April 22: Flash Fiction Challenge

April 22, 2021, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about earthing. Put a character’s hands, feet or body and soul into the earth. Who needs recharging? What happens between the interaction? Go where the prompt leads!

For this prompt I have imagined a letter from Mother Nature/ Earth/ Gaia to us all. This is part of the Carrot Ranch Challenge.

My Children

I tried to warn you, painted warnings on walls and billboards with letters 20ft tall screamed, shouted and made a fuss.No one listens at all.The blooms are out in winter and summer flowers peek in spring. Snow falls in summer and sometimes in spring.You’re heading for another drought your reservoirs  almost dry yet you let precious water waste. It’s starting with the the smaller things but soon you will suffer too. This green planet that you call home is dieing. I’m so tired and you just ignore my warning.  From a dieing Mother nature.

Sue Vincent’s #writephoto. Anomaly.

Sue Vincent’s#Writphoto.
Hi everyone just a quick note if anyone would like to re-post any of their old #writephoto prompts please do. While Sue is not posting a photo prompt due to not being well, she would love to see old ones reposted.Now if you would like to join in please use the #writephoto badge

This part of Sue Vincent’s Thursday Photo Prompt –  #writephoto. I wrote this one in 2016.

Anomaly  : The End

colours
©Sue Vincent.

The  birds  must  of  sensed  the  Anomaly  first  because  they  suddenly  left  the  area. None  flew  within a  twenty  mile  radius of the  moors. The lights  could be seen  by  day  and  night and  though  at  first  they  went unnoticed eventually  after  all the animals  left  and  all  the  flora  and  fauna  died   we finally  saw  the  lights.

What they  were  we  did not  know   but  people  thought  they  had  been  there  at  least a  month , well we  believe  it  had  been  much  longer  than  that.  News, unusually  for  news, spread  slowly. Looking back  I  think it  was fear  of  the unknown, everyone  thought if  they  ignored  the lights  they  would  go away.

Alas they  did  not  go away  in fact  they  grew, slowly  at  first  but  now  six months  on  they  have spread  from Britain right across  Europe and  Russia, Alaska, Canada now they  are  heading  toward the  Americas. Nothing  seems  to  affect  them nothing  seems  able  to stop  them.

Yes the  scientist  and  military  have  been busy  testing  the  anomaly  but  they  cannot  test light  can  they ….. it is  just  colour  it  is transient  it cannot  be  caught, measured  or, as it  appears, stopped. Amazing  isn’t it  every  government  in  the  entire  world  is  cooperating   with each other…. All wars  have ceased  in an effort  to  solve  the  problem.

So the  beautiful lights  are  moving  around  the  world  encircling  us  all with  their  ethereal hues. All the  birds  are  gone, the  animals  too. Nothing  grows  anymore  and  we  are  all loosing our  humanity. The  government  did  try  to  keep order  with  the  army  but  as  soon as  the  stocks in  the  shops  ran out  anarchy spread  like  wild  fire.

It  is  everyone  for  themselves , it is unbelievable   there  are  bodies  rotting on  the  streets  people are  dying of malnutrition,  disease , thirst and  plain simple violence. It is  awful  we  are  terrified  to  go  out.

All those  pictures of  people trapped in  wars, refugees  struggling  hand  to  mouth, thousands  of  people  in  Africa  starving  it  is happening  here in the  so  called  modern  world , though  the way it is now  that all the  fuel has  run out, apart  for a  very  few, we may  as well be living in  the stone age. No  “Feed  the  world ” when it is so  badly needed!

I mention “The  very  few”, those with  money  enough or  deemed  worthy of  saving  have  been  hidden away somewhere  to  ride  this  out. I personally  do  not  think  the  earth  will recover  from  this. If  it  does  my  group  and  I  do  not  want  to be  around  to  see  what is  left.

So  I  have  left  this  very  brief  account  of  what  has  happened. Tonight  we are  going out  to  watch  the lights  and  party  with  the  alcohol and  food  that  we have  managed  to  accumulate   we have  not  much  strength left  and  we are  sure  someone  stronger  will kill us  for our  stocks  before  morning.

Suicide  I  can imagine  you are  thinking  as  you  read  that last  paragraph , well yes  but  we have  had  enough  there is  nothing left  to  live  for . The  lights  will soon  have  killed  the entire  planet. I  have  to  laugh something  so beautiful  has  brought  us  to  this. Beauty  has  slaughtered  us, well no  we have  slaughtered  each other .watching_stars_without_you_by_chikaex0tica

Image  found  here

Earthquake, Avalanche.

My prayers  go out  to all in Nepal and at  the Everest Base Camp. 

Earthquake, Avalanche.

The  rumble  became  a  roar  and  she  shook

Shook  until the  ground  cracked  and  the buildings fell

Every single  bird screamed  and  to  the sky  took

Nature  raved  and  writhed and  all that was quiet  became  hell.

 

The  rumble became  a  roar  and  she  shook

Get out of  your tents  went up  the cry

So fast  so high  the  wall of  white advanced

Too late  for  so many   it  came  they are injured  they die.

 

The  rumble became  a  roar  and  she  shook

The  towns and villages even the  city reduced to dust

Lost in fear  screaming  mothers  for  their  families  look

Pull together , help each other , in others  put  your trust.

 

The  rumble became  a  roar  and  she  shook

Nature  decided  to  show us who is  the boss

Minutes , seconds  miles of  devastation is  all it  took

Nature  took man’s creations  and  threw  them down like so much dross.

 

Earthquake  in Napal read  here.

 

 

Poetry Challenge #7 23/12/2012

And so this is the end to my years challenge of producing a poem about war every Sunday. To share it , to explain what it means to me. It has not been easy. Anyway this week I have chosen a song/ poem that is set after the war to end all wars, the big one we have not fought yet.

What happens after the big one when the survivors all emerge from their bunkers. All our sons and daughters what will they have left?

When we arrive
Sons & daughters
We’ll make our homes on the water
We’ll build our walls aluminum
We’ll fill our mouths with cinnamon now

These currents pull us ‘cross the border
Steady your boats
Arms to shoulder
’till tides will pull
our hull aground
Making this cold harbour now home

Take up your arm
Sons and daughters
We will arise from the bunkers
By land, by sea, by dirigible
We’ll leave our tracks untraceable now

When we arrive
Sons and daughters
We’ll make our homes on the water
We’ll build our walls aluminum
We’ll fill our mouths with cinnamon now
(We’ll fill our mouths with cinnamon now)

When we arrive
Sons and daughters
We’ll make our homes on the water
We’ll build our walls aluminum
(Sons and daughters)
We’ll fill our mouths with cinnamon
(We’ll make our homes on the water)
We’ll make our homes on the water
(When we build our walls of aluminum)
(We’ll fill our mouths with cinnamon)

Hear all the bombs fade away………………………….

Google images

Poetry Challenge #7 is to create a journal of links and your reactions to poems by established (living or dead poets.) Details are here.  Example response is here. Mr. Linky for Challenge #7 is directly below

Poetry Challenge # 16/12/2012

He’s five foot-two, and he’s six feet-four,
He fights with missiles and with spears.
He’s all of thirty-one, and he’s only seventeen,
He’s been a soldier for a thousand years.

He’a a Catholic, a Hindu, an Atheist, a Jain,
A Buddhist and a Baptist and a Jew.
And he knows he shouldn’t kill,
And he knows he always will,
Kill you for me my friend and me for you.

And he’s fighting for Canada,
He’s fighting for France,
He’s fighting for the USA,
And he’s fighting for the Russians,
And he’s fighting for Japan,
And he thinks we’ll put an end to war this way.

And he’s fighting for Democracy,
He’s fighting for the Reds,
He says it’s for the peace of all.
He’s the one who must decide,
Who’s to live and who’s to die,
And he never sees the writing on the wall.

But without him,
How would Hitler have condemned him at Labau?
Without him Caesar would have stood alone,
He’s the one who gives his body
As a weapon of the war,
And without him all this killing can’t go on.

He’s the Universal Soldier and he really is to blame,
His orders come from far away no more,
They come from here and there and you and me,
And brothers can’t you see,
This is not the way we put an end to war.

Written by

Buffy Sainte-Marie, OC (born February 20, 1941) is a Canadian Cree singer-songwriter, musician, composer, visual artist,[1] educator, pacifist, and social activist. Throughout her career in all of these areas, her work has focused on issues of Indigenous peoples of the Americas. Her singing and writing repertoire includes subjects of love, war, religion, and mysticism.

She founded the Cradleboard Teaching Project, an educational curriculum devoted to better understanding Native Americans. She has won recognition and many awards and honours for both her music and her work in education and social activism.

Sung by

Donovan (born Donovan Philips Leitch, 10 May 1946) is a Scottish singer, songwriter and guitarist. Originally a folk artist in 1965, Donovan quickly developed an eclectic and distinctive style that blended folk, jazz, pop, psychedelia, and world music (notably calypso). He has variously lived in Scotland, London, California and Ireland, and currently lives with his family in County Cork in Ireland.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is an unusual anti war song . Instead of blaming the arms makers, the politicians, the generals, the religious leaders,  the usual bad guys. No instead it blames the soldier, the everyday guy or ( girl these days ) for fighting! Who knows the words could be right. For maybe if the the everyday soldiers and people rose up and said no maybe war would stop……………………… or maybe not!

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Poetry Challenge #7 is to create a journal of links and your reactions to poems by established (living or dead poets.) Details are here.  Example response is here. Mr. Linky for Challenge #7 is directly below

Poetry Challenge # 09/12/2012

What Was The Christmas Truce?
Although the popular memory of World War One is normally one of horrific casualties and ‘wasted’ life, the conflict does have tales of comradeship and peace. One of the most remarkable, and heavily mythologised, events concerns the ‘Christmas Truce’ of 1914, in which the soldiers of the Western Front laid down their arms on Christmas Day and met in No Man’s Land, exchanging food and cigarettes, as well as playing football. The cessation of violence was entirely unofficial and there had been no prior discussion: troops acted spontaneously from goodwill, not orders. Not only did this truce actually happen, but the event was more widespread than commonly portrayed.
How Did It Start?
There are many accounts of the Christmas truce, the most famous of which concern the meeting of British and German forces; however, French and Belgium troops also took part. The unofficial nature of the truce meant that there was no one single cause or origin; some narratives tell of British troops hearing their German counterparts singing Christmas carols and joining in, while Frank Richards, a private in the Royal Welch Fusiliers, told of how both sides erected signs wishing the other a ‘Merry Christmas’. From these small starts some men crossed the lines with their hands up, and troops from the opposing side went to meet them. By the time officers realised what was happening the initial meetings had been made, and most commanders either turned a blind eye or happily joined in.
How Long Did It Last?
The fraternisation lasted, in many areas, for the whole of Christmas day. Food and supplies were exchanged on a one to one basis, while in some areas men borrowed tools and equipment from the enemy, in order to quickly improve their own living conditions. Many games of football were played using whatever would suffice for a ball, while bodies that had become trapped within No Man’s Land were buried.Most modern retellings of the Truce finish with the soldiers returning to their trenches and then fighting again the next day, but in many areas the peace lasted much longer. Frank Richard’s account explained how both sides refrained from shooting at each other the next day, until the British troops were relieved and they left the front line. In other areas the goodwill lasted for several weeks, bringing a halt to opportunistic sniping, before the bloody conflict once again resumed.

The Frank Richards material comes from the December 2000 edition of BBC History Magazine.

Robert Wilde

Robert Wilde
European History Guide

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you can see I have two mediums for my challenge. Firstly I used JONA LEWIE‘s  video of Can you stop the Cavalry   You can read about Jona Lewie here

Hey, Mr. Churchill comes over here
To say we’re doing splendidly
But it’s very cold out here in the snow
Marching to win from the enemy
Oh, I say it’s tough, I have had enough
Can you stop the Cavalry?

I have had to fight, almost every night
Down throughout these centuries
That is when I say, oh yes, yet again
Can you stop the Cavalry?

Mary Bradley waits at home
In the nuclear fall-out zone
Wish I could be dancing now
In the arms of the girl I love
Wish I was at home for Christmas
Bang, that’s another bomb on another town
While Luzar and Jim have tea
If I get home, live to tell the tale
I’ll run for all presidencies
If I get elected I’ll stop, I will stop the Cavalry

Wish I was at home for Christmas
Wish I could be dancing now
In the arms of the girl I love
Mary Bradley waits at home
She’s been waiting two years long.

The song tells of how hard life was for the poor soldiers while the politicians and generals lived a life untouched by the first world war.

Then I have reproduced Robert Wilde’s excellent  article on the truce held at Christmas 1914 the one and only truce in both world wars.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My take ….. you all know my take on war. Thank you for reading my poetry challenge this year. It will be drawing to an end soon. I have learnt so much about about war all over the world. None of it good.

Poetry Challenge #7 is to create a journal of links and your reactions to poems by established (living or dead poets.) Details are here.  Example response is here. Mr. Linky for Challenge #7 is directly below

Poetry Challenge # 02/12/2012

They lie not in that empty grave
Beneath the foreign sod.
They do not lie forgotten
In that cold, and desolate Land of Nod.

Soldier Boy … Solider Boy,
The trumpets blast, and blare;
And wreaths are laid at the Cenotaph,
To show … that we still care.

But … there’s a greater love than Man’s
Who knows the price you paid.
He spared you the indignity,
And lifted you from that cold, cold grave.

He created a Great Celestial Shrine,
And the moment it was done …
With a gentle hand, placed the Valiant heart,
Of each dear Mother’s son.

Soldier Boy … Solider Boy,
Under Dutch blue skies,
The gentle Breeze of Holland …
Kiss your grave … as they pass by.

Written by  Earl Doucette

I could not find anything about Earl Doucette apart from the fact that he was Canadian.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This  is a beautiful poem. It speaks of God, whatever name  you give him/her, lifting all the dead soldiers from their cold or hot and bloodied graves all over the world and  in all times past and future and even present. He takes  them to Heaven ..whatever name you have for heaven. It is a comfort to us all, for the violent deaths and hurried burials that soldiers on the battle theatres  of war received. It troubles us all and so we have these poems to salve our consciences and please our tender souls .

We all have Remembrance Days but this is a way of saying they got a greater remembrance. I shall say no more you have all heard my feelings on War this past year.

Poetry Challenge #7 is to create a journal of links and your reactions to poems by established (living or dead poets.) Details are here.  Example response is here. Mr. Linky for Challenge #7 is directly below

Poetry Challenge #7 27/11/2012

In the darkness they saw a vision

We saw a vision  by Liam Mac Uistin

In the darkness of despair we saw a vision, We lit the light of hope, And it was not extinguished. In the desert of discouragement we saw a vision, We planted the tree of valour, and it blossomed.
In the winter of bondage we saw a vision, We melted the snow of lethargy, And the river of resurrection flowed from it.
We sent our vision swim like a swan on the river, The vision became a reality.  Winter became summer. Bondage became freedom, And this we left to you as your inheritance.
Oh generation of freedom remember us, The generation of the vision.

In Irish, the poem reads as follows:

An Aisling.

I ndorchacht an éadóchais rinneadh aisling dúinn. Lasamar solas an dóchais. Agus níor múchadh é.
I bhfásach an lagmhisnigh rinneadh aisling dúinn. Chuireamar crann na crógachta. Agus tháing bláth air.
I ngeimhreadh na daoirse rinneadh aisling dúinn. Mheileamar sneachta táimhe. Agus rith abhainn na hathbheochana as.
Chuireamar ár n-aisling ag snámh mar eala ar an abhainn. Rinneadh fírinne den aisling. Rinneadh samhradh den gheimhreadh. Rinneadh saoirse den daoirse. Agus d’fhágamar agaibhse mar oidhreacht í.
A ghlúnta na saoirse cuimhnígí orainne, glúnta na haislinge..

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The above poem is on a plaque and written on a wall in a garden of remembrance in Dublin . The garden is a poignant a quiet little oasis in the city centre.

The Garden commemorates freedom fighters from various uprisings, including:
– the 1798 rebellion of the Society of United Irishmen
– the 1803 rebellion of Robert Emmet
– the 1848 rebellion of Young Ireland
– the 1867 rising of the Fenian Brotherhood
– the 1916 Easter Rising of the Irish Volunteers and the Irish Citizen Army
– the 1919-21 Irish War of Independence of the IRA.
The Garden was opened in 1966 by President Eamon de Valera on the fiftieth anniversary of the 1916 Easter Rising, in which he had been a commander. Its focal point is a statue of the Children of Lir by Oisín Kelly, symbolising rebirth and resurrection.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Author

Liam Mac Uistin

Liam Mac Uistin is a well-known author and playwright. His versions of ancient Irish stories and legends have been published in the Irish language.  He lives in Dublin with his family.

The Statue  in the drawing above is  of the Children of Lir

The Sculptor

Oisín Kelly, symbolising rebirth and resurrection, added in 1971.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The words speak for themselves so does the sculpture

I have put this piece of music because it is of the era that the poem speaks of. It is Irish History and part of a long war, as useless in my eyes as any of the wars I have displayed the poetry of, in this poetry challenge.  I do not support the IRA, or any side in any war.

Poetry Challenge #7 is to create a journal of links and your reactions to poems by established (living or dead poets.) Details are here.  Example response is here. Mr. Linky for Challenge #7 is directly below

Poetry Challenge #7 18/11/2012

I cannot explain again about the pointlessness of war. No one will listen to me. The Middle East, Syria, Israel, Gazza, Afghanistan, Iraq , no  to mention the civil wars on the African continent. If you will no listen to me let this returning soldier , one of the luckier ones. PLEASE. you can read more words from war here

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Hollow Man I’ve made myself hollow again.
Life, love and phone contract paused… on hold.
Forgotten battles regain definition
As day-to-day worries tick-tock to sepia thoughts of old.

I’m thirsty for the forthcoming chapters;
New tales to trade for backslaps and beer;
Yarns rich with adventure (hinting at bravery)
Will mask my soul’s disgrace and despair,

As pallid ghosts of friends perch on bar stools
While their technicolour doppelgangers
Grin dustily from pictures on shelves.
For now, valiant thoughts of tragic grandeur

Allow my fears to be suppressed and sealed
Into three brown envelopes left with parade-ground precision on my desk.

Ed Poynter

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ed Poynter was an Infantry Officer in the British Army. He served in The Rifles (and before that The Royal Green Jackets) and saw action in Iraq in 2007 with 4 Rifles (TELIC 10) and Afghanistan in 2009 with 2 Rifles (HERRICK 10). He left the army in April 2010 and is now working as an English teacher in Sussex.

Poetry Challenge #7 is to create a journal of links and your reactions to poems by established (living or dead poets.) Details are here.  Example response is here. Mr. Linky for Challenge #7 is directly below

Poetry Challenge #7 11/11/2012

google images

Today 11/11/12 Remembrance Day. Here is Laurence Binyon’s For the Fallen.

For the Fallen
by Laurence Binyon

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.

Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England’s foam.

But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Laurence Binyon was born in Lancaster, England. His parents were Frederick Binyon, a Quaker minister, and Mary Dockray. Mary’s father, Robert Benson Dockray, was the main engineer of the London and Birmingham Railway. The family were Quakers.[2]

Binyon studied at St Paul’s School. There he read Classics (Honour Moderations) at Trinity College, Oxford, where he won the Newdigate Prize for poetry in 1891.

In 1904 he married historian Cicely Margaret Powell, and the couple had three daughters. During those years, Binyon belonged to a circle of artists, as a regular patron of the Wiener Cafe of London. His fellow intellectuals there were Sir William Rothenstein, Walter Sickert, Charles Ricketts, Lucien Pissarro, Ezra Pound, and Edmund Dulac.[2]

He died at Dunedin Nursing Home, Bath Road, Reading on 10 March 1943 after an operation. A funeral service was held at Trinity College Chapel, Oxford on the afternoon of 13 March 1943.

For more information read here

Poetry Challenge #7 is to create a journal of links and your reactions to poems by established (living or dead poets.) Details are here.  Example response is here. Mr. Linky for Challenge #7 is directly below

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