• About PeterSIronwood

petersironwood

~ Finding, formulating and solving life's frustrations.

petersironwood

Tag Archives: poem

Sonnet of Vlademort

06 Sunday Mar 2022

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

Democracy, poem, poetry, politics, Putin, sonnet, Ukraine

Photo by BROTE studio on Pexels.com

I lie!  I cheat! And then, I win! Makes ME
The best and baddest Putin-tate of all!
I kill my people who tell truth, you see,
I have to do it or I’ll seem so small. 

Photo by NEOSiAM 2020 on Pexels.com

I’m such a chicken and a rat,

I cannot fight myself, of course, so then

I send young men to kill and die and that?

It makes me feel most powerful! And, when

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

The blood of babies, moms, and elderly

Flows through the streets that are not mine. 

My heart leaps up in joyous revelry.

It is my substitute for having spine.

Photo by VisionPic .net on Pexels.com



I steal the wealth of Russians in my thrall.
That’s not enough for me! I want it all!

Photo by Samira on Pexels.com

————————-

Absolute is not just a vodka (poem about dictatorship)

Overheard Conversations of Fiction (Between Putin & TFG)

Voter Suppression is Life Suppression (Essay showing why this is so)

Essays on America: Wednesday (How we can “paint ourselves into a corner” psychologically).

The Stopping Rule (The *lack* of stopping rule for Dictators is a problem; for any procedure, algorithm, or machine, there needs to be a stopping rule).

The Update Problem (Essay about how when things change, we don’t always update all the relevant attitudes & beliefs we have).

The Ailing King of Agitate (Poem about whomever comes to mind at the Title).

The Truth Train (Poem about TFG’s disastrous misleadership on COVID)

The Pandemic Anti-academic (Poem about how anti-intellectualism aided the COVID virus).

Poppa Goes the Weasel (Thoughts about Vlademort).

Life will Find a Way (More hopeful reflection on how life will find a way.)

Cancer always Loses in the End (Essay about how cancer is absurdly stupid. It kills wantonly and ensures its own death. Hmm. Sounds like someone in the news lately.)

At Least he’s Our Monster (Story illustrating the absurdity of people who think if they just kow-tow low enough to people like TFG & Vlademort, that they will show them loyalty back.)

Captain Donny Boy Steers the Titanic (Story with a pretty self-explanetory title).

The Con-Con-Man’s Special Friend (Reflections on the irony that while TFG uses people and never has true loyalty, he has apparently convinced himself that Putin who also uses people and never had true loyalty *does* have loyalty to TFG! That is a symptom of the disease of narcissistic personality disorder.)

Small Steps (So, in the midst of all the types of chaos that we face, what can we do? Here are some things).

Stoned Soup (A story that riffs on the folk story of Stone Soup — a community works together to make a wonderful soup through cooperation).

The Orange Man (Part of the lore of the Veritas, this tale shows how greed and lying together may result in disaster for many).

The Three Blind Mice (Another tale from the Veritas. This is a parable about how the powerful and greedy divide the people so as to stay in power).

All for One and None for Most (Poem with a self-explanatory title — what happens in dictatorships).

Lying to Your Kids (Why would you ever do that? And, yet people may be trying to trick you into that very thing)

My Cousin Bobby (My cousin Bobby conned me when we were young. More than once! How can we minimize the chances of being conned?)

Happy Talk Lies (This essay explores how people can continue to believe the incredible panoply of lies told by TFG over the past decade. He’s lied about virtually everything; yet some believe only him. It’s an addition, basically).

Where does your loyalty lie? (A good question to ask yourself. Here’s some of my reflection.)

Come back to the Light Side (It’s never too late to help our civilization survive and thrive).

All for One; and None for Most

21 Monday Feb 2022

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 11 Comments

Tags

Democracy, Dictatorship, poem, poetry, politics, Putin, USA

His balls aren’t made of solid brass; 

He’s nothing but a pompous ass.

He crows as though he’s made of gold.

His con is simple and it’s old:

Divide the people so the few

Can rule the many just like you. 

The game is old; the outcome cold.

The dice are loaded ere they’re rolled.

The wealthy own the megaphones;

The poor must chew on meatless bones. 

It would not work except for lies.

The end result is corpse and flies. 

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

“It isn’t an apocalypse!”

He lies with sickly pouty lips. 

“It’s all for me; that much is true. 

But if you’re nice, there’s some for you!

If you’re not happy as my slave, 

You don’t accept my crazy rave!”

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

“It’s all your fault for having thought. 

My bald-faced lies you should’ve bought!” 

The King who now owns everything,

He wants to teach the mass to sing: 

“Oh, let me serve you all my life;

Please take my house, my soul, my wife.” 

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

And for a time, the rich survive, 

And steal from all as they connive.  

Of course, at last, with poor too sick

To work the fields; to lay a brick; 

It all falls down as shredded dreams. 

Dictatorship is what it seems: 

Photo by Julius Silver on Pexels.com

It’s All for One and None for Most. 

Small scraps for you while king gets roast. 

This land of brown’s a fitting crown. 

Above his bloody toothless frown. 

Photo by VisionPic .net on Pexels.com

The hate he feels for all of life

Now manifests as war and strife. 

The trees are gone; the crops have failed. 

The books are burned; the good are jailed. 

It seems as though a land of lies

Becomes a land of death and flies. 

Photo by Leonid Danilov on Pexels.com

When we look back it seems so clear. 

Embrace a lie — you’ll lose what’s dear. 

The world indeed has gone to seed. 

Dictatorship fills no-one’s need. 

The watery gruel; the rules are cruel. 

The victim’s blamed for losing the duel. 

Photo by Mike on Pexels.com

Unfair, one-sided, though it may be. 

The zombies dance the jubilee! 

They dance around; they love the sound!

Of flaming witches burned to ground!

It matters not their crimes aren’t real.

Cold cruelty to others is part of the deal! 

But Life is Love made manifest.

A hate that kills will kill the best. 

A hate that grows as everyone knows

Will lead to carcass-gnawing crows.

And in return — the sole bright spot:

Apotheosis for a snot. 

Photo by BROTE studio on Pexels.com

As other cultures waxed and waned.  

So too will this one once de-brained. 

And if this vision seems absurd

Then try your best to spread the word. 

Dictators always sue for war.

It’s never enough; they want still more. 

It’s death and dying that’s supplied

When steered by frauds who’ve always lied. 

It’s All for One and None for Most.

Dictators live on lies and boast. 

They slither into caverns deep.

And there, they dream that all will weep. 

Photo by icon0.com on Pexels.com

At last, of course, they die alone. 

To choose to kill; embrace the moan

Of death that’s dealt to innocence

Makes not a single ounce of sense. 

This Life sees nothing more obscene 

Than one who kills to steal the scene. 

Betraying all the lives before,

So he can die with a higher “score.” 

———— 

Author Page on Amazon

Plans for US; some GRUesome

Absolute is not just a vodka

Short stories to show how the mind of sociopath works:  Link to the first

The Ailing King of Agitate

Try the Truth

Why Dictators almost always choose war Link

Poker Chips

Stoned Soup

Three Blind Mice

Guernica

For those who seek cooperation rather than violence, these attempts to capture “best practices” in collaboration and teamwork might be useful. Here’s a link to the index.

Here’s a link to the first of two essays about creative negotiation.

These stories (with a link here) explore leadership and empathy.

“There is always light if only we are brave enough to see it; if only we are brave enough to be it.”

— Amanda Gorman

While not being naive about the real dangers of dictatorship, one way to push against that is actually to be more loving and kind and accepting than you already are. Think on that. And have a wonderful day.

— John

P is for Politics

08 Tuesday Feb 2022

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Democracy, peace, poem, poetry, politics, Resistance, USA

Politics starts with P

Often politics stars with P

Political Posturing has twice as much P

The former Pee-Resident really put the Pee in Politics

Thank his Pal who got him Putin office. 

Photo by Julius Silver on Pexels.com

Pride begins with P

Prejudice begins with P

Petulance and Pestilence 

And Putrid and Pathetic

Did I mention Putin and Putin’s Puppet?

Photo by Min Thein on Pexels.com

 

Perhaps, we the People ought to ban the letter P.

Phase out Paranoia and 

Purge Pathetic Pain and Pelf.

Purloin the letter P.

Proscribe it from the alphabet!


It seems the perfect plan!

But can we stand to ban the plum? 

Dare we deign to eat no peach?

Would we desire a pleasureless life? 

Would endless strife surpass our Peace? 

But then a thought occurs to me:

What if banning letter P

Doesn’t even impact what is real?

It’s just a game to make us squeal. 

Photo by Charlie Solorzano on Pexels.com

Imagine folks who lie

And ban the naming of that lie.

Imagine folks who beat

And steal your winter wheat. 

To get away with crime,

More than just one at a time.

Easier just to break all law.

Do it once & hide the flaw. 

Now your gang can really go to town!

Turn it all — all upside down! 

And if you are blind enough to think

Capitol attack is peachy pink.

Photo by Todd Trapani on Pexels.com

Could never come your way 

Well, guess again, I say.

There will be so many deaths

It will take away your breath

s.

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

The label’s not the thing

Wherein we’ll catch the king. 

What happens in our life

Determines peace or strife. 

Here’s the path to paradise:

Garden, love and plant a pine.

Be sort of nice; not blind of mind;

Being kind works many a time.

We will paradize our place.
And love our human race.

—————————-

Essay on America: Labelism 

Identity Theft

Where does your loyalty lie? 

My Cousin Bobby

The Ailing King of Agitate

Guernica

The only “them” that matters is all of us

Con-Con Man’s Special Friend

Siren Song

The Mud Pit

We’re all in this together

Fire and Ice

The All for me Bee

Life Will Find a Way

Author Page on Amazon

“It is in our very nature 

To improve our very nature.” 

Siren Song

23 Sunday Jan 2022

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 44 Comments

Tags

Con Game, Democracy, Dictatorship, poem, poetry, truth, USA

Photo by Min Thein on Pexels.com

Listen to my siren song!

Everyone! Look over here! Look over here! 

I’ll say who makes your life so badly suck!

You need to know who takes your share.

No, no, NO! Don’t ever look over there! 

Don’t see the rich who pay no tax!

Don’t ever, ever look at facts!

Photo by Julius Silver on Pexels.com

Listen to my siren song!

Engage your rage!

I’ll build your cage!

I will help you cop a feel!

I will teach you how to steal!

I will tell you who is wrong!

Just listen to my siren song!

Photo by Mau00ebl BALLAND on Pexels.com

A pain in the ass to think it through!

And, there’s no need; believe my creed! 

I’ll show you now a real good time! 

What I do cannot be crime! 

See my flag of “FREEDOM!” red?

I must care a lot! Just like I said!

If it’s all just part of my rant

What more to do? You can’t! 

Photo by Denniz Futalan on Pexels.com

Just listen to my siren song!

Hate the people not like you.

Hate the folks of different hue.

Hate the folks who eat strange things.

Hate everyone I tell you to!

A different accent, different song, 

I’ll teach you that these things are wrong! 

Give me the power to fix it all.

Democracy’s no longer cool!

Once it’s gone we’ll have a ball!

(Oh, my God, you’re easy to fool!)

Photo by BROTE studio on Pexels.com

By twenty thirty, air’ll be dirty. 

By twenty forty, water too. 

But what care we

For ecology?!

A habitable world’s for liberal wussies! 

Caring for others is just for pussies! 

Just listen to my siren song!

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

I’ll get rich if you send me money!

If we kill the bees, eat plastic honey!

It’s just as good; I can’t be wrong!

Just listen to my siren song! 

Legitimate voters vote for me! 

That’s the way to victory!

We’ll have a country white as snow!

And if I steal, you’ll never know!

A perfect system for all who matter.

And that’s just me so I’ll get fatter!

Just listen to my siren song! 

You can’t go wrong; my lie’s so strong! 

Just listen to my siren song! 

Just listen to my siren song!

Just listen to my siren song. 

And when your freedom’s finally dead.

Don’t worry at all your pretty head. 

If you can’t eat or pay the rents

I might just let you live in tents. 

Just listen to my siren song! 

Just listen to my siren song!

Photo by David Cassolato on Pexels.com


You’ll never have to think again!

You’ll never have to right a wrong!

You need not care if sins are sin. 

You’ll become my little puppet.

I’ll open a tube; you’ll go up it.

Jump on command and drink what I say;

Don’t think at all beyond today. 

Just listen to my siren song. 

Such tasty Kool-aid can’t be wrong!

Don’t take a look at history! 

Just swallow my miracle mystery! 

Just follow my nice little siren song. 

Photo by Leonid Danilov on Pexels.com

Your life’s now mine! And, how divine!

You listened to my siren song. 

I own your brain; you’ll need no spine. 

That spark divine was such a pain; 

You had to take responsibility. 

So much easier when I own your brain.

No need to feed your creativity. 

You only need to sing my siren song. 

Every day from morn till night.

And if you ever come to see it’s wrong? 

My troops will come and douse your light. 

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Don’t go thinking far ahead.

You shouldn’t care if you’re live or dead.

So long as you can help me rule! 

You deserve to play the fool.

And keep on singing my siren song. 

Insisting that you’re never wrong.

Dwelling on the sound of every word. 

You play the clown; all thought abjured. 

Singing still my siren song. 

Just listen to my siren song. 

You’ll soon believe that right is wrong.

You’ll soon believe that weak is strong. 

Listen to my siren song.

—————

Trumpism is a new religion

Essays on America: Wednesday

Absolute is not just a vodka

Essays on America: The Stopping Rule

Essays on America: The Update Problem

The Ailing King of Agitate

Plans for us; some GRUesome

Where does your loyalty lie?

My cousin Bobby.

Come back to the light

Orange Mar-Mal-Made

15 Saturday Jan 2022

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

poem, poetry, satire

Photo by Izaac Elms on Pexels.com

He cheats on tax; destroys lives.

He lies on tape and cheats on wives.

The smartest man there ever was!

His brain is filled with orange fuzz

He tells the truth like no-one does!

Photo by Anna Tarazevich on Pexels.com

He’s the one I love to follow

‘Cause inside his soul is hollow.

He cheats his donors, owners, wives.

He likes to bully; ruin lives.

He’ll cheat and rant and scream and rave;

That has to show he’s big and brave! 

He’s never ever fought a battle, 

He’d have to drop his favorite rattle.

He shows me how I have to be:

Ingesting bleach and drinking pee.

The smartest man there’ll ever be! 

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

His butt is made of solid gold! 

Everyone should join his fold! 

He is the Christ reborn! Foretold!

I’ll send him cash; I’ll pawn my stash!

I know what’s what; I’m never rash!

I know he’s not a con! Oh my!

He’s victimized by FBI!

The FDA, the EPA, 

The NSA, and CIA, 

All are out to get this guy!

Once he’s king we’ll have free beer.

And open season on anyone queer

Or one with eyes of different slant,

Or one who doesn’t love his rant.

Or one who doesn’t love his lies

Or one who won’t eat baby flies. 

In fact, it seems, that all must die

But that’ll be worth it to save his lie!

He’s such a winner he cannot lose. 

He’ll give us gold & bullion and booze! 

I’ll send him each and every dime,

‘Cause now at last it’s Putin’s time.

————

Essays on America: My Cousin Bobby

Where does your loyalty lie?

The Ailing King of Agitate

Essays on America: Wednesday

Happy Talk Lies

Come back to the Light!

Guernica

Imagine all the people

 

We’re all in this together

30 Thursday Dec 2021

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

community, cooperation, Democracy, earth, green, nature, peace, poem, poetry, society

We’re all in this together.

Each and every one. 

Oh, my God, it can’t be true. 

Perhaps for me, but not for you! 

You’re too black or brown or yellow!

I’m just an ordinary fellow! 

You’re too gay or straight or mellow!

You even eat that apple jello! 

We’re all in this together.

Each and every one.

Old & young and in-between;

The ever-seen and never-seen.

Oh, my God, it can’t be true. 

Perhaps for me, but not for you! 

You’re too fat or skinny or too tall!

Perhaps you’re short and way too small! 

We’re all in this together.

Each and every one.

Into games or sports of every sport.

Even tall and short and every sort.



Oh, my God, it can’t be true. 

Perhaps for me, but not for you! 

You’re too shallow, smart, or kind;

Too lame or sick or different mind. 

We’re all in this together.

Each and every one.

We’re all in this together.

Each and every one.


Take a glance join the dance

The Watershed Virus

The only “them” that counts is all of us

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

Myths of the Veritas: The First Ring of Empathy

Stoned Soup

Three Blind Mice

Absolute is not just a Vodka

Fire and Ice

The “All for me” Bee

Life Will Find a Way

Myths of the Veritas: The Orange Man

Myths of the Veritas: The Forgotten Field

The “All for me!” Bee

21 Tuesday Dec 2021

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

bee, bees, greed, poem, poetry

A fuzzy buzzy honey bee

Is just as happy as can be.

He rests inside a flower head.

What a lovely bower bed! 

The bees had learned to be quite wise 

At least, that’s what I do surmise

For in their bee-ish sort of way.

The bees alive and thrive each day.

For fifty million years survive.

They’ve helped the flowers live and thrive.

But then one day it came to be

A very different sort of bee.

And he proclaimed: “It’s not our lot

To help the flowers; that’s just rot!

And if you’re careful you can see 

We can still keep making honey.

There’s no need to help the rose.

Do they help us? I don’t suppose!”

This long-tongued rogue had so convinced

A new behavior soon evinced. 

The bees avoided pollination 

But gathered stuff for beehive nation. 

Yet all went well or so it seemed 

The bees still thrived and they still dreamed. 

They feasted well in winter’s cold. 

So happy with their new plan bold. 

The sunny spring arrived at last. 

The flowers though no longer massed.

“Each bee for themselves is right! 

Who cares no rose? We’ll fight!

We’ll sting, not sing, you’ll see

We’ll all do well if you give me all your honey!”

The roses gone; no bees to thrive. 

The roses gone; no bees survive.

For greed is poison just like snake. 

And only a fool would follow a fake.


Myths of the Veritas: The Orange Man

Myths of the Veritas: Three Blind Mice

Myths of the Veritas: Stoned Soup

The Ailing King of Agitate

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

The Pandemic Anti-Academic

Where does your loyalty lie?

Essays on America: The Update Problem

Essays on America: The Stopping Rule

Essays on America: Wednesday

Absolute is not just a vodka

The Loud Defense of Untenable Positions

At Least he’s our monster

The Isle of Right

Author Page on Amazon

Life Will Find a Way

20 Monday Dec 2021

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 29 Comments

Tags

dance, diversity, evolution, life, love, poem, poetry, tree, variety

Say. 

Let’s say:

That there’s a way.

A way.

Life will find a way. 

(It always does).

Life will find a way.

And so too

Will you. 

Indeed.

Each seed will lead

To a thousand more.

An ocean shore. 

The beach will reach and each upon the beach

Again will try to reach and dance with ebb and dance with flow.

Life will find a way — 

A way to learn and love and grow. 

Life is ever clever 

Even ever cleverer. 

And you will also flow and grow.

Photo by Andru00e9 Ulyssesdesalis on Pexels.com

Life will find a way — 

A way to harness the light of the sun.

A way to swim in all the seas. 

A way to crawl upon the land. 

A way to burrow into sand. 

A way to be and to expand.

Photo by Pia on Pexels.com


Life will find a way — 

And so too,

Will you.

Life will find a way — 

To live a thousand years. 

To generate tears.

To glow in the dark 

To growl and sing and roar and bark.

To see and hear and smell and feel. 

And that, my friends is just the first reel! 

Life will find a way. 

It’s what life does. 

Life will find a way. 

So too will you. 

You are of that marvelous tree of life 

That’s struggled through four billion years of strife. 

You are of that same tough stuff. 

That makes the shark; 

That makes the oak; 

Let’s eagles soar;

Let’s lions roar;

Makes mountains of coral; 

Gardens glow floral; 

Choirs sing choral 

Warblers and whales

Crickets and cranes. 

Marvelous medley of life:

A myriad of shapes

In millions of sizes.

Surprises! 

Life atop peaks!

Life in the deeps!

Life in the desert.

Jungles of life 

In tangles of vines.

Surprises!

Life will find a way. 

It’s what life does.

Life will find a way.

And you will too. 

Life will find a way. 

And so too, my friend, will you. 

———–

Life is a dance

Dance a whirling while or three

Take a glance; join the dance

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

Ah Wilderness

The Forest

Oh Tannenbaum

Author Page on Amazon

Oh, Tannenbaum!

14 Tuesday Dec 2021

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Christmas, poem, poetry, sestina

It is the season to be jolly, right? 

And life itself rejoices that the night

Will not grow endless, but will ebb at last.

Though winter winds may freeze, we’ll garnish tree. 

We’re warm inside recalling Christmas past.

The wheels of sun and stars: infinity. 

Imagine back to near Infinity.

Our ancient mothers’ guesses turned out right:

What seemed like end of life at last was past.

As sun began to warm the endless night;

As leaves again will promise filling tree;

Though snowflakes fall, we know they will not last.

So long ago we first learned hope would last

Beyond the cold that seemed infinity.

Perhaps we learned our hope from winter’s tree.

Perhaps the rhythm of our breathing, right?

Or kenned the wheel in daily death of Night?

And, everything that seemed forever … passed.

Yet, now we like to think our past has passed.

Attention’s but a moment not to last.

Pandemic seems like dark and endless night;

The politics of hate — infinity.

But life has always been a struggle. Right?

Let’s take our inspiration from the Tree.

The endless hope of Life’s great Tree.

A Tree who learns from all its moments past.

To seek the truth is always brave and right.

And only Death insists that first is last;

Or worships nil as gold Infinity.

We sing our songs of love to brighten Night.

We use the truth to beautify the Night.

We dance; we sing; we decorate the Tree.

We laugh; we celebrate Infinity.

We tell our tales of hope till night has passed.

To spite the cold, we give our gift at last. 

We all know fair and truth and love are right.

We Love Infinity; and Love the Night.

We work for what is Right and Love Life’s Tree.

We learn from all that’s passed. Let Christmas last!

———–

Author Page on Amazon

The Impossible

Peace

Camelot is in your heart

Imagine all the people

Roar ocean roar

Take a glance, join the dance

The forest

Ah Wilderness

Stoned Soup

The only them that counts is all of us

Come back to the light

Brick By Brick

12 Sunday Dec 2021

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

bunker, CivilWar, Defense, hermit, hope, poem, poetry, war

Brick by brick.

Photo by Tim Mossholder on Pexels.com

Brick by brick, brick by brick.

I built my plastic kevlar house.

I knew I had to insulate myself.

Photo by Thang Cao on Pexels.com

To make it strong, impenetrable, 

I avoided windows, glass of any kind.

No way to break in; no way in at all. 

Photo by ShonEjai on Pexels.com

I painted blue each and every room.
Uniformity is cost-effective, after all.
I knit an outer shell for camouflage. 

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

In my attic: electronics spread galore!
To warn of approaching enemies.
I spent my days staring at orange LCDs.

Photo by Marina Hinic on Pexels.com

Ever vigilant for each and every breach, 

“Safe at last; safe at last,” I told myself. 

This is how I spent those endless days.

Photo by Kindel Media on Pexels.com



“Safe at last; safe at last,” I muttered.
I thought at last, I’d venture out
I tried to usher courage to my heart.

Photo by Min Thein on Pexels.com



I had misplaced the key; destroyed Feng Sui.
I couldn’t find the slightest hint of door.
Doors can so easily get unhinged … like me.

Photo by Colour Creation on Pexels.com

I had — had I— forgotten to carve one?
So, now I must begin again. I must unbuild.
Brick by brick. But I cannot find the tools. 

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

I’ve built a prison meant for fools.

Designed by excellent, redundant rules.

My tears, my tears, begin to lake in pools. 

Photo by Sourav Mishra on Pexels.com

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Brick by brick. 


How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

The Watershed Virus

Absolute is not just a vodka

The Bubble People

Ah Wilderness

Author Page on Amazon

← Older posts
Newer posts →

Subscribe

  • Entries (RSS)
  • Comments (RSS)

Archives

  • February 2026
  • January 2026
  • December 2025
  • November 2025
  • October 2025
  • September 2025
  • August 2025
  • July 2025
  • June 2025
  • May 2025
  • April 2025
  • March 2025
  • February 2025
  • January 2025
  • December 2024
  • November 2024
  • October 2024
  • September 2024
  • July 2024
  • April 2024
  • March 2024
  • February 2024
  • January 2024
  • December 2023
  • August 2023
  • July 2023
  • May 2023
  • April 2023
  • March 2023
  • February 2023
  • January 2023
  • December 2022
  • November 2022
  • October 2022
  • September 2022
  • August 2022
  • July 2022
  • June 2022
  • May 2022
  • April 2022
  • March 2022
  • February 2022
  • January 2022
  • December 2021
  • November 2021
  • October 2021
  • September 2021
  • August 2021
  • July 2021
  • June 2021
  • May 2021
  • April 2021
  • March 2021
  • February 2021
  • January 2021
  • December 2020
  • November 2020
  • October 2020
  • September 2020
  • August 2020
  • July 2020
  • June 2020
  • May 2020
  • April 2020
  • March 2020
  • February 2020
  • January 2020
  • December 2019
  • November 2019
  • October 2019
  • September 2019
  • August 2019
  • July 2019
  • June 2019
  • May 2019
  • April 2019
  • March 2019
  • February 2019
  • January 2019
  • December 2018
  • November 2018
  • October 2018
  • September 2018
  • August 2018
  • July 2018
  • June 2018
  • May 2018
  • April 2018
  • March 2018
  • February 2018
  • January 2018
  • December 2017
  • November 2017
  • October 2017
  • September 2017
  • August 2017
  • July 2017
  • June 2017
  • May 2017
  • April 2017
  • March 2017
  • February 2017
  • January 2017
  • December 2016
  • November 2016
  • October 2016
  • September 2016
  • August 2016
  • July 2016
  • June 2016
  • May 2016
  • April 2016
  • March 2016
  • February 2016
  • January 2016
  • December 2015
  • November 2015
  • October 2015
  • September 2015
  • August 2015
  • May 2015
  • January 2015
  • July 2014
  • January 2014
  • December 2013
  • November 2013

Categories

  • AI
  • America
  • apocalypse
  • cats
  • COVID-19
  • creativity
  • design rationale
  • dogs
  • driverless cars
  • essay
  • family
  • fantasy
  • fiction
  • HCI
  • health
  • management
  • nature
  • pets
  • poetry
  • politics
  • psychology
  • Sadie
  • satire
  • science
  • sports
  • story
  • The Singularity
  • Travel
  • Uncategorized
  • user experience
  • Veritas
  • Walkabout Diaries

Meta

  • Create account
  • Log in

Blog at WordPress.com.

  • Subscribe Subscribed
    • petersironwood
    • Join 661 other subscribers
    • Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
    • petersironwood
    • Subscribe Subscribed
    • Sign up
    • Log in
    • Report this content
    • View site in Reader
    • Manage subscriptions
    • Collapse this bar
 

Loading Comments...