Reach #midnighthaiku

Born into darkness

Reaching up towards the sun

Light in the shadows

Posted in Photography, Poetry | Tagged , , | 17 Comments

Tails from Westley Piddle: Henry – Part One, , from Zozo and Jools at Usual Muttwits

Henry, the English Mastiff, the biggest and mildest fourlegs ’round abouts is at Westley Piddle Veterinarians for his annual rabies jab. But he wakes up to something worse. Wotz got to do with his very own plum bobs and a new nick name spreading fast.

A particularly snowlick time in Westley Piddle. That unremembered small town on the Thameslick between Bisham and Cock Marsh. Winter arrives and the snowlick falls from the sky leaving favorite squirting spots and marker posts all buried beneath it. Easy for the hindlegs who snifz particularly idiotic this time of year, mindlessly leaving random tracks all over the snowlick in Herdwick pooping park – seeing how many tracks they can kick up with thems footpaws for no sensible reason at all. That’s hindlegs for yu.

Fourlegs in winter are much more sensible, corss. They trot from A to B and trot back from B to A. One track only, and that’s the end of it. And when snowlick falls most streetlegs don’t trot anywhere ‘cept with their mates to go noshing ’round back of West Pid’s bins.

Hellooo

Hellooo you, tooo

Check out the bins ’round back of KFC. No snowlick there…

Cock a leg then, coz thems houseden fours will nosh it soon as they’re out

Aww, noshing all thems CHICKENS!


Immediately, Tuffy, GitOrrf!, Drizzle, and all thems other usual muttwits, are trotting off to stuff their snoutz ’round back of Tesco Extra, Costa, the Star of India, the Istanbool, Chuckles Chippy’s, and Greggs. Except there is no ’round back at Greggs. Will they never learn!

*

“Oi,slobberchops!”

Lemme sleep

“brekkersready…Slobberchops?”

Wot! Already? On me way mate

Heavy thud, floorboards squeaking, loud panting.

“thereyouare,boy!” Franks scritches as Henry the English Mastiff fills up the kitchen doorway.

Henry yawns and pads up to Franks to permit some rough rubbing between the earflaps. He knows how much Franks needs to do this every morning. Probably cos Franks needs a load of rough rubbing himself. Probably coz Cheryl, Franks’ missus, don’t give him much herself.

Henry contemplates his tiny bowl a long way down. And that’s coz Henry is full grown. Everything to Henry is a long way down. Today he’s sleepy and can’t be arsed to bend so far to eat his meagre portion of dried biscuits.

Bring it up to the level, mate he eyeballs Franks. Franks eyeballs back. They face off one another. Finally, Franks sits down beside Henry and lifts up the bowl. Henry does nothing, not even lick his chops, until the biscuits are touching his snout holes. He deigns to taste one. Runs it ’round his mouth and drops it back into the bowl.

Clink!

“lovelybrekkersHenry,yourfavoriteHenry,there’sagoodboy,Henry” the bowl comes closer, backs away, comes closer and floats about in a tempting circular motion.

Henry plays willing and snifz his food all over. Don’t touch it, looks straight at Franks, sits on his haunches, and waits. And so, the morning ritual begins.

“youwannagooutside,thenyougottaeat,first”

I do wanna go outside. I do wanna eat. And I need a squirtz. But how about some decent grub? Meat. Full-bloodied red meat. Not this dry stuff? Givvus a break, Franks

“Iknowyouloveyourbiscuits,Henry”

Nah, I don’t

“that’sit–try’m”

Nah, I wont

“eatup,yerbig,pampered,uglymutt!”

Henry’s snout fills the bowl. A few precious nibbles at first, big teeth delicately cracking thems open. Every crunch draws a smile on Franks’ face. He slowly lowers the bowl to the kitchen floor, Henry eagerly following it down, noshing thems up with his big spoon of a tongue, slobber catching the biscuits lyk beads on a string.

Bowl licked clean and brekkers over, Franks opens the kitchen door to the garden.

“snowingmate,haha”

Wot is it with thems hindlegs and snowlick? Henry snifz cautiously at the snowlick covering the garden. He steps out, daintily lifting legs in and out of the silly stuff, before committing himself.

“gitoutthere,snowflake!” Franks’ footpaw rams Henry snout first into the snowlick.

Whoa…wait!

He turns round and round, lifting paws in a mad skittle. The kitchen door slams shut behind him.

“enjoy!”

Ow, come on!

“coz,laters,wegotanappointment…atthevets”

?


He snifz ’round abouts for his toys, Farty the Hippo and Squeaky the plastic bar bell. All buried under too much snowlick wot Henry can’t be arsed to dig out. He keeps eyeballing the small hedge at the end of the garden, his escape route into the real world of Westley Piddle whenever Franks is sleeping upstairs, boozing in front of the telly or, just out and abouts with Cheryl.

*

Mayumi, the Japanese Spitz, opens her eyeballs to another morning round of high-pitched wailing and painful vibrations wafting out from some tiny box in the living room.

Ayaa, more scritchy scritching, again

She twitches her snout holes at the brown cedarwood incense sticks wot her companions lyk burning every dog-damn morning.

Ayaa, watta stinky stink

Mayumi, who is a brown furred Spitz – not the traditional white furred Spitz – suffers being companion to two young hindlegs who snifz of new age wot-nots, tantric philosophies, and Karma sutras. Mayumi ain’t got a problem with any of that poop – coz hindlegs are naturally daft, but she does have a problem with all the thumping that goes with it. Makes her jittery.

Thump. Thump. Thumpity, Thumpity, ThumpThumpThump….Thump!

‘Ahhhhh,baby!”

Thumpity, Thumpity….Thump!

‘ooooh,eeerh…..”

Thump!


Mayumi lifts her snoutz in anticipation. End of thumping means noshtime.

Sitting daintily on her tatami mat by the kitchen door and waiting for JumaSabah and DaisyZhang to stop it with the thumpity thumping and get out into the hallway to discover a fourlegs wot urgently needs feeding.

That’ll be me Mayumi yawns, waiting.

“goodmorning,mytrueandgentlelittlebeauty!” scritches DaisyZhang.

Mayumi, wot means true and gentle in Japanese, lifts her head towards DaisyZhang and cocks it kitchenside

Ayaa, brekkers might be nice, but no butt-lickin’ rush, is there!

Popping his head round the bedroom door, JumaSabah calls out “goooooodmorning,Mayumi,peacebewithyou”

Pff!

DaisyZhang patters over in bare footpaws, falling to the floor and smothering Mayumi in sniffy kisses.


Ayaa, stop it will yuz and get me some brekkers

‘hungrymylittlelotusflower?”

Mayumi just eyeballs her nah, we can wait til tomorrow, lyk…

“there’sdoghairsonmytoothbrush” scritches JumaSabah from the bathroom.

DaisyZhang gives Mayumi a ruffle between ear flaps “isthatyours?”

Mayumi, it seems, is the only fourlegs in Westley Piddle whose teeth get brushed regularly.

One squirtz of time later and the kettle is steaming and the snifz of vegetables and tofu filling the houseden. Outside, snowlick is falling and the windows are steaming over. Mayumi makes her move towards the kitchen.

“no,no,no!” scritches JumaSabah.

‘sosorry,mytruandgentleMayumi” scritches DaisyZhang, lifting her up and depositing her back on the tatami mat ‘noanimalsinthekitchen”

Wotever

She slinks down, snout pressed into the mat, eyeballs curving upwards at DaisyZhang and that all important bowl she is preparing.

‘surprise!”

DaisyZhang drops the bowl in front of Mayumi. A steaming and sniffy green mush set before her snout holes.

She stares at DaisyZhang. DaisyZhang stares back, a silly grin stuck on her face.

Wot am I, a rabbit?

“she’snoteatingit” DaisyZhang scritches.

Dog-damn right, I ain’t

JumaSabah steps forward and peers down at the Spritz. Eyeballs glaring, an angry red-snifz fuming off him.


Mayumi knows this angry snifz. Maybe it’s the toothbrush thing!

Toothbrush hairs? That’s not my fault, izit! Don’t brush me own teeth, do I?

“it’spedigreevegan” he scritches dangerously. “we’revegan,Mayumi…andyou’revegan,too”

It ain’t the toothbrush then, but something wotz to do with vegan. Wotever is.

Stuff yer vegan

“eat” JumaSabah growls again, sniffing a deeper red-orange. He puts his handpaw on Mayumi’s head and pushes her snout into the bowl “eat!”

Mayumi quickly starts eating.

Soon as we’re outside, I’m gonna find some real food

“Ithinkshelikesit” DaisyZhang coos.

Pff!

*

Same time tomorrow for Part Two of Henry’s story…

Meanwhile, 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 , , , , | 16 Comments

Silver ~ Brian F. Kirkham #writephoto

Should any foolhardy person want to go treasure hunting

it’s not the treasure horde of a

long lost pirate down in that water

view you see is merely Ra peering at himself in a mirror

Continue reading at The Inkwell

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A Thousand Miles of History XXXII: The Chapel in the Grove…

A ruined chapel stands in a tiny clearing, sheltered and roofed by the trees that cluster close to its walls as if to offer it protection. The walls still guard the interior from view and a single doorway in the northern wall gives entrance. There is a sense of simplicity and peace about the chapel and its glade; centuries of prayer have hallowed the place… and its sanctity may be measured in more than just the hundreds of years that its walls have survived.

The chapel is not large, measuring just twenty-five feet by eighteen, with stone walls two feet thick making the interior considerably more intimate. The stones still stand eight or nine feet high and entering the green-roofed precinct, you leave the world behind. This seems right, for this has been a sacred space for longer than the chapel walls have closed around it, in spite of the destruction it suffered at the hands of Cromwell’s men.

The remains of the chapel are at last nine hundred years old and stand upon a much earlier sacred site. One theory suggests that the Welsh and Irish brought their goddess with them when they came to Cornwall around fifteen hundred years ago and that St Madern, to whom the chapel is dedicated, is a corruption of the Celtic maternal deity, Mordron.

Natural springs, always a place of feminine mysteries, were held as sacred places of healing and vision and have been venerated from the very earliest of times. There is an abundance of them in this westernmost corner of Cornwall, a land of mists and magic that the Greek historian, Diodorus Siculus named Belerion, ’The Shining Land’, almost two thousand years ago. The spring that feeds the Holy Well and the Wishing well close by was once also channelled into this glade, eventually becoming an integral part of the chapel.

The single doorway through which you may enter the chapel is in the northern wall. This in itself is curious for a Christian chapel, as traditionally the north door was the ‘devil’s door’, through which the demons could escape when baptism drove them forth…and the chapel is often referred to as the baptistry. In magical systems, the primary compass points are associated with the elements, and north is assigned to the element of Earth.

Continue reading at France & Vincent

Posted in adventure, albion, Ancient sites, archaeology, Books, france and vincent, History, Photography, road trip, travel | Tagged , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Hollow Clown ~ Steve Tanham

He carried the box over to the old table and set it down. Despite its modest size, it was heavy. He reached for the Stanley knife and slit the old tape that held it together, then prized open the dusty lid, revealing the contents. Immediately, he knew what it was: his old trophy box. He couldn’t believe it was still here? Surely he had thrown it away long ago. He had a half-memory of carrying it out to the recycling – five, maybe ten years ago… or had that just been a dream? How many years had it languished, dusty and increasingly dirty, on one of the top shelves of the shed? The kind of shelf that you’d use for paint, or an expensive picture frame the wrong shape for any of the photos you had. He had been looking for a pair of snipe-nosed pliers; something you didn’t need every day, until the day you did. The top shelf in the shed was the last resort; the last chance to find a half-remembered tool.

Continue reading at The Silent Eye

Posted in Steve Tanham | Tagged , , , | 1 Comment

Shades of Black…

*

… Sergeant Thomas Patrick was perplexed.

He was a simple man at heart, yet today, he sat at the desk in his office and the gathering gloom of perplexity festered around him.

Those that had the misfortune to work in proximity to him and were accustomed to his ways had long since given up the ghost of prediction and concentrated on the day’s work in hand, all the while knowing it was futile, and having that knowledge confirmed as the gathering gloom of perplexity seeped out from under the door of Patrick’s office and slowly enveloped the whole station…

His was decidedly not to reason the why and the wherefores, Patrick had always known that.

Continue reading at France & Vincent

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Thursday Photo Prompt- Silver # WritePhoto

First in this week…

Sadje/ Sadie's avatarKeep it alive

Sue Vincent is the host of Thursday Photo Prompt

Welcome to this week’s #writephoto prompt!

This week’s prompt ~ Silver

For visually challenged writers, theimage shows a beach in the half-light, bounded by dark dunes and holding a silvery pool of water that mirrors the sky.

~*~

Mercurial water

Glinting sunlight

Hold my hand, my love

And lead me to the promised riches

The richness of hope realized

Treasure of dreams fulfilled

Show me the wonder of tomorrow

Take me where the gold and silver awaits

A place of wonder that my eyes yearn to behold

~*~

#Keepitalive

#WritePhoto

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Posted in Photography | 25 Comments

Thursday photo prompt: Silver #writephoto

Welcome to this week’s #writephoto prompt!

You can find all last week’s entries in the weekly round-up, which was published earlier today.

Throughout the week, I will feature as many of the responses here on the Daily Echo as time and space allows, usually in the order in which they are submitted.

All posts will be featured in the weekly round-up on Thursday 2nd July, linking back to the original posts of contributors.

Use the image below as inspiration to create a post on your own blog… poetry, prose, humour… light or dark, whatever you choose, as long as it is fairly family-friendly.

Submit your link by noon (GMT) Wednesday 1st July.

Link back to this post with a pingback (Hugh has an excellent tutorial here) and/or leave a link in the comments below, to be included in the round-up.

Use the #writephoto hashtag in your title so your posts can be found.

There is no word limit and no style requirements, except that your post must take inspiration from the image and/or the prompt word given in the title of this post.

Feel free to use #writephoto logo or include the prompt photo in your post if you wish, or you may replace it with one of your own to illustrate your work.

By participating in the #writephoto challenge, please be aware that your post may be featured as a reblog on this blog and I will link to your post for the round-up each week.

Regular contributors are also welcome to come over as my guest and introduce themselves (click here for details).

Please note: As I do not share my political opinions on this blog, please do not use the challenge as a platform from which to share yours. Party political or racially offensive posts will not be reblogged.

This week’s prompt ~ Silver

For visually challenged writers, the image shows a beach in the half-light, bounded by dark dunes and holding a silvery pool of water that mirrors the sky.

Posted in photo prompt, Photography, Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 124 Comments

Photo prompt round-up: Soar #writephoto

All colour stolen

Skies dark with threats of danger

Rise to the challenge

Wings spread wide the soul may soar

Seeking a silver lining

*

The photo for this week’s prompt really seemed to capture the imagination of many!

The photo was taken one summer’s day above the reservoirs of the Derwent Valley in Derbyshire. I was, in fact, trying fairly unsuccessfully, to capture the resident bats as they flew from tree to tree… and this flight of birds against the dark clouds was a gift. The shot was taken in colour… and is still in colour… though the world looks monochrome through the lens and against the light.

*

Thank you to everyone who took part, visited or reblogged the posts or left comments for their authors.

A new prompt will be published later today. As always, I will reblog as many contributions as space and time allows as they come in… and all of them will be featured in the round-up next Thursday.

All the posts are listed below, so please click on the links below to read them and leave a comment for the author!

Pingbacks do not always come through… if you have written a post for this challenge and it does not appear in the round-up, please leave a link to your post in the comments and I will add it to the list.

An invitation to writephoto writers…

As there are usually too many contributions to reblog all of them every week, and so that we can get to know their writers, I would like to invite all writephoto writers to come and introduce themselves on the blog as my guest! Click here for details.

Come and join in!

Thank you to all Contributors!

Sanjuna

Silver Stone at The Bored Side of the Phone

Christine Bolton at Poetry for Healing

Aashi D Parekh at Falling Upwards

Steve Tanham at Sun in Gemini

Ken Gierke at rivrvlogr

Tina Stewart Brakebill

Kerfe Roig at K- Lines that Aim to Be

Neel Anil Panicker

Craig Towsley at A Bunch of Dumb Words in a Row

michnavs

earth sky air

Geoff Le Pard at TanGental

Smita Ray at The Wide Blue

Tessa Dean

Tiredhamster at Very Important Stuff Here

Jules at Jules Pens Some Gems

Shweta Suresh at My Random Ramblings

S. S. at Getting Lost

Paula Light at Light Motifs II

Aseem Rastogi at Transition of Thoughts

Kim Blades

Lady Lee Manila

Anita from Anita Dawes and Jaye Marie

Joelle LeGendre at Two on a Rant

Lisa Coleman at Our Eyes Open

Na’ama Yehuda

Christine Bialczak at Stine Writing

Brianna Marie Writes

Brian F. Kirkham at The Inkwell

Joe M at Does Writing Excuse Watching?

Cheryl at The Bag Lady

Ritu Bhathal at But I Smile Anyway

Jen Goldie at Starlight and Moonbeams

Daisybala at freshdaisiesdotme

Jane Dougherty Writes

Balroop Singh at Emotional Shadows

Dave Madden at MMA Storytime

The Dark Netizen

Patty L. Fletcher at Campbell’s World

Jim Adams at A Unique Title for Me

Reena Saxena

Happysoul at Live Love Laugh Learn

Honoré Dupuis at Of Glass and Paper

Helen Jones

Di at pensitivity101

Goff James at Art, Photography and Poetry

Dr. Crystal Grimes at Mystical Strings

Iain Kelly

Alethea Kehas at The Light Behind the Story

Anisha at Crazy Nerds

Kitty’s Verses

Sadje at Keep it Alive

Posted in photo prompt, Photography, Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 20 Comments

IndieAni Bones and the Ent

A couple of years ago, my two-legses got together for the Winter Solstice, which was nice. It didn’t mean presents… unless you count my share of their cheese, ham and salmon… but it did mean I got to go on an adventure with them again! They were a bit sneaky about it this time… she packed my bag with water and stuff while he took me out for a walk in the fields. So, I didn’t even know I was going until they opened the car and told me to get in! She’d come across something, doing her rummaging on the ‘puter, so they decided to go and take a look.

I managed not to sing too loudly in the back seat this time… but every time they slowed the car, I was hoping we were there. It wasn’t long, though, and we went into a wood that smelled awesome with all the mud and leaves and stuff. ‘Specially as loads of dogs seem to go there too! She said it was s’pposed to be difficult to find, this thing, but soon she laughed and said, “I think I might have found it…”. It was, after all, a bit too big to miss…

In a neat little enclosure in the corner of the wood, we found the Ent. Now, being what you might call a literary dog, this was not the kind of Ent I was expecting, but it was a big fellow. The stones are in a village called ‘Enstone’ which some people think comes from ‘Enna’s stone’, which just means a ‘boundary stone of a man called Enna’, and she sighs and says ‘they’ always say that about names ‘they’ don’t understand. She says that another possibility is that the words ‘ent’ and ‘stan’ literally mean giant stone. I like that better.

Continue reading at The Small Dog’s Blog

Posted in albion, Ancestors, Ancient sites, archaeology, Photography | Tagged , , , , , , , | 1 Comment