Bewildered and Beckoned ~ Jules #writephoto

overheard, “he is
a shell of the person he
used to be” …um… me

trapped in silver pools of time
… has the world changed… …forever?

Continue reading at Jules Pens Some Gems

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

The value of change…

Ah, Love! could thou and I with Fate conspire
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire!
Would not we shatter it to bits – and then
Re-mould it nearer to the Heart’s Desire!
– Omar Khayyam

“I wish….” How many times have I heard that phrase? How many times have I said it, with irony or with longing… or both… wishing that the world was somehow different? Wishing it would shape itself more conveniently… just for me? From that big win on the lottery we do not play to the weather over which we have no control, wishing things would change seems to be part of the human outlook.

There are many who make that wish and revisit it wistfully from time to time, still hoping vaguely that things might change, but doing little or nothing to make it come to pass except relying on life to arrange itself for them. This passive wishful thinking is not the same as trusting that life will bring us what we need, it is a hankering born of dissatisfaction… an uneasy state of mind and heart in which to live.

There are others who will take this desire for change and move heaven and earth to make it happen, spending all their focus on that goal. In one respect at least, success or failure matters little, either way they…we… are missing something.

Change is happening all around us, all the time. We do not have to go out looking for it…it is occurring with utter disregard for our desires or our wishes, right here, right now.  From the life cycle of the cells which make up our own bodies, to the ticking of the clock as it slides present into past with regulated inevitability, everything is changing. And we change with it.

Whether change appears to us as good, bad or indifferent…whether we accept it with grace or rail against it, making resistance drag us along unwilling, we cannot escape. Most of the time, we do not even notice it is happening, because we are so accustomed to our entire lives being built upon it and we live within an ever-changing world. It is only when we notice change occurring that we develop an opinion and choose how we will face it.

Continue reading at The Silent Eye

Posted in The Silent Eye | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Beaches In Training ~ Brianna Marie #writephoto

Alexandria landed hard in the watery sand, the force of the punch stung her abdomen. Was Valencia even trying to help her train or did she just bring her here to humiliate her? She stood, braided bun loosening from the rigorous session.

Valencia stood opposite her and frowned. “When was the last time you trained?” She didn’t bother to hide the snark in her tone.

“Almost every day with the boys – “

“The prince and his advisors,” Valencia sharply corrected. Alexandria rolled her eyes and shrugged while Valencia shook her head, frowning. “Is it that hard to take your role seriously?”

Continue reading at Brianna Marie Writes

Posted in photo prompt, Photography | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Garden #midnighthaiku

Wild in the hedgerows

Delicate and unremarked

Nature’s garden grows

Posted in Photography, Poetry | Tagged , , | 9 Comments

Tails from Westley Piddle: Henry ~ Part Five, from Zozo and Jools at Usual Muttwits

Concluding the saga. If you have missed the earlier episodes, click the links to read part one , part two, part three and part four


Hen-ree, Hen-ree Mayumi pleads as Henry raises both front paws to begin some solid hammering dead center of Tuffy’s snout holes. Her voice puts him off balance and he lands down with a stumble. More than enough time for Tuffy to scrabble away.

Wot? he growls down at her.

Fearlessly she walks right up and bumps snoutz with him.

It don’t matter, Hen-ree. Really it don’t

Why’s that then? he snarls.

Uh-huh, why’s that then? adds GitOrrf!.

Good point adds Drizzle, acting extremely diplomatic in the circumstances why is that?

Shuddup boys Mayumi trots ’round back of Henry and snifz at his large pink diaper. She waits for him to swivel ’round and face her.

And..? he repeats, the need for some heavy submitting action still coursing through stout limbs.

Coz, that’s better than being called small knickers, neh?


Westley Piddle’s town center is dead quiet ‘cept for the fast breathing of a load of fours at the bins ’round back of Tesco Extra.

Henry’s big face creases in concentration ..wot?

Or better’an no knickers suggests Tuffy, wanting to contribute.

Or better’an sexy knickers agrees Drizzle, still being diplomatic.

Or, furry knickers adds Sausage.

?

Furry knickers?? the fours all look at Sausage.


Sausage’s eyeballs bounce from one to the other and back to Henry, way up there wot happens happens…and furry knickers can happen. Don’t yu knows that, Big Knickers ‘enry?

All the fours wait for some mighty hammering. They keep waiting. It don’t happen.

S’pose so Henry slowly admits, slobbering a bit over Sausage’s earflaps. He suddenly stops his slobbering, a painful knot passing between both his own earflaps in the shape of a brand new thought.

Big Knickers ‘enry…I lyk the sound of that he muses to himself Big Knickers ‘enry he tries it on again for size.

Right minty adds Tuffy, shaking his one remaining earflap.

Big Knickers ‘enry it is Henry announces, plodding over to Tuffy who automatically rolls over on his back thrusting all four toes high in the air, submissive, lyk.


Sorry about that earflap Tuffy Henry spits out the bit still stuck between his teeth.

Nah, don’t worry about it mate, I got a spare, init? Tuffy wheedles, peaking up between his raised toes, thanking all the dogs above that the other earflap wasn’t chewed, the one wotz got the streetlegs council tag.

Henry rotates his head, taking in all the fours.

They hold their collective breath, eyeballs wide open.

Royt then and he turns away, slowly plodding into the night, repeating his new name until he’s sure he can remember it big knickers ‘enry…

Scratch watch it all happen from on high. Unblinking and cold-bloodedly waiting their chance to reclaim thems bins ’round back of Tesco Extra.


Ayaa, now wot? Mayumi asks, suddenly missing her cozy houseden, infested with vegans or not.

Wot now indeed, young lady? steps in Drizzle, stubby tail up and wagging in expectation of a sweet bit of eightleggers action hows now yu and me trot out into some woods?

Some woods?

Yeah, some woods. Me pied-à-terre, lyk, ’round back of Herdwick pooping park

Dream on mutt-weet, I lyk my boys beeg

I am big says Drizzle, and he is.

I mean really beeg. Lyk in Beeg Knickers ‘en-ree… B.E.E.G.


Wot happens happens adds Sausage for no better reason than to jaw.

Well then Drizzle concludes if fast to the finish quantities is wot yuz afters, and not thems slow dancing qualities – well then, yuz comes to the wrong bins, luv!

Drizzle turns away dismissing the Spitz, earflaps perking up as he remembers his cheese and pepperoni nosh lying beneath his paws.

He’s right, Mayumi sez GitOrrf!

About fast to the fin-eesh, Char-lee?

Nah, about going home. Yu don’t belong out here with this rough sort

I heard that sez Sausage.

Ayaa, no way, no more vee-gans

Then yu better come back with me to the hospice and join the homeless. Coz I gotta plan!

Off they trot. Then stop. Remembering they’re still at Tesco Extra five bins – and proper fourlegs don’t leave no bin behind.


“stopallthatyapping” Revlegs barks from behind the big front door of Saint Michaels.

Op-een up, pleeese sir, op-een up

“nodogsallowed…readthesign”

Oh, pleeese sir, op-een up, op-een up!

“Lord,passeththiscup” and the big front door swings open, emitting sniffy light and heat “Itoldyoubef – Oh,hello!”

Mayumi, doing her cutest Spitz bit, sits on the front door mat. She rolls over and paddles her little paws, all vulnerable-lyk, and sugar-coated in snow.

Oh, pleeese sir she whines in her best hindlegs-love-me voice pleeese!

“aren’tyouadorable”

Revlegs stretches out his handpaws and picks her up.

That same moment GitOrrf! slinks into Saint Michaels, unseen in the shadows.

Hindlegs, pff he shakes earflaps, keeping out of sight and snifz of Revlegs. Soon he’s trotting off to find Halfleg.

“elloCharlie,whereyoubeenthenboy?” Halfleg ruffles his earflaps “anyBullmersOriginalwithyers?” Gitorrf! leaps up onto the bed, stretching out across Halfleg’s half legs.

Saint Michaels is very red purply-sniffy with packhomeless, making Mayumi sneeze into Revlegs’ earflap.


“nonsense,nonsense,nonsense” he softly scritches, carrying her into the main dormitory where a whole load of hindlegs are sitting or sleeping on their beds.

All is going to plan until Revlegs eyeballs Halfleg with GitOrrf! stretched out on his bed, lyk he owns the dog-damn hospice.

“gitorrfcharly,hisHolinessishere” Halfleg shoves him off with his stump. “underthebedmate,beforeheseesyers!”

Gitorrf! hides under the bed, snout buried between paws.

“mrStevens,isthatdogback,again?” Revlegs scritches, disturbing other packhomeless ’round abouts. They scritch at him before sinking back under covers.

Revlegs reaches Halfleg’s camp bed, a big scowl on his snout.

“no,yerHoliness,heain’t” Halfleg scritches innocently.

“betternotbe”

“yesyerHoliness,onmemuvver’slife,sir”


Yu got a muvver, Halfleg? Gitorrf! barks in surprise from under the bed.

“shuttit,Charly”

Oh Char-lee Mayumi adds.

“Iknewit” Revlegs shakes his head. “here,holdthis” dumping Mayumi on Halfleg’s lap “outyoucome” grabbing GitOrrf! before he can squirm any deeper under the bed “andoutyougo!”

Laters, Halfleg GitOrrf! yelps, carried towards the front door laters, Mayumi

See yu, Char-lee

Door opens. GitOrrf! dumped outside. Door shuts.

Okaay then Gitorrf! immediately trots his way ’round back to the sniffy end of Saint Michaels hospice. Confident he’ll be back on Halfleg’s bed and scratching hairy plumbs in no time at all, lyk.

Halfleg stares at the fluffy little mutt sitting on his lap. Mayumi stares back.

“ello” says Halfleg.


Hello half-leeg replies Mayumi, curling up, warm and comfortable. And she decides in the heres and nows that this new street life – without vee-gans – is gonna be the life for her.


Big Knickers ‘enry steps out of the The Greyhound, leading his hindlegs companions back to their houseden.

“nonsense,nonsense,nonsense” Franks slurs scritchily.

“nonsense, nonsense” scritches Cheryl, clinging onto him as her hindlegs footpaws slip and slide in the snowlick.

The Guinness wot does that the English Mastiff knows. Always the same story. The sniffy brew making both thems hindlegs scritch more nonsense than usual.

Reaching the front door of the houseden, Franks fumbles about in his clothfurs before slapping his handpaw at the door, over and over.

“can’tgetitin” he slurs, making Cheryl giggle.

Bit more handpaw slapping until, finally, there’s a clicking sound and the door swings open.

As the hindlegs stumble about in the hallway, the English Mastiff makes his way directly to Cheryl’s special chair.


The very chair he’s not supposed to sit in, sleep on, or eyeball. By the time Franks and Cheryl appear, hanging onto the doorframe and each other, he’s up there squishing the cushions, with Farty the Hippo, and Squeaky the plastic bell bar that squeaks.

“what’redoingHenry?” Franks scritches, woozy eyeballs all over the place.

Royt then the English Mastiff eyeballs thems with dull intensity gonna be some changes ’round abouts this houseden! Starting with me new name yuz both gotta remember, Big Knickers ‘enry

*

I hope you enjoyed Henry’s story…

You can follow Zozo, Jools and the Muttwits crew at their blog, Usual Muttwits or find them on Instagram: @usualmuttwits and Facebook: Usual Muttwits

 

Posted in Dogs | Tagged , , , , | 4 Comments

Silver ~ Joe M #writephoto

sea goes suburban
driven ashore by strong winds
pools in my back yard

Reblogged from Joe M at Does Writing Excuse Watching?

Posted in photo prompt, Photography, Poetry | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

A Thousand Miles of History XXXVI: House of the Ancestors

Our next stop was only about half an hour’s drive from the Templar Church, and the road took us through the silent green of Bodmin Moor. With a long drive still ahead, I restrained myself, albeit barely, from turning aside at every interesting signpost, but I was determined to see one of Cornwall’s finest burial chambers… Trethevy Quoit.

The name, Trethevy, is thought to derive from the old Cornish for ‘place of the graves’. The locals call it the Giant’s House and there are tales of giants playing games with the stones. It has another name too, King Arthur’s Quoit, though I have been unable to find any reason why the legendary monarch should be associated with the place. The area, though, is rich in Arthurian sites, from his birthplace at Tintagel, just a few miles to the west, to King Arthur’s Hall and his Bed on Bodmin Moor… and Dozmary Pool, where the Lady of the Lake gave him Excalibur and to where it was returned on his death.

Since beginning our workshop only six days earlier at Cadbury Castle, one of the main contenders for the site of Arthur’s Camelot, we had been falling over references to King Arthur at every turn. Even at St Michael’s Mount there are tales of him battling a giant. We were beginning to come to the conclusion that there was something we needed to look at in the story… especially when we realised that our next two workshops would also take us to sites associated with the Arthurian tales. In September, we would be visiting a castle which, according to Malory in his Morte D’Arthur, was Lancelot’s Castle of Joyous Guarde, and in December we would see a Round Table… But that was still in the future. For the moment, as we parked the car and headed into the field, we were more interested in his Quoit.

Around five and a half thousand years ago, a community came together to raise a house of the ancestors. The stones stand nine feet tall and are capped with a single slab weighing some twenty tonnes… an incredible feat of engineering by our standards, yet the megalithic builders, who knew the secrets of working with stone, built this and even greater monuments across the whole land.

The Quoit would once have been hidden beneath a mound of earth and stone, of which traces are still visible, forming a ring about twenty feet in diameter. The stones at the entrance to the structure would have been left uncovered, forming a portal to the realm of the ancestors. The Quoit itself is walled with massive uprights, one of which has now fallen into the central chamber that would once have held the bones and cremation urns of our ancestors and theirs. who would act as intermediaries between this world and the Otherworld.

There are many similar dolmens, though this is one of the best in the area and has some rather curious features. Most obvious is the hole deliberately bored through the edge of the capstone. This would have been exposed and was probably used for marking an astronomical event, though without the rest of the monument… which may simply have been another stone or wooden posts, it is impossible to say for certain what it might have been.

Light was used to some effect in many of these ancient places, right across the world from Egyptian Temples to Newgrange in Ireland, marking the passage of the sun like a sundial, or illuminating significant features at astronomical high points of the year. Even now, in the ruined tomb, there is something in the fall of light between the stones that hints at secrets long-forgotten.

There are a series of cup marks carved on one of the stones…eroded now and faint. The uprights seem to be shaped like figures and forms, with faces revealing themselves as you spend time with the stones. One vast figure looks very like one of the moai of Easter Island.

Continue reading at France & Vincent

Posted in adventure, albion, Ancestors, Ancient sites, Books, france and vincent, History, Photography, road trip, travel | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments

Silver Reflection ~ Dr. Crystal Grimes #writephoto

Enjoy the silvery sound of the zither (plucked psaltery or lap harp).

Audio Player: Download Mp3

Lyrics

1. Water reflecting the twilight,
Silvery blessings unfold.
Nature is Life,
Day into night,
Look for the Light they hold.

Continue reading and listen to the songs at  Mystical Strings

Posted in photo prompt, Photography, Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Her Reflection ~ Na’ama Yehuda #writephoto

She walks along the dunes. There had been very little time away from others. So very few opportunities to be alone. She needs this more than air.

Morris agreed to keep an eye on the children. They were not enthused.

“He’s boring, Mama!” Ethan complained.

“Yeah, and his breath smells!” Lilly pouted.

“You don’t have to kiss him,” she replied. “And if you are bored, I can leave you some chores.”

They skulked away, displeased, but there was nothing for it, grumpy neighbor-as-babysitter or not. She knew she was becoming increasingly impatient. She did not want to cross the line into unkind.

Continue reading at Na’ama Yehuda

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

IndieAni Bones and the Thunder Stone…

We had barely got in the car than we were out of it again. Just a mile or two down the road to a tiny village and she was looking for somewhere to park. Now, I have to say that the next stone they took me to was fairly underwhelming at face value, for all it is seven feet tall. Someone built their garden wall to sort of include it, so you can only see the part that faces out onto the road and you can’t get to sniff it properly or anything. It seems quite a sad stone… unloved and unwanted somehow, yet it is still standing after five thousand years… and that really is quite strange, when you think about it.

It stands in the village of Taston, which takes its name from Thor’s Stone. Legend has it that the stone was a thunderbolt cast down by the god, although it must predate Thor’s ‘arrival’ in Britain by millennia. She said it might have been part of a larger monument, like a burial chamber or circle, of which the other stones have long since gone missing.

Yet others say that the old stones are still there… but now form part of a rather odd stepped ‘cross’, just a few yards away. The cross was erected so close to the standing stone, say the tales, to abate its evil influence. Most ancient and therefore pagan monuments were seen as evil by the church… who built their chapels on ancient sites, re-shaped ancient stones to make their crosses and even built stone circles and menhirs into the wall of their churches.

Continue reading at The Small Dog’s Blog

Posted in adventure, Ancestors, Ancient sites, archaeology, Dogs, Photography | Tagged , , , , , , | 2 Comments