Poem #23: September

Sep. 23rd, 2017 10:35 am
alexcat: (Default)
[personal profile] alexcat
This one is, unfortunately, still pertinent.

~~

September, 1918

This afternoon was the colour of water falling through sunlight;
The trees glittered with the tumbling of leaves;
The sidewalks shone like alleys of dropped maple leaves,
And the houses ran along them laughing out of square, open windows.
Under a tree in the park,
Two little boys, lying flat on their faces,
Were carefully gathering red berries
To put in a pasteboard box.
Some day there will be no war,
Then I shall take out this afternoon
And turn it in my fingers,
And remark the sweet taste of it upon my palate,
And note the crisp variety of its flights of leaves.
To-day I can only gather it
And put it into my lunch-box,
For I have time for nothing
But the endeavour to balance myself
Upon a broken world.


~~Amy Lowell

Thriller roundtable - starts Monday

Sep. 22nd, 2017 07:47 pm
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[personal profile] charlie_cochrane
If you're interested in "Comedy and Humor in the thriller genre: Is it difficult to write comedy or humor into thriller novels? Is it necessary, desired, or just a tool to release the tension in some needed spots?" I'll be one of those discussing it from September 25th at the ITW roundtable. See you Monday for initial thoughts and looking forward to answering your questions.

 

Poem #22: Septmeber 1815

Sep. 22nd, 2017 11:20 am
alexcat: (Default)
[personal profile] alexcat
September 1815

WHILE not a leaf seems faded; while the fields,
With ripening harvest prodigally fair,
In brightest sunshine bask; this nipping air,
Sent from some distant clime where Winter wields
His icy scimitar, a foretaste yields
Of bitter change, and bids the flowers beware;
And whispers to the silent birds, 'Prepare
Against the threatening foe your trustiest shields.'
For me, who under kindlier laws belong
To Nature's tuneful quire, this rustling dry
Through leaves yet green, and yon crystalline sky,
Announce a season potent to renew,
'Mid frost and snow, the instinctive joys of song,
And nobler cares than listless summer knew.


~~ William Wordsworth

Oh, Sam!

Sep. 21st, 2017 01:08 pm
semyaza: (Samwise the Brave)
[personal profile] semyaza
This is the 80th anniversary of The Hobbit!

Elsewhere on my feed:

Britain's Head Gardeners.

Poem #21: September Midnight

Sep. 21st, 2017 12:25 pm
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[personal profile] alexcat
September Midnight

Lyric night of the lingering Indian Summer,
Shadowy fields that are scentless but full of singing,
Never a bird, but the passionless chant of insects,
Ceaseless, insistent.

The grasshopper’s horn, and far-off, high in the maples,
The wheel of a locust leisurely grinding the silence
Under a moon waning and worn, broken,
Tired with summer.

Let me remember you, voices of little insects,
Weeds in the moonlight, fields that are tangled with asters,
Let me remember, soon will the winter be on us,
Snow-hushed and heavy.

Over my soul murmur your mute benediction,
While I gaze, O fields that rest after harvest,
As those who part look long in the eyes they lean to,
Lest they forget them.


~~ Sara Teasdale

I got nuthin'

Sep. 21st, 2017 01:53 am
semyaza: (Demon)
[personal profile] semyaza
This goes way beyond a Lol of the Day. This is a Lol of the Month.

Read more... )

Vagueness seeps...

Sep. 20th, 2017 04:56 pm
semyaza: (Default)
[personal profile] semyaza
I have to give the HuffPo points for this. Drat.

What Should Have Happened in Hillary Clinton's Useless Book.

I must add his blog to my feed.

Shell Shocked - free story

Sep. 20th, 2017 04:45 pm
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[personal profile] charlie_cochrane
"Shell Shocked" - a shifter story with a twist - is available to download free and gratis from my free stories page.

The lights, the recording equipment, the lairy looking rozzer.
I’ve never experienced anything like this before, never been in trouble with the police. Honest Billy, that’s me, always kept my nose clean; I even declare every one of my tips on my tax form. So, what’s Mrs. Zanderson’s best boy doing being formally interviewed under caution?
Doing his best to explain just how he’d got into this mess in the first place, only I can’t tell them the whole truth, for reasons that will become apparent.
“How and when did you meet Jonny Telfer?”
“A couple of months ago, in a bar. The Happy Return.”
“Had you gone there to pick up a fare?”
“No. It was pleasure, not business.”
And what a pleasure it had turned out to be, at least at first...

Read more

Be Afraid. Be Very Very Afraid. II

Sep. 20th, 2017 09:54 am
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[personal profile] la_samtyr
Guys, CALL!! They're 2 votes from killing the ACA. Congressional staffers say they were inundated with calls before. Now they say they are getting THREE OR FOUR. Call. Call. Call. Every. Day. (202) 224-3121.

health care part 3
--The above was snagged from my fb page.

Poem #20: Sonnet 73

Sep. 20th, 2017 06:59 am
alexcat: (Default)
[personal profile] alexcat
Another autumn poem and another love poem. You can never go wrong with a Shakespeare sonnet.

~~

Sonnet 73: That time of year thou mayst in me behold

That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see'st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire,
Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by.
This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.


~~ William Shakespeare

Food glorious food

Sep. 19th, 2017 08:12 pm
semyaza: (Green mushrooms)
[personal profile] semyaza
I'm roasting cherry tomatoes in Greek olive oil and they smell so gooooooood.

I'm intersectional

Sep. 19th, 2017 05:46 pm
semyaza: (Green mushrooms)
[personal profile] semyaza
My lol of the day. It makes a change from Hitler's medical problems which interest no one but me. I might have done this before, or something like it, during the Racefail frenzy on LJ. I won't tell you my score but my result is:

"You're not privileged at all. You grew up with an intersectional, complicated identity, and life never let you forget it. You've had your fair share of struggles, and you've worked hard to overcome them. We do not live in an ideal world and you had to learn that the hard way. It is not your responsibility to educate those with more advantages than you, but if you decide you want to, go ahead and send them this quiz. Hopefully it will help."

The link is here.

I feel a vast relief about not having to educate anyone.

Poem #19: Autumn

Sep. 19th, 2017 12:16 pm
alexcat: (Default)
[personal profile] alexcat
Autumn Song

Know'st thou not at the fall of the leaf
How the heart feels a languid grief
Laid on it for a covering,
And how sleep seems a goodly thing
In Autumn at the fall of the leaf?

And how the swift beat of the brain
Falters because it is in vain,
In Autumn at the fall of the leaf
Knowest thou not? and how the chief
Of joys seems—not to suffer pain?

Know'st thou not at the fall of the leaf
How the soul feels like a dried sheaf
Bound up at length for harvesting,
And how death seems a comely thing
In Autumn at the fall of the leaf?


~~ Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Dragons

Sep. 19th, 2017 08:30 am

Orinoco Flow

Sep. 18th, 2017 10:18 pm
semyaza: (Demon)
[personal profile] semyaza
I'm not sure that I want to hear about Hitler's stool samples while I'm eating supper. I don't know what the background music is but thankfully it's not Enya.

ETA: This is a terrible documentary. I'm done.

Poem #18: The Tyger

Sep. 18th, 2017 07:25 am
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[personal profile] alexcat
Simply one of my all time favorites.

~~

The Tyger

Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp,
Dare its deadly terrors clasp!

When the stars threw down their spears
And water'd heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger Tyger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?


~~ William Blake

Return to Innocence

Sep. 17th, 2017 09:05 pm
semyaza: (Demon)
[personal profile] semyaza
Enya is an odd choice of background music for footage of Eva Braun doing gymnastics.

Poem #17: All the World's a Stage

Sep. 17th, 2017 02:00 pm
alexcat: (Default)
[personal profile] alexcat
Can't beat the bard!

~~

All The World's A Stage

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.


~~ William Shakespeare
(As You Like It, Act II, Scene VII)

Rainbow snippet - Awfully Glad

Sep. 17th, 2017 04:49 pm
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[personal profile] charlie_cochrane
Bold Strokes have got lots of books on offer this weekend, including Awfully Glad. Here's a bit from this post WWI story about a talented concert party performer returning to civilian life. Plenty more excerpts of great stuff at the Rainbow Snippets group.

Sam couldn’t resist unfolding the note; he’d had these sorts of things before and they were always good for a laugh. The invitations would range from the innocent to the knowingly experienced, although nobody ever suggested something entirely obscene—Miss Madeleine gave an air of always being above such things. This would probably be the usual Might I buy you a drink? I know this little estaminet…

It wasn’t.

“I’m awfully glad you’re not a girl. J.”

Sam read it again, not trusting the evidence of his eyes, but they’d been right the first time. J? Which of the officers had that been? Jimmy, Jeffrey, Jonathan…Sam had forgotten their names already, even if he’d been told them.

But when had the note been written? After he’d taken his wig off and burst the little lieutenant’s bubble, he supposed, although if he had no memory of the thing being lodged in its hiding place, he equally had no recollection of somebody scribbling the thing—there’d been very little time for it, anyway. And how much more courage would it have taken to do such a thing in plain sight?

Awfully Glad final cover small
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