Fibonacci- “kued” – August 3, 2014

Today for Carpe Diem’s Haiku Kai Special, I’m going to write a Fibo-Ku based on a Fibonacci Sequence …  if anyone remembers a Fibonacci is a mathematical sequence … 1 – 1 – 2 – 3 – 5 – 8 – 13 … as you can see the sequence is created by adding the numbers that precedes each other:

1 + 1= 2 … 2+1 = 3 … 3+2 = 5 etc.

Chévrefeuille for the Special calls this a Febo-Ku … obviously the syllable count will be 1 + 1 + 2 + 3 + 5 + 8  etc … This is Chèvrefeuille’s Fibo-Ku:

star light
the breeze
this summer morning
birds singing their beautiful songs –
young sparrows playing hide and seek in the dry sand of the garden

© Chèvrefeuille


Here’s my try at another Fibo-Ku…

saunters …
the alley,
stinks of rotting trash
dark – dank … refuse of ages past
innocent, the cat generates mad fearful feelings
its life represents humanity’s superstitious fears of forgotten memories.

©  G.s.k. ’14

The Knight – July 10, 2014

(c) Jen from Blog it or Lose it!

“In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.” the knight said as he walked past the corpses of his dead comrades in arms.

He’d been born into a nobel family and when the Pope called for the faithful to free Jerusalem, he being the youngest son had been destined by his house to represent the family, at 16.  He’d decided to dedicate his life to capture and protection of the Holy City.

Jerusalem had fallen in 1069 … his stomach turned remembering his part in the massacre of the infidels, men, women and children who’d taken sanctuary in Temple of Solomon … 10,000 people some said.  Secretly, he asked himself, if this was what it meant to be a true Christian?

Those who fought at the Tower of David were spared, oddly enough, these had been warriors who’d resisted for days against the Franks.  We slaughter the sheep but free the wolves! He thought sadly. Then entered the chapel to pray.

Written for Bastet’s Friday Flash Fiction

This is pure fiction based on real history.

A Photo That Inspires – Leanne Cole – June 20, 2014

(c) Leanne Cole

(c) Leanne Cole

The Bench

Years past, bushes and undergrowth grew ever higher in the abandoned garden.  Once so full of sun-shine and summer glow, now the pathway seems to go through a mysterious forest, something you might have read about in a fantasy novel. Continue reading

Linear Time – Ghazal for dVerse – June 20, 2014

History’s seeming mutating change in linear time …
Keeps me wondering about the meaning of linear time.

When wayward drones warn me of terrible change in war…
I reflect on the fickleness of linear time.

I feel that the renewal of life is an endless changeless cycle …
As I see the stagnant historical repetition, what of linear time?

Wondering if perhaps disastrous change is again upon us …
Is new dark age to be inserted in the annals of “linear time”?

Bastet ponders upon the strange fate of our changing planet …
And mankind’s grasping unshaken belief, in linear time.

N.B.  We think that time goes ever forward, some believe that history is a document that demonstrates that humanity, if not in its particular civilizations but as a whole is forever moving forward in a linear evolutionary pattern becoming always more and more “civilized” … I wonder.

This ghazal was written for the dVerse Poetry prompt Repetition because I’d just been speaking about the ghazal with a friend and she brought the prompt to my attention.

By the way, this is a particularly interesting prompt as it presents many forms which use either repetitions of lines or phrases … which I love to write, so even if I don’t submit a few future poems to the dVerse Mr. Linky I do intend to write using some of these forms presented in the post over the next few days!

Haibun – May 28, 2014 – Nationalism


Once banners were flown and made literally to fly in order to celebrate a family or a quarter of a city, like in Siena, a province or religion.  Then, there were the rich potent reigning families like the Tudors or the Hapsburgs.  Each having their own special family stem symbolising their power and might.  Then one day, the idea of nations became a part of our collective memory.  We suddenly became a “people” no longer just loyal to our family or our province and king but a mythological “people”.

Before that age, conquests were made in the name of a person, not a people.  The “people”, when the last line was drawn were the property of some Vizier, Emporer or King or maybe a religion.

In the 18th century, nationalism was born.  First among nations was England, here’s what Wikipedia has to say on the subject:

With the emergence of a national public sphere and an integrated, country-wide economy in 18th century England, people began to identify with the country at large, rather than the smaller unit of their family, town or province. The early emergence of a popular patriotic nationalism took place in the mid-18th century, and was actively promoted by the government and by the writers and intellectuals of the time. National symbols, anthems, myths, flags and narratives were assiduously constructed and adopted. The Union Flag was adopted as a national one, the patriotic songRule, Britannia! was composed by Thomas Arne in 1740, and the cartoonist John Arbuthnot created the character of John Bull as the personification of the national spirit.


The term nationalism was first used by Johann Gottfried Herder the prophet of this new creed. Herder gave Germans new pride in their origins, and proclaimed a national message within the sphere of language, which he believed determines national thought and culture. He attached exceptional importance to the concept of nationality and of patriotism – “he that has lost his patriotic spirit has lost himself and the whole worlds about himself”, whilst teaching that “in a certain sense every human perfection is national”.

The political development of nationalism and the push for popular sovereignty culminated with the ethnic/national revolutions of Europe, for instance the Greek War of Independence. Since that time, nationalism has become one of the most significant political and social forces in history, perhaps most notably as a major influence or postulate of World War I and especially World War II. Benedict Anderson argued that, “Print language is what invents nationalism, not a particular language per se”.


From then onwards we’ve seen the price of rising of nationalism, even today from  the Basque country to Chechnya, the Tuaregs in Mali to the Eritreans … and so many more besides. Nationalism has been used to bond people even more than a religion or a single ruler ever could have done.  Basically, nationalism bonds totally through the creation of the myth of a pre-existing “people”;  united by language, culture, religion and race even when that unity never actually existed, as par example Italy before the Risorgimento, Franco’s Spain or Nazi Germany, just to name a few.

a flag, a song, a language
dividing  people

Written for Ligo Haibun – May 26, 2014


The Past … May 11, 2014 (Free Quatrain)



Weaving down an alley way
My mind went back to ages past
When in this flower of art and culture
The streets were paved in urine …

Funny how we’ve so soon forgotten
The miasma of London town
Cholera raged in the land
Not so many years ago …

The city streets throughout the world
Were filled with horse and carriages …
Now we complain if we find dog poo,
Imagine the streets back then!

The skies of London were thick and black
As coal burnt in homes and factories …
Smog is not a new visitor
We’ve just invented it’s new moniker …

Throughout the ages plague and famine
Were common, among most men …
Yet we only ruined small areas,
Of our Mother Earth back then.

Walking through medieval streets
History surrounds me daily …
I can’t help but remember
How our life has changed so radically.




The fortress at dusk… NaPoWriMo Aprl 21, 2014



in the ancient fort
long now it’s purpose gone
here we offer space
for artists and amusements
it’s moat full of ducks

 battles here once fought
are forgotten now to most
foreign invaders
welcomed now by our merchants
who sell hospitality

Venice and Milan
no longer the enemy.
Germanic hoards come …
our coffers need your euros
we toast you now with beer …

set up your campers
fill your sails with Garda’s winds
eat, drink, be merry
we’ve forgotten all the past
and the sorrow that you brought

yet inside some breasts
lingers still a vague unease
the money attracts
yet many would still agree
t’would be better to be free


Arco – Shadorma (and some history) NapoWriMo 2014


Ladies dressed in crinoline …
Fans waving,
Hoping to see the Archduke.
Until the Habsburg’s fell.

Double Monarchy,
South Tyrol,
On the edge of the Empire,
Until the Habsburg’s fell

Tall palm trees
Among pines and spruce …
Music playing.
In the evenings at the parks,
Until the Habsburg’s fell.

Wealthy came to rest …
Arco no place for the poor,
Until the Habsburg’s fell.

Arco in its Austro-Hungarian past was a city famous for its clean air and mild climate.  The Archduke planted an exotic arboretum, a huge casinò was built, where the wealthy played and listened to music.  The parks housed gazebos and outdoor caffès.  There were many nursing homes for Austria’s wealthy sick to recover from lung problems.  For the most part though, Trentino was one of the poorest regions in Austria and future Italy. People ate mostly “polenta” a sort of corn mush and died of pellagra.  Hundreds immigrated from the surrounding valleys going to North or South America to escape poverty.

It was only after the second world war, with the “special statute” which ensured that some of Trentino-AltoAdige’s tax money stayed in the region, that wealth came to the region through public programs that helped the farmers and merchants,  stabilized the rivers  (which regularly destroyed towns and farm lands during spring thaw) and built up the infrastructures of the region and permitted people to buy and in the old towns refurbish their homes.  There are 5 “special statute” regions in Italy…but only Trentino-Alto Adige has used the funds at hand to completely change the fate of the people who live in the territory.

Written for NaPoWriMoMindlovemisery’s Menagerie


Tanka – Castle Beseno

keeper watch in memory,
ages long gone past …
somber, abandoned is this hall
asleep now ov’r the valley.

Dark and dank these halls,
we walk among tumbled walls …
no song, no fire light,
no dance or fetes here my friend,
only sad whispering wind.

No knights, no maidens
all are long since dead and gone.
Beseno Castle,
relic of medieval yore…
forbidding stone embankments.

Unforgotten stand,
for some would yet think of you …
proud ghostly presence
of invasions and of war,
your might, your glory echos still

A view from the Castel

A view from the Beseno Castel