I might have been Canadian!
My Mum was born in London, Ontario, of British parents, but returned to England as a tiny girl. She had a Canadian birth certificate.
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Twittering Tale #90 – Pick a Card – 26 June 2018
It’s time again for Kat Myrman’s wonderful challenge to tax our creative souls. Just take her photo prompt and write a story, inspired by it, in 280 characters or fewer.
Photo by AlbanyColley at Pixabay.com
Here is this week’s prompt and my contribution. Check out all the fabulous entries here.
The muse had deserted him.
Over two weeks now, and still the creative juices were dry. What would they think of him?
In desperation he decided to visit his Tarot reader.
First – The High Priestess – Inaction – check!
Second – Page – mentally unstable – check!
Third – The Fool – check!
(280 characters)
Song Lyric Sunday Theme for 24/06/2018
Helen’s theme this week is Dream.
Well, I dream a lot, practically every night!
I am fortunate in that I can remember most dreams, and go back the next day to continue them.
I daydream too. More so as I get older! However, that has nothing whatsoever to do with what I chose for my music offering this week.
There are countless “dream” themed songs to choose from. It seems that every writer has a dream, and that is only to be expected.
This week I offer you a song from a young lady from America, called Sarah Grace McLaughlin. You will not know her by this name. Her parents were from Bishopbriggs, in Scotland, and she chose to adapt that town’s name and use it as her professional name, Bishop Briggs.
Here is her recording of “Dream.” I hope you enjoy it!
Dream
Crying eyes, broken bells
Back in course, no one tells
Down we go, wish me well
I don’t know where we fell
Oh, I had a dream that you couldn’t hear me screaming
Trying to tell you everything but it wouldn’t stop you leaving
I wanna wake up where your love is
‘Cause your love is always waking mine
I wanna break down where your heart gets
So torn it’s almost breaking mine
I wanna lay here, lost and bitter
So long, I feel like I could die
I wanna tell you what my truth is
But it’s buried down inside
Shining light, show and tell
Don’t be scared, truth is hell
Down we go, wish me well
No one knows where we fell
Oh, I had a dream that you couldn’t hear me screaming
Trying to tell you everything but it wouldn’t stop you leaving
I wanna wake up where your love is
‘Cause your love is always waking mine
I wanna break down where your heart gets
So torn it’s almost breaking mine
I wanna lay here, lost and bitter
So long, I feel like I could die
I wanna tell you what my truth is
But it’s buried down inside
They say that secrets make you sick and I should know
Just promise me that if I tell you you will go
Oh, oh, oh
I wanna wake up where your love is
‘Cause your love is always waking mine
I wanna break down where your heart gets
So torn it’s almost breaking mine
I wanna lay here, lost and bitter
So long, I feel like I could die
I wanna tell you what my truth is
But it’s buried down inside
It’s buried down inside
Songwriters: Dan Wilson / Ian Brendon Scott / Mark A. Jackson / Sarah Grace Mclaughlin
Just because #3
Just because: I love it
Just because: It was my musical awakening
Just because: It made me cry
If you can spare the time do watch the whole recording.
A different point of view
REFUGEES – An upside down poem!
They have no need of our help
So do not tell me
These haggard faces could belong to you or me
Should life have dealt a different hand
We need to see them for who they really are
Chancers and scroungers
Layabouts and loungers
With bombs up their sleeves
Cut-throats and thieves
They are not
Welcome here
We should make them
Go back to where they came from
They cannot
Share our food
Share our homes
Share our countries
Instead let us
Build a wall to keep them out
It is not okay to say
These are people just like us
A place should only belong to those who are born there
Do not be so stupid to think that
The world can be looked at another way
(now read from bottom to top)
– Brian Bilston
This poem is taken from You Took the Last Bus Home, a collection of Brian Bilston’s poetry published by Unbound in October 2016
http://www.brianbilston.com
I’m doomed!
Just reached 666 followers!
Song Lyric Sunday Theme for 17/06/2018
Helen’s theme this week is seconds/minutes/hours.
Well, that gives plenty of scope. Practically every single artist will, at one time (see what I did there?) , have recorded a song with some time reference in it.
I am going with the very first thing that came to mind. That is “My grandfather’s clock.”
You can, if you wish, follow the words with the recording by Johnny Cash, which is here.
My Grandfather’s Clock
Song by Johnny Cash
My grandfather’s clock was too large for the shelf
So it stood ninety years on the floor
It was taller by half than the old man himself
Though it weighed not a pennyweight more
It was bought on the morn of the day that he was born
And was always his treasure and pride
But it stopped, short never to go again
When the old man died
Ninety years without slumbering
His life seconds numbering
It stopped, short never to go again
When the old man died
My grandfather said that of those he could hire
Not a servant so faithful he found
For it wasted no time and had but one desire
At the close of each week to be wound
And it kept in its place, not a frown upon its face
And its hands never hung by its side
But it stopped short, never to go again
When the old man died
It rang and alarmed in the dead of the night
An alarm that for years had been dumb
And we knew that his spirit was pluming for flight
That his hour for departure had come
Still the clock kept the time with a soft and muffled chime
As we silently stood by his side
But it stopped short, never to go again
When the old man died
Ninety years without slumbering
His life seconds numbering
It stopped short, never to go again
When the old man died
Songwriters: Erich Doll / Henry Clay Work
However, I also offer this instrumental version by Leroy Troy. I don’t think he gets out much, apart from performing his clawhammer style of banjo playing!
Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 17 June 2018
Kat is a very talented lady, a fine poet, a beautiful singer, a lady who knows her own mind. Her patience is wearing very thin though, and here she sums up her week and only pulls a few punches. Check out her blog – you will be amused, amazed, and, probably, in agreement!
I realized that I started two of my magnetic poems this week with the phrase “there is no sanctuary”. It was completely accidental, or perhaps it was subliminal. I think it was most likely the latter. I have felt helpless against the recent atrocities perpetrated by my government on innocent people in my name as an American, and now most egregiously in the name of God as well. We are learning more and more about the Trump/Sessions'”Zero Tolerance” agenda for those crossing our southern borders; the horrors experienced by families seeking asylum in the U.S.; children being ripped from their parents’ arms and shipped to holding facilities, some even lost in the system. A system that uses intimidation and fear to dissuade people from coming here. And now we have a president who is using these innocent children as ransom for his ludicrous border wall.
To be honest, I don’t…
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Sunday sayings #40
To all fathers everywhere – Happy Father’s Day
(for those who have a different date I give full permission for you to be spoiled today too!)
