http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/en-EUhttp://backend.userland.com/rss092http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/http://data5.blog.de/design/preview/bb/72b4de38e690cf2d5c17716a5851a3_160x200.jpg <p>The Old-Timers Tales</p> <p>The chattering of crickets and locusts accompany us<br> As we venture into the deep woodlands. We scoop<br> Up some chunks of split wood which we can use to<br> Start a campfire. We have brought hot dogs,<br> Marshmallows and anything else to snack on<br> While we explore the caves. Once they were<br> A place where moonshine was made, but that<br> Was a long time ago. Still, we like to impress<br> The city kids with our wild and crazy past. The<br> Trees are old, with a sense of timelessness that<br> Lingers in the wake of legend and fabled times.<br> The cut and dried explanations of today might<br> Shatter a few of the old-timers load of talk<br> But even so called scientific facts may make<br> Only a small dent in our load of local folklore.</p> <p>Words: Shatters, chattering, wakes, moonshine, splits, cut,<br> crazy, anything, giggle, load, scoop, cave, sense </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/06/16/wordle-for-15-june-16133929/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p> http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/06/16/wordle-for-15-june-16133929/Sun, 16 Jun 2013 21:39:34 +0200 <p>Before (Continued story @161 recursion)</p> <p>“How could this have happened?” Words heard over<br> and over again. Sobbed, whispered, wailed.<br> Our beautiful city, our orderly, obedient people<br> Captured and turned into slaves by the enemy.</p> <p>How could this have happened – even in their<br> Deepest misery, the people still questioned.<br> Hundreds, yes hundreds, more than generations<br> Have known and sung the history of this place.<br> Watchers had been posted on the hills, all the<br> Hills which formed the background of the city.</p> <p>This city on the seacoast, its harbor filled with<br> Ships from all the known world. But even all<br> The ships taken together could not be filled with<br> Soldiers capable of storming into the streets, burning,<br> Looting, an invasion which came not from the<br> Sear where the watchers were posted, but from<br> An opening in the hills – an opening so secret<br> That only certain families knew of its existence<br> Those noble names, those families that provided<br> The leaders, the statesmen, had also been the<br> Family of the betrayer.</p> <p>Down the streets the soldiers marched, selecting<br> Their captives which they would take back to their<br> Home country. Young people, mostly, men and<br> Women and children in their teens, ready to grow<br> Into the places assigned to them, where they could<br> Be most useful to those monsters – the invaders.<br> They were marched away and few were ever seen<br> Again. The city smelled of garbage, rotting flesh<br> And ashes. A veil of smoke hovered over its<br> Rooftops, people sang and chanted rituals of<br> Mourning, of despair.</p> <p>Glinka, who at that time had seen 14 winters and<br> Her younger siste, Twila, a little over 10 were<br> Taken along with a younger brother. They were<br> Hurried away with the screams of their mother<br> Echoing in their ears. Twila cried constantly.<br> Glinka vowed to herself they would never see<br> Her tears, but as they made their nightfall camp<br> On the old fishing beach, she, too wept</p> <p>They were not bound, but those who attempted<br> An escape were clubbed to death in full sight<br> Of the other captives – a lesson to be learned.<br> Other than that, the guards did not touch them, but<br> Let them step aside for bodily functions, which<br> Were watched from a slight distance. Words<br> Were exchanged by both sides as each seemed<br> Eager to know the others language. The captives<br> Were curious as to the circumstances of their<br> Betrayal, but the soldiers were of a common caste<br> And knew little of the goings on of those higher<br> Than themselves.. They shared their captives’<br> Curiosity and passed along bits of information<br> When they were able.</p> <p>Glinka though often of the watchers, those who<br> Stood guard on the cliffs, watching for signs of<br> Invasion from the sea, the first glimmer of sails<br> Belonging to strange ships. But their efforts were<br> In vain. Someone had informed the enemy of the<br> Tunnels under the mountain where the water flowed<br> And the passageways that accompanied them, built<br> By the ancestors - who knew how many hundreds of<br> Years ago, A secret that men had guarded with their<br> Lives and now the ultimate bet rayal. Oh, woe to<br> That person and his line of descendents still breathing!</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/06/14/before-con-t-story-16126015/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p> http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/06/14/before-con-t-story-16126015/Fri, 14 Jun 2013 17:24:06 +0200 <p>The Last Time You Were Here</p> <p>I will let the thunder of the jets eliminate<br> Any need for speech.<br> Our steps are careful as we cross the curb<br> To the parking lot.</p> <p>Our status will stay calm, spewing<br> Nonsense is a waste of time<br> I have turned the page, my lesson<br> Learned, already claimed by the<br> Past, inch by foot by yard.</p> <p>It is time for you to fly away<br> Swifter than any car can run.<br> Soon you will be looking<br> Down at the blue Pacific<br> Shimmering in the morning sun.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/06/09/wordle-for-sunday-9-june-16106339/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p> http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/06/09/wordle-for-sunday-9-june-16106339/Sun, 09 Jun 2013 16:38:32 +0200 <p>The Return</p> <p>A gathering of women, some tottering on canes, others swollen<br> with pregnancy. Many children running about catching the<br> excitement that hovers in the crisp autumn air.<br> Glinka is waiting with them, the news of a great victory<br> Sweetens the atmosphere, wild grapes ripe and swollen<br> Fallen to the ground, gathered by the busy children.</p> <p>The return of the men The lovers and the fathers,<br> Once again the households complete –<br> Almost all ready to rejoice, though the knowledge of<br> Deaths in battle waits like a border of clouds<br> Advancing from the far horizon.</p> <p>Glinka has heard the news. Etan has survived -<br> His actions heroic, he will be anointed as the<br> New king. Yes, the people had fought to rid<br> The country of the royal family and they had left-<br> All of that careless, selfish, greedy royal line.</p> <p>But this time it will be different. Etan is<br> Of the people, he will have a court made up of<br> Common people to advise him – he will listen<br> To their advice. He has fought heroically, what<br> Better training for a ruler could there be?</p> <p>He appears, the crowd bows and scrapes the ground!<br> Once a lowly foot soldier, hiding in the underbrush<br> Now a proud leader on a handsome horse.<br> He will be the savior of us all! The air rings and<br> Reverberates with choruses of cheers!</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/06/07/the-return-16100289/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p> http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/06/07/the-return-16100289/Fri, 07 Jun 2013 16:31:43 +0200 <p>Closing Time at the Superheroes Café</p> <p>By now, most of the tables<br> Have been drawn closer together<br> The Incredible Hulk and his buddies<br> Spread over a table where they gather</p> <p>To watch the wrestlers on TV<br> Only Batman sits alone, from time to time<br> He glances at the gang where Superman<br> And Lois Lane laugh among the Powers That Be</p> <p>It is just behind the jukebox where Robin<br> Tries to hide in vain, as he can see<br> Batman’s eyes fastened on the gleaming<br> Hairdo of the girl who once was sobbing</p> <p>He has calmed her now and together<br> They share a drink and hold each other’s hand<br> She is surprised that Batman doesn’t understand<br> That Robin is able to go out on his own, whether</p> <p>Batman approves of the company he keeps -<br> They arrange a rendezvous when Batman sleeps.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/06/06/30-by-30-challenge-day-16097152/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p> http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/06/06/30-by-30-challenge-day-16097152/Thu, 06 Jun 2013 19:10:12 +0200 <p>Winter</p> <p>The prairie rests today<br> Only the swirl of wind<br> Through broken grass disturbs<br> Its vault of next years’ seeds.<br> Each one craving the release<br> The rapture in its throat<br> As it opens to let the nimble<br> Grains emerge and swell<br> And turn the prairie back<br> To green.<br> The rumble of the train<br> That passes through the<br> Empty halls of snow.<br> Now winter walks the land<br> that dreams of harvests yet<br> to come<br> when trains once more will<br> stop and load the gleaming grain<br> and bring the harvest home<br> to everyone.</p> <p>words: nimble, throat, each, rapture, limbs, crave, swirl, wind,<br> vault,halls, prairie, train </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/06/02/sunday-whirl-wordle-16082816/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p> http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/06/02/sunday-whirl-wordle-16082816/Sun, 02 Jun 2013 17:42:01 +0200 <p>Touch the Sky! Page 1 of 2</p> <p>When the wind blew, I swayed with it<br> Have I told you of the trees in Gdar’s forest?<br> How their branches touched and interwove<br> With one another, how, from the ground<br> The sky was unseen, though here and there<br> A stray beam of sunlight fell between the leaves.</p> <p>When he left us at Gdar’s place, Etan had told<br> Me I must obey her every word. Otherwise,<br> The National soldiers would capture us and<br> We would never be a family again. Gdar<br> Seemed ordinary enough. Old, of course, with<br> A tanned wrinkled face, a bit stout, but muscles<br> Rippled beneath her skin and her eyes were bright<br> With knowing. She produced dull looking bowls<br> Of porridge, but it was tasty enough and Anyet<br> Always licked her bowl clean. I helped to<br> Clean the house and the bird cages and Gdar<br> Minded the garden. A few days after Etan’s<br> Departure, we heard the frantic pounding<br> Of hooves. It was a neighbor, come to warn us.</p> <p>Gdar had been waiting for this. It was sundown<br> And we all walked into the forest. There was<br> Something odd about those trees – the way<br> Their branches touched each other and then<br> Their sturdy trunks, standing alone within<br> A small circle of moss covered ground. Why<br> Did I feel that they knew everything that was<br> Going to happen? Why did I feel a connection,<br> As though we were sisters? I immediately<br> Started to worry about Twila, but the trees<br> Re-assured me that she would be all right.</p> <p>My mind is hazy as to what happened after<br> That. I remember we three small people<br> Walking between the giant trees and a<br> Feeling of supreme peace. Gdar was in<br> No hurry. Anyet would pause and reach<br> For a flower or pick a pretty stone from<br> The ground. Birds flew overhead and I<br> Felt their friendship.</p> <p>Darkness had arrived. That first evening<br> I turned to look at the ground and it was page 2 of 2<br> Far below me. I had no legs nor feet.<br> Up above my head, my arms were holding<br> Great bunches of leaves. Two small trees<br> Were growing from my center. I recognized<br> Them as my baby son and daughter Anyet.<br> They were asleep, dreaming and I knew that<br> If I pleased, I could enter their dreams. </p> <p>There was too much to see before I considered<br> That. I had never been a tree before. It was<br> Not something I had thought about, but now<br> It seemed perfectly natural. Voices below<br> Me were speaking with a strange accent.<br> Soldiers! The soldiers of the old king,<br> The one who was trying to kill Etan and<br> Destroy all who were fighting to give<br> More liberty to the people.</p> <p>There was no possible way I could make<br> Any kind of sound – there was only the<br> Wind, blowing lightly through my crown<br> Of leaves, As for the soldiers who were<br> Preparing to sleep beneath my shelter –<br> What a joke it would be!</p> <p>This is how we waited for Etan’s return<br> The routines of the forest occupied out<br> Days and naps were frequent. The children<br> Were happy. Life as a tree seemed to them<br> To be the most natural thing in this world.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/05/29/touch-the-sky-con-t-story-poem-16069258/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p> http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/05/29/touch-the-sky-con-t-story-poem-16069258/Wed, 29 May 2013 15:54:47 +0200 <p>The Stone Bird</p> <p>The stone bird had no feathers<br> So it could not fly.<br> Whoever had carved the stone bird<br> Had cut small indentations where<br> A bird’s feathers are supposed to be.<br> The bird rested as if it were sitting<br> On a nest.</p> <p>It was not sitting on a nest, but on<br> A pillar in front of the entrance<br> To the hospital for the study of<br> Incurable illnesses. It did not look<br> Content. Some said it looked<br> Angry. Others said it looked sad.</p> <p>Some birds have gray feathers and<br> Look beautiful, but this bird, who was<br> made of stone and had no feathers<br> only looked uncomfortable.</p> <p>If it were in a tree, it would probably<br> Be a tree in winter, with bare branches<br> Beneath a sky that was the same color<br> As its body</p> <p>One morning, some of the people who<br> Worked at the hospital for the study of<br> Incurable illness decorated the stone bird<br> With the colors of their school’s football<br> Team. The next week, others decorated<br> The bird with their colors. Then they<br> Began to decorate the bird for seasons<br> And holidays and special occasions.</p> <p>Now, all the people who went in and out<br> Of the hospital for the study of incurable<br> Illnesses looked forward to seeing the<br> Stone bird. Some said the stone bird<br> Had begun to look happy. They said<br> That some day, it might even fly away.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/05/27/the-stone-bird-16061792/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p> http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/05/27/the-stone-bird-16061792/Mon, 27 May 2013 18:46:53 +0200<p> <small> <a href="http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/05/27/title-16061782/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p> http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/05/27/title-16061782/Mon, 27 May 2013 18:43:59 +0200 <p>To My Love</p> <p>What shall I do with these raggle-taggle<br> Layers of emotion?<br> My heart belongs to you and you alone<br> No other phrase can say it better.</p> <p>In the shifting current of our lives,<br> You are the lighthouse beam that<br> Guides me. – holds me close. How<br> Could I not yield to your every desire?</p> <p>Our children connect us to this<br> Fertile range – an anchor to our<br> Love that grows stronger every hour.</p> <p>Words: connect phrase current anchor heart layers beam<br> Fertile yield shift close range</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/05/26/sunday-whirl-wordle-16058260/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p> http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/05/26/sunday-whirl-wordle-16058260/Sun, 26 May 2013 16:14:37 +0200 <p>Words sharper than spears</p> <p>“The mouth is the best weapon of a traitor.”<br> I have heard that expression several times<br> Recently and each time I feel a tingle of fear.<br> It is common knowledge among these people<br> Their quick victory over our land was because<br> Of a traitorous plot. Only a few knew of the pass<br> Below the mountains where the water ran under<br> The earth and emerged just outside our capitol<br> City.</p> <p>He talks freely here, they say, that braggart, boasting of<br> His skill and bravery to any who will listen. My<br> Friends tell me he is not well regarded. He was given<br> His mansion and title only to keep him quiet – he who<br> Betrays once, can do so more easily the next time.</p> <p>I know that Etan is one of the leaders of our resistance.<br> I know, too, that the old royalty has been gaining in<br> Power, Last year, we were forced to vacate our<br> Beautiful home and live on the countryside, finding<br> Refuge with one family and then another – never<br> Staying too long, often not even staying together.</p> <p>Our daughter is four winters old. Our son has not<br> Even seen a year. He rides in a sling on my back<br> He is not certain who Etan is. </p> <p>But how bad is our situation? Sometimes we have<br> Had to hide with the animals. Others, we have been<br> Toasted at many week-long parties. Until a year ago,<br> When the great fortress-castle was burned and then<br> Turned to rubble, no one seemed worried. There are<br> Rumors that we did it ourselves in order to blame the<br> Enemy. But the enemy lets it be known that that incident<br> Was only the first of a series to obtain their control.</p> <p>When Etan and I are together, we exist in pure bliss.<br> But Etan has made more journeys recently. The<br> Children and I are with an old lady who lives at<br> The edge of a forest. Etan has shown me secret<br> Paths through the trees where we may escape. I<br> Have sworn that I will not leave him. But he tells<br> me the children must be kept safe.</p> <p>Perhaps they are planning another battle.<br> Etan is keeping his swords sharpened. A<br> Group of older men visit often. A servant<br> Brings food which the old lady and I prepare.<br> I have tried talking to her about Etan. But<br> She will say nothing, only talk about the<br> Weather or some such insignificant subject..</p> <p>Now Etan has brought a horse. Anyet, our<br> Daughter is delighted. She pats it and it will<br> Eat morsels of food from her hand. I have<br> Learned that in this country, horses are used<br> For battle. And I am becoming afraid.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/05/24/poem-for-wwp-16052847/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p> http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/05/24/poem-for-wwp-16052847/Fri, 24 May 2013 21:34:14 +0200 <p>Interlude</p> <p>This is where my love and I<br> Touch and linger in the nebulous<br> Waters of today.<br> Today is all we have –<br> A vision bleak and empty<br> Hovers in the sky like a<br> Barrier opaque to all who dare<br> Disrupt the timing of the universe.</p> <p>We had joined the marchers,<br> Brave, torch-bearing<br> Leaving in their wake<br> Blazing villages, cut-throat<br> Traitors, all our enemies<br> Rotting on a slab , their<br> Bloated bodies a warning<br> No breath of treason to our cause</p> <p>How much longer can this cast<br> Of fools remain ? The enemy<br> Has tools to crush the bravest<br> Volunteer. Still we prevail<br> Our cause is justice and truth<br> Words come easy,<br> Easy enough to hide<br> The sad results of all our daring deeds.</p> <p>Words: opaque, breath, cut, timing, bleak, torch, blazing, vision.<br> touch, nebulous, hover, crush, slab </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/05/19/sunday-wordle-whirl-16022954/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p> http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/05/19/sunday-wordle-whirl-16022954/Sun, 19 May 2013 16:37:27 +0200 <p>From the Ground Up</p> <p>We used sharp, thin stones, pieces of wood.<br> We dug through the frozen crust of the earth<br> And found tubers, dingy and dirt covered, but<br> Ila, who was the leader of our work group and<br> A native of this land, showed us how to roast<br> These nuggets in the ashes of a fire so that<br> They grew soft and mushy and filled us with<br> Nourishment. We were able to survive<br> That winter of starvation and then the people<br> Of that land – those who had not starved<br> To death - rose up in rebellion against their<br> King. Now there was no more difference<br> Between captor and captive and we fought<br> Together for the fair allotment of the food<br> We grew .</p> <p>All of us were thin, with bones that stuck<br> Out, our breasts shrunken nd our stomachs<br> Swollen. My hair was lank and stringy and<br> I would stare into a pool of water and hate<br> The way I looked, but a young man who kept<br> Hanging around told me I was lovely. At<br> First, I thought he was crazy, then I began<br> To be anxious to see him. He popped up<br> often, usually with something to eat.</p> <p>So we nourished ourselves back to health<br> Together. His name was Etan, he came from<br> A royal family, but had been cast out . He<br> Had tried to show them where their greedy<br> Practices were leading them during that winter<br> Of starvation, and managed to escape with his<br> Life and join the rebels. He was my first<br> And only true love. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/05/18/poem-for-wwp-16013499/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p> http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/05/18/poem-for-wwp-16013499/Sat, 18 May 2013 21:10:24 +0200 <p>When the Rain…</p> <p>In this country, they have a saying –<br> “When the rain comes, it comes to stay.”<br> And so it seems. Now I understand<br> The rush to bring the harvest into the barns.<br> Day and night, everyone, the owners<br> And the masters, the workers and even<br> The women and the children toiled<br> In the fields from the first gray opening<br> Of dawn until the moon set and took<br> Away its feeble light.</p> <p>The harvest is secure.<br> There is little rejoicing.<br> The King’s men have come and marked<br> All the choicest shares for the royal estate<br> No one knows if enough will be left<br> To feed everyone until the first harvest.</p> <p>I watched my brother leave with the party<br> Of hunters. That is my youngest brother.<br> I do not know what happened to the others.<br> Twila is still here. She plays with the other<br> Children, I can see them naked, laughing in<br> The rain. She is beginning to turn into<br> A woman. I see the old men watching her.</p> <p>I have had my first baby. I do not know<br> Where they took him, but they are pleased<br> He is a strong boy. If we ever should meet<br> Again, we will not know we are mother<br> And son. Perhaps that is best. The others<br> Have told me it is better not to think<br> About things too much. I can understand<br> That better, now that I have had a child<br> Of my own. Who I will never know.<br> And he will never learn that his birth<br> Mother is from the land of the enemy.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/05/16/poem-for-wwp-15988674/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p> http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/05/16/poem-for-wwp-15988674/Thu, 16 May 2013 02:50:52 +0200 <p> The Great Celebration</p> <p>On the day of the great celebration<br> Ice formed in the basin where we washed our faces,<br> Everyone was too excited to care. I remember<br> Mother wrapping my leggings, She carried<br> You wrapped in her heavy shawl. Your eyes<br> Peeked out at me from beneath your hood.</p> <p>You don’t remember a thing, you were just a baby<br> But I was four winters and yes, I remember the<br> Parade of the brave heroes and the bands with<br> Their loud music and then, later, the dancing in<br> The streets, the donkeys and oxen tied to the<br> Door ways, people, people everywhere, the<br> Speeches and the cheering and at last, we, the<br> Littlest children – in our own parade. I was given<br> A small flag to wave , and I tried to keep it<br> Forever, you remember, I had it for the longest<br> Time – that was my memory of that day, the<br> Celebration of our great victory. How proud<br> We were! We believed our nation was the<br> greatest and no one would dare attack us<br> ever again!</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/05/14/poem-for-wwp-15974413/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p> http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/05/14/poem-for-wwp-15974413/Tue, 14 May 2013 17:36:21 +0200 <p>Quest</p> <p>The cave where dwelled the Mountain King<br> Halfway up the sun-scorched slope<br> Hidden by gravel and broken rocks<br> Mad men made a vow that they would bring<br> Some treasure or at least sign<br> That they had braved the circling vultures<br> And with their fists had opened up the space<br> Binding vines had covered through the years<br> Of sun and shadows, only sacred chants<br> From their own mouths had droned<br> Away the crooks and twisting paths<br> Where they could gain a foothold - even<br> Stand beneath the holy rock<br> Where slept the fury of the storms<br> A feat no man could dare to mock.</p> <p>words: binding, space, sun, circling, mouth, vow, broken, crook, fistr, chants, drone, cave </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/05/12/sunday-whirl-wordle-15958131/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p> http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/05/12/sunday-whirl-wordle-15958131/Sun, 12 May 2013 16:18:52 +0200 <p>If You’ve Got it, Let Them Know</p> <p>A thunderous roar of applause,<br> A thousand cheers, an audience<br> Rising to its feet…</p> <p>Joanna in the front row,<br> In the dressing room after.<br> Sorting through the messages<br> The congratulations, the offers-</p> <p>Joanna of the red hair, the charm<br> “I can feel the talent, pulsing<br> through your fingers”, she<br> had told him.</p> <p>She had arranged the pictures<br> As he helped at the soup kitchen<br> Grateful people, the famous Pianist</p> <p>One old man who spit into his dish.<br> .He had been carefully edited<br> Out of the pictures. </p> <p>Never count the negative. He<br> Concentrated on the Rachmaninov,<br> The Lizst, the “Rhapsody in Blue”.</p> <p>Words: thunderous, count, spit, messages. Soup. Dressing, front,<br> Pulsing, charm, red, thousand, dish</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/05/05/wordle-15839341/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p> http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/05/05/wordle-15839341/Sun, 05 May 2013 20:01:01 +0200 <p>sLost, all loss and desolation</p> <p>Have you already forgotten?<br> Surround by air, this empty air<br> That holds no sound, nothing<br> Familiar beneath the sky, this watered<br> Down milky sky that gives no rain, no clouds</p> <p>Do you remember the place where you entered?<br> The bright, hopeful signs , freshly painted with<br> The colors of morning – the road that you were<br> To follow, the singing of birds?</p> <p>But that was such a long time ago, was it not?<br> And time does not roll out in a single brush-<br> Stroked strip, it wavers and clumps together<br> In small ugly bunches.</p> <p>You try to remember a face, any face, your own,<br> Perhaps, once seen in a mirror, when you were<br> Young and still had pride. Pride, beauty, cleanliness<br> all the modest virtues of your society, taught to<br> you by your mother , as she had been instructed<br> And hers before her and all the women of that line,<br> Good, decent women that obeyed the rules of their<br> Tribe, their inheritance;. mothers who took pride<br> In the raising of brave sons.</p> <p>Ah, now, like a butterfly’s attempt to flutter its wings<br> The feeling returns in a shiver of pain, the tug on the nipple,<br> The turning away, the angry, frustrated wailing. What<br> Happened to that world, that line of brave women, that<br> Iine that lead to you?</p> <p>Like trees, their blossoms swept away by the wind before<br> Any fertilization, any husbanding, any kind of care.<br> This is the world as it is now, the world that no one<br> Will name , only in curses will its memory be invoked.</p> <p>And what of you, girl, pale flower, your treasure ripped<br> And stolen, you and your weeping sisters, and now - can<br> you hear them, on the other side of the mountain,<br> On their way to stand beside you in your orgy of woe,<br> Faces scarred and garments rent, days prayed into nights<br> and nights-- their never ending darkness your only place to hide.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/05/03/lost-all-is-lost-and-desolation-15822578/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p> http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/05/03/lost-all-is-lost-and-desolation-15822578/Fri, 03 May 2013 19:31:49 +0200 <p>Another Me</p> <p>My name is Carl. I am a boy. When I walk<br> Up to the plate and the bases are loaded, all<br> I hear is cheers. The cheers are even louder<br> When my line drive clears the bases. When<br> I throw the ball, no one ever groans.</p> <p>Pa and his buddies and their sons take me along<br> When they go to fish around the islands. We<br> Dive into water so clear you can see the perch<br> and whitefish & walleye and small crabs on<br> the bottom. Maybe a bit of algae for the fish.</p> <p>When I grow up, I play French horn in the<br> Cleveland orchestra and trumpet in my<br> Group. We play progressive jazz and I<br> Meet Dizzy Gillespie and Stan Kenton.</p> <p>After the end of World War II, there were<br> No more wars, so I never had to worry<br> About being drafted. I was able to publish<br> A few science fiction novels and several<br> Books of poetry. They are still in print.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/04/29/poem-for-miz-quickly-s-pad-15806618/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p> http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/04/29/poem-for-miz-quickly-s-pad-15806618/Mon, 29 Apr 2013 19:56:59 +0200 <p>The Soup Kitchen</p> <p>A harrowing experience<br> Cooking the soup<br> We had to borrow the marrow,<br> The broth was thin – almost<br> Transparent, we had to guess<br> Which rare seasoning to add in.</p> <p>We would use either beef or chicken.<br> No more grubs<br> We had taken an oath<br> Not to use them again.</p> <p>We saw our hungry<br> Neighbors march<br> Our ladles poised<br> Ready to begin<br> Serving the hungry<br> Our reward<br> To see the children smile again.</p> <p>words : transparent, marrow, thin, harrowing, borrow, grubs, either,<br> , oath, rare, guess, saw, march </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/04/28/sunday-whirl-wordle-15800785/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p> http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/04/28/sunday-whirl-wordle-15800785/Sun, 28 Apr 2013 16:26:07 +0200 <p>Wild Columbine</p> <p>Wings of the dove trembling on the stripped hillsides -<br> their stems , fragile as grass, lean over the<br> rocky slopes, ready to take flight.</p> <p>Bright red and yellow petals rise among<br> dull rocks and gravel shoals, these bird-<br> blooms sing out their happy news. Look!<br> Spring has come again to these bare<br> neglected hills. </p> <p>After the closing of the quarry, the narrow<br> lanes grew slippery ruts,<br> potholes reached down deep<br> brought up black water, smells<br> of ancient graves.<br> Only the rock was sacrificed here, the<br> Weeds and scrub remain.</p> <p>And in the spring, wild columbine,<br> dances among the stones..</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/04/27/wild-columbine-15794507/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p> http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/04/27/wild-columbine-15794507/Sat, 27 Apr 2013 01:04:05 +0200 <p>No More</p> <p>So we’ll go no more a’roving<br> The bars are all shut down<br> The traffic lights still flashing<br> silent is our town.</p> <p>Our footsteps on the pavement<br> echo through empty air.<br> The parking lots are vacant<br> since cars were towed from there.</p> <p>We’ll find a place for loving<br> in some small and stuffy room.<br> Through the empty store-front windows<br> coldly gleams the moon.</p> <p>· First line taken from “We’ll go no More” by Lord Byron</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/04/25/no-more-15789291/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p> http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/04/25/no-more-15789291/Thu, 25 Apr 2013 17:45:42 +0200 <p>A Late Spring</p> <p>Where the bluebells bloom each May<br> The robins build their nests and sing<br> A chorus of melodies, bright and gay<br> When the sun is shining, the woodlands ring.</p> <p>If winter lingers on the scene<br> Where the bluebells bloom each May<br> The buds will slowly reveal their green<br> When the winds blows south, spring’s on the way.</p> <p>Hurry, spring, please don’t delay<br> Your arrival in our woodland, bare<br> Where the bluebells bloom each May<br> With violets, ferns and trilliums rare.</p> <p>Go away, winter, don’t take all year<br> It’s time for spring, for a sunny day!<br> Turn on the warm, we need some cheer<br> Where the bluebells bloom each May.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/04/23/a-late-spring-a-15781725/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p> http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/04/23/a-late-spring-a-15781725/Tue, 23 Apr 2013 15:53:05 +0200 <p>The Earth is Still Here and We are Still On It<br> (Earth Day 2013)</p> <p>For all the people new to this earth, we send a greeting.<br> We are the people of the US, not the largest spot on<br> The earth occupied by human beings, but certainly<br> The loudest, the most active, the quickest to consume<br> Every element the earth has available, and the one<br> Who manages to stir up the most contention (At<br> The same time, calling ourselves “Peacekeepers.)</p> <p>The earth might enjoy a spell of peace and quiet.<br> Perhaps the earth is tired of having her resources<br> Dug out and scattered, her air thicker and harder<br> To breathe, her climate altered by the activities<br> Of this bunch of advanced apes called “man”.</p> <p>Is there anything that ordinary people, like you<br> And like I can do to achieve this period of calm?<br> We could stop what we are doing now. We could<br> Make sure only clean air rises from our many cities.<br> We could track all of the species that are dangerously<br> Disappearing, find the problem and try to correct it.<br> We could show respect to all the other inhabitants<br> Of this third planet from the sun and make sure<br> No one is wasting or wantonly destroying the<br> Resources of this earth. We could begin with<br> Ourselves. We could realize the importance of<br> Working together . We could set an example of<br> Harmony and the peaceful working out of any<br> Differences that that may arise.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/04/22/earth-day-15778351/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p> http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/04/22/earth-day-15778351/Mon, 22 Apr 2013 16:10:27 +0200 <p>A Manifesto</p> <p>We expected to thrive in this, our promised land.<br> Already, we have built shelters against the winds<br> And storms and spent much energy clearing the land.<br> The first bomb was a shock to everyone. Did<br> The Infidels really hate us that much?<br> Now, our hearts have been hardened against them.<br> Our struggle will not end.<br> We have shipped the weaker ones to<br> A place of safety.<br> Resilience is strong among us.<br> We are ready to negotiate terms<br> That will let us live together<br> In peace.</p> <p>words: shipped resilience promise shelter harden, struggle infidels,<br> against shock spent land thrive bomb</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/04/21/sunday-wordle-15775265/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p> http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/04/21/sunday-wordle-15775265/Sun, 21 Apr 2013 16:49:09 +0200<p> <small> <a href="http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/04/21/title-15775233/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p> http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/04/21/title-15775233/Sun, 21 Apr 2013 16:37:56 +0200 <p>London Bridge is Tired</p> <p>All I wanted was to get away from the fog<br> The cold, the damp, My trusses will never<br> Be the same, but yes, this hot air has helped<br> I never thought I would be homesick for mist.<br> Yes, mist and the smell of the sea and the little<br> Shops along my edges and the people hurrying ,<br> and sometimes lovers making out in a hurry<br> but always the tides in the Thames, yes, I do<br> miss that stupid river, all we did was argue,<br> but I’ll tell you something. If anyone wants<br> to find out what the atmosphere of Hell is like<br> they can come right down here to the (ugh)<br> Arizona desert.</p> <p>Yes, the biggest mistake of my life! Retiring<br> Into a warm, sunny climate was not for me!<br> These tourists don’t even know that London<br> Is still there! They think the whole city<br> Disappeared into the sea of something and<br> Arizona gallantly offered to give me a home!<br> Some home! All right, I will admit to a bit<br> Of grousing about the rain and the damp and<br> That dreadful fog. Now, I hear, some measures<br> Have been taken (what, I have no idea) and the<br> Fog is not the heavy smoke-filled burden it<br> Used to be. NOW they tell me! Now, that I<br> Have been shipped halfway across the world<br> To this desert hell-hole with not even a<br> Puddle in sight and what is a bridge to do?</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/04/18/anniversery-of-transfer-of-london-bridge-to-arizona-15767252/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p> http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/04/18/anniversery-of-transfer-of-london-bridge-to-arizona-15767252/Thu, 18 Apr 2013 19:22:03 +0200 <p>A Re-Discovery</p> <p>Looking for an earring’s mate, my fingers<br> Scraped along the bottom of my jewelry<br> Drawer. And found something I had forgotten<br> All about - a silver penny dated 1943.</p> <p>I remembered how I collected them -<br> Eight years old in that summer of 1943<br> Everyone told me that by the time when I grew up<br> How valuable they would be.</p> <p>So I hoarded silver pennies and as I grew<br> I married and had children of my own.<br> My silver penny collection traveled<br> With me when I moved<br> But it was hidden away and soon I put<br> it out of mind</p> <p>:Little did I know that my children had discovered<br> my penny collection and that they spent with glee<br> every silver penny at the penny candy store.<br> The truth came out and we were sad because of the certainty</p> <p>We had lost a fortune in things that might have been<br> But we got over it and went on with our lives<br> Our children married and gave me grandchildren.</p> <p>And now this morning, my discovery<br> That not every silver penny had been spent.<br> I will not be rich, but I will leave a memory<br> Of silver pennies and old sentiment.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/04/17/a-re-15764175/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p> http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/04/17/a-re-15764175/Wed, 17 Apr 2013 20:22:44 +0200 <p>City Rain</p> <p>All day rain<br> Beginning in darkness<br> Without a sunrise only darkness turning<br> Into a dull gray.</p> <p>By the dimmed streetlights<br> Fine mist of drizzle<br> People with heads bowed down<br> Into umbrellas, hoodies,<br> Hurrying through – don’t get wet-</p> <p>Puddles growing<br> By street curbs, parking lots<br> Wet car keys,. Wet cars<br> Windshield wipers hurry, hurry<br> Brush away the droplets<br> We need to see</p> <p>Leaves uncurling<br> Lawns refreshing<br> Already green is creeping in<br> Where before our world was brown<br> Now everything is refreshed,<br> Trash, garbage floating away<br> Streets and sidewalks clean again<br> By this day of rain.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/04/16/city-rain-15759957/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p> http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/04/16/city-rain-15759957/Tue, 16 Apr 2013 17:12:23 +0200 <p>Survival</p> <p>That night, a slight rain fell<br> that did not saturate the ground.<br> A bold forecaster predicted more<br> rain before sunset. The planters<br> remained skeptical.</p> <p>A sigh of a breeze, more clouds forming,<br> Then falling apart without a drop of moisture.<br> The ground so hard, its crust could not be<br> Pierced with a sword. </p> <p>More clouds gathered at the threshold of<br> The horizon, then began to unwind into<br> Long streaks of gray. Might this be a<br> Sign of rain?</p> <p>The last quarter, the ninth inning, the ultimate<br> Chance that the out of control weather might<br> Decide to favor them again.</p> <p>Words: saturate, bold, control, skeptical, threshold, sigh, slight, unwind, might, ninth.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/04/14/sunday-wordle-15754936/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p> http://Marianv.blog.co.uk/2013/04/14/sunday-wordle-15754936/Sun, 14 Apr 2013 17:10:28 +0200