The scents of Autumn are all around.
Soon acorns and conkers will strew the ground.
Summer’s outstretched hand
Still lingers,
Her loosening fingers
Hold
Leaves of gold.
The First Day of Autumn
Leave a reply
Category Archives: uncategorised
There was a young man named Steve
There was a young man named Steve
Who’s practice it was to thieve.
He stole a hat,
From a policeman called Matt,
Which made the copper grieve!
Give me a diversity of seasons
Give me a diversity of seasons.
Save me from one, long heatwave.
Give me reasons
To rejoice
Ingenuine choice.
Let me hear the blackbird’s voice,
Not the crass
Mass
Who scream
For suncream
And complain
That the rain
Is wet.
The sound of rain
The sound of rain reached my ear.
‘Twas no cadence drear
To me,
Simply the rain,
Timeless, wild and free.
Peasants in late Medieval London faced extreme violence
According to recently published research, “Peasants in medieval London faced extreme violence”.
Skulls of peasants unearthed in the UK’s capital show a much greater number of fractures than do those of the upper classes and it is conjectured that many died soon after having received their injuries.
The researchers believe that due to the cost of the legal system, peasants in Medieval London had no ability to employ barristers so would frequently settle their disputes in bar or street brawls, many of which ended in death. Interestingly most of these brawls appear to have taken place on Sunday, which was the only day peasants had off.
In contrast the better off residents of London had recourse to legal representation to settle disputes or, if they did engage in duelling, they wore armour which greatly reduced the danger of death.
For this interesting article please visit, http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-4833460/Peasants-late-medieval-London-faced-extreme-violence.html.
Naïve?
Naïve?
Who to believe?
What we perceive,
The signals we receive,
Are so much
Double Dutch.
Or are they so?
For the wise may know
The meaning
Of scheming.
An imagined delight
Takes flight.
The perceived swan
Is gone
And the old owl
Has no time
For the poet’s rhyme,
For behind each word
Is heard
The wolf’s foul growl.
There was a young lady named Claire
There was a young lady named Claire
Who had a steamy affair.
Her boyfriend Ned
Caught her in bed.
I swear I wasn’t there …!
Getting your self-published books into libraries
A useful article on how to get self-published books into libraries.
I know from my own experience, that approaching libraries directly is a productive means of getting your work onto their shelves.
I was delighted when Liverpool Central Library, wrote to confirm that they had added 2 copies of my collection of poetry, “My Old Clock I Wind”, (http://moyhill.com/clock/), to their shelves.
As a result of me contacting Swansea University (my former place of study), they kindly accepted my donation of one copy of “My Old Clock”.
Consequently, from my own experience I can say that getting your self-published books into libraries is perfectly possible.
I knew a man who sought
I knew a man who sought
The wild bird
Who’s song he heard,
And once caught,
Oh, how he wept at the damage wrought.
The hay is soft
The hay
Is soft.
Time gently coughed,
As man and maiden lay,
Heedless of how the day
Passeth away
