SoCS 21/4/18 Spoke

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Today’s post is inspired although I cannot call it fortuitous, for this morning I received the news that my elder brother has been diagnosed with Motor Neurone Disease, thereby in my mind we lose one hero to that awful condition, i.e. Stephen Hawking and he is replaced by another. The connection lies in the speech, whereas my brother can no longer speak to any great degree, he spoke to me via a text, which certainly helped to cheer me up as phone calls had been a trial for some months now. All we can do is wait and see how the situation develops for him, his wife, children and grandchildren.

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Sue Vincent’s weekly #Writephoto Waiting

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Kellerman looked at the huge, carved head in awe. A whole gamut of questions flowed through his mind, the first and most important being who had carved the giant edifice and what did it represent? It could have been a dog, perhaps a stylised vision of it’s creators or even more intriguingly a true to life portrait. The only way to get any answers was to don his safety suit, and take a ride in the exploration module to have a much closer look. Despite some trepidation he knew that this is what they had sent him here to do, although finding evidence of other life forms had not been on the agenda.What alarmed him was the absence of any clearance from the control base. The last vicious lightning storm had closed down any possibility of microwave communication in the foreseeable future. Yet this was an opportunity that could not be missed, the thing had appeared undetected overnight and could easily disappear in the same short timespan. There was no point in waiting he thought, let’s get on with it. He walked through to the robing room and started to don his life support and survival suit, ready to embark on what could turn out to be the most momentous day in his and the whole of martiankind’s history.

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Colleen’s Weekly #Tanka Tuesday #Poetry Challenge No. 80, GATHER & SOFT, #SynonymsOnly

The collection plate

passed quietly hand to hand

along the faithful.

Pockets and purses opened,

coins and notes gently placed

 

 

 

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MLMM First line Friday 4-14-18

The dance lessons were not working. This, sadly, was the first thought that went through my mind as I gazed down at the forest floor. Oh yes, my little boy, the brightest and gaudiest of last years brood, hopping, arching, extending first one wing then the other. All to no avail, all the hens were watching him, you could see the smiles wrinkling their nostrils in snorts of derision as they shyly turned their laughing heads away, beaks wide open, as if catching fruit flies. It was no good him having lovely iridescent blue wings and orange and crimson breast if he couldn’t do the dance I had spent so long trying to teach him. Oh well, no mate for him, no little grand chicks for me this year. Lessons begin again in the morning.

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Ronovan Writes Weekly Haiku Poetry Prompt Challenge #197 Fun&Sun

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Fun need not rely

on that rare glimpse of the sun

but it often helps

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#SoCS April 14/18 (mon)

“Mon dieu!”

”Boje moy!”

The cries rang out in disbelief and exasperation tempered by apprehension.

The United Nations security council had only agreed on one thing. Each ambassador had discussed the crisis in monosyllabic tones painting  a monotone picture of the situation. Of the five members, after monotonous discussion and argument three had agreed to disagree and it was left to the French and the Russians to persuade their joint members one way or the other. Eloquence in speech was required which could only be guaranteed by harmonic tones from either side. Only this would decide the fate of la monde.

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B haiku

Under stark branches

where abundant snowdrops bloomed

Spring remains verdant

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A haiku

The old mountain ash

sentinel of the rockface

withstands Winter winds

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Sue Vincent’s #Writephoto /Footprints

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Joannus Rodriguez took one last look to right and left then quickly ran across the sand.  They had gone. For two days he had been  hiding in the small cave at the base of the cliff. Nobody had thought to climb over the rocks and search the shingle beach  to the West. They had all  been  concerned with the few items that he had left in his small, upturned skiff. These paeons were so predictable, a bundle of gaudy blousons, some cheap stockings and a small cask of cheap brandy had kept them arguing amongst themselves for hours. Now it was time to make his way to  the house of the Throckmortons. Then after a good meal they could commence their spreading of the true faith. They had all the ecclesiastical vestments safely hidden, ready for him to begin his tour of the houses of the faithful. His flock who still supported the old religion before the upstart Elizabeth the frigid cat had driven them  underground.  Those steadfast men and women who were forced to keep their services hidden. Proud in their defiance of those heretics who threatened them with imprisonment, painful tortures and violence, even  death. All for their belief in the true God through his representative on Earth, His Holiness Pope Benedict.

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Thursday photo prompt #Writephoto

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A very British subject

We love to talk about the weather, though
it seldom promises fine, we know
winds from the West bring cloud and rain
if from the North, cold and cloud again
and from the East it’s colder still
guaranteed to cause a chill
sometimes though, but in truth rare,
a Southern breeze will warm the air
the clouds disperse, the skies turn blue
a brief respite from English gloom
so it is at times like these
we see man’s footprints on the  beach

 

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