Hunter’s Moon

 

In the distance what can the father and son hear?

They hope it is the grunt or snort of a deer.

Without the last of the season’s hunt, there will be no food.

For the boy’s siblings, and the rest of the man’s hungry brood.

 

The vegetation is now laid bare.

Through the darkness the two can with little hindrance stare.

 

The passing clouds  cause the night shadows to deceive.

The snap of a twig, the hoot of an owl, the eager hunters could easily misconceive.

The moon rises high.

The clouds disperse from the sky.

 

The prize of the night, is now visible and in their sight.

Thankfully this winter, the family's table can be laid with both bowl and spoon.

Thanks to nature and the Hunter’s moon.

 

 By Christina Rowell

 

 

Pictures of exhibits in National Museum Edinburgh, photographed by Christina Rowell

Heebie–Jeebies

     

    It will soon be Halloween, and depending on how fertile the imagination of an individual kid is, it can be a scary time.

    As a child, I loved reading scary books and poems at this time of year. My imagination ran amok, and of course, it still does.

   Books by Lewis Carrol gave me the heebie-jeebies, following Alice as she tried to decide what path to take in her life, amongst other things. 

    In reality, navigating from childhood to adulthood can be tricky and frightening occasionally with Carrol portraying the darker-side perfectly. 

    I enjoyed his nonsensical poem, Jabberwocky and being someone who loves anything about good versus evil, especially if the protagonist is slaying mythical creatures, it’s perfect.

    Extract: Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll

   One, two! One, two! And through and through

The vorpel blade went snicker-snack!

He left it dead, and with its head

He went galumphing back.

“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?

Come to my arms, the beamish boy!

O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”

He chortled in his joy.

Alice in Wonderland books by Lewis Carroll

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

Alice’s Adventures Under Ground

Through the Looking Glass and What Alice Found There

(Sorry, I didn’t have any pics of the Jabberwocky) he was a little camera shy!!

Hope In The Heart

 

 

 They cram together sometimes one hundred or more,

In search of another shore.

They have said their farewells,

And risk the ocean’s perilous  swells.

A mixture of races including African and Asian,

Longing for a safe haven.

Seeking shelter from dangers and distress,

With a heartfelt hope of protection and even success.

Seeing Nature's Gold

     

 

    OMG, where has the year gone? It’s Autumn already. The colors of the flora and fauna don’t change a lot here in the south of Tenerife as the seasons change. That's because our climate doesn’t fluctuate as much as it does in other parts of the world. However, when the sun disappears early in the day we know Autumn has arrived.

    While I was never a lover of the plummeting temperatures and rainy days in Scotland, I miss the changes in the color of the flora when Autumn arrives.

     I've included some photographs from Scotland that capture those Autumn moments and a short poem by, American poet, Robert Frost. 

     I would also like to thank the loyal readers of my blog which is celebrating its eleventh year this month. THANK YOU.

     Nothing Gold Can Stay

Nature first green is gold,

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf's a flower;

But only so an hour,

Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay.

Robert Lee Frost 1874-1963

   

Pied Beauty, a Poets Thanks

     

      I love colors, the brighter they are the better. Anything that has bold color combinations, from lipsticks to clothes. I can't walk by without admiring.

    These  all of course depend on a little human intervention. However, I adore the nature that surrounds us. It's ever giving contrast of colors, in the way of wildlife, our skies and seas. They all give us variants of color that change without notice, in a blink of an eye.

    I found a sonnet by the poet, Gerard Manly Hopkins, which I want to share with you today on the anniversary of his birth.

    He is believed to be thanking and praising God for the creation of the world Gerard lived in. Whatever any one of us believes in, is up to us as individual humans. But, it is nice if we can stop to admire the beauty and be thankful for what is around us, in any which way we can and if we can. 

    Today I'm writing about the beauty I have experienced and I'm featuring some photos, in my way of thanks.

    Have a great weekend people.

Pied Beauty

Glory be to God for dappled things

For skied of couple color as a brinded cow

For rose-moles all the stipple upon trout that swim

Fresh-fire coal chestnut-fall, finches' wings

Landscape plotted and pierced, fold, fallow and plough

And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange

Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)

With swift, slow, sweet, sour, adazzle, dim

Her father's-forth whose beauty is past change

Praise him.

                              Gerard Manley Hopkins 

                              (28 July 1844-8 June 1889)

A Queen's Poetic Retreat

    

   July 24th 1567, following a year of imprisonment in Loch Leven Castle in Perth and Kinross, Mary Queen of Scots was forced to abdicate. 

    Her time as queen was tumultuous, and she escaped from the reality and skullduggery that surrounded her by writing poetry.

     Today I've included a short sonnet of hers, believed to have been written about the Earl of Bothwell to whom she later married. A marriage that would throw her life into further turmoil.  

    Please enjoy and thanks for visiting my blog today.  

Lord, grant your mercy unto me:

Teach me some way that he may know

My love for him is not an empty show

But purest tenderness an constancy

For does he not, alas, ev'n now possess

This body and this heart which would not flee

Discord, dishonour, nor uncertainty,

Nor family hurt, nor evil's worst distress.

For his sake, I value all my friends as dust

And in my enemies I seek to place my trust,

For him, my concience and good name to chance I've cast;

I would renounce the worls, were it his whim:

I'd gladly die if it should profit him,

What more is there to prove my love steadfast.

Mary Queen of Scots (8 December 1542-8 Feburary 1587)