A few years ago I wrote my wife an on-line webapp to calculate the amount of yarn you would need for a weaving (she being an avid weaver). The webapp seemed popular at the time, but probably in need of an update. This time around I decided to work on
Author: Mark
Poetry
Lost Friends & Two Dollar Boxes
it hits you funny,sometimes, death,like a sledgehammermade out of puttywielded by a midgetwith spasticityas a surgeonwould wield a knife I was at an auctionrural typelots of weldersand big implementsfor fixing combinesor tractorsmixed inwith delicate china I love the smellsof old leatherand musty booksfrench fries and donutswith coffeefrom the canteen in
Poetry
While Cicadas Sang
Thirteen yearsburied ‘neath the loamin my backyardsilent diggingfar from watchful eyeswaitingfor a tender morselof fresh larvae. Thirteen years agoI was writinga special soliloquoyfor a special nightjust ‘An Ordinary Man‘in an ordinary townchanneling Leacockor at least trying. Tonight I satdeep in shadowsfrom the porchlighta quiet momentwith a gentle dogleaning against my
Geekstuff
Weather Light or Dark
Finally getting back to fixing some of the niggling issues in these apps I have created. OpenWeather data uses metres/second for wind speed, which is all good, but to the average person doesn’t mean a whole heck of a lot (m/s times 3.6 equals kmh). So just had to fix
Poetry
Summer’s End
The news this morningcame with the tollof Tubular Bellsflying up my news feedlike a teleportationto my youthCanada – Russia ’72Paul HendersonThe Golden Goaland the tall manleaning on his stickgame face onbeloved sonof a countrylooking for a signof what is goodin a timewhen the marginsblurred like the blue linebeneath Lafleur’s skatesthoughtful,
Poetry
Eternity Is…
Eternity is a song beyond timeor silence deeper than Creationcaught in the instantyou realize she has gonewithout a wordleaving behindonly a shaft of sunlightflickeringon her footprintsin the dust as she left. Eternity is the darknessafter the last “Goodnight!”before the dawnof your next baby stepsalong a flinty pathstrewn with memoriesand tomorrowsas