Join me at my new home away from home and be entertained! Click on my dragon if you will…
The lights flickered when he strummed the opening bars. Even with strings missing they seemed to drain the cheaply-installed electricity, so it was perhaps a good thing two of the band missing, still on their deathbeds on a lengthy illness, caused by exposure to radiation in Tchernobyl, in April 1986.
It was his last performance, he could see that. So tonight he was going to treat himself to the blond barmaid in a long goodbye, and give her half his earnings of this past decade. He knew she had Aids, like so many under thirty in Ukraine. She looked so much like Ivana used to though, now still in bed.
For Friday Fictioneers run by http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/ ¤ This week’s prompt photo by Björn Rudberg
Sadly, World Book Day yesterday seemed to pass almost unnoticed on WordPress, and could only be found on Twitter – unbelievably, actually, considering the amount of reading and writing here…
Still, we have International Woman’s Day, to make up for it.
Happy International Womens’ Day, women everywhere.
The quote - “forget not that the Earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair” Khalil Gibran
and her long flowing hair
This feature is very similar with the other Special feature “Make The Haiku Complete”. So if you would read more than visit “Carpe Diem Haiku Kai”
Here is the First Line to use in the haiku.
“Hunger Moon” is the name of the full moon of January as it is mentioned in Thomas’s ‘Old Farmers Almanac’ (founded in 1792). During this month the wolves once roamed the countryside, thus suggesting the name wolf moon. In cold and temperate climates of the Northern Hemisphere, it was difficult to find food during January, thus the name hunger moon.
I put my pen down
and pick up my sword
A poetic form developed by Allen Ginsberg in the mid-1980′s as a response to the haiku. If haiku involved seventeen syllables down the page, he reasoned, American Sentences would be seventeen syllables across the page–an attempt to more accurately “Americanize” a form that had previously translated only roughly across the Pacific into the context of American poetry.
Like (rough) English approximations of the haiku, American Sentences work closely with concision of line and sharpness of detail. Unlike its literary predecessor, however, it is compressed into a single line of poetry and included a reference to a month and year (or alternatively, a location) rather than a season.
In the morning breeze over the meadows an Irish harp is plucked
patchwork of greens
sudden explosions and napalm
craters of brown
The United States unleashed a secret carpet bombing campaign on this country for nearly a decade, dropping 260 million cluster bombs – the most heavily bombed country in history, with more than 2.5 million tons of munitions during 580,000 bombing missions – equal to a planeload of bombs every 8 minutes, 24 hours a day, for 9 years - more than all bombing by all belligerents in World War II, or 210 million more bombs than were dropped on Iraq in 1991, 1998 and 2006 combined.
Of 75 million bombs that failed to detonate, less than 1 percent have been cleared, and 25,000 people have been killed or injured by these bombs in the 35 years following the end of the bombing campaign. Today, an average of 300 people are injured or killed every year by these weapons, about half of them children, and most of the rest working men.
The economy is almost entirely agricultural (rice, in particular) yet one-third of the land remains littered with unexploded bombs.
Between 1996 and 2012, the U.S. contributed on average $2.6M per year to a general United Nations unexploded bomb clean-up program; the U.S. spent $17M per day for nine years bombing the country.
The U.S. spent as much in three days bombing of the country ($51M) as it spent for clean up over 16 years ($51M).
The country is Laos.
And then it happened. She was gone. A micro hurricane of swirling dust and stinging eyes as the bus bounced and rattled to a near-stop then suddenly sped up again and hurtled away.
“Who were you?” I thought, only minutes after she’d left. “What do you do, in your foreign land?”
She had stayed the night, back pack and all, but I’d sat in the wicker chair as she rested her tired eyes.
Leaving, she had taken the mango and given me a peck on my cheek, her eyes gleaming with freshness and fun.
polishing shoes again
dreaming of another friendship
no matter how short-lived
Magpie Tales – The Letter
there was a world
where a simple hello
meant a pen
the right paper
the right scratching…
How far we have come. How far we have gone. Yet our life force still lies within the simple rain drop and in the fall it makes from the nourishing sky. It is when walking in nature that one notices, feels and sees the colourful effects of the life force in droplets.
Yet there are many who won’t walk out of the front door without umbrella, and hide from the rain. What a pity. I have seen farmers look up and smile into the rain, and seen bedouins of the desert take deep breaths and enjoy the new, fresh scent of cooling raindrops.
one drop of rain
at the end of a pine needle
on the tall pine tree