Posted on 7th October, 2016

Please note : because of the volume of work coming in I'm not able to let you know that your work has been posted, so do keep looking at the Blog and the Facebook page.

Work so far has been varied and of high quality so most of it

has been or will be posted.




Goldfinch - Tom Langlands





An argument of sparrows

Rages across a busy road

Traffic grinds to a halt -

Bewildered by such towering fury -

Avoids the fragile fighting mass,

Minds bereft of all except war;

Bread lies abandoned in the gutter.


Anne Micklethwaite.






A downy bird so small

Amidst the willows tall

With loud incessant call,

Chit chit, chit chit.


Four golden reeds stretch high

Eggs in the nest now lie

 With feathers warm and dry,

Chit chit, chit chit.


Her eggs are safe from cat

No danger from a rat

She chases high a gnat

Chit chit, chit chit.


The stripy cuckoo sly

Within the nest does lie

One egg and flits, goodbye

Cuckoo, cuckoo.


The cuckoo’s job now over

Take’s wing – she is a rover,

Life for her is clover

Cuckoo, cuckoo.


The warbler chicks are killed

The cuckoo chick is filled

Chit chit, chit chit,

Cuckoo, cuckold.


Thelma Hancock






Pears with giraffe weevil - Hazel Lowther




I was born a naturalist and my reading from an early age reflected this. In my teens and twenties books on taxonomy and identification, on Neo-Darwinism and the Gaia hypothesis filled my bookshelves. Steven Jay Gould was all the rage. It wasn’t until my late forties that I came across The Emperor’s New Mind by the mathematician Roger Penrose. He showed me how the quantum, the very small scale world, was related to the macro world which we inhabit and also to the very large scale world, the cosmos. A door was opened and has remained so. I had discovered a new way of thinking.


It was only when I was reflecting on epiphanies that I suddenly remembered a book from my childhood, a book from my parents’ library. I think it was titled The Stars in Their Courses (not the collection of essays by Isaac Asimov). What fascinated me was not so much the text but the rather fuzzy black and white photographs of the Andromeda Galaxy. I would stare in wonder at the images trying to get my head round the vast numbers of stars and the meaning of space. At the time the book was written it was thought that was all there was to the Universe. The billions of galaxies now revealed by the Hubble telescope would have been unimaginable. Perhaps I was primed by this early reading to be receptive to Penrose’s great book and his others which followed it. They opened my mind to a holistic view of the cosmos as a bottom-up, self organizing system, a system investigated by the most complex structure so far known-the human mind.


Leonie Ewing


                                                                  (Love Prompt)


                                                                  An appalling piece of doggerel for October online.


                                                                  When winter turns to springtime,

                                                                  Then the hedgehogs turn to love,

                                                                  Grunting, they search the hedgerows

                                                                  leaves, daisy, rose, foxglove.


                                                                  As daylight stretches longer,

                                                                  Soft warmth of evening balm,

                                                                  These hedge pigs chase each other

                                                                  Disturbing sunsets calm.


                                                                  Man does enjoy the hedgehog,

                                                                  Its waddling, bristly flair,

                                                                  He wonders how it mates, and,

                                                                  The answers, 'with great care’.



                                                                      Thelma Hancock       





    (Absence Prompt)                                                              




   The time has come 

   the music played

   and the light is not so bright,

   the sounds that were her world

   have vanished like the night,

   and the days are quiet and long


   Stillness reigns

   like shrouded mist

   chatter and laughter left,

   birds are soaring overhead

   leaving abandoned nests,

   and life has lost it's song.


   By Eleanor Chesters








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