What Pegman Saw: People of the Bear

Roman Theatre: photo by Luca Comé

My father’s grandfather died… when the bloody-handed red-garbed men from Rome thieved our gold.

Those same red-garbed men set stone-on-stone within our valley. They bridged the rivers, built a road, and built a town. No seer needed to see where they’d fixed their sights; no flights of birds to know we capitulate or die. My father and his brothers, my mother and my aunts gathered stones to hurl at them.

And now in my time, those bloody-handed red-garbed men from Rome come armed. My sons tell me I’m too old to fight, and I tell them I am not. Am I to watch my people die? Hide while those who survive the killing are bound and taken captive, to be sold as slaves? Because the Romans want our pass, and the Salassi are People of the Bear and will not bow.


141 words written for What Pegman Saw: Aosta Valley, Italy.

In 143 BCE Rome seized the gold mines located in Aosta Valley. In 100 BCE they established the city of Eporedia and built road and bridges to access Great St Bernard Pass. In 35 BCE the campaign against the Salassi began in earnest. In 25 BCE it ended in slaughter with 2000 Salassi warriors killed and 40,000 men, women and children taken to Eporedia and sold into slavery. Because the Salassi were People of the Bear and would not bow.

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Sunday Fungi: The Regenerative Spirit of the Woods

The turn of the year seems an apt time to post this photo, thinking of the Regenerative Spirit of the Year…

Stinkhorn: 1st Oct 2019

Apologies to anyone whose sensibilities are offended… but it is a natural phenomenon 🙂

 

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She Does Not Weave

She does not weave and neither does she spin… or in more modern words, she doesn’t wear makeup and fancy clothes. Yet her beauty is undeniable.

Painted Lady: 12th August 2019

Natural Beauty: one of the titles in #2019picoftheweek challenge. For details see MariaAntonia

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CCC59: St Stephen’s Ladder

Crimson’s Creative Challenge #59

Stephen stomped down the stairs.

It was that day again. The day after Christmas. The day his extended family, replete with their over-gorged distended bellies, descended upon his parents’ place.

Look at them, pigged out and vegged out, and expecting him to perform at their lame game of charades. “Oh my, hasn’t our Little Stevie grown.” Oh yes, he’d grown, he now could climb ladders. There’d be no enforced games of charades for him this year. No, he knew just the right place to hide.

He grunted amused satisfaction and snuck out of the door.

No one would think to look for him here. The bell-tower at St Stephen’s church.

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Crimson’s Creative Challenge #59

#CCC59

Welcome to my weekly challenge—open to all—just for FUN, FUN, FUN

Here’s how it works:

Every Wednesday I post a photo (this week it’s that one above.)
You respond with something CREATIVE

Here are some suggestions:

  • An answering photo
  • A cartoon
  • A joke
  • A caption
  • An anecdote
  • A short story (flash fiction)
  • A poem
  • A newly minted proverb, adage or saying
  • An essay
  • A song—the lyrics or the performance

You have plenty of scope and only two criteria:

  • Your creative offering is indeed yours
  • Your writing is kept to 150 words or less

If you post a link in the comments section of this post I’ll be able to find it
If you include Crimson’s Creative Challenge as a heading, WP Search will find it (theory)
by ‘Searching’ in the WP Reader (fingers crossed)

Here’s wishing you inspirational explosions. And FUN.


I came upon these crowns of candles in St Mary’s Church, Mutford (Suffolk, England). They seemed slightly apt for the day. MERRY CHRISTMAS, FOLKS

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A Song for This Morn

image by Alexas Fotos on pixabay

Happy Christmas, one and all.

While there are countless songs for this season, secular and religious, this one is sure to have you singing along… a great way to start this day…

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His Sister’s New Boyfriend

photo by Pexels on pixabay

Robby sat back in his sister Lisa’s armchair and watched.

He didn’t much rate Lisa’s new boyfriend. A bit fly, a trumpeter.

Robby had already clocked the tree. “Where’d yer get that?”

“I have contacts.”

Hmm.

Now he was doling out pressies.

A necklace and matching earrings for Lisa. A drone for her father. Leather handbag, gloves and matching purse for her mother. Must have set him back plenty.

“Contacts?” Robby asked him.

“eBay.”

Odd they matched the list of stolen goods down at the station. Tomorrow, that braggart would choke on his hubris.


94 words written for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Hubris

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Sunday Fungi: Fly Away

And can we have Christmas without Fly Agaric?

Fly Agaric, aka Amanita muscaria

But who’s been eating off the *fly*?

Beware, Amanita muscaria is an hallucinogenic

From the Rhine to the Volga and beyond, the Fly Agaric was long the symbol of Christmas. It is the red of the baubles on our trees, the red and white of Santa’s suit, and the means by which his reindeers fly. It is the traditional *magic* of Christmas. But it’s magic can wreck the imbibers intestinal health! Beware.

And if you don’t believe me, check out this YouTube video:

 

 

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Pop a Poppy

The Winter Solstice and I seek a suitable photo both for that and for Maria’s #2019picoftheweek challenge. And have to flip the calendar back to summer…

The common field poppy: 4th June 2019

The vibrant red of the common field poppy, *popped* against washed-out grey foliage, makes me think of the Solstice’s promise of new life at this grey and weary time of year.

Pop of Colour, one of the titles in #2019picoftheweek challenge. For details see MariaAntonia

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Song of the Solstice

image by Gerhard Gellinger on Pixabay

Dead Dame of the Solstice, rise from your coffin
Shine light in my heart, your heat on my skin
Rise from the southlands, rise into the heavens
Fill me with light though cold winter begins.

Daughter of Dawn, your bright light inspires me
Your light in my heart, your heat on my skin
You, I would have to light up my dark days
Though you scowl in the winter, you smile in the spring.

Pleasing indeed the light you cast on me
Your light in my heart, your heat on my skin
Mistress of Day, be my inspiration
Light up my dark thoughts as a New Year begins.

Mistress of Dawn, Queen of the West Lands
Your light in my heart, your heat on my skin
Bright light of day, I’ll sing a song for you
For you light me without, you light me within.


 

Wishing all my readers Peace at this Turn of the Year, and an unfailing Torch to see you through the coming winter nights… and a couple of songs to spin you on your way.

 

 

 

Posted in Poems (Some Silly), Thoughts | Tagged , | 46 Comments