forget-me-not cake co

forget-me-not cake co, a photo by mord on Flickr.

Wonderful wedding cakes, in Cardiff and Dinas Powys

http://www.forgetmenotcake.com/

Give everything

shellway, a photo by mord on Flickr.

Give everything you are
Leave nothing of yourself
Give everything you are
And then............

Nothing, nothing, nothing can hurt you any-more.

Grey Sky

salt sand and sea equals rust, a photo by mord on Flickr.

Grey sky you can't hide the Sun from me
I will find the light you deny me
I will create my own Sunrise
But not out of spite
I will create my own Sunrise
To worship you.

Mass

Mass, a photo by mord on Flickr.

Speed we are travelling through the Universe - in one minute we travel 11 thousand 80 miles.

Gone

Gone, a photo by mord on Flickr.

Sun and cold, seeing the sun rise every day

Vinegar is good stuff

Positive days in work

Roo breaks bandwidth records

Thatcher dead at last

Will I have that dream again ?

Is it illegal to sleep with a skeleton

Betsan Powys is really a woman's name !

singing

singing, a photo by mord on Flickr.

I Hear America Singing ~ Walt Whitman


I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear,
Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be blithe and strong,
The carpenter singing his as he measures his plank or beam,
The mason singing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work,
The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat, the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck,
The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench, the hatter singing as he stands,
The wood-cutter’s song, the ploughboy’s on his way in the morning, or at noon intermission or at sundown,
The delicious singing of the mother, or of the young wife at work, or of the girl sewing or washing,
Each singing what belongs to him or her and to none else,
The day what belongs to the day — at night the party of young fellows, robust, friendly,
Singing with open mouths their strong melodious songs.

Children

DSCF9579, a photo by mord on Flickr.

And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, "Speak to us of Children."
And he said:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.