the bedouin’s art of gentleness in handling dangerous things

Originally posted on jaywalking the moon:

by the river we talk expectations,
dreams “i wish you’d read my poetry” i say “to
get// to know me”

and know it is not easy/language/
images & few things seem
upon the surface.

yet he nods&we agree
that i will read one poem to him//a week
explain/ing metaphors and put the vowels in his mouth
still warm&glistening like a fish-swarm
so he feels//me

& we’re scared a bit
of breaking rules like thin glass
of touch/ing for the first time after weeks
&scared to cut
the thin threads spun by first shy conversations

i paint my toe nails raspberry
smooth edges with a soft stone, balm
with mint&myrrhe cause it all starts

“i want be loved” i say,
“the way a bedouin
would put a scorpion care/ful in the sand”

he understands
longing in his gaze
“it’s good to wait until i’m back?”

outside of the…

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Līgo Haibun Challenge – Picture Prompt

Originally posted on Ese' s Voice:

Another week has just begun and it is also time for a new
Līgo Haibun Challenge!

This week it’s Picture Prompt again and there are two images to inspire you.  As usual – choose one of them to write your haibun.



Let your imagination flow and don’t forget to add your haibun to the Inlinkz collection, please! Good luck!

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Girl Unborn – The Monologue

Originally posted on Love, Life and Whatever...:

 There are issues close to my heart and then some, closer and one out of them is – Female Foeticide. I know words are not enough, neither the measures yet. There were dialogues and deliberations….but then I present this monologue in form of a poem, where the unborn girl child pleas to her mother, who she hopes will be her saviour:

Girl Unborn – The Monologue  


You are precious,
So very precious to me.

I see the morning light through your precious eyes
With the nimble birds chorus sublime.
I smell the distant muddy rain,
Which drizzled all through the night.
I hear those quite lullabys you cry
Which makes my feeble heart to sigh.

Those unsweetened condiments you nibble
Is too unsavoury for me to fiddle.
And then the loving touch…
When your fingers unconsciously brush by.
I lived all the senses through you
till the creator…

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Originally posted on Cutting to the chase:

Ligo Haibun Challenge – word prompt – CONNECTED

Having just moved away from a place I knew well, I sometimes feel disconnected from the environment around me. Rudderless, I flounder through days of busyness, nights of reality TV shows and another bowl of miso soup.  Waking early my head is still a blur of weird dreams.  Did I really spend half the night seeing images of computer screens, WordPress tabs and inane Facebook comments?

Outside my window I see piles of coloured clouds – whimsical confections of fairytale castles.   By the time I’m out the door the colours have faded.  I walk past the still shuttered houses to the track behind the dunes.  It is here that I find my connection.  Half way between earth and sky,  hovering between land and sea I see a bridge of light.  Coming in, streaming down, flowing up – earth energy, spirit light –…

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A MGTOW Survey & Some Thoughts

Gunn's Cabin Fever:

Some real fact here.

Originally posted on ASpoonfulofSuga:

imageMGTOW is basically the statement of self-ownership and saying that only you have the right to decide what your goals in life should be. It is saying that, as a man I will not surrender my will to the social expectations of women and society, because both have become hostile against masculinity.

  • Male 1: Dude, why don’t you have a girl friend?
  • Male 2: Its not for me bro, I’m a MGTOW.

TarnsZilla WordPress’s Multi-Cultural icon has this cool survey she is conducting for a post she is writing about the differences between what the media currently presents MGTOW as VS what it actually is.
Check it out: MGTOW Survey
Some Thoughts
I have as much faith in our social institutions as Native Americans have in the US Government. Almost everything I’ve been told has been a complete lie aside, from jersey girls being easy. I feel that anyone aware of…

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Friday Fictioneer 100W Stories – Long Goodbyes

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 ¤ This week’s prompt photo by Björn Rudberg

Procession (Haibun – Adventure)

Originally posted on Blog It or Lose It!:

friday fictioneers dee lovering

With any luck, the procession will come my way this time.

While the breeze slowly disassembles the web of streamers overhead, I grow anxious.  The locals are hostile, and I am exposed.   I shift from foot to foot and listen carefully.

whispering /
wind in paper fingers /
mimics rustling leaves //

My job is to radio the Special Response Team the moment I see the bride.

from ancient alleys /
hints of muffled voices /
sound shadows //

What kind of gown does an assassin wear?  Lost in thought, I almost miss the distant roar.

Gone. Again.

motorcycle revs /
unseen bird flutters /
in its hidden roost //

Our task for Friday Fictioneers was to write a 100-word story about Dee Lovering’s photo.  I chose to write an action-adventure haibun. (Sorry purists – I had to do it!)


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Friday Fictioneers: Traffick fatality

Originally posted on This, that and the other thing:

Who:     Anyone

What:   Friday Fictioneers

When:  Any time from Wednesday morning to Tuesday evening

Where:  Rochelle’s blog

How:  Write a one-hundred word complete story based on the weekly photo prompt

Why:  Why not?

Copyright Kent Bonham

Copyright Kent Bonham

 Traffic Fatality

Merciless lights detail the broken, tortured body tied to the bed. Before being snuffed for the movie, she was used (misused) repeatedly by each of the men roughly arrested. Some officers swear almost continuously; the least experienced is sick in the corner. No one mocks him.

Dearest Mama and Papa,
Gregor says he can get me a modeling job in America for much more than my maid job pays. I’m so excited for this opportunity. He says I might become famous! It will be so wonderful! When I have enough money, I will send for all of you.
Love, Tania.


Human trafficking is a growing, horrific problem…

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The Woods

Originally posted on camgal:

First off, I want to quickly drop a line and acknowledge that March 15th was my blog’s two year anniversary! Moving on.

Friday Fictioneers is here again, led by Rochelle at

Each writer posts a 100 word story in either prose or verse, based on the photo prompt. To join the fun or read more fantastic stories, click on the blue guy below.

Copyright-John Nixon

Copyright- John Nixon

The Woods

Round and round and around they went

Kept on running until their energy was spent

Tiring was the act of running for one’s life

But with choices so bleak, it was definitely better than necks slit carefully by a pen knife

They were warned, warned and warned sternly

That the woods were more brutal than friendly

Woe was them if only they had listened

The woods filled with the sweat and blood of others was the secret to how the leaves…

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International Womens’ Day

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.









Carpe Diem Haiku – hunger moon

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

“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.

hunger moon
I put my pen down
and pick up my sword

Carpe Diem’s “Little Ones” #9, American Sentence (also 17 syllables)

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

Carpe Diem ~ Haru Ta (Spring Paddy)


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.

विकर कुर्सी में

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

One Drop

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