Eliza Daley ~ Wordcraft & Musing on Home & Hope
This painting is called Elizabeth the Corn Maiden. Of course, I had to buy it. Today is Flitch Day in England. As in “side of bacon”. I had no idea bacon had its own day. Seems appropriate that it should fall in the middle of the Dog Days. (No, I’m not fond of bacon. Nor… Continue reading Beyond Summer
The worst holiday of the year approaches. This is the dog's assessment. I generally concur, only I'm not too into American Thanksgiving either. For sort of similar reasons. I just don't believe in this country's narratives. No, it's worse than that. I don't approve of this country's narratives. I don't like these foundational stories and… Continue reading The Wednesday Word: 30 June 2021
For 23 June 2021 Last week I received a few more responses, all good. But one made me laugh. And it made me realize I'd put sanctify into a somewhat limiting mind-box. I thought I'd share this submission, particularly for anyone else similarly afflicted. Here is Sanctify by Larry Johnson. Sanctify was a good little… Continue reading The Wednesday Word
Silence was met with mostly silence. This is not unexpected. However there was more interest than I would have expected for a new thing, enough of it positive that I shall keep going. Stefanie, author of A Stone in the River, threw this up there: We think of silence as the absence of sound. But… Continue reading The Wednesday Word
I’ve thought of something I can do with Wednesdays! I participate in various prompts and puzzles on Twitter. I find it helps to keep an old mind limber, being forced to think and create using some idea that is not native to my brain. It forces new perspective. It’s also great fun. And it is… Continue reading The Wednesday Word
oh yes you — just once i’ve wanted to flow as i am just once because i get lost in my own creation i wish you could join me always alone in my corner you — it’s so odd, but i was right i am truly insane because i arrive at the same conclusions and… Continue reading Solitary
I'm still absorbed in nesting... and nursing my abused hands... because rheumatoid arthritis does not do curtain hardware in rock maple without intense retribution. So here is a bit of poetry... of sorts. free from words solitary is alone. alone is one. solitary is one. but one is not necessarily solitary. i often wish i… Continue reading Poetry
A few romantic poems for Floralia. Well, sort of romantic at any rate.
A bit of desert dragon poetry for the last Tuesday in April. Because it seems a dragonish sort of time.
Cronus and the Omphalos stone, Athenian red-figure pelike C5th B.C.(Metropolitan Museum of Art) the monster the greatest god the father generating heirs but swallowing his challengers his children he is entrenched and the battle lines won’t move oh, just never but the future revolution, revelation is in conspiracy the young ones are thinking action will… Continue reading sa tourne
By My Solitary Hearth 