In spiral circles
no leader, no followers
all remain equal,
tracing each line with finger
connection of the senses
In spiral circles
no leader, no followers
all remain equal,
tracing each line with finger
connection of the senses
Filed under Alternative history, As you read it, Factual, Old knowledge, Self compositions, Tanka

Picture from Bob Williams, Arx Cynuit
They congregated up in the hills, far away from judging eyes. This would be the last time that any of these people would see these Northern barbarians. Fight or die Cobanorum had said and they would follow this exhortation to the end. Far below they could see the torches zigzagging up the heather-clad slope. The Norsemen had beached their boats at sunset and after making their usual offerings to their ineffective Gods had decided the auspices were right for an assault on the lonely village.
Toothless old men, young boys, women with babies at the breast, young girl, all were assembled at the call to repel this parasitic invader. Those who would take their women and children, mock their Christ, their priests, and without compassion, maim, disfigure and take the life of their brave fighting men.
Their weapons were the tools of the field but they had one advantage, they were fighting for their lives, their homes, all that was held dear. Death had no meaning, for life would never be the same if they were defeated. In their favour was the gift nature had bestowed upon them, the sheer sea cliff, the stone, turf-clad walls, built to protect them from this predicted onslaught. All they had to rely on was the knowledge and belief that their courage would be as strong as the mighty earthen banks built over time with the strength of theirs and their ancestor’s own arms.
The result of their struggle is well known and I am happy to tell you of their victory. Thus was the legend born we know as the battle of Arx Cynuit, the last attempt by the accursed Danes to subdue this island race.
Pablo the pirate
is home from the sea,
his left leg has a wooden stump
just below the knee,
ask him how he lost it
and he will tell to you,
a crocodile bit it off,
in the land of Umpaloo,
he would have had the other
but for him he was too clever,
he tied it up behind his back
making it difficult to see,
so that big green, nasty, greedy croc,
only got one leg for his tea.
Filed under As you read it, Comic verse, Inspired by fable, Self compositions, Singalong, Whimsical

Stop
look
listen,
for the shrill
blast on the whistle,
a warning to the unwary,
or a promise of release to the broken-hearted.
Sounds of jollity
carried on electric light,
pierce ivy shutters,
through twice glazed frames declaring
Neo-Georgian mockery
Filed under As you read it, On the lines of romance, Self compositions, Tanka, Uncategorized

Time and space ripple
as they wind their endless way,
ad infinitum.
Filed under As you read it, Factual, Haiku, nature inspired, Otherworldly, Self compositions
The unbroken pact
is a true test of friendship,
death cannot erase

Just a Zen moment,
in the chaos of the day,
sanity restored
Filed under As you read it, Factual, From the heart, Haiku, Self compositions
Confined by health to her reclining chair
she told her nurse, “I’m dying.”
She replied by calling her a silly mare
but they both knew she was lying.
The old lady refused her breakfast
saying, “Please take it away,
last night’s dinner will be my last,
for the Angels are coming today.”
And the nurse with a smile jokingly said,
“You’re a bit grumpy today,
did you get out the wrong side of the bed
they’re not coming to take you away.”
The old lady passed away at lunchtime,
died peacefully but alone.
The smile on her face when they found her
told them the Angels had carried her home.

I could hardly believe it. Suddenly stricken with a craving for nostalgia and childhood memories I had decided to take a tour around the land of my birth. Driving around the village of my childhood I remembered one of the local children’s favourite pastimes. There was a steep hill out of the village with at the bottom a shallow ford where a small stream crossed the road forming a pool, one foot deep at the most. We all used to career down the hill on our pushbikes and with loud cries of delight hold our shorts-clad legs in the air as the water sprayed from beneath our wheels as we crossed. It was great fun especially when someone had the misfortune to fall off. Probably due to the large pebbles we had hidden in the pool. Sadly, now the stream has gone and the children no longer have the pleasure.
Filed under As you read it, Flash fiction, nature inspired, Self compositions
-Reviews, Advice & News For All Things Tech and Gadget Related-
Essays Exploring Craft and the Writing Life
A Chronological History of Britain
~wandering through life in my time machine...you never know where it will stop next~
Travel via Stories
a resource for moving poetry
Odds and ends of British history in no particular order
Author Aspiring
THE DRIVELLINGS OF TWATTERSLEY FROMAGE
Doing the best I can to keep it on the bright side
A community with environmental and healthy resources
A creative miscellany of mythic fantasies
Shortness of Breadth
Home-brewed Prose & Poetry
Looking at past and present, from odd & unusual angles
Short Fiction by Nicola Humphreys
Irreverence's Glittering New Low!
The opinions expressed are those of the author. You go get your own opinions.
Bird news and more
Random Ramblings and Reviews from Trent P. McDonald
A view of the world through eyes of faith
Writing about living in two places (and times)
-- current affairs | prose poetry | philosophy | individuality --
My Reflections and Expressions
Idiotophobe
A dose of fetish. Good friends. An incomparable muse.
A world of words, stories and reflections
An onion has many layers. So have I!
READER - WRITER - CURATED RESOURCES - & MORE
Good lives on our one planet
A collective of poems and photos. All photos taken by me unless stated otherwise.
Author, Poet, Blogger, Father, Reader And More
Poetry Appreciation Circle - Reading Circle - Writing Circle
The latest news on WordPress.com and the WordPress community.