It's Christmas time again
Time for families to be together
A time to give thanks
That we are not apart
Our loved ones are with us
We are not on our own
But out there in Afghan
Our boys are just that
Out on their own working
And under attack
Where they wish that for Christmas
They could spend it at home.
But Santa is kind he does not forget
He saved up some pressies to give to our boys
Dodging the bullets he flew on his way
To make sure they got presents on their Christmas day
With a ho ho ho he was then on his way
To boys and girls with toys to play
But his best time of all came at journey's end
When checking his list he remembers his friends
The cooks in the mess tents who fed him fine food
The men who gave Rudolf and Prancer their share
Then as he took off they gave him a cheer
As he took their love to the children so dear
A look of contentment appears on his face
As he drinks up his coffee at a leisurely pace
Then goes to his window and opens it wide
Looking out on the world he raises his voice
MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL
AND TO ALL GIRLS AND BOYS
(c) Michael Douglas Bosc
Daily Quote: The voyage of discovery is not in seeking new landscapes
but in having new eyes.
- Marcel Proust
Linguist Corner-ITALIAN: bambina: child / noun.
Example sentence: Da bambina mi divertivo a disegnare.
Translation: As a child I enjoyed drawing.
He waited to collect
the image, for the moment
when the bird would open its wings and lunge
for the child, starving in the Sudanese sand.
And later, he cannot decide how long after
he walked away she rasped air through her body:
Arabic, “further, further,” a kilometer from food.
His attempts to photograph his adaptation
of life as something more leave
hardwood floors hidden behind stories.
Pulitzers go to eye-trapping,
shadow filled falsehoods and pretty discrepancies.
His photograph promises she reached the camp.
He tells himself that humanity is hungry for similarity,
but he trips over his own evolutionary dreams,
ideals lost in the replication of each mutation.
Individuals do not expose with the light,
leaving stem cells to slip through the lenses,
proving passion never makes it past the UV filter.
Traces of each subject’s DNA linger
along the edges of the camera cap
With blocked out A’s and G’s, common grime.
This haunting survives.
His starving babe.
His waiting vulture.
Touched by the image captured by Kevin Carter in 1994 this award winning poem was written by Eliza Heath which the Greenhouse Neutral Foundation has been privileged to feature.
Kevin who was awarded the Pulitzer for his photograph committed suicide three months after taking the picture.
Join us NOW to help those who are most at risk of starvation
Eliza Heath was born in Atlanta, Georgia. She attended boarding school in Massachusetts and has come back to the area for college, despite the cold weather. Currently a student at Tufts University, Eliza has also worked and studied internationally, most recently spending a year teaching in the Middle East. She received the Elizabeth Bishop Prize for Poetry, and her poems and short stories have been featured in a handful of small publications. She can be reached at eliza.alden@gmail.com or @eheat on Twitter.
Quote of the Day: "Misery, mutilation, destruction, terror, starvation and death characterize the process of war and form a principal part of the product."
~Louis Mumford
Loud shots reverberating across the emptied square,
neighbour’s bullets smashing, splintering through window,
one viciously driving into this man’s chest,
exploding, his back erupting,
two others into the wall slamming, splattering,
waking terrified mother and screaming baby from rest.
Through mattress passing and over bodies,
violating and shattering,
showering this sacred room,
with innocent blood and pitiless lead,
these soft-nosed dumdum bullets,
hatefully shouting of doom.
A mortally wounded husband wife trembling arms cradling,
amidst her child’s frightening wailing,
in his breast his spirit to hold she is desperately trying,
but in torrents of blood before her eyes his life is ending……
Fergus Carty
"For in reason, all government without the consent of the governed is the very definition of slavery."
~Jonathan Swift
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