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Monthly Archives: September 2013


Autumn – Promote Yourself


Night time falls soft upon the Earth

Like a shroud for he who lies dormant until the lithe Spring

Balance of light to dark becomes bent and rounds until the cold is spent

Leaves touched gold by faerie hands, turn old and red and fall upon the ground

Autumnal triumph once again is welcomed with open arms by those who hear

The Harvest Moon, is a greeting from my mother, that warms me

September’s equinox is the gateway to comfort

Bracing for the coolness, I step into the change and all of its splendor

Cloak wrapped tightly against the wind, there is magic liveliness in the air

Candles lit, the hearth is too, tea is made, & I am cozy, ready with a book, and a blanket

Renewal comes with the first cold as peace and silence return to the once bright world

This heart of sweet rich darkness is finally breathing, beating strong, and at home again

High above, the sand hill cranes call against the heavens once more

My child-self rises present above the trials of life

-Kaite Erwin


Nice poem!

Thomas Sims

Malcolm Bradshaw

CHARACTER v. WORK – Promote Yourself


Okay so now there’s this dichotomy

Between a man and his conscience’s anatomy

What makes him greater?

His exploits or his character?

Some would argue, “what does it matter?”

The end justifies the means

The tasty pancake, the batter

The finish line, the short cut

The celebrity, the rut

Goodwill and good heart go out the window

All we care about is the gleaming end-product

There’s another thing imperative though

A subtle ingredient that thickens the dough

In the vineyard are delectable fruits

But what hold the desired succulence are the indispensable roots

Navigating through life, the reputation of our work precedes us

Albeit in the hearts of our guests,

To the audience of our person,

What remains indelible

Would be the inner you which to them was visible

That dazzling smile, the kindly heart

The spirit of your personality, that’s what’s more memorable

More than appellations, far exceeding the stellar

Your nature is rooted in their minds forever

So character versus work

Each having its perk

But rather,

Doesn’t have to be one or the other

Two rich potions that together

In the tub lather

I’m Setor Dzisenu, a new Ghanaian blogger currently living in Accra, Ghana. I’m also relatively new to poetry and look forward to learning more to better my work. Cheers!

Goose fair

Engraving Her Name on a Spark – Promote Yourself


She pouted,

I flushed,

our fingers brushed

electric touch.

Quicksilver graces

rose in our faces,

quickly glancing away.

When we finally separated,

we kept the charge

nestled in our lungs, and

every time we took a breath

a shock went through our hearts,

spot welding electric stars across every

drop of blood splashing

origami sheet metal souls.

CreateSpace eStore:

My name is Taylor Gibbs, I live in Canada. I have a few poems being published in October in Leaves of Ink, Wilderness House Literary Review, and Linguistic Erosion come October. I have a self published chap book; The Slight Ramblings of a Madly sane Man through available on amazon. I love poetry, writing especially but reading as well.

I appreciate you taking the time to have a look at my poem and possibly placing it within your community!

My Last Night

soft petalsxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When the pain became too much
I stopped looking
Finally the strength
To step away overcame me
False reality
Bitter truths
Splayed before my eyes
Quite simply my heart was broken
In more places than even they could know

When a cry occurs
Soft petals
Rain soaked tears
Skin damp from streams released
Across my cheeks
The general public never sees
Trails of passionate fears
Not because they can’t visualize
The instance of pain

A child’s eyes
Meant to contain beauty
A sparkle of delight
Expressive response to a world
That allows her unbridled love
Safe to imagine
Without panic or anxious torment
Without slander or tactless assault
Only soft cushions of life

Why have all the children disappeared
Innocence and naiveté, and quiet love

Thom Amundsen

FULL CIRCLE – Promote Yourself


As a young and growing child  
Mental seeds were sown
He’s medicated to be mild
Side effects unknown

Said to be unmanageable
Too wild to control
Prescriptions all too viable
No care for future toll

Now this child gentle, meek
Falls victim to their taunts
Mistake this boy as being weak
He flees to sheltered haunts

Witness of horrendous things
Of which he will not speak
How can family, terror bring
His loved ones, havoc wreak

He finds his shelter safe and warm
He climbs inside his mind
His sanctuary from the storm
His thoughts help time unwind

As he grows and comes of age
He grows tired of his pills
Things to do and wars to wage
Newfound battle of the wills

He’s grown and reached maturity
After years mis-diagnosed
A dangerous threat to humanity
For no longer is he dosed

Now his head is free to think
Unclouded by that haze of mellow
To evil thoughts his focus sinks
For vengeance new voices bellow

His problem is with reality
Cruel twisting of his fate
It is Preying on his sanity
Ever filling him with hate

All those years of passive sedation
The malice that was endured
Now he realizes with exultation
His revenge can be secured

Unnoticeable from the outside
The rage within his head
A wicked smile, eyes open wide
The madman kills to see you dead

Horrific spree of death and hate
This killer caught and sent away
Caged like an animal to meet his fate
Asylum his home ’til end of days.

Far too dangerous to himself and the rest
He must be tranquilized, to take away the wild
A remedy concocted, one that seems the best
The same one it happens, he was given as a child

The anger and fury lose their grip on his mind
The memories of his childhood friend held close
Taken back to better days, now easier to find
Then five words bring clarity, “it’s time…..increase the dose”

Life and death cross paths as they wind
And all things are bound to repeat
Locked away in cage and mind
The circle is complete

Another post from the mind of JMC at

drop by anytime to see what’s new. Thanks for reading and

thanks again to PC for this outlet.


3rd to 7th October 2012

With more than 700 years of history, Nottingham Goose Fair is one of Europe’s most famous travelling fairs, and is still a fantastic event to delight all ages. 

Over 500 attractions await fair-goers, from the latest white knuckle experiences, family rides and favourites including waltzers, carousels and Hook-a-Duck. 

Come along and experience the dazzling array of sights and sounds, and tuck into the local speciality of mushy peas and mint sauce or food from around the world.

Opening Times:

  • Wednesday 5 October 5.30pm – 11pm
  • Thursday 6 October 12noon – 11pm
  • Friday 7 October 11am – 11.30pm
  • Saturday 8 October 11am – 11pm
  • Sunday 1pm to 9pm


Goose Fair is situated on the Forest Recreation Ground on the outskirts of Nottingham City Centre just off Mansfield Road (A60).

The site is 11 miles from Junction 24, 9 miles from Junction 25 and 5 miles from Junction 26 of the M1 motorway.

Goose Fair is traditionally held in Nottingham on the first Thursday, Friday and Saturday of October every year
though for the past seven years it has started on the Wednesday.

From the moment that The Lord Mayor of Nottingham sounds the bells to start the event – usually at noon on Thursday – Nottingham revolves around its best-loved spectacle.Here are some facts to inform, amuse and impress!


  • It is the biggest non-fixed fair in the land and even knocks most permanent ones into a cocked hat. Well over 1 million people attend the fair each year. 
  • Council workers start marking out The Forest from early August. The biggest pitches cost around £2000 but a popular ride can take up to £1,600 per hour! 
  • The official opening is signified at noon on the first day by The Lord Mayor of Nottingham ringing a pair of silver bells after the Chief Executive and Town Clerk has read the Proclamation in the presence of the Sheriff of Nottingham. 
  • The Fair, including the showmen’s living vans, covers about 18 acres. There are around 55 riding machines plus another 40 or so for children. A further 225 games stalls invite the public to have-a-go.
    A further 400 stalls sell novelties, luminous bangles are always a favourite, as well as the all-important refreshments. The aroma of the unique blend ofGoose Fair foods fills the air; hot dogs, mushy peas (with mint sauce of course), cock-on-a-stick, candy floss, toffee apples, brandy snap and coconuts!There are another dozen side shows with such attractions as ‘Tiny Tim’, ‘Britains Tallest Man’ and one of the few boxing booths still in operation.
  • No-one really knows exactly how many centuries The Fair has existed, though it is thought that The Danes established a market/fair in Nottingham over a thousand years ago. The first official recognition came when King Edward I granted Goose Fair a charter in 1284 to mark the Feast of St. Matthew. (Until 1752 the fair was always be held on St. Matthew’s Day : 21st September.) 
  • When the calendar was revised in 1752, omitting 11 days from September, the date of Goose Fair was switched to October 2nd and this remained until 1875. 
  • The Fair has failed to take place on only 11 occasions since being made ‘official’ in 1284. The plague of 1646 intervened and there was also the matter of two World Wars, though it was back by 1944, albeit only during the day to avoid the blackout. 
  • These pictures show some of the first scenes to be captured on film. We can see the old flat-roofed Coucil House in this shot of 1908.
    By 1927 the new Council House was almost complete but not even the building work could stop Goose Fair, though it was soon to be moved from the Market Square.
  • Unsurprisingly, it all began with geese! Thousands of them were herded into The Market Square each year to be sold for the feast of St. Matthew. Some were walked from Lincoln and Norfolk, more than a hundred miles away, their feet coated in tar and sand as make-shift shoes. 
  • As geese went out of fashion on the dinner table the sideshows which had grown up around the fair became attractions in their own right. Waxwork exhibitions became popular in the late 1700s and animal shows became attractions too. Comedians, clowns, dancing bears, bearded ladies and the new-fangled camera obscura all drew the crowds. 
  • In the early nineteenth century, hand-turned merry-go-rounds started to appear. At first the Council wasn’t impressed. In fact it banned them, condeming them as “disgraceful and dangerous machines; instruments of folly and immodesty!” But public opinion won through and they soon became extremely popular – and faster – with the advent of steam engines in 1865.
    The helter skelter debuted in 1906. The following year welcomed ‘The Big Wheel’.

In 1908 the Cakewalk put in its first appearance. By 1911 electricity was available on-site and an electric railway was a crowd-pleaser. The dodgems were soon to follow.


  • In 1928 it was decided that the fair had outgrown the Market Square and it was transfered a mile up the road to ‘The Forest’ recreation ground. 
  • The fair originally lasted for eight days, though this was shortened to five days in 1876 when it was decided that it no longer served any useful trading purpose. Four years later it was shortened to three days and this is how it has stayed since, though in 1994 the event was granted a one-off extension of two extra days to celebrate it’s 700th appearance.The fact that the fair has lasted for so long is an indication of its popularity amongst local people. But it is impossible to explain in writing and pictures what makes Goose Fair so special. Local people talk of ‘Goose Fair weather’ when the nights begin to draw in and there’s a hint of autumn in the air. Add to that the cocktail of smells (all that food and the busy generators), sounds (driving music, ringing bells, shouting stall-holders and rumbling carriages), flashing lights and the smiling faces of those people who’ve just won a prize or had their heart pushed up into their mouth by the ghost train or speeding ride and you begin to get the idea. This must be one of the only events on earth that attracts the youngest toddlers, the ‘coolest’ teenagers and wordly-wise adults in equally great numbers.

Goose Fair

Goose Fair has been celebrated from days of old

When geese came to Nottingham to be sold

Thousands would gather together for the sale

Whilst many people came just to drink the ale

With so many people gathered there

The sale gradually changed into a bustling fair

An annual celebrations to be enjoyed by all

A time for entertainment when autumn mists began to fall

Folk gathered to watch the wrestlers and the performing bears

Feats of skill by jugglers they had practiced down the years 

There were side shows with freaks thought to be funny

And folk could have a laugh if they paid the entrance Money

You could get your fortune told if you paid a penny

The gypsies told their stories but did not convince many

They were taken in good humour, and some hoped it would come true

Especially when they were told ” Good luck will come to you”

The barrel organ was invented, the music was loud and shill

And this added to the pleasure of those looking for a thrill

The development of the steam engine led to the carousel

Which wants to join the action when the lord mayor rings the bell

At noon on the first Thursday in October every year

The lord mayor gives a welcome to everybody there

They have come from far and near, there is excitement in the air

The geese no longer come , but they still call it Goose Fair

By Ron Martin


I want your BMW


Drifting past me
Sleek and elegant
A fashion statement

I want your BMW
That should be my ride
If I were you
Then maybe I might have it
Cruising along the avenue

I want your BMW
And if I do drive away
That means I’m somewhere else
Not who I seem to be
Filling some absent void

I want your BMW
There is an attraction
To something I cannot have
Seems it is more than the metal
That holds your wheels in line

I want your BMW
I want it to be mine

Thom Amundsen

Info about Harvest Festival

Customs and traditions

An early Harvest Festival used to be celebrated at the beginning of the Harvest season on 1 August and was called Lammas, meaning ‘loaf Mass’. The Latin prayer to hallow the bread is given in the Durham Ritual. Farmers made loaves of bread from the fresh wheat crop. These were given to the local church as the Communion bread during a special service thanking God for the harvest.

By the sixteenth century a number of customs seem to have been firmly established around the gathering of the final harvest. They include the reapers accompanying a fully laden cart; a tradition of shouting “Hooky, hooky”; and one of the foremost reapers dressing extravagantly, acting as ‘lord’ of the harvest and asking for money from the onlookers. A play by Thomas NasheSummer’s Last Will and Testament, (first published in London in 1600 but believed from internal evidence to have been first performed in October 1592 at Croydon) contains a scene which demonstrates several of these features. There is a character personifying harvest who comes on stage attended by men dressed as reapers; he refers to himself as their “master” and ends the scene by begging the audience for a “largesse”. The scene is clearly inspired by contemporary harvest celebrations, and singing and drinking feature largely. The stage instruction reads:

“Enter Haruest with a sythe on his neck, & all his reapers with siccles, and a great black bowle with a posset in it borne before him: they come in singing.”

The song which follows may be an actual harvest song, or a creation of the author’s intended to represent a typical harvest song of the time:

 Merry, merry, merry, cheary, cheary, cheary,
Trowle the black bowle to me ;
Hey derry, derry, with a poupe and a lerry,
Ile trowle it againe to thee:

Hooky, hooky, we haue shorne,
And we haue bound,
And we haue brought Haruest
Home to towne.

The shout of “hooky, hooky” appears to be one traditionally associated with the harvest celebration. The last verse is repeated in full after the character Harvest remarks to the audience “Is your throat cleare to helpe us sing hooky, hooky?” and a stage direction adds, “Heere they all sing after him”. Also, in 1555 in Archbishop Parker‘s translation ofPsalm 126 occur the lines:

 “He home returnes: wyth hocky cry,
With sheaues full lade abundantly.”

In some parts of England “Hoakey” or “Hawkie” (the word is spelled variously) became the accepted name of the actual festival itself:

 “Hoacky is brought Home with hallowing
Boys with plum-cake The Cart following”.

Another widespread tradition was the distribution of a special cake to the celebrating farmworkers. A prose work of 1613 refers to the practice as predating the Reformation. Describing the character of a typical farmer, it says:

“Rocke Munday..Christmas Eve, the hoky, or seed cake, these he yeerely keepes, yet holds them no reliques of popery.”[2]

Early English settlers took the idea of harvest thanksgiving to North America. The most famous one is the harvest Thanksgiving held by the Pilgrims in 1621.

Nowadays the festival is held at the end of harvest, which varies in different parts of Britain. Sometimes neighbouring churches will set the Harvest Festival on different Sundays so that people can attend each other’s thanksgivings.

Until the 20th century most farmers celebrated the end of the harvest with a big meal called the harvest supper, to which all who had helped in the harvest were invited. It was sometimes known as a “Mell-supper”, after the last patch of corn or wheat standing in the fields which was known as the “Mell” or “Neck”. Cutting it signified the end of the work of harvest and the beginning of the feast. There seems to have been a feeling that it was bad luck to be the person to cut the last stand of corn. The farmer and his workers would race against the harvesters on other farms to be first to complete the harvest, shouting to announce they had finished. In some counties the last stand of corn would be cut by the workers throwing their sickles at it until it was all down, in others the reapers would take it in turns to be blindfolded and sweep a scythe to and fro until all of the Mell was cut down.

Some churches and villages still have a Harvest Supper. The modern British tradition of celebrating Harvest Festival in churches began in 1843, when the Reverend Robert Hawkerinvited parishioners to a special thanksgiving service at his church at Morwenstow in CornwallVictorian hymns such as “We plough the fields and scatter“, “Come ye thankful people, come” and “All things bright and beautiful” but also Dutch and German harvest hymns in translation helped popularise his idea of harvest festival and spread the annual custom of decorating churches with home-grown produce for the Harvest Festival service. Another early adopter of the custom as an organised part of the Church of Englandcalendar was Rev. Piers Claughton at Elton, Huntingdonshire in or about 1854.[3]

As British people have come to rely less heavily on home-grown produce, there has been a shift in emphasis in many Harvest Festival celebrations. Increasingly, churches have linked Harvest with an awareness of and concern for people in the developing world for whom growing crops of sufficient quality and quantity remains a struggle. Development and Relief organisations often produce resources for use in churches at harvest time which promote their own concerns for those in need across the globe.

In the early days, there were ceremonies and rituals at the beginning as well as at the end of the harvest.

Encyclopædia Britannica traces the origins to “the animistic belief in the corn [grain] spirit or corn mother.” In some regions the farmers believed that a spirit resided in the last sheaf of grain to be harvested. To chase out the spirit, they beat the grain to the ground. Elsewhere they wove some blades of the cereal into a “corn dolly” that they kept safe for “luck” until seed-sowing the following year. Then they plowed the ears of grain back into the soil in hopes that this would bless the new crop.

  • Church bells could be heard on each day of the harvest.
  • corn dolly was made from the last sheaf of corn harvested. The corn dolly often had a place of honour at the banquet table, and was kept until the following spring.
  • In Cornwall, the ceremony of Crying The Neck was practiced. Today it is still re-enacted annually by The Old Cornwall Society.
  • The horse, bringing the last cart load, was decorated with garlands of flowers and colourful ribbons.
  • A magnificent Harvest feast was held at the farmer’s house and games played to celebrate the end of the harvest.
  • Harvest is celebrated by many people but in Christianity, it is widely looked at in schools, and focused on in church.
  • Harvest is mainly associated with fruit and vegetables, for which we give thanks. This is the whole point of the Harvest Festival.

Red Bull Zombie – Promote Yourself

broken panes

Headlights blinking. Screens winking.
Flickers fast. Pulses past.
Faces. Stories.
From behind the glass.
Red Bull zombie—Zopiclone dreaming.
Rivers dammed. She is damned.
For counting cars. Memory jars. Covering scars.
Parked paces. Fragmentary faces.
Jeering. Leering. Revering?
Fleeting factualities. Through misted lenses.
Broken panes. Growing pains.
Ever-numb. Silently dumb. To the humdrum.
Ever-dark. Too bright. Plain socks dim the dizzying light.
Quickly gone. You dwelt too long.
You don’t exist anyway—Neither does she.
Blink. No change. Tries to focus—Out of range.
Nevermore. Hopeful of abating. Endlessly waiting…
To be me again.


Autumn and Winter


The nights are drawing in now
You can feel a chill in the air
The winds are getting colder
As it whistles through your hair

The leaves are turning golden
Still clinging to the trees
But they don’t stand a chance
Brought down by a gentle breeze

The frosts will soon be upon us
Spreading its carpet of white
Covering all before it
A phantom of the night

Then the fog descends in silence
See it swirling all around
Covering everything it touches
Clinging to the ground

Most of the birds have migrated
A squirrel building its nest
Scurrying around to fill its larder
Looking forward to the well earned rest

As we drift out of autumns clasp
Winter will take the stage
Bringing the north wind and snow
With blizzards and winter rage

When it’s all over and done with
We look forward to better things
For we know that nature is stirring
A breath taking beauty she brings

Malcolm G Bradshaw

THE TRUTH: – Promote Yourself


We’re left alone
every day
dad’s at work
mom at the store
uncle getting his fix
but where are the kids?
you expect when you ignore them
they’ll enjoy it
when you tear them down
they’ll ignore it
when you leave them alone
that they’ll be okay
but when you create these
bruises and contusions
they’re not as strong as you think they are
so when you come home
there will be blood on the wall
pills on the floor
a rope on the tree
your babygirl, gone
“your princess” me.
but don’t fret now
you have all eternity
to tear me down
call me names
place the blame
play some games
and use my death for fame.

~Kaia Loveless

I am what I am, just an ordinary fan.


I am not your modern day footballer
who collects his wages in a hay loader
from the Premier League pay loader;
aided by Sky TV and now BT money bag dream makers;
so happy to pay ‘the fakers and the takers’ on and off the field.
and so happy to take hard earned brass from the working class.

I’m just an ordinary fan;
“I am what I am”.
What happened to the working man’s game?
hijacked by those who just seek money and fame,
which just isn’t funny;
to those who follow the game,
it’s a crying shame,
to forget your roots like that!

No I’m no trend setter,
no go getter,
no position seeker,
no power climber.
no football cheater
no racist banter
no foul mouthed ranter
no ‘prima donna’.

I’m no crowd pleaser just a word teaser,
no people pleaser, who’s trying to fool ya.
Just a football fan, that’s who I am.
Perhaps a word rhymer,
a letter writer,
a campaign fighter,
maybe a ‘fire starter’,
or a motivator.

The power is in the written word; mightier than all the chairmen of the board.
No streets here paved with football gold;
paid for by the fans, I’m told;
even the poor families and their grandads and grans.

No money to line my pockets,
no gimmicks,
no greedy agents
with slimy tricks,
no hangers on,
no football politics;
just an ordinary fan.
So please don’t exploit me!

by Simon Icke, copyright 2013  UK.  Author of Touchline Shouting, The Sound of Children’s Feet, Young versus Old in Irwell Road and other Football poems: See

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