Thursday, 5 September 2013

forget-me-not cake co

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

Wonderful wedding cakes, in Cardiff and Dinas Powys

Wednesday, 10 April 2013

Give everything

shellway by mord
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 by mord
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.

Monday, 8 April 2013


Mass by mord
Mass, a photo by mord on Flickr.

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


Gone by mord
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 !

Friday, 22 March 2013


singing by mord
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.

Thursday, 14 March 2013


DSCF9579 by mord
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.

Monday, 11 March 2013

Partner ~ Patience Strong

Foetal by mord
Foetal, a photo by mord on Flickr.

The first dance of all when they danced heart to heart
They knew, they both knew, it was only the start
Of something more wonderful that a mere dance
More than a thrill of a passing romance.

They knew without saying the Love, the real thing
Had touched them that night with its shimmering wing.
No word had been spoken and yet they both knew
That suddenly all sorts of dreams had come true.

It's many a year since the night that they met
But that first dance they will never forget
Then a boy and a girl and now a husband and wife
Still happy, still dancing and partners for life.

Saturday, 9 March 2013

rhoose pond

rhoose pond by mord
rhoose pond, a photo by mord on Flickr.

Death XXVII ~ Khalil Gibran

Then Almitra spoke, saying, "We would ask now of Death."

And he said:

You would know the secret of death.

But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life?

The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light.

If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life.

For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.

In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond;

And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring.

Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.

Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd when he stands before the king whose hand is to be laid upon him in honour.

Is the shepherd not joyful beneath his trembling, that he shall wear the mark of the king?

Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?

For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?

And what is to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?

Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.

And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.

And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.

Saturday, 2 February 2013


DSCF1079 by mord
DSCF1079, a photo by mord on Flickr.

Feelings I shouldn't have
Pain of craving
Wanting something so perfect
Scared of such loss
Excitement, joy, bliss and deep, deep sadness