Same Procedure as Every Year

Sieh da, sieh da!

This morning at nine
hundreds of cranes passed Seanhenge.
Winter's coming. Late.

To my Sister

To my sister

Sister, rise up after your freedom,
why are you quiet?
rise up because henceforth
you have to imbibe the blood of tyrannical men.

Seek your rights, Sister,
from those who keep you weak,
from those whose myriad tricks and schemes
keep you seated in a corner of the house.

How long will you be the object of pleasure
In the harem of men's lust?
how long will you bow your proud head at his feet
like a benighted servant?

How long for the sake of a morsel of bread,
will you keep becoming an aged haji's temporary wife,
seeing second and third rival wives.
oppression and cruelty, my sister, for how long?

This angry moan of yours
must surly become a clamorous scream.
you must tear apart this heavy bond
so that your life might be free.

Rise up and uproot the roots of oppression.
give comfort to your bleeding heart.
for the sake of your freedom, strive
to change the law, rise up.
Forough Farrokhzad 29.12.1934 - 13.02.1967

Merry Christmas

. . .

Barbecue

The meat was delicious.

On the Road

Stopping on my way:
some trees and parts of a shed.
The meeting was nice.

We will all go together

. . . and there will be no one be clapping at the end. :) 

When you are Old and Gray

High Security VI

High Security Shed.

Friday is Skyday

Morning Encounter:
Winterly Magnolia,
The Moon and Venus

High Security V

High Security Shed.

Kisstree

Lots of mistletoes
to tenderly kiss under.
Just get the feeling.

High Security IV

Unopenable, obviously.

Leaves

When the leaves will sink
the stones will swim.

High Security III

High Security Shed

My Walden . . .

Where I used to walk

as long as my legs let me.

I am still grateful.

High Security II

High Security Shed.

Late beauty

End of October
vanessa atalanta
taking a sun-bath.

High Security I

High Security Shed.

Miscellany

For a while I had to be busy with not-blogging.

Done.

I am looking forward to enjoy . . . leisure.
Leisure to read ... leisure to think ... to re-think .... to contemplate ... to write ...

Thus, in case I might again become very busy with not-blogging:

Take good care of yourself and your thoughts, please.

Friday is Skyday

8:49

Home

Warsan Shire

Democracy à la USA

Friday is Skyday

13 / 12 / 11

 

Cranes Singing Farewell

. . . or rather:
Cranes over Seanhenge
discussing where to spend the night.

Golden October

Autumn in Seanhenge.

Juice being made

Fertig zum Mosten.
They became apple juice today.
The rest is stored in the cellar - for the birds and us.

 

Aberfan

At 9.15am on Friday October 21st 1966, after several days of heavy rain, a huge slag tip above the town of Aberfan in South Wales suddenly liquified and poured down the mountain. The black tidal wave demolished properties in its path and engulfed the Pantglas Junior School in seconds. Of the 144 people who lost their lives that day, 116 were children. The tragedy was totally preventable. The National Coal Board had been warned time and time again of the dangers of dumping slag in such a geologically unstable area above towns. They chose to ignore the warnings claiming it wasn't profitable for them to move the slag tips to safer locations. After the disaster, donations from all over the world poured in for the shattered community. However, most of the money never reached Aberfan. Instead the Government gave it to the National Coal Board so that they could move other slag tips overlooking other towns in South Wales.

The great Welsh writer and broadcaster Gwyn Thomas delivered his own moving tribute to the victims of the tragedy on the BBC the morning of the mass funeral. This is an excerpt from his eulogy

Aberfan Disaster Documentary

A little History

Well worth the hour,
and if it were to learn that

The price
of apathy
towards public affairs
is to be ruled
by evil men
Plato
&
Claude

1 Howard & 1 Harper = 2 Evil Bastards

When will the vast majority understand?

People like these are evil!! Bastards (Nothing against ordinary bastards.).

How could a majority of Canadian voters give a hypocritical bastard like Harper, a corrupt puppet like Harper the license to go on and on and on . . . ?

May not only his  toupee be blown away.


By the way, once again: Who wrote this very script in 2003?]

Stephen Harper Hates Me –2

Stephen Harper Hates

Harperman, it's time for you to go!

Mr. Turner is accused of breaching the government of Canada's values and ethics code for public servants by recording and posting following song.

Friday is Skyday

. . .

On the Road

Home, misty home.

Neighbourhood

The other Sunday
I got these delicious grapes
reached over the fence.

Dear Rowan

A birthday present
after ten years a grown-up.
An old man's delight.

Cui bono?

As so often, my heart it cries.

One apple

. . . a day . . .

Endgame

It's . . .

. . . over.

Friday is Skyday

Fiery.

On the Road

Chimneys

. . .

Augury

The more berries on the rowan 
the harder the winter will become.
At least "they" say so.

October's near

Still some pleasure for the eyes here and there.

Man of La Mancha

Friday is Skyday

Watching . . .

Tree of Imagination

The tree which moves some to tears of joy
is in the eyes of others only a green thing
that stands in the way. 
Some see nature all ridicule and deformity...
and some scarce see nature at all.
But to the eyes of the man of imagination,
nature is imagination itself. William Blake

 

Lazy Sunday Afternoon

On the Road

Bales in morning mist
on my way back with warm rolls
for Sunday breakfast.

Food for the Eyes

Where next year's potatoes will grow.

On the Road

Oh, a treendow.
Or rather a trindow.
Anyway, nice view.

Huida de la Vida

Not only because
Miss J. once contributed:
a gem in my shelves.

Federico García Lorca (5 June 1898 – 19 August 1936)

Some more Tomatoes

Datterini

and four different sorts more

we let grow at five places.

Sicilian Lady

Growing in Seanhenge.
Marinda from Sicily.
Last year I took seeds.