Category Archives: Factual

Is this how an ancient poetry slam would have sounded?

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Almost alluding to a poetic note, a clay plaque found in Olympia – the home to ancient Olympics and feats of athleticism, might just pertain to the oldest known extract of Homer’s epic poem Odyssey. The potential discovery was made courtesy of the three-year-long The Multidimensional Site of Olympia project, a collaborative effort from researchers…

via Archaeologists may have come across the oldest known extract of Homer’s Odyssey — Realm of History

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July 13, 2018 · 2:54 pm

Colleen’s Weekly #Tanka Tuesday #Poetry Challenge NO. 92, “Bewitch & Treasure,” #SynonymsOnly, tales from the Argo

life-is-likea-cup-of-tea

By lust for riches

and impolite behaviour

we became swine.

Jason through  his piety

made Circe reverse her spell.

 

 

 

 

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Filed under Alternative history, Factual, Old knowledge, Self compositions, Tanka, Uncategorized

Ronovan writes weekly #Haiku #208

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It was not pure chance

that drove Kingdoms to unite

but faith in Alfred.

 

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Ronovan Writes Weekly #Haiku: 207 25th June

ronovan-writes-haiku-poertry-challenge-image-20161

The mind of a child

will know no concept of safe

guidance essential

 

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Weekend writing #60 #Weave

Challenging  Gods in all their glory

Remember poor Arachne’s story

compelled to weave eternally

threads on the loom of humanity

as a consequence of her vanity

 

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Filed under Factual, History, Inspired by fable, Old knowledge, Self compositions

Lessons in Small-Garden Design From 11 English Entryways

I cannot fail to be impressed by these imaginative uses for small spaces, poetry in planting.

ravenhawks' magazine

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Filed under Factual, nature inspired, Photographic, Re-blogged

Ronovan writes #weekly poetry challenge #206 #Haiku

ronovan-writes-haiku-poertry-challenge-image-20161

Nose twitching in bliss

watch the butcher slicing brawn

a treat for teatime

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Sue Vincent’s Thursday photo prompt: Remains #writephoto

O hear me, ye faithless for I have a warning to retell.

My name is M’neptah and I was formerly the tutor of the son of my sovereign master Thutmose, Lord of all the dominion of Egypt.

On the night of my death I boarded the barge that traverses the Land of Nut and was brought before the one they call Anubis, before whom I knelt in subjugation.

He placed before my bowed head a finely wrought gold balance and with one swift move placed his hand upon my breast. From within he took my heart and laid  it gently upon one of the scales. From his head-dress he plucked a feather and placed this on the opposite scale.

To my horror the weight of  my heart was greater than that of the feather. I begged forgiveness for my unknown sins, committed whilst upon this Earth. It was to no avail . My heart was cruelly thrown into the jaws of the crocodile Ammit to be devoured and thus prevent me continuing my journey to the afterlife.

That is why you see me as I am now, devoid of flesh and condemned to lie unburied for eternity.

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Filed under Factual, Flash fiction, History, Old knowledge, Otherworldly, Self compositions

Thursday photo prompt: Conflagration #writephoto

conflagration

It was one of the saddest sights I had ever seen in my home county of Devon. For days we had watched the articulated lorries with trailrrs attached. Each one bigger than the trailers we had only witnessed before on the one train line in or out of the area. The papers were full of the stories of the outbreak but only now was the full scale of the disaster beginning to show itself.

Of course, everyday life had been changed, signs were up at all farm gates that led onto the narrow lanes with dire warnings of the danger within. Road blocks were everywhere restricting passage to all but bona fide government workers. No more ramblers enjoying the countryside. In the towns and villages, anywhere where cars and other motor vehicles were likely to congregate the entrances were strewn with straw and all around the pervasive smell of strong disinfectant.

Minibuses drove up the lanes following the heavy lorries. Through the windows, it was possible to see human figures. All dressed in the same white coveralls, reminiscent of the NBC suits we donned during exercises whilst in the forces, It was more like a scene from the Roswell or Area 51 movies. Behind these came the oil-tankers all in a convoy heading for the high ridges. Ridges where recently excavated trenches were now filled with the carcases of many thousands of newly shot farm animals, cattle and sheep piled up to the lip in their mass graves.

The hills resounded with the shouts of these eerie white figures as they lit the bonfires and stood admiring their sad handiwork while all in the land looked at the flames and the towering clouds of smoke. Nostrils filled with the acrid smell as of over-roasted beef and greasy smuts of soot blew wherever the wind carried them to land on car and house windows throughout the area.

By night the fires continued to burn. It was like looking up to the edge of some once-forgotten but now suddenly alive volcano. The gloom and sadness was all pervading and for once there was sympathy for the farmers on whom we had always poured such scorn. An attitude that perisits to this day. Even we felt sorry for the victims of the dread, “Foot and Mouth disease.”

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Filed under Factual, From the heart, History, Self compositions, Temperatures rising

Twittering Tale #85 – 22 May 2018

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My grandmother looked so small and fragile in her high-backed chair as she stared out over the darkening sea.

Above us, the clouds foretold a storm in the offing.

We both knew that one more gale and the last house in Hallsands could slide into the encroaching sea. 259c

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