I wish a foolishness of flowers to
Grace your garden, an idiocy of
Irises, a daftness of dahlias,
Yes…even a recklessness of roses.
Let them flourish and grow and scent and be
As they are, twining their path, pushing through
Hard spaces, as the butterflies and bees
Pass their secret messages one flower …
… to the other, in curious ambits
Of dizzying flight. All will flourish, bloom,
Then wilt, then stocking passions in roots and
Seeds and other hidden places feel those
Buds burst through fresh clean earth. Shoot and stem
And leaf and bright busty blossoms calling
Out that they…
How Robert the Bruce’s spider led me to love
My first historical crush was Robert the Bruce. So brave, hiding in his cave, talking to a spider. He was so beloved that, when he died, they cut out his heart and pickled it. They encased it then in a silver casket, to be strung around the neck on a chain. Perhaps they thought the strong beat would echo through the hearts of the men and lead them to victory in the Crusades. When they lost, it was buried and reburied and buried again. …
The Croatian Football team chooses to stand ‘respectfully’ as others take a knee
So brave to stand by, stand tall.
as others take a knee.
You are not for or against
just standing with your thoughts
which aren’t even about this:
‘somebody else’s problem’.
Perhaps worrying your fans
might like a less respectful stance,
or whether one choice or another
might affect your personal standing,
but if anyone asks…
You are ‘against’, of course…
except if the anyone doesn’t want you to be.
And besides, it is not your issue,
only injustices that affect you and yours,
are worthy of attention, so
stand by and watch
as they throw stones and bottles at the gays.
When you need a hug but a pandemic shakes its finger at you
Did I wake up or just tangle myself so much further in the covers it felt like I was awake? The night had been so fractious I hardly know or care. Sleep is for wimps an insomniac in evident self-denial once said. I fall myself out of bed and stumble into the day in a stupor, and a grumpy one at that. …
The monstrous machine clicks and clacks and grinds out its infernal noises as Cali watches from a dark corner. The machine guards her greatest enemy, her nemesis, but just the sound of the contraption is enough to make the rage swell in her valiant chest. Its incessant racket a provocation beyond bearing, never mind the abomination it shelters within. But…the hour nears…she thinks, and she is ready.
Both machine and occupant are an affront. She — the descendent of Kings, of Deities! Worshipped far and wide. Her eyes narrow. She cannot comprehend how it has come to this…
a bite-size dog tale (straight from the doggy’s maw)
Some dogs have eyes that gaze as though they take in everything, filled with compassion, an all-encompassing acceptance, forgiveness even, for all the stupidities and foibles a human might display. They are man’s best friend, loyal, kind, protective, patient, dutiful.
It’s early days — but I don’t think I’m that kind of dog.
I’m special, you see. Time will only tell just what kind of dog I am beyond my cute nose and adorable fluff, but…I think…I’m likely…valiant mostly (at least when it comes to defending my ball), a lollopy free…
Hrvatski Haiku — learning a language 17 syllables at a time
ljut — angry, hot, mad, bitter, pissed, cross, peppery, racy, grim (see strog), severe, huffish
I may have mentioned that Croatian, or rather Dalmatinski, sounds to me like everybody is angry — all of the time. That Mr Peculiar can be having a perfectly cordial conversation with someone and I’ll be stood there, uncomprehending, wondering when it will kick off into fisticuffs or another war. …
There was a distance imposed
part of its job I guess
if you will live on the other side
of the world.
I can’t get my head that far around
all the way to you
as, anyway, we could send a message
with the flick of a few fingers…
and I knew that when I did see you
all would be well
all would be the sharing
of our history, our family
words spoken over decades
our soap collections
letters in pastel colours…
there was lots of fun
cutting out and sticking
and pictures drawn
Writer of poetry, prose, and the occasional rant. I like to feed the monsters under my bed with story cake and poem pastries. Is peculiar (Julia)