Reports

Robbie Yates

A brief animation for anybody who’s been a bit puzzled about how teachers mark their work…

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The Meters : Mardi Gras Magic – They All Asked For You

Check this out, get into the groove

The Immortal Jukebox

This week it’s been school holiday time here.

So, you hope for blue skies, warm winds and sun kissed picnic afternoons.

Dream on!

From dark and glowering daytime skies fell apocalyptic rain.

Scouring winds shook the trees which at night stood spectrally shrouded in deep mist.

Though we had never heard him before a mournful dog, let’s properly call him a Hound, assaulted our ears with low moans interspersed with window rattling barks.

Nothing for it but to dream of a different clime filled with balmy magnolia scented breezes and the appetising aroma of crawfish boils.

Nothing for it but to dream of a City, The Music City, filed with rambling musicians and revelling crowds all in thrall to the rhythm.

The Rhythm.

Time to reside in the City of Dreams.

Time to take a Streetcar named Desire.

Time to sing and dance abondonly in the streets and on the…

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There Was A Time

The Tennessee Poet again telling it like it is. Check him out.

Walt's Writings

There was a time

When life was simpler… slower

When kids were safe in school

When a U.S. President didn’t call people names on Twitter

When there were no cell phones

When politicians cared about people

When cashiers could actually make change

When immigrants entered this country legally

When there was not so much hatred

When we talked to each other face to face

When we wrote letters

When TV shows celebrated families

Ozzie & Harriet

My Three Sons

Father Knows Best

The Brady Bunch

When doctors made house calls

When children actually played outdoors

When we built forts, rafts and tree houses

When we played with Erector Sets, Lincoln Logs & Tinker Toys

When you could understand words to songs

When people helped each other

When stores waited until after Thanksgiving to decorate for Christmas

When families actually ate dinner together

But those were all yesterday

And yesterday’s gone

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The Parting Glass: George Jones RIP – All Dressed Up To Go Away

For more check out Thom Hickey and his Immortal Jukebox.

The Immortal Jukebox

….A time to rise and a time to fall

Come fill to me the parting glass

Goodnight and joy be with you all.

Hard to admit but the only page in the newspaper that I always read is the Obituaries.

I frequently discover histories of fascinating people I surely should have known about who led lives of extraordinary achievement and colour.

Of course, the older I get the more I realise that there are no such things as ‘ordinary lives’ for every life contains miracles and marvels if we but took the time to hear all those unrehearsed and untold stories – perhaps God alone performs that service for us.

I also frequently find myself strongly disagreeing with the perspective of professional obituarists when they memorialise the lives of men and women whose lives I actually knew something about or who had an emotional impact on my own life through…

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Neil Slevin, My Ball

DODGING THE RAIN

It was Uncle Ronnie whose kick sent it into the sea. But I’m not sure he was even there.

I watched my ball land in the water, drift away from me. The spring current sucking it into the horizon. Bobbing, it treaded water like a forlorn swimmer before it sank beneath the waves.

My ball’s flight had been so brilliant and so beautiful. Its landing and what followed knifed me.

I was sure I’d never see it again.

*

We left the seaside, me without my ball. And I didn’t play during that time. Aged 5, I just knew I had lost something.

Ronnie was the one who had played football, who had always played. I was the one who kicked and chased, always hoping for a soft landing.

The one who always got caught in the hedge, the brambles, the drain, hoping his ball wouldn’t fall too far.

*

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love poem by pd lyons inspired by the meeting on the turret stairs

Pdlyons's Explorations

National gallery of Ireland – Hellelil and Hildebrand, the Meeting on the Turret Stairs by Frederic William Burton

I know now

These cold stones

Lead up and down

to nowhere

I know now

These shadows

Indeed empty

Conceal not

your warm embrace

I know now

How little all else matters

Such as duty bound

or destiny

I know now

A love enduring

Having lost all

Is left with needing not.

When last my love we met here

Your strong arms to hold me

Barley room to turn my tears away

The kiss you stole

The kiss I gave

Only empty shadows now

Will meet me here upon the turret stairs

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Broken

Walt's Writings

There are times
When we all feel broken
Times when we’ve lost a job
Lost a loved one
Struggle to make ends meet
When the constant pain drags us down

How we handle those times
Is a reflection of our character
Do we roll into a fetal position
And give up?
Or do we rise, stand tall and say
I will not give up!”

Life can be hard
But we were given this life to live
So we better do the best we can
With what we have

The world may be broken
But our lives will go on
The clothes that we wear
May be tattered and torn
But love will go on

All that matters is that we stay strong
We can and we will
Get through this together

If our spirit
Our caring
Our compassion
Our love for each other
Is broken
Then all will be…

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