The Small Dog’s Salad Days…

Let us talk about ears,

It’s a subject that’s sore,

And the two-legs gets cross

If I scratch with a paw

(Even though, I would say

That’s what paws are made for.)

*

Now, I have floppy ears

Which, as everyone knows,

(And especially dogs

Who have got two of those)

Tend to get a bit sticky

And trouble the nose.

*

So, the first time it happened

We went to the vet

And they stuck me with pins

Saying that’s the best bet.

(And, I’ll tell you, I haven’t

Forgiven her yet).

*

Continue reading at The Small Dog’s Blog

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Immortal ~ Reena Saxena #writephoto

witnesses
mute
-despite
magnificence,
magnitude,
and timelessness
-know

Continue reading at Reena Saxena

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UFO #midnighthaiku

Signalling danger
Mysterious visitor
Flying false colours

At over an inch long and pretending to be a vicious hornet, this little guy looks scary, but is nothing more than a harmless, but interesting hoverfly. Masquerading as something far more dangerous, its young can grow in a nest of wasps with impunity and feeds on the debris from the nest. Its false colours and size protect it from predators, but it has no sting in its tail.

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The call of a dragon and the pyramid stone(s) ~ Alethea Kehas

Reblogged from The Light Behind the Story:

She stands alone in the vast echoing darkness, as she does each day. Her hair ripples a night without stars from her crown to her waist. “Ammon Ra!” She calls through the portal. “Ammon Ra!” She raises her scepter to the apex, heralding the opening. “Ammon Ra!” Darkness slips away to the effortless lift. Stones becoming an illusion to weight. Her body, the channel for the sun, her voice, the gateway.  “Ammon Ra!” Dimension collapses into waves of light, filling the great pyramid it searches for the veins. “Ammon Ra!” The scepter meets the floor and gold spills into the ground in a vast web without endings. Below the feet of the priestess, Earth pulses with energy. Tomorrow she will return. And the day after that…

IMG_1717

It’s a hot morning in mid-July and I am climbing a mountain that has called to me through the channel opened to the higher self. I am not thinking of Egypt or a long ago time that has rippled back to this one. Instead, I am trying not to think, allowing myself to surrender to whatever will be. It is hot. Airless. Just as it was a year before when I climbed another mountain with my husband on our anniversary because it called me from a place beyond logic.

Continue reading at The Light Behind the Story

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Fantasy : Law Of Attraction! ~ Anjali Sharma #writephoto

For best to happen
We need to allow things to flow on their own,
Fantasy to survive in this world which has gradually grown.
The dreamer to dream big & bright,

Continue reading at Positive Side Of The Coin

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Calanais: Graces…

*

Presumably the fence is here,

to keep out the sheep!

*

From the camera’s perspective,

sheep can be less offensive

than people… and fences.

*

Continue reading at France and Vincent

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Clara Of The Clock ~ Na’ama Yehuda #writephoto

There were bells above the clock in the tower. A tiny room above that, with blue shutters that could close themselves to everything or open to the four corners of the world. A taller turret still above it, its naked windows whistling in the wind. And over that a peaked roof with a metal creature perched wide-winged, inviting lightening.

To Clara, this was home. The keeper of the hour and the minder of the rectory below, she was forever scaling spiral steps and ladders.

Up and down the narrow stair that spun inside the tower to the clock-room, then up and down the ladder that hiked along the breezy bell balcony to her room, and up and down again on the metal rungs that climbed the room’s wall to the turret and the vast horizons beyond.

Continue reading at Na’ama Yehuda

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The House that Fish Built: Chariots at Dawn…

*

…King Grim-Gaze the slug-man struck the silver sceptre that was in his hand against the bronze pillar of his couch three times, and by the third stroke, the combatants had let drop their hands to their sides.

“I restrain you, men of Albion, lest your mien be the paler: your shields are likely to be splintered in the attack for that to which you have not yet attained. My feast has to be celebrated and my wish is to divide the Champion’s Portion among all the host, and to decide with reference to it according to the will of Maeve, she whose mouth is sweet, in the Cave of Cruachan. Tomorrow, the heroes shall ride there for judgement, enjoy the food and ale before you, and let rivalry be put aside until the feast is over.”

So did the men of Albion return to their seats round the fire, to make light of the night, long into morning…

*

Continue reading at France and Vincent

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O’er the Bay I Gaze ~ Goff James #writephoto

Reblogged from Goff James at Art, Photography and Poetry

Posted in photo prompt, Photography, Poetry | Tagged | 1 Comment

Sunrise

It was cold when I opened the door for the dog. The grass, lush, green and in need of cutting by day, was a wonderland of gilded diamonds in the dawn light, sparkling and casting rainbows in the breeze. The morning smelled of autumn, though summer is at its height. I watched the sun rise, pink and gold, through the branches, rayed like a child’s drawing.

It reminded me that it is not just the source of light and heat that we take for granted every day… it a star and it, not our small, blue planet, is the centre of our solar system. One of countless such systems across a universe, or a multiverse, that we barely comprehend.

Were we to board a ship that sailed the blackness of interstellar space, our little planet would soon disappear, its reflected light fading into nothingness. Yet the sun would remain for a while, another pinhole in Heaven’s floor… one small jewel of the night amongst uncountable others… while time and distance would cease to have meaning.

By accident or some grand design, our home just happens to be at the right place in the planetary dance for life as we know it to be sustained. Or perhaps, life arose here because Earth was in the right place. A fine distinction. Should some ship one day carry us beyond the stars we know, would we even recognise other forms of life unless they fit our definitions? Would they recognise, or even see us? Or would our interactions seem as strange and fanciful as a visit from the Fae, where life forms alien to each other perceive each other but dimly through a veil of unreality?

Continue reading at The Silent Eye

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