On this day
The death in 1688 of John Bunyan, author of The Pilgrim’s Progress. Also in 1867, Charles Baudelaire in poverty, essayist, translator and influential poet, at the age of 46.
On this day
The death in 1688 of John Bunyan, author of The Pilgrim’s Progress. Also in 1867, Charles Baudelaire in poverty, essayist, translator and influential poet, at the age of 46.
Everybody laughed at me
when I said the wood store is the place to be
but they saw that you could do a lot
with all those pallets broken or not
with imagination and joinery
Filed under Self compositions
Born today in 1862, Maurice Maeterlink, Belgian poet and playwright best known for Pelieas et Melisandre, also the the children’s play, The Blue Bird, made into a 1940 film starring Shirley Temple, hoping to cash in on the success of A wizard of Oz, failure methinks.
Filed under Events and diary dates
As God so commanded Moses obeyed
whilst alone on the mountain he prayed
and when he came down two stone tablets were spied
and on this fine granite our creed was inscribed
Ten Commandments were written, five on each one
instructions on how our lives should be done
and by following these rules on how we should live
then God to his people his blessing would give
but Moses was enraged by the statues he found
and dashed the two rocks onto the ground
Filed under Self compositions
The early morning, the time when
fishermen go out to sea again
gone are thoughts of nice warm bed
but think of tide and wind instead,
for now the sea is calm and flat
but before too long they might find that
the calm waters of the estuary
have become a foaming raging sea
and with a silent prayer to God
they can start to hunt the elusive cod
Filed under Self compositions
Beware of satire
where praise can be full of barbs
cleverly hidden
Filed under Self compositions
Impartiality is a false reality and is most emphatically not a Test Match commentator’s speciality
Filed under Self compositions
And after six hours or more of crashing through the dense, damp, dark undergrowth with only a cheerless canopy of dripping leaves through which the light could not penetrate as if somehow day had become night whilst all the while imagining the sound of low voices and running steps behind and all about us, we came upon a hole in the thick hedgerow from which there came a small ray of light and as we cautiously approached found that the opening gave way to a view of fields and bright sunlight, as if in answer to our prayers, escape beckoned at last.
Filed under Self compositions
A cruise on the Dart
for a wonderful party
Navy retirement
Filed under Self compositions
The voice of a parent I always feel
is probably the most effective panacea
just a simple phrase like there, there my dear
would drive away my pain or fear
now both have departed this life
their words still comfort in times of strife
Filed under Self compositions
Funnier than a sharp stink in your eye...
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