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Alice Walker, Blicke vom Tigerrücken, Gedichte English-Deutsch, Rowohlt, 1995, page 24

Never offer your heart to someone who eats hearts

Never offer your heart

 to someone who eats hearts

who finds heartmeat


but not rare

who sucks the juices

drop by drop

and bloody-chinned


like a God.


Never offer your heart

to a heart gravy lover.

Your stewed, overseasoned

heart consumed

he will sop up your grief

with bread

and send it shuttling

from side to side

in his mouth

like bubblegum.


If you find yourself

in love

with a person

who eats hearts

these things

you must do:


Freeze your heart


Let him – next time

he examines your chest –

find your heart cold

flinty and unappetizing.


Refrain from kissing

lest he in revenge

dampen the spark

in your soul.



sail away to Africa

where holy women

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There are no words.  There is no explanation.

I went with my mom on a boat to Boston

I went with my mom on a boat to Boston

To visit our friends.  It is on a big island.

To visit our friends. It is on a big island.

In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Gone, But Not Forgotten.”

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The Cancer Magnet

My friends are intelligent and articulate. And, I fear, shouting into a storm.

Ali Abbas

What would you give me for a medical marvel? If I offered you a means of gathering all the cancerous cells in a body in one easily excisable place, where one swipe of a sharp knife could affect a cure, what wreaths and garlands would you lay at my feet?

It is an intriguing thought, taking that which spreads and is difficult to track, and accumulating it away from vital organs ready for surgery.

Now imagine the disease is not of the body but of society: a menace spreading lethal tendrils across borders. A disease with its roots in the virus that is Salafism, and that was incubated and nurtured in the laboratory of the Taliban and Al Qaida. The cancer magnet is ISIS.

Hundreds have left these isles already to associate themselves with brutality and evil, and hundreds more have joined them from an array of nations. Surely this is…

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Once again, you get it right.

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In Aber Falls, North Wales

In Aber Falls, North Wales Dreams and fantasies 

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Kate Tempest, what an appropriate name for a lover of Shakespeare. And like the great man her words are exuberant, rhythmic and hypnotic. Kate is one of a new, emerging generation of poets whose works are meant to be spoken aloud with a rapper`s machine gun delivery. Again, it`s deceptively simple, but amazingly hard to pull off unless you are at the peak of your game. Inventive, fast and immediate, it`s in your face genius which hits home fast and hard. Wonderful stuff.

'I thought I'd never be accepted by the literary establishment': Kate Tempest photographed at the So

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I have another idea for a response to this daily post, and if I have time today I will get back to write it. But the instrument response also put me in mind of this piece I wrote, sometime in 2011.

Tempo Rubato


The sun dripped spots across my skin,

far-flung freckles in browns,

perfect pencil-tipped rounded map.

With fingertips, teneramente,

you trace them into outlines.

This shape, looped up and back around;

It is a treble clef, and this other-

up, across, back down –

whole note quavers.




We wait, each year, for a few days

of gilded sunlight and whispered song.

This is how a decade passes;

moments bound in rosewood boxes,

no strings attached to frets,

no chords for strumming.

Still we anticipate the sun’s return

for months we measure,

count time in beats,

so we can sing.



copyright Victoria Kelsey

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DP: Picky tongues

The daily prompt:You have to choose one flavor that your sense of taste will no longer be able to distinguish. Sweet, sour, bitter, salty, umami, spicy (not a taste per se, but we’re generous): which one do you choose to lose?


Bitter.  I would like to give up bitter, please.  

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