Month: Jun 2016

Domestic Violence [poem]

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domestic_violence

Fists are made for kneading dough when baking bread,
not pummelling another’s face into a gory pulp.
What sickly minds take pleasure in a fistful fight?
To watch two men (or, worse still, women, who are
channels for the gift of life) contuse each other senseless
(though there is no sense in contests from the start)
so that punters will be satisfied, The Mob gets paid
and people think they’ve viewed a thing of worth,
is malady of soul and signals sunset times are here.

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Jackdaw

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jackdaw
It isn’t often one can get close up to a Jackdaw (Swedish: Kaja) in the wild. But this fledgling, who can barely fly, allowed me to approach him/her and posed politely for a photoshoot! Beautiful bird (smart too). Look at the gorgeous eye colour! Click it into full size on your screen and see the feathery detail!

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A Tale for our Time: The Market Trader’s Stones ♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪[prose poem and song]♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪

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a_tale_for_our_time

ONCE-UPON-A-TYME, in an insignificant town of little renown, there was a commotion caused by heaven-knows-what. Like a whirlygigsome wind, it came and went and ruffled feathers, blew some fences down, turned some stuck things round, brought some haughty faces down, set some wheels in motion all around. But let me start at the beginning…

It all began at the market which, in that small place, was every day and every stall had been the way it was from further back than any could recall. Until a stranger came to town, dressed in clothes which made folks look askance (he was no stranger, though, to this reactionary dance). Before he’d even made a move or opened up his mouth, alarm bells jingled in their minds with peals of fear — his very presence near them seemed disturbing, made them miffed. Feeling undermined, they primed themselves defensively and clenched their gnarlsome fists.

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