Skip to main content

Were we closer to the ground as children, or is the grass emptier now?


RUN!

HE HAS A HAND GRENADE!!!!!!!!!!
Labels:

Comments

Magpie said…
What a face...so full of fun and anticipation. What story does he have to tell?
13 February 2010 at 03:57
Unknown said…
I think the grass is just as full, as we get older we forget to look.
13 February 2010 at 04:04
Carraol said…
Great spontaneity, the kid irradiate light and happiness. Greetings from MC.
13 February 2010 at 08:19
Kris McCracken said…
Magpie, something involving crocodiles.
13 February 2010 at 09:47
Kris McCracken said…
Carraol, and spite. Don't forget the spite.
13 February 2010 at 09:47
Roddy said…
The young master Henry looks like a young George Harrison in this one.
Was George into pirates at age three do you think?
What of the hand grenade in the left hand. Explosive!!
Sorry for the late inclusion, but my window closed at the most inopportune moment last night.
13 February 2010 at 12:43
Hallam said…
That's a good picture
13 February 2010 at 17:10
Kris McCracken said…
Roddy, let's hope that he makes as much money as George.
13 February 2010 at 17:59
Roddy said…
Maybe not as much money, but a full and successful life.
13 February 2010 at 18:08
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral
5 comments
Read more

There was nothing left. No reason, no conscience, no understanding; even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, good or evil, right or wrong.

Here is a self portrait. I’m calling it Portrait of a lady in a dirty window . Shocking, isn’t it? However, it is apt! Samhain , Nos Galan Gaeaf , Hop-tu-Naa , All Saints , All Hallows , Hallowmas , Hallowe'en or HALLOWEEN . It’s Theme Thursday and we’re talking about the festivals traditionally held at the end of the harvest season. Huh? No wonder Australians have trouble with the concept of HALLOWEEN. For the record, in my thirty-two L O N G years on the planet, I can’t say I’ve ever seen ghosts ‘n goblins, trick ‘n treaters or Michael Myers stalking Tasmania’s streets at the end of October. [That said, I did once see a woman as pale as a ghost turning tricks that looked like Michael Myers in late November one time.] Despite the best efforts of Hollywood, sitcoms, and innumerable companies; it seems Australians are impervious to the [ahem] charms of a corporatized variant of a celebration of the end of the "lighter half" of the year and beginning of the "darke
38 comments
Read more

In dreams begin responsibilities.

A life at sea, that's for me, only I just don't have the BREAD. That's right, Theme Thursday yet again and I post a photo of a yacht dicking about in Bass Strait just off Wynyard. The problem is, I am yet again stuck at work, slogging away, because I knead need the dough . My understanding is that it is the dough that makes the BREAD. And it is the BREAD that buys the yacht. On my salary though, I will be lucky to have enough dough or BREAD for a half dozen dinner rolls. Happy Theme Thursday people, sorry for the rush.
36 comments
Read more