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Saturday, 24 December 2011

Some Carol-Singers!

(best in full screen)

Tuesday, 26 July 2011

for the Arbeidernes Ungdomsfylking lost and survivors -- by Doc Shoot

of stone and dust we are born

of water and air

and each to our mother breast

and then a single breath

drawn in and out how many times

each one a gift

until again the earth draws near

and claims us altogether made finite.

seen briefly as seaspray,

as the shadow of a dream we should have made,

we are finally etched into stone then dust we are

water and air

and the breath of children reborn

Monday, 30 May 2011

While you're waiting....

.... for the blog to wake up again, here are the very wonderful Playing for Change once more.

Wednesday, 20 April 2011

Being happy -- by Mimitig

Days to remember
Days to forget
These last few years have held
More days of sadness than of joy.
Sometimes I find it hard to smile
To laugh
To be the person I am paid to be
The cheery one.
Sometimes I want to curl and cry
Lock the doors, shut out the world.
Then one thing happens – someone makes me laugh
Makes me chuckle, snigger, choke with tears
Of laughter.
It happens when I expect it least.
When all I learn is of sadness,
Sometimes it’s people that I meet
Sometimes it’s emails from people that I greet
Sometimes it’s people that I meet and greet
Sometimes it’s people who make me greet.
That’s Scottish – look it up.
Life is never fair and not often funny
Life tends towards the struggle.
Sometimes though, life just is a joy.
Seize that, love that, laugh at that.
Don’t dwell on why the Angelus went bad.
Dwell on why there is an Angelus.
All of life is a reference
Most people don’t know our own personal references
You, my reader, don’t know who I mean
By the Angelus
But it is real, in my frame
Of reality.

Friday, 21 January 2011

Abridged -- by File

 photo "Hopscotch to Oblivion"  by Andy Wright


Bridge Building for Beginners

How princesses and pirates were press-ganged from plastic
cutlery, paper cups, papier-mâché,
newspaper hats, patches, paint.
The headlines, the cover-ups! How we as kids
recycled wonder from waste.

How our kids still rattle packets, heckle boxes ‘n sniff
‘n sneak, happily peeking illegally
into wrappers under our trees.
The reach of our trees exceeds our long arms! Now our kids
whisper-up worlds in their sleep.

How our kids use books to build houses and bridges
with walls ‘n floors ‘n rooves ‘n all,
‘n angles ‘n arches ‘n eaves.
It’s what pulped wood’s good for! How our kids
build bridges with leaves.

Engineering wonders; how pirates evolve,
as recycled love via bridges, from nerds.
How our kids grow out of ourselves, off our shelves
and into our lives. How the internet lives! How our world
grows out of our words.

Bridging – The Gap

Life under a hard hat, the constant
cacophony of construction, percussive
tools ‘n tool belt, tool box, pick-up truck and
heavy callused hands try to touch softest skin, can’t
sand down thick skin enough
to allow contact.

Tries like a nail gun,

can’t, can’t, can’t.

Saturday, 15 January 2011

Autumn and Spring -- by Mimitig

from anime 'Windy Tales' (風人物語): 'Cherry Blossom Time' (櫻のころ)

Such a dichotomy of emotion
Is April the cruellest month or is
Autumn the Keatsian rich season?
For me both are full of riches
And the ultimate sorrow
Both are death

Teenage death with cherry blossom
Sudden death – like blossoms falling from the trees
Autumnal sorrow as slow death approaches
Life failing, breath shuddering as leaves fall
As the night closes in so slow death arrives

Funerals so different too
Springtime with soft rain
Gentle tears to say goodbye
Autumn with sudden gusts of
Gale and storm
Tantrums to rail against the loss

In springtime, for youth, a tree was planted
In autumn, mourners fought umbrellas

In the end all is equal
On the first day a teenager
Cried for her first love
Later a young woman cried for her father
Spring or autumn, both seasons bring sorrow
And both bring joy