Monthly Archives: November 2018

Forever Falls…

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I was here

When Ronald took the hot seat.

I watched from afar,

Appalled,

When he called

Diana, David

And stumbled over lines which in

His day of hay

He would have chewed like baccy.

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His image truly spat…

A vacation brain

Which sunned itself

In shades,

While military aides

Loaded up

A flip top cranium

With pencil tipped

Uranium.

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This man’s unsuitability,

Was scary…

The political situation

Much worse than hairy,

The fear of being nuked

Had become real enough

To make grown men puke,

But in our hour of need

Came scions after another creed.

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They sang of tribes

That fight for points

And of factions whose only destiny

Was to end as fractions

And followed this up with the power of love

To save us all from the hooded claw

Or so it seemed

To those still watching

From afar.

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So, send them all in…

There have to be clowns.

Something round…

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“How old is it?”

“How old is what?”

“The Turnip Lantern Tradition?”

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“It is truly ancient.”

“That is good.”

“There appear to be others who agree with you.”

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“A heartening sight.”

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“A truly heartening sight, although it may need more.”

“How much more do you mean?”

“To affect change people will have to become pro-active.”

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And with that…

The Grey Hobbit…

Ran off, through the trees…

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…and disappeared back…

down it’s Hobbit-Hole.

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What the stones said…

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“So, Robin Hood is a Moon-Man?”

“It would appear so.”

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“And what of Maid-Marian?”

“Maid-Marian is the Sea.”

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“Marion, or Mary is always the sea,  even in Christian tradition Mary is the sea, she might be ‘the sea’ as subconscious, or indeed for most people ‘the sea’ as unconscious but what does the ‘Star of the Sea’ ultimately bring forth? And what do we still call the soldiers of the sea?”

“The Navy?”

“‘Navy’ comes from ‘navigation’ which on the sea is via the stars, or at least it was originally. The stars, then, would probably be Robin’s Merry Men…”

“Heaven help us!”

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“Quite, we call the soldiers of the sea, Marines.”

“And it was all going so well… I would, though, like to see this place under a night sky.”

“Me too.”

“A clear night sky.”

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“It would have to be… Could we risk the over-friendly sheep?”

“Would they be in the fields in winter?”

“Possibly not.”

“And Little John?”

“Little John is the Sun.”

“I feel like weeping.”

“And the wind… cries…”

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Overkill Hill…

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Never look back!

It is good advice, unfortunately, in story-telling this advice, when given, is never adhered to.

Orpheus…Lot…Dr Faustus…

They are all concerned with Soul.

The Soul that turns to look back is caught in time.

It may be an ‘intention thing’, like trying to serve two masters, do not walk one way and look the other.

There are any number of mythological monsters depicted in this way to prove it.

Tiamet…Nergal…The Dread Beast of Mercia.

The hero ‘slays’ them all, by moving forward.

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But going back to take another look, that is different.

That is part of going forward.

And it is also inevitable.

This time we inadvertently found ourselves following our own advice from one of our books.

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We started at Hordron’s, that hoary old receptacle of time, went on to Strines, the ‘Peacock Pub’, and finished up at the Old Horns Inn.

And this time when we got to Bradfield, ‘Castle Hill’ was illuminated.

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No need to wonder where we will be heading next then.

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But first, we had another encounter with one of our mounds to experience.

We needed more photographs.

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And photographs…

Were duly forthcoming.

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Once we had braved the curiously over friendly sheep…