fiddle, faddle piddle, paddle a bit of this, a touch of that inside, outside, inside out here and there and all about this way, that way, sideways too weeding, whacking a click and… snap time to take a morning nap front door, back door up on the roof crank call from a telephone booth up and down and all around highs and lows and lost and found hot and cold and polished gold through the garden up to the hedge wave and smile and chat awhile chirp, chirp, chirp across the sky stop to watch as the sparrows fly by and by, a dreamy sigh spinning, swirling, shaking so back outside to watch the show soon the sun will start to fade ending yet another day twinkle, twinkle little star daddy thinks its in the car down the stairs and out the door be right back to try once more left and right and in between catch my breath and stop to lean against the stairs but for a sec the day has vanished oh so quick back and forth and up and down wipe and rinse and nearly drown one, two, three, from a to zed time to fall into my bed slowly drifting out of sight lost in dreams throughout the night
With the criminal actions of Vladimir Putin and the Russian Federation, the world is less safe today. Democracy, freedom and the stability of Europe are threatened by the unprovoked invasion of Ukraine. The world must respond harshly and without waiver in condemning the despicable act of war initiated by a tyrant and bully. This may seem abstract and distant to many in the West, do not be lulled into a false sense of security. Russian aggression and our responses are being watched by China and other threats to human rights, freedom of speech and the very core values of free and democratic societies. Now is the time for the international community to show these despots that our resolve is strong. Stand strong for Ukraine, Europe and for freedom everywhere.
Vladimir the Terrible, Has he gone insane? At the word of a madman Tovarishchi Putin Ukraine.
Across the border At lighting pace, With an F. U. to the world, “I Putin your face!”
To the West I implore You’d best not forpass. zanimat’sya svoim delom or I’m Putin nukes up your ass.
For his reckless actions, International sanctions he’ll face, But with Beijing behind him He won’t be Putin his place
No time to be insouciant, We must stand up as one, Thumb our noses at tyrants And with Putin be done.
For this act of war, He deserves a beat down, or a dose of Novichok For to be Putin the ground.
tovarishchi (товарищи) – Russian for “comrades” zanimat’sya svoim delom (заниматься своим делом) – Russian for “mind your business”
“I knew it was going to be one of those days,” Jeannie started. “When I pulled back the curtains, the bright blue of the spring sky burned in my eyes and my temples pounded — boom / boom / boom — from the wings of a butterfly that fluttered by the window and too much cheap wine.
“I didn’t think it could get any worse,” she continued, “but my mouth dropped open when some dark haired naked dude stepped through the bedroom door and into my living room. ‘Babe, what a night; you got da bod and da moves,’ he said in that greasy New York accent I despised.”
“I wished I was a ghost, I wanted to disappear into the weaving of the couch fabric. Unfortunately, I can recount too many stories like this one. I was scuffling and knew it, I’d hit rock bottom. That is why I am here seeking help. I am Jeannie and I am an alcoholic.”
The tick of the clock slams like a hammer against Arianne’s eardrum. Her eyes growing heavy as the itinerant sun slips towards the western horizon. Endless reds, oranges and yellows spill from the heavens, onto the blue canvas sky Great billowing cloud herds transiting the azure ocean are set ablaze against the fiery sunset. Arianne sits by the open window, hypnotised by the meadow sages bending in the evening breeze. Luminecent fireflies dance leaving fading trails of ghost strings amongst the old grey stones. Whilst wisps of fairy dust swirl in the magical air, like lacy strands gilding her already flaxen hair. She know not who the traveller is, only that the journey ends at the old weathered gate. How much longer must she wait before her limit hath been reached. For as long as she has a heartbeat she has sworn to help her weary guest reach the finish.
Having kids when you are young is a very difficult task; I mean, most days you struggle to care for yourself. Christ, you’re barely an adult, still trying to reconcile the memories of your parent’s handy work with your naive idea of parenting. Everything is a crisis, usually warranting a trip to the family practitioner or the emergency room. Nothing is more embarrassing than waiting six hours to watch a doctor slap a band-aid on a scraped knee and send you home.
A distance from your own upbringing and the knowledge gathered through life provides you with a sagacious foresight that translates into a more confident parenting experience. The problem for older parents is how tired they are at the end of every day; why do those little rug rats need to be so damned rambunctious!
From the Latin word for “patchwork,” the cento (or collage poem) is a poetic form composed entirely of lines from poems by other poets. Definition of the poetry form taken from poets.org
Suddenly there came a tapping,1 Out of the night that covers me.2 Who are these coming to the sacrifice,3 With throats unslaked, with black lips?4
We wear the mask that grins and lies,5 Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light.6 Though it be darkness there,7 Some say the world will end in fire.8
No man is an island,9 And all the men and women merely players.10 We passed the school where children played,11 And that has made all the difference.12
Footnotes: 1) The Raven – Edgar Allen Poe / 2) Invictus – William Ernest Henley / 3) Ode to a Grecian Urn – John Keats / 4) The Rime of the Ancient Mariner – Samuel Taylor Coleridge / 5) We Wear the Mask – Paul Laurence Dunbar / 6) Dover Beach – Matthew Arnold / 7) There is another sky – Emily Dickenson / 8) Fire and Ice – Robert Frost / 9) No Man is an Island – John Donne / 10) All the World’s a Stage – William Shakespeare / 11) Because I could not stop for Death – Emily Dickenson / 12) The Road Not Taken – Robert Frost