The Seagulls

Gone are the warm days, easy and slow,
Gone are the blue seas, now the winds blow.
The wild waves of winter are rough for us now,
And so we come inland to follow the plough.

The tractors are busy, the harvests well-earned,
Grain in the silo, the stubble is burned,
Keen blades turn the soil while we wheel, swoop, and turn,
To fight with the rooks for the grub and the worm.

Helen Harbert 1985

RIP Mr Jones

And so ..... alas,
Terence, Graham, Parry,
'Two Sheds',
Jones.......
Mother,
of Brian -
'The Virgin Mandy',
And ........
Explosive consumer of,
"WAFFA - THIN",
Mints.
You are no more.

Naked player of the introductory upright.
Avid Historian.
Welsh.
You had a penchant,
To dress up,
As an
Old,
Lady........ but then, who doesn't?
And
You spoke very highly,
As we used to do,
too,
Of you.

In
'The
Wind
and
the
Willows',
You played 'Mole'.....
And you directed it too.
Brilliant!
It all made,
For a Ripping
Yarn.

But now, you cease to be.
You have
Gone,
To meet,
Your make
er.
You have shuffled off,
Your mortal coil,
And joined the choir,
Invisible.
You are
An,
Ex,
Python.

RIP Mr. Jones

(Alfred, Lord Kennyson. 62 and a half.)

Recursion is weird

Yener Torun

His photos of colourful Turkish buildings are amazing. Read a Grauniad article.

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