leonardcohenforum.com

I know all that is going on is no laughing matter but even in the worst of times a good laugh can help. Who can argue with a mother

>Have you noticed anything fishy about the inspection teams who have
>arrived in Iraq? They're all men! How in the name of the United
>Nations does anyone expect men to find Saddam's stash? We all know that
>men have a blind spot when it comes to finding things. For crying' out
>loud! Men can't find the dirty clothes hamper. Men can't find the jar of
>jelly until it falls out of the cupboard and splatters on the floor....
>and these are the people we have sent into Iraq to search for hidden
>weapons of mass destruction?
>
>I keep wondering why groups of mothers weren't sent in. Mothers can
>sniff out secrets quicker than a drug dog can find a gram of dope.
>Mothers can find gin bottles that dads have stashed in the attic beneath
>the rafters. They can sniff out a diary two rooms and one floor away. They
>can tell when the lid of a cookie jar has been disturbed and notice when a
>quarter inch slice has been shaved off a chocolate cake. A mother can smell

>alcohol on your breath before you get your key in the front door and can
>smell cigarette smoke from a block away.
>
>By examining laundry, a mother knows more about their kids than Sherlock
>Holmes. And if a mother wants an answer to question, she can read an
>offender's eyes quicker than a homicide detective. So... considering the
>value a mother could bring to an inspection team, why are we sending a
>bunch of old men who will rely on electronic equipment to scout out hidden
>threats?
>
>My mother would walk in with a wooden soup spoon in one hand, grab
>Saddam by the ear, give it a good twist and snap, "Young man, do you
>have any weapons of mass destruction?" And God help him if he tried to
>lie to her. She'd march him down the street to some secret bunker and
>shove his nose into a nuclear bomb and say, "Uh, huh, and what do you
>call this, mister?" Whap! Thump! Whap! Whap! Whap! And she'd lay some
>stripes across his bare bottom with that soup spoon, then march him home in

>front of the whole of Baghdad. He'd not only come clean and apologize for
>lying about it, he'd cut every lawn in Baghdad for free for the whole damn
>summer.

Send the mothers in!!! And I don't mean to reference the common phrase with my comment.

I was cruising the web for info. (when I should have been working) and found this from a site for Women writers from Iraq dating back to 700 AD. This is Dunya Mikhail's poetry (she is exiled in Detroit). Whatever one feels about the war I think the poetry can be appreciated.
This is her site:
http://web.grinnell.edu/faulconergaller ... y/Mikhail/

Pomegranate

It has been a long time since we were imprisoned inside this pomegranate.
In vain, we rush and knock the surface by our heads,
hoping that the hole might open upon us so that we could meet the air once.
Our losses are increasing everyday.
Some of the seeds have sacrificed their juice for freedom
as they were opening a way through the trenches.
My sisters, the seeds of the pomegranate, I called them.
The notches which began to appear on the surface
Proved that there was a fist threatening our fate and squeezing our dreams.

So what do you suggest for our liberation?
We shall stay more together.
In the present, we shall call a superpower for help.
Nobody will hear our calls that are covered by this thick peel.
We shall wait for a savior.
We will be rotten before anybody would think of us.
Then we shall stand in circles, like impossible holes.

Before the circles were completed, a hole started to open by itself.
We wanted to dance a dabka,* but a worm reared its head toward the terrified seeds.
The pomegranate started shaking and a big crack began to appear.
Some of the seeds trembled inside the human fist, while others stripped off on the ground.
I'm still here hung on the cavity and the worm lies in ambush for me.

*an Iraqi folk dance

by Dunya Mikhail

Dear Kush and Linda
One of you has offered poetry, the other, rubbish.
Discuss.
I can't be a judge on this matter, for I've already made up my mind.
Andrew.

Andrew,

I think Linda was just trying to lighten the mood a little. Trust you to get in a froth about it.


SL

I actually feel this piece has more than humor in it
I sincerely hope Han Blix get througly investigated.

Dear Kush, thank you for your historical offering. Beautiful words conjoined in marvelous imagery. Best regards from Byron.

I agree with Andrew.
But I cannot judge for the same reason he gave.
And I agree with Byron.
Oh holy sh..! I did judge, after all.

Tom

Byron,
You are welcome....although I was only the messenger who fortuitously stumbled upon some incredible poetry and imagery. It seems Arabic and Persian cultures are particularly rich in poetic expression.

Regards

Kush, look also towards the Indian sub continent for truly astounding work, some of which is thousands of years old. I'm slowly working my way through Beowulf at the moment, and some of the descriptive passages are quite scary. With my thanks to Seamus Heaney.

Hwaet we Gar-Dena in geardagum,
peodcyninga prym gefrunon,
hu oa aepelingas ellen fremedon.

So. The Spear-Danes in days gone by
and the kings who ruled them had courage and greatness.
We have heard of those princes' heroic campaigns.

Just to put us all in context here, we're not reading about sitting in D.C. and pushing a few buttons to rain death down on unknown faces.

We're reading about leaders who went out to face their enemies with swords and shields and the balls to face death in the eye and the heart to shame brave men.

I know who I'd be dying for, and proud to stand with them.
War at any time is truly terrible, but true courage commands respect.