The vines are full of blackbirds in the golden light,
No thought but to catch the dripping sweetness of the grapes.
No tangled webs they weave, of contracts signed and shipped,
Of blood and grief and men sent out to fight.
The blackbird eats until he needs no more,
Then fills the world with song without compare,
While we watch with eyes of stone or full of tears,
And count dead children washed up on the shore.
Ein OIKOS[TM]-Projekt gegen Antisemitismus, Rassismus, Extremismus und Fremdenfeindlichkeit.
Mad woman from mediocrity, muses.
Writer & Photographer
of a son
Minoan Linear A, Linear B, Knossos & Mycenae
Ramblings of an Irish ecologist and gardener
Poetry of a changing Earth. The grief is real--so is the hope.
Inspiring others through the written word, fictional blurbs & documenting my writing process from scratch.
occasional musings of an itinerant seanchaí polishing his craft online
The Things That Are In My Head.
offbeat words for you...
Just writing what's on my mind
AS HUMILDES OPINIÕES DE UMA MULHER DE CORAGEM QUE DIZ SIM À VIDA!
a place to smile
My journey through photography
Inspiration and Spirituality **Award Free**
≈ fictionalpaper / piccoloscissors / creativeglue ≈
Philosophy is all about being curious, asking basic questions. And it can be fun!
Not a literary magazine for ordinary times, but a journal for an exceptional one. Writing the pandemic, together. Image, Somewhere in Time by Hengki Lee: Instagram @hengki_lee
Running in the slow lane
It started as a 366 - now a regular Photoblog- just for the love of taking photos and sharing them.
I talk you talk we'll talk
Promoting mindful living
A r t w o r k . . . f r o m . . . . . . H a m b u r g . . . . . . . . . . . . . G e r m a n y
October and November 2019
"Words are all we have" Samuel Beckett.
sharing the stories of interconnection
Jottings of a Storyhound
Oh Jane this is good.
Thanks. But terribly sad.
True but still good.
The last line really pulled me up short and made me think.
I’m glad you didn’t see it coming. I wanted a sharp contrast between the natural, mindless but innocent way of the blackbird, and the cold-blooded, appallingly unnatural way of humanity.
The effect was pretty much like a slap in the face and yes sometimes it appears that the only limitless force on Earth is Man’s inhumanity to Man
Listening to the politicians arguing the toss about refugees, and why we can’t have them over here, the lies and distortions they spout quite cynically to stir up pig ignorant voters makes me despair of mankind.
Yep… I didnt see it coming! Beautiful, stark, haunting and SAD! But then it wouldnt be a Jane Dougherty poem if it wasnt sad. 😊
I get a lot more mileage out of sad, I’m afraid.
Dont be… you do it with beauty and sensitivity
As long as the buckets that I weep don’t show too much 🙂
Just dont start another great flood…
Beautiful, but so sad. The world needs more singing blackbirds and fewer–rather–no children washed up dead ashore.
If only 😦
Oh, you having a thing with blackbirds. They sing in my heart, soul and pen. So eloquent. 🙂
Anyone who doesn’t like blackbirds must be sick to the teeth with my poems.