Feathery Flecks for Daily Photo (one)

Posted in Daily Photo: Photography and Poetry

“Wintery day,
On my horse
A frozen shadow.”
― Bashō Matsuo

Feathery Flecks 

After the frozen night
When finally came light
Little feathery flecks
Against the window pressed

feathery-flecks

continued in part two

Feathery Flecks for Daily Photo (three)

Posted in Daily Photo: Photography and Poetry

“Wintery day,
On my horse
A frozen shadow.”
― Bashō Matsuo

Feathery Flecks 

Forming and reforming
Sitting pretty, performing
My boring window adorning
But way too soon
To water transforming

feathery-flecks-3

Caturday: Cat Combo (four)

Posted in Caturday: Photography, Poetry and Humour
Photo credits Minttu Gustafsson

“Meow” means “woof” in cat.”
—George Carlin

Yawn!

See my tongue
See my pretty pink tongue
Now watch me yawn
Because you did not bring me
A nice juicy prawn

4-yawn

Caturday: Cat Combo (three)

Posted in Caturday: Photography, Poetry and Humour
Photo credits Minttu Gustafsson

“Meow” means “woof” in cat.”
—George Carlin

Black cat combo

A black cat crossed the road
She met up, with a slow toad

“Are you getting towed?
Or are you just really slow?”
She snickeringly asked

The toad looked at the cat annoyed
Then without warning
Her quickly passed
And ran off, really, really fast

3-black-cat-combo

Caturday: Cat Combo (two)

Posted in Caturday: Photography, Poetry and Humour
Photo credits Minttu Gustafsson

“Meow” means “woof” in cat.”
—George Carlin

Selfie

Click!

“This is my profile pic:
Can you dig
Did I get the gig?”

2-profile

Caturday: Cat Combo (one)

Posted in Caturday: Photography, Poetry and Humour
Photo credits Minttu Gustafsson

“Meow” means “woof” in cat.”
—George Carlin

Family Snap

A family snap shot
Of a different sort
They may have come
From near and far
But together a furry lot
Of a family they are

1-cat-combo

One Day in December for Daily Photo (two)

Posted in Daily Photo: Photography, Poetry

“December’s wintery breath is already clouding the pond,
frosting the pane, obscuring summer’s memory…”
― John Geddes

One Day in December 

The sun is quickly fading, into the horizon
The sky turning grey, all colours soon to fade

one-day-3

One Day in December for Daily Photo (three)

Posted in Daily Photo: Photography, Poetry

“December’s wintery breath is already clouding the pond,
frosting the pane, obscuring summer’s memory…”
― John Geddes

One Day in December 

The fire brightly burning, one flame slowly churning
The sun almost gone, merging, into the dark horizon

one-day-4

One Day in December for Daily Photo (one)

Posted in Daily Photo: Photography, Poetry

“December’s wintery breath is already clouding the pond,
frosting the pane, obscuring summer’s memory…”
― John Geddes

One Day in December 

The setting sun, painted the sky in colours
Red, yellow, blue, even with a darker hue

one-day-2

One Day in December for Freaky Friday

Posted in Freaky Friday: Tales of the odd and unexpected

“December’s wintery breath is already clouding the pond,
frosting the pane, obscuring summer’s memory…”
― John Geddes

One Day in December

one-day-1

The early morning light in the eastern horizon, in the colour of brightest red and powerful, like a wild fire, gave the villagers quite the scare. It had been a long dark period after the colours of fall had faded, but they had expected the dark times to last at least several moons over, before the light bringer would once again light the fires up in the North, indicating start of spring.

Gathering into the village centre, whole families and their pets, standing there, staring in awe at the fiery sky. No sound was heard, apart from the roars of the winds in the near forest. Then, the eerie silence was broken. A bang on the ground of a heavy object being dropped followed a squeaky voice:

“Ragnarök!” she shouted pointing at the sky.

The other turned at her, looking and wondering what the village oldest woman was on about.

“The war is coming!” she kept looking at the skies.

“War?” someone from the crowd dared asking.

The old woman nodded and kept looking at the skies, “Yes, the war”, she simply stated. Then sighing, she looked back at the village, who had their eyes turned to the old woman, clearly gone mad or delusional.

“What war is that?” a man questioned her.

The old woman stood silent for a moment before she responded.

“The war of the ages, the war between good and evil” she whispered under her breath and then turned towards the others, “Armageddon!” she half shouted.

“Surely, you are mistaken?” the man continued and hesitated for a moment, “Maybe we have miscalculated the passing of time and the springtime is upon us?” He turned toward the others nodding as if getting the others to go along with his assessment.

But, the others were looking worried and starting to realize, what the woman was trying to say. That the old fairy tales, passed on as folklore. Bedtime stories told by parents to scare the children to do their bidding, may now have become true.

“Ragnarök”, the old woman just stated silently and once again turned her face towards the reddening skies.

ragnarok

To be continued