and how events had led her back to the place where she had married the only man she believed she could ever love. She told him of things that had been locked deep inside her, able to tell no one. She told him how she had felt after she had lost her baby.
She was six months pregnant and the happiest she had ever been when the pains had started. She was staying with her mother as James was working out of town. He hadn't made it back in time. The doctor had said it was just one of those things, that they could try again. But how could she when she couldn't even look James in the eye. She hated him then, for not being there, for not hurting as much as her but most of all for looking so much like the tiny baby boy that she held for just three hours before the took him away. All through the following months she had withdrawn from her husband, family, friends. Not wanting to recover form the pain she felt - that would have been a betrayal of her son. At the funeral she had refused to stand next to her husband and the next day she had left him.

Looking up, Lisa could see her pain reflected in the man's eyes. For the first time in months she didn't feel alone, she felt the unbearable burden begin to lift from her, only a bit but it was a start. She began to believe that maybe she had a future after all and maybe it could be with this man, with his kind hazel eyes, wet with their shared tears.
They had come here to dissolve their marriage but maybe there was hope. Lisa stood up and took James by the hand and led him away from the bar towards the beech where they had made their vows to each other three years ago. Tomorrow she would cancel the divorce; tonight they would work on renewing their promises.

PERSPOLIS

The many buildings which make up Persepolis are on an artificial terrace about 300 metres long and 450 meters wide, between 10 and 20 meters above ground-level. You reach the terrace by a monumental double staircase.
The gaunt beauty of the Mountains, the immense landscape, the deep silence which pervades, the site remote from any village, are appropriate for the sacred character of this necropolis sheltering the tombs of the main Achaemenian Sovereigns (Cyrus lies in solitude at Pasargadae). From right to left, the tombs are those of Xerxes, Darius the Great Artaxerxes I and Darius II. Darius the Great's Tomb is larger than the others.

perspolis

The site's Iranian name is Takht-e-Jamshid, "The throne of Jamshid", a mythical King of Iran. The ancient name is "Parsa", "Pars's Town". Provincial of Fars. Altitude 1,800 meters, 60 km N-E of Shiraz on an excellent road, 420 km S of Esfahan on a good road. International airport at Shiraz. National airport at Persepolis. A large bare plain, surrounded by mauve cliffs with sharp edges. It is there, in the center of the Marv Dasht basin, that Cyrus the Great chose, toward the end of the his reign, to build under the shelter of a fold in the mountains, a palace worthy of the Empire. It was named Parsa, but later under subsequent Greek influence became known as Persepolis, "The city of the Persians".

The Gate of All Nations, Takt-e-Jamshid (Persepolis)

You go to Pasargarde to contemplate, in the solitude of Land deserted for the past two thousand years, the tomb of Cyrus, the founder of an Empire. But you first go through Naqsh-e-Rostam is a sort of "Valley of Kings", dominated by tall ochre-colored cliffs, cracked and wrinkled by the wind with half-way up, the cross-shaped cavities of the tombs cut right into the stone.

"Tomb of Cyrus the Great, Pasargad, Fars Province"

Without going into detail the following excursion site are worthy of mentions: Bishahpur(140 km to the West on the Ahvaz road), a large archaeological site in gorgeous mountain setting, with the remnants of the palace of the Sassanid King Shahpur (241-272 A.D.), the Qalaeh-ye Dokhtar Gorges, controlled by an impressive system of fortifications erected in the 10th and 11th centuries (near Firouzabad, 110km South of Shiraz); other Sassanid fortresses near Fasa (170 km to the S-E); farther on the same road, in the direction of Darab (280 km of Shiraz) fortified enclosures, bas reliefs and at Darab proper, a que, cross-shaped mosque hewn out of the rock.

The Southern face of the Gate of All Nations"