The sun is/ bright, but the/ chickens are in/ the way.

Roll up, roll up, roll up! Everyone's a winner! The Lucky Sticks stall, Lindisfarne North Primary School Fair, Lindisfarne. March 2012.

So the Lindisfarne North Primary School Fair has been done and run. Our (and by OUR I mainly mean JEN's) contribution - the afore-mentioned Lucky Sticks stall - was a raging success, with all sticks sold and prizes awarded. Moreover, the fair itself was proven a massive success, with the school raking in the dollars and proving that plenty of parents and teachers were keen to give their time and energy to making it happen.

Even better, the whole thing was achieved without any kind of hitch!

Well, unless you count the kid that broke his arm on the jumping castle and the bloke that needed the ambulance for the burns. Anyway, there are always going to be a few kinks!

Anyway, well done to the Lindisfarne North Primary School Fair organising committee and all of the volunteers, and my apologies to that girl who bought fourteen dollars worth of lucky sticks yet still didn't win the prize she wanted. Hopefully you will have learned the harsh lesson that very rarely in life do we ever get what we want or feel we deserve.

Actually, fourteen dollars is quite cheap for such a lesson.

Home to Roost, Kay Ryan

The chickens
are circling and
blotting out the
day. The sun is
bright, but the
chickens are in
the way. Yes,
the sky is dark
with chickens,
dense with them.
They turn and
then they turn
again. These
are the chickens
you let loose
one at a time
and small—
various breeds.
Now they have
come home
to roost—all
the same kind
at the same speed.

Comments

SH -ic said…

:)) are you celebrating a birthday party ....or is eastern earlier ..on the other side of the earth

1 April 2012 at 06:20

Kris McCracken said…

It was the school fair.

1 April 2012 at 15:07

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

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

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.

This will hurt me...

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