The Catacombs are Dark and Dim and the Red Jungle Fowl lurks within!!
posted by Unknown @ 11:57 PM
8 comments
Lemurian Abbey
The Lemurian Abbey, which lies beyond the Glastonbury Tor, is strictly restricted to members of the Order of Soul Food, to those votaries who have committed themselves to Making Art A Daily Practice and to building The Lemurian Abbey Community.
Saturday, April 02, 2005
The Catacombs are Dark and Dim and the Red Jungle Fowl lurks within!!
-
The Soul Food Hermitage Store is the place where travellers, who plan to travel lightly, can stop to buy some supplies. The Messenger and Tote bags are perfect
for carrying your journal, scissors, glue and pens. Buy one and you will be ready to write anywhere, be it at the local coffee shop or while waiting for an appointment.
The Crest Hermitage is a Nature Store stocking a wide variety of magnificent nature cards, prints, magnets and other merchandise. It features the work of Monika Roleff.
Previous Posts
- Fever Bark
- LOOK OUT ghosties and goulies and Things- That-Go-...
- Taken for Edwina Peterson, more warmly known as Wi...
- Oriental ATC's
- "My Heart Being Hungry" - Painted for Trendle Sept...
- "Spring Found Me" by Trendle Ellwood
- THE ALCHEMIST RETURNS TO HER LAIR
- Costello Returns
- Spring Found Me
- Ode to a Grecian Urn in the Abbey
8 Comments:
I feel much safer now, thank you.
Anita Marie
Ah! I thought you might. Don't get too comfortable, however . . . TRJF is, after all, a Roosterish sort of chicken and Trendle says those kinds are only interested in eating and, well you know. TRJF is very earnst about patroling . . . we'll just have to keep chicken feed and female type chickens far away so he can keep his smallish mind on patrol and off of food and well you know.
P.S. Please refer to what might be for dinner as "Poultry." TRJF has not learned this word yet and therefore is not threatened by it.
When I was about four I use to help my Grandmother feed her chickens...and ROOSTER
Only sometimes I'd forget to drop the food and they'd attack...yes, killer chickens are for real.
So I'd go running out of the yard and slam the gate shut behind me and there would be this SNOW STORM of feathers.
God I loved that.
But revenge is a dish best served cold and I guess I had a ' hit list' because I'd always point out the chickens I wanted my Grandmother to ' off ' next'.
HA,
Anita Marie
ODE TO A KILLER CHICKEN
Killer chickens on the loose
They know you’ve got the goods,
If it wasn’t for that clanging gate
They’d get you in the woods!
Remember in the darkest hour
Of their bead-eyed, fowlish plot
That ultimately you’re the one
Who points the way to Grandma’s pot
They howl on the wind of winter
A pruned and plucked banshee
The ghosts of Chicken and Dumplings
Who ran a fowl of Anita Marie
Wow!I'm in a poem, I feel so famous.
I'm sending it to my Uncles...
they love to tell those stories about my hatred of chickens to this day.
Anita Marie
After clarifying for Trendle that I do know a rooster when I see one, under the things that go bump in the night portrait, I am tempted to tell the gruesome tale of my father chopping the chooks heads off.
Poultry never quite tasted the same after one day when he let go his grip and the headless chook chased me, screaming, up the garden path. Dad usually hung the poor creatures, by their legs, on the branches of the lemon tree and the macabre sight scarred me for many years.
Fowls and I have never really got on and I won't sleep easily until I know this lad is back in the chook yard.
I may have just learned more about chickens than I wanted to.
Post a Comment
<< Home