Surveying his Realm ~ Goff James #writephoto

Reblogged from Goff James at Art, Photography and Poetry

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Stories You’ll Love ~ Jacqui Murray

Reblogged from Jacqui Murray:

I can’t wait to share these Indie books with you. I just know you’ll love them as much as I did:

  1. Life is Like a Bowl of Cherries–normal people surviving life’s challenges with a positive attitude and a will to overcome
  2. Marlie–can an isolated island community salve Marlie’s failed love?
  3. Guns of Pardition–a paranormal western like none other
–a note about my reviews: I only review books I enjoyed. I need to be inspired to write. That’s why so many of my reviews are 4/5 or 5/5

Life is Like a Bowl of Cherries

by Sally Cronin

5/5

Sally Cronin’s Life is Like a Bowl of Cherries: Sometimes Bitter, Sometimes Sweet (2020) delivers exactly what the title promises–a lovely collection of real-life stories about ordinary people.

 

Continue reading at Jacqui Murray at worddreams

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North-easterly: Legends…

There are many stories associated with the castles of the Northumbrian coastline, some historical, others apocryphal, but it is often buried within the myths and legends that some fragment of truth may be found. Few tales will pique the interest as much as when dragons or the name of King Arthur are mentioned. Stuart has told the story of the Laidly Wyrm of Bamburgh, in which a princess becomes a dragon, and were that the only tale the castle had to tell, it would be enough. But the castle has not always been known by its present name. It was once at the heart of the ancient realm of Bryneich, or Bernicia, and the castle was known as Din Guarie, a name that comes down to us through the Arthurian legends as Dolorous Guard….

The Dream of Lancelot~ Study by Edward Burne-Jones

The Castle of Dolorous Guard was the home of Sir Brian of the Isles, who some call King Bran Hen… Bran the Old… a cruel and evil knight and the sworn enemy of King Arthur. Sir Brian had learned enchantments from the Lady of the Lake and turned them to sate his own vicious pleasures. He took great delight, so the story goes, in imprisoning and torturing both men and women alike.

Many of Arthur’s knights were lost to Sir Brian’s enchantments, for whenever a knight approached the castle, they were faced a band of ten warriors at each of the two gates and were forced to fight. Many made the attempt, but none succeeded. Even Gawain, one of the greatest knights, was captured and cast into the dungeons with the rest. As each knight was imprisoned and their helmets hung upon the wall as trophies, a mysterious gravestone sprang up outside the castle, bearing their name and they were lost to the world.

Sir Lancelot du Lac, had been raised by the Lady of the Lake and had her favour. He asked Arthur for some quest with which he could prove himself and was sent north to Bamburgh in search of the lost knights, armed with a magical shield.

Lancelot conquered the guardian warriors expelled Sir Brian, who fled south to Pendragon Castle, but the enchantment could not be broken until he had spent forty nights under its roof. Exploring his conquest, Lancelot came upon a large metal slab encrusted with jewels, which bore the inscription:

Only he who conquers La Doloreuse Garde

will be able to lift this slab,

and he will find his name beneath it.

Summoning all his strength, Lancelot raised the slab and found beneath it another inscription:

Here will repose Lancelot of the Lake, the son of King Ban.

Abandoned as a babe by the Lake and left to be found and raised by its Lady, it was only now that Lancelot learned of his royal lineage, and he knew that this would be his final place of rest.

In the castle’s chapel, Lancelot found a door which led deep underground and into a cave. The earth shook, and a deafening noise filled the cave. As he entered, two copper knights armed with huge swords attacked. Lancelot did not falter, defeating the metallic monsters and moving deeper into the cavern. There he found a wailing well, guarded by an axe-wielding monster. Lancelot fought with all his might, breaking his shield upon the creature’s hide. At the end, he throttled it with his bare hands and cast it down into the well.

Continue reading at France & Vincent

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Solent Sheen…

low-tide

*

Darkness is not

Nasty.

Darkness knows no

Spite.

Earth’s shadow is

Natural

As a Day’s sun birthed from Night.

*

Reblogged from France & Vincent

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Ambushed by Stone…

*

Not content with capturing one rather large stone circle, under rapidly darkening skies, we set off in pursuit of another.

Which was a mistake.

For one thing, we got lost…

*

rs-357

*

And then we ran into this motley lot.

Hiding from us they were.

Waiting for the sun to go down before they pounced.

*

Continue reading at The Silent Eye

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True Treasures ~ Mason Bushell #writephoto

“It’s no good, Burt. That old tree has to go,” complained Edna for the twelfth day in a row.

Burt gazed over his garden and nodded. The trees were all beautifully green except that one old alder. It served solely as a perch for the crows these days. There was one of the cunning black birds there now. By his tilting head movements, he was scheming ways to get his beak on the last sandwich upon the table. Burt sighed, there was no way to tiptoe around it, the sharp frosts of winter had finally killed the alder. “Yup, time it’s laid to rest before it falls on somebody,” he conceded.

Continue reading at Mason’s Mind Menagerie

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Blueprint

To leave no place for regret in a life
Save only mistakes from which to learn
Letting error serve good purpose
Redeeming remorse for hurt
Carelessly committed
Youthful folly wakes
To see itself
Mirrored eyes
Reflect
Pain
Joy
Growing
Unfolding
Other choices
From a deeper well
Embracing each moment
A gift of living presence
Harmony of body and soul
Accepting human imperfections
Part of the blueprint for the journey home

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Appointed ~ Trent P. McDonald #writephoto

It seemed that every time I opened the door they were there. They followed me when I walked and even when I drove. They were everywhere. And, no, it wasn’t just my imagination since a few people commented on it.

The wings were beginning to drive me crazy. Why was I being shadowed so?

We all know what happened next, and the less said, the better.

Yep, lucky me, I was a survivor. A one in perhaps ten million survivor.

Only it wasn’t luck.

Continue reading at Trent’s World

Posted in #writephoto, flash fiction | 2 Comments

Awakening #midnighthaiku

Beneath  the blanket

Deep buried for summer’s need

Spring’s treasure wakens

*

 

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Appointed ~ Sisyphus #writephoto

I am always aware of you, wherever you, or one of your sisters, are nearby. You are reassuring, your peaceful stance communicates to us that all is well, that you are keeping an eye on us, and will not let evil catch us by surprise. You are our appointed guardian, our trusted sentinel.

Continue reading at Of Glass and Paper

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