Friday, August 31, 2012

Friday is Skyday

And elder sunset ...
... so to write.

Thursday, August 30, 2012

Laughing Lhursday

ba-na-na-na ...
Typo in the title?
Nah. It's just that I would not let a tiny T spoil an avantgardistic alliteration.

Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Beauty ...

... is in the eye of the beholder.


Plum, apples, mouse.

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Impressionism ...

... not necessarily is impressive.

Saturday, August 25, 2012


Fishbone patttern.

Wasp ...

... on grilled and marinaded courgette.

Shadows are ...

... getting longer.

Thursday, August 23, 2012

Laughing Lhursday

Sheepish egg.

Typo in the title?
Nah. It's just that I would not let a tiny T spoil an avantgardistic alliteration.

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Sunday, August 19, 2012

Saturday, August 18, 2012

There is no Holy Mother

... and neither there is a god.

Obviously, hm?

Or why do so many criminal bastards reign in such many countries? 

Probably each of them and all (!) their toadies need to die, at once.

Good luck!

Friday, August 17, 2012

The fields of ...

... selfhood.

Scrap dealer's passing

Lucrative job in a throwaway society.
Three scrap dealers each Saturday
are passing the village at walking pace.
One of them twice a week.
The petrol price? Peanuts. Obviously.

Wild beauty

Friday is Skyday

Crossing the road

... or
dancing in the rain.

Thursday, August 16, 2012

Brothers in Arms

These mist covered mountains
Are a home now for me
But my home is the lowlands
And always will be

Some day you'll return to
Your valleys and your farms
And you'll no longer burn
To be brothers in arm

Through these fields of destruction
Baptism of fire
I've watched all your suffering
As the battles raged higher

And though they did hurt me so bad
In the fear and alarm
You did not desert me
My brothers in arms

There's so many different worlds
So many different suns
And we have just one world
But we live in different ones

Now the sun's gone to hell
And the moon's riding high
Let me bid you farewell
Every man has to die

But it's written in the starlight
And every line on your palm
We're fools to make war
On our brothers in arms

Monday, August 13, 2012

Sunday, August 12, 2012

Satisfied curiosity

The first new potatoes tasted well today,
and so did the beans.

Praised be the button

Tonight, watching the closing ceremony of the London 2012 Games and after two hours consulting my watch I had to learn that only ten minutes had passed.
Luckily our TV has a button to press.

Thursday, August 09, 2012

Wednesday, August 08, 2012

Homage to Sir Chris Hoy

As I did not yet have the pleasure to portrait Sir Chris Hoy
this is my way of bowing not only to a 'Flying Scotsman'
but to a great sportsman.

Bugman II

A species likely to survive
the war that will not be mentioned
in history books of those primates
calling themselves humans

[as there will not be written any, anymore].

Monday, August 06, 2012

Sunday, August 05, 2012

Coffee klatsch

Tiny taste of Tintagel

Enough to go round

... and why would I come to think of Bulgakov?

Friday, August 03, 2012

Friday is Skyday

Where to turn left ...
...or right.

Calling myself an Aesthete

Mostly, faded puppies do not look very attractive. 
Certain aesthetes amongst gardeners would, therefore,
pull them out ...
... and probably not come to know ...
... that slowly rotting poppy-leaves are a delicacy for hoverflies.
Anyway, in Seanhenge the elegant bees :) are welcome.

Wednesday, August 01, 2012