Category Archives: WHISPERS

Who dug the grave ? I said the owl with my shovel and trowel.

1 1 1 1 1 1 1 birdsreportonofp00pennrich_0137



Philip Hammial

Two wrongs make, for owls, a night. Seven brides: they, the keepers of owls… a poem from Philip Hammial

On the floor, tie strings to their legs, pull
them around. Owls: toys without wheels. One
who blows into the wrong end—of a trombone. One
who blows into the wrong end—of an owl. Two wrongs
make, for owls, a night. Seven brides: they, the keepers
of owls, have dared to suggest that I won’t be happy
with less but six would suffice. What
Attila asked of Nestor at the Battle of San Romano: Why
to owls this show of kindness? Wretched & sumptuous,
a squat among owl-faced clocks. Stubbed out
on flesh: owls clap. Fifty men, fifty women
on twenty-five window ledges: holding hands, two
by two, will jump unless … owls, no
strings attached, jump first. A cheer for Lisbon—owl
chatter silenced. Modus operandi: a flooded forest, oars
for owls. Sailors in trees, coaxed down,
maybe, by … owls. Snuffed candles: not me who’s responsible
for this lack of owl precision. J’accuse: responsible
for my heart attack—that owl perched on my left
pulmonary artery. On the head of a pin: owls jostling
for space. Alone in the mess world (read hall): feed
them, now! Cat’s bowl: bath
for owls. For Philip the Good: owls
in a game bag. For Philip the Bad: flies
in a game bag. Opening his raincoat, a drenched
dealer in owls. Submissive for a pushing guy, sycophant
as owl surrogate. Common error of owl injection:
sub-temporal orientation. Goth owls: bald with
multiple piercings from which
canaries swing. Respectful of fashion whims, they’d
better be. Perfectly rendered: an owl in wood
to manipulate: obedient marionette. Four corners for
owl blessings, ascertain which is most officious. Quantum
wedges equal (usually) pontifical owls. They
know that we know that they know …
©Philip Hammial

Dogs are wise. They crawl away into a quiet corner and lick their wounds and do not rejoin the world until they are whole once more. Agatha Christie

1 1 1 1 d 2ogdayorangelinh00eman_0019_Fotor_Collage_Fotor

1 1 1 1 The Times and Northern Advertiser, Peterborough, South Australia (SA - 1919 - 1950), Friday 27 May 1949,

My Last Dog My Last Poem. (1949, May 27).The Times and Northern Advertiser, Peterborough, South Australia

1 1 1 1 dogdayorangelinh00eman_0019_Fotor_Collage

Queensland Times (Ipswich) (Qld. : 1909 – 1954), Monday 21 September 1953

1 1 1 1 Queensland Times (Ipswich) (Qld. - 1909 - 1954), Monday 21 September 1953

The Times and Northern Advertiser, Peterborough, South Australia (SA : 1919 – 1950), Friday 27 May 1949.

1 1 1 1 dogd4ayorangelinh00eman_0019_Fotor_Collage

I see nothing in space as promising as the view from a Ferris wheel.” ― E.B. White, The Points Of My Compass


toasted the hangover
inevitable as sun
that used to rise
in your name

i toasted the carnivals
we never went to
and the things you never won
for me
the ferris wheels we never
kissed on and all the dreams
between us
that sat there
like balloons on a carney’s board
waiting to explode with passion
but slowly deflated
hung slave
under the pin-
prick of a tack

heads down
like lovers
when it doesn’t
work, like me
at last call
after too many cheap

too many sweet
too much
whisky makes me
sick, like the smell of cheap,

like the smell of
the dead

― Daphne Gottlieb, Final Girl

The only one whom can whisper to you the ways of the surf, is the wind”

Wilhelm Sverdvik



Have you ever been surfing? Imagine you’re on your surfboard now, waiting for the big one to come. Get ready to get carried with that energy. Now, here it comes. Are you with that energy right now? That’s empathy. No words – just being with that energy. When I connect with what’s alive in another person, I have feelings similar to when I’m surfing.

Marshall Rosenberg



The Surfer

He thrust his joy against the weight of the sea;
climbed through, slid under those long banks of 
(hawthorn hedges in spring, thorns in the face stinging).
How his brown strength drove through the hollow and coil
of green-through weirs of water!
Muscle of arm thrust down long muscle of water;
and swimming so, went out of sight
where mortal, masterful, frail, the gulls went wheeling
in air as he in water, with delight.

Turn home, the sun goes down; swimmer, turn home.
Last leaf of gold vanishes from the sea-curve.
Take the big roller’s shoulder, speed and serve;
come to the long beach home like a gull diving.

For on the sand the grey-wolf sea lies, snarling,
cold twilight wind splits the waves’ hair and shows
the bones they worry in their wolf-teeth. O, wind blows
and sea crouches on sand, fawning and mouthing;
drops there and snatches again, drops and again snatches
its broken toys, its whitened pebbles and shells. 

Judith Wright

You lament not the dead, but lament the trouble of making a grave; the way of the ghost is longer than the grave.

(Efik Proverb)

z z johnq200quin_0149

‘Lose this day loitering, ‘Twill be the same story Tomorrow — and the next more dilatory. Then indecision brings its own delays, and days are lost lamenting over days! Are you earnest? Seize this very minute! What you can do, or dream you can – begin it! Courage has genius, power and magic in it. Only engage, and the mind grows heated. Begin it, and the work will be completed.’

– Goethe




“I’ve been on the whisky diet – I’ve already lost three days!” –

British comic Tommy Cooper

1 1 1 1 aftertowngoesdr00unkngoog_0010

“whiskey makes the heart beat faster
but it sure doesn’t help the
mind and isn’t it funny how you can ache just
from the deadly drone of

― Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last

“Whiskey and beer are all right in their place, but their place is in hell.”

—Billy Sunday

1 1 1 babysbaedekerint00grah_0045


“When I finally caught up with Abraham Trahearne, he was drinking beer with an alcoholic bulldog named Fireball Roberts in a ramshackle joint just outside of Sonoma, California, drinking the heart right out of a fine spring afternoon.”
― James Crumley, The Last Good Kiss

Logic, like whiskey, loses its beneficial effect when taken in too large quantities.

Lord Dunsany

1 1 1 billybookhughesa00lowdrich_0004

whiskey makes the heart beat faster
but it sure doesn’t help the
mind and isn’t it funny how you can ache just
from the deadly drone of

― Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last

This was their third bar since Piccadilly and they were both agreed that the two of them were very drunk but had the capacity to get a good deal drunker yet.” ―

Kate Atkinson, Life After Life

1 1 1 abookofcheerfulc00fran_0037

I’m on whiskey diet… I’ve lost three days already!

Death As a dark Shadow Beckons his prey Into the unknown By a soft whisper In the soul


1 1 cartoons00raemuoft_0039

“Drunkenness – that fierce rage for the slow, sure poison, that oversteps every other consideration; that casts aside wife, children, friends, happiness, and station; and hurries its victims madly on to degradation and death.”

― Charles Dickens, Sketches by Boz

Whiskey don’t make liars it just makes fools.”

― James McMurtry

1 1 withumorofagecom00land_0297


King Whiskey’s father down in Hell,

He rubbed his hands with glee,

“My son on earth is doing well,

Extremely well,” said he;

“Pile up the logs upon the blaze

And let the furnace roar,

Another batch of Whiskey’s slaves

Is hammering at the door.”

The flames shot up a brilliant red,

The grid was white with heat,

A basting pot of boiling lead

Was placed on every seat.

“Ha, ha,” said Satan, “this is neat;

We have no cause to fear

That they’ll complain they did not meet

A warm reception here.”

King Whiskey sat upon his throne,

His courtiers standing round,

All meek, subservient in tone,

They bowed them to the ground.

In tribute then they handed up

Their stores of golden wealth,

And from the reeking poison cup

They drank King Whiskey’s health!

And out beyond the palace gates

The wives and mothers stand,

And, breathless, loudly curse the fates

That whiskey rules the land.

The courtiers dimly hear the cry,

But Whiskey dulls their ears,

“Fill up, let revelry run high,

We’ll drown these childish fears!”

And men there are in Whiskey’s land

Complaining times are bad

And money getting scarcer and

But little to be had;

And yet however bad is trade

And things however flat,

King Whiskey’s tribute must be paid,

They can’t go short of that!

King Whiskey’s courtiers soon grow old,

And tribute’s falling short,

The strength is gone, the blood is cold

The once clear mind distraught!

And demons, imps, and grinning apes.

And glaring reptiles yell,

And loathsome forms and fearsome shapes

All point the road to Hell!

But Whiskey’s court is bright and gay.

Nor do the ranks grow thin,

For as the old are borne away

The younger ones come in.

King Whiskey’s father down in Hell,

He rubs his hands with glee,

“My son on earth is doing well, Extremely well,” says he.

You think Yoda stops teaching, just because his student does not want to hear? A teacher Yoda is. Yoda teaches like drunkards drink, like killers kill.


z lilysscrapbook00barkiala_0125

Ed McMahon

God invented whiskey to keep the Irish from ruling the world.


There were happy days, with watermelon, and sad days of whiskey.”

― Lewis Nordan

z vegetablegarden00thomgoog_0441


How old do you think I am he said I said well I didn’t know
He said I turned sixty five about eleven months ago
I was sittin’ in Miami pourin’ blended whiskey down
When this old grey black gentleman was cleanin’ up the lounge
There wasn’t anyone around ‘cept this old man and me
The guy who ran the bar was watching Ironsides on TV
Uninvited he sat down and opened up his mind
On old dogs and children and watermelon wine
Ever had a drink of watermelon wine he asked
He told me all about it though I didn’t answer back
Ain’t but three things in this world that’s worth a solitary dime
But old dogs and children and watermelon wine
He said women think about theyselves when menfolk ain’t around
And friends are hard to find when they discover that you’re down
He said I tried it all when I was young and in my natural prime
Now it’s old dogs and children and watermelon wine
Old dogs care about you even when you make mistakes
God bless little children while they’re still too young to hate
When he moved away I found my pen and copied down that line
‘Bout old dogs and children and watermelon wine
[ harmonica ]
I had to catch a plane up to Atlanta that next day
As I left for my room I saw him pickin’ up my change
That night I dreamed in peaceful sleep of shady summertime
Of old dogs and children and watermelon wine.

“If a bachelor decides to cook and at the same time goes to climb the palm tree, if he does not fall from the palmtree, his food on the fire (stove) will get burnt.”

z navaholegends00mattrich_0072

“It seemed as he had been falling for years. Fly, a voice whispered in the darkness, but Bran did not know how to fly, so all he could do was fall.”

― George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones

I tell her all the time,’whiskey is risky and it makes girls frisky.”

― Laura Anderson Kurk, Glass Girl

1 A cartoonsfrompunc01lond_0048

“As adults we try to relax from the never-ending quest for reason and order by drinking a little whiskey or smoking whatever works for us, but the wisdom isn’t in the whiskey or the smoke. The wisdom is in the moments when the madness slips away and we remember the basics.”

― Willie Nelson, The Tao of Willie: A Guide to the Happiness in Your Heart

In your days – things like this happen to you… You get a tap, a nudge, a gentle shake, and life whispers to you, “I know you’re tired – but I don’t want you to miss this.

Mary Anne Radmacher

1  A childrenandpict00greygoog_0031

“Nothing is ever truly set by fate. In one blink, everything changes. Even though it should be a clear, sunny day, the softest whisper into the wind can become a hurricane that destroys everything it touches. (Acheron)”

― Sherrilyn Kenyon, Sins of the Night

I like whiskey. I always did, and that is why I never drink it.

– Robert E. Lee

1 A bookofcatschitch00ross_0163


“Fight for us, O God, that we not drift numb and blind and foolish into vain and empty excitements. Life is too short, too precious, too painful to waste on worldly bubbles that burst. Heaven is too great, hell is too horrible, eternity is too long that we should putter around on the porch of eternity.”
― John Piper

there’s a bluebird in my heart that, wants to get out but I pour whiskey on him and inhale cigarette smoke and the whores and the bartenders and the grocery clerks never know that he’s in there

Charles Bukowski

z scottishpictures00gree_0115

“the psyche has been burned
and left us senseless,
the world has been darker than lights-out
in a closet full of hungry bats,
and the whiskey and wine entered our veins
when blood was too weak to carry on”

― Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last

The mistakes I’ve made are dead to me. But I can’t take back the things I never did.

― Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close.


“The boogeyman sleeps on your side of the bed
Whispers in my ear :"Better off Dead"
Fills my dreams with sirens and lights of regret
Kisses me gently when i wake up in a sweat

― Gayle Forman, Where She Went

It’s not what you say out of your mouth that determines your life, it’s what you whisper to yourself that has the most power!

― Robert Kiyosaki


“Watch out for intellect,
because it knows so much it knows nothing
and leaves you hanging upside down,
mouthing knowledge as your heart
falls out of your mouth.”

― Anne Sexton, The Complete Poems

Don’t cough in a hiding place. Sudanese Proverb.


I’d always watch for fishing lines, for sinkers and for floats,

and I’d be swimming nowhere near the harbours full of boats;

I’d keep away from swimming holes, of beaches I’d stay clear,

and you would never find me hiding underneath the pier.

foto – hiding in a pink tent in raleigh november 2010

He by whom swans are made white, and parrots green, and peacocks variegated in hue, he will provide thy sustenance.

Ancient Proverbs and Maxims from Burmese Sources.

DSCF7115 (2)

A wise old owl sat on an oak; The more he saw the less he spoke; The less he spoke the more he heard; Why aren’t we like that wise old bird?

(Edward Hersey Richards)

One wanders to the left, another to the right ; both are equally in error, but are seduced by different delusions. Horace.


" One who is unrestrained in life – delusion overcomes; as the wind a weak tree." Buddha

foto – raleigh valley

BULGARIAN FOLK-SONGS Dig me the grave with your noble swords, Over my head, O comrades, place a fountain, Over my feet plant a shady tree, That an aged wanderer may have rest beneath it, That he may rest and think awhile of me. That a young traveller coming to the fountain May refresh his horse with the sparkling water, That he too may rest and think awhile of me. Whispering my name and my sorry fate.

"The shade of the Balkans: being a collection of Bulgarian folksongs and proverbs"

jonphilbh 006

"Be Silent yourself, that will induce Silence in others. Do not fall into the habit of shouting, talking long and loud. Reduce contacts to the minimum. Carry with you an atmosphere of quiet contemplation, wherever you happen to be. The less you talk, the more will become your mental power. With the increase in your mental capacity, there will be increase in your power of discrimination too. Consequently, you will give up individual discrimination . Because of this, you will begin to consider the good of the world at large rather than your own individual welfare. You must cultivate such broad feelings from this young age itself."