Feathered for a day,
Feathered and proud, on the final Tuesday of January, as eyes of the world turn to a group of young Vikings about to perpetuate a tradition fit for our Nordic latitude.
It is a time when our Junior Jarl Squad shines inside our hall before they stampede through the school and then the town with their elders for a marathon of merriment.
Every year, the island’s sole urban centre sets itself for such day.
As night settles, their replica viking long ships will be torched like a winter bonfire. You can watch live via 60N TV online.
May this summons the return of the sun 🙂
Happy Lerwick Up-Helly-Aa!
Filed under 60N, ash, blogging, boats, celebration, earth, festival, fire, geopoetics, home, images, island, lerwick, life, north, scotland, shetland, spirit, vikings
tonight’s gale contained inside my chimney’s conduit. I hate this type of exercise – this woman trapped deep inside me can sometimes shine and find her words.
my galley on fire,
my hellery –
March is a nightmare with
hell, tears & bliss,
March is a month
I learnt to
tarnished with blood,
loss of my future,
a monster in
mechanism turned into
world whirled in
a wind they
© Nat Hall 2015
Filed under 2015, 60N, Arcania, ash, geopoetics, life, north, offcourse, poet, poetry, scotland, shetland, spirit, verse, verse poetry, wind, world, writing
Lerwick, Shetland – 1 Jarl, 47 squads, 969 torches through the streets of the Islands’ capital…
Les moments forts, highlights in a string of images fresh from my iPod 🙂
Filed under 60N, ash, boats, celebration, colours, festival, fire, geopoetics, home, island, lerwick, life, north, scotland, shetland, spirit, world
Sur la terre des droits de l’homme
Fanaticism, brain washing, indoctrination and ignorance should have no place. And yet… A trio attempted to silence freedom of expression.
It’s like walking backwards… They think they can stop a concept with bullets. Correction: they created a movement of solidarity by spilling blood.
I can’t believe Cabu – who cartooned my every Wednesday afternoon as a teenager – fell among eleven other souls… I can’t come to terms with such act of barbarity in the first place.
Politics can backfire in so many different ways. Terrorism has so many faces.
Yet as one cannot stop terrorism, one cannot equally silence freedom of expression (unless dictatorship overrides democracy).
May the many pencils rise against tyranny – may the world unite
Monsieur Voltaire would embrace it.
All images courtesy of Charlie Hebdo Support Community
My sympathy goes to all the victims’ families, as well as to all those victim of intolerance, terrorism, fanaticism & oppression of any kind.
My greatest fear resides in the fact some people may be misled by some politicians and vote for even more dangerous political etiquettes… A few 20th century leaders who led their countries to annihilation were elected this way. They (such politicians) feed on this.
common people are not responsible for their government’s foreign & economic policies, as governments are governed in strange ways & obey rules of unreachable mercantile nature (the masses cannot reach) once politicians are elected… (When nations are granted such right to vote).
Democracy has long lost its primeval meaning. And it hurts.
First snow –
bird inside cage, inside darkest of corridor,
winter of all requirements,
on final day of October,
to sing at night
among snowflakes that
come invited on your hair, as we
carve faces from darkness, pale blue lightness of icicles.
We just opened
doors to Samhain, where
thru’ darkest of
With them, winter –
where November seeks through
weak light our long shadows,
tears & final, blood
such a thin veil
as the living
blends with the dead to
feast in peace below first snow.
feast of the dead –
time to reconcile with
ready to dance
with northern lights.
tell me the runes will never lie.
© Nat Hall 2013
—————- 31 Oct 2013, Samhain
Filed under 2013, 60N, Arcania, ash, aurora borealis, celebration, colours, earth, geopoetics, home, images, island, north, poetry, shore, spirit, verse, verse poetry, winter, world, writing
I have a thing about dragons.
They make me dream.
Let them fly to you. Amazing creatures with glowing eyes and power to elevate your spirit. They are fire. Fully clad with claws (sometimes hidden in velvet gloves) that resemble a fully extended Swiss army knife, the most charming of smiles… Would you believe they can be truly elusive, so shy they are? I once met one, who answered by the name of Feenix. We lived on neighbouring islands – we spent our time wrapped up inside our poetry… Feenix then flew south of my headland. She came back once inside my den, though I have not heard from her since then.
Now, there is another, a he-youngling, who is growing north of my den. He will be eight weeks on Tuesday. His mum’s a poet too 🙂
On the twelfth night, fire rekindles my spirit!
from this to that
Our homeworld’s amazing – unpredictable, skyshifting like a celestial chameleon – from ash plumes to ash-tainted mini-blizzards and back into blue before sliding down to the monotony od speckled white. Wow! This morning was so promising in spite of melting snowflake during overnight showers… And then, our nordic sky blackened again and snow flew towards us at great speed. Big, gluey, fluffy, fat snowflakes falling on and off all day and still at the time of typing this entry…
Both amazing and mental… Not uncommon on this latitude. That cold airflow from more nordic latitudes (Arctic circle, Iceland…. Oh, poor Iceland. I do not mean to stigmatise you – you’ve got enough on your plate at the minute) can bring such mini-blizzards as late as… June! Our British Met Office has been very accurate recently. Snow was just the last thing many of us wish to see right now. Our garden here, so promising with buds and flowers everywhere. Argh well, I trust nature has ways to deal with the elements.
Wish for pebbles.
I’m losing sight of horizon, that blue barrier in heavens,
where all my dreams in single file
gather and dance;
Now I walk through mirrors in ice,
icicles betray more than eyes –
here comes a monster in disguise; ego shadow,
blown by west wind invincible,
that doesn’t breathe,
direct or talk.
Sandwick, May 2007
Filed under Arcania, ash, colours, earth, geopoetics, home, images, island, life, north, shetland, snow, verse