BOAT RHYME!

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*Friday Fictioneers is a talented group of enthusiasts penning down a story, a poem, a prose, etc., expressing their heart about a photo prompt, every week. Thanks for this week’s beautiful photo prompt Copyright – Georgia Koc

Row, row, row the boat, gently down the lake,
 I will tell a story that will cause your heart to ache.

He was such a simple man, full of loving care,
 You would never think of him as having any foe.

The high & mighty ones who’re always holding all in sway,
 Sought about in every way to make him go away.

Though it seemed to be that they had won their own nasty way,
 Yet he proved them wrong on the morn of his third day.

So we now can rest secure that truth will always win,
 Though it often seems to be that evil ne’er will end.

Row, row, row the boat, gently down life’s stream,
 Merrily, merrily, merrily, life is not just a dream!

 

*TO BE  SUNG TO THE TUNE OF THE NURSERY RHYME                                               

CONSIDER HER WAYS & BE WISE!

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*Friday Fictioneers is talented group of enthusiasts penning down a story, a poem, a prose, etc., expressing their heart about a photo prompt, every week. Thanks for this week’s beautiful photo prompt ©Janet Webb

I just read in Proverbs about learning from ants. Apart from the fact they gather food in summer for winter, what else can I learn?

Well, for one thing, ants are eusocial species, just like wasps.

Whaat?

They live in multi-generational family groups wherein a vast majority of individuals  cooperate to help a relatively few reproductive group members.

Meaning?

Due to constraints, some voluntarily give up their own rights to reproduce in order that a select few may.

That’s not fair.

Maybe not, but they are unselfishly sacrificing for the common good.

I wouldn’t give up anything.

Of course you would. You underestimate your love for us!

*In an age when individuality holds sway and a vast majority seem to go with “I, ME, MINE”, it was refreshing to see the quality of community sacrificial living in God’s creation, a true reflection of His heart!

TIME ALONE

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*Friday Fictioneers is talented group of enthusiasts penning down a story, a poem, a prose, etc., expressing their heart about a photo prompt, every week. Thanks for this week’s beautiful photo prompt © Adam Ickes.

Juanita couldn’t believe she was actually there. She threw open the windows and breathed in the fresh air. She had hoped for this, prayed for this and saved for this. After years of responding to calls of “Mummy” and “Nita” and “darling” and “dear”, she was finally  by herself.   A siesta.

She strolled along the walkway, feasting her senses on the water, plants, blue sky, birds. She could feel her tension ebbing away and her body relaxing, her heart and mind expanding in the vision of the horizon.

Finally, she thought, some time alone!

 

 

BOTTLED

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*Friday Fictioneers is talented group of enthusiasts penning down a story, a poem, a prose, etc., expressing their heart about a photo prompt, every week. Thanks for this week’s beautiful PHOTO PROMPT ©Ted Strutz

The place was empty. I wondered at her forlorn look.

I sipped my drink wondering: Did she lose someone? Had business been dull? Was she lonely? Did someone let her down?

I wanted to reach out to her, but left feeling embarrassed.

Next day I saw it was no more there.

I wished I had told her of the One who bottles all our tears…

 

*PSALM 56 (From the Bible)

For the choir director: A psalm of David, regarding the time the Philistines seized 
him in Gath. To be sung to the tune “Dove on Distant Oaks.”

O God, have mercy on me,
     for people are hounding me.
     My foes attack me all day long.
 I am constantly hounded by those who slander me,
     and many are boldly attacking me.
 But when I am afraid,
     I will put my trust in you.
 I praise God for what he has promised.
     I trust in God, so why should I be afraid?
     What can mere mortals do to me?

 They are always twisting what I say;
    they spend their days plotting to harm me.
 They come together to spy on me—
     watching my every step, eager to kill me.
 Don’t let them get away with their wickedness;
     in your anger, O God, bring them down.

 8 You keep track of all my sorrows.
    You have collected all my tears in your bottle.
     You have recorded each one in your book.

My enemies will retreat when I call to you for help.
    This I know: God is on my side!
 10 I praise God for what he has promised;
     yes, I praise the Lord for what he has promised.
 11 I trust in God, so why should I be afraid?
     What can mere mortals do to me?

 12 I will fulfill my vows to you, O God,
     and will offer a sacrifice of thanks for your help.
 13 For you have rescued me from death;
     you have kept my feet from slipping.
 So now I can walk in your presence, O God,
     in your life-giving light.

 

SOLITARY IN THE RAIN

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*Friday Fictioneers is talented group of enthusiasts penning down a story, a poem, a prose, etc., expressing their heart about a photo prompt, every week. Thanks for this week’s beautiful PHOTO PROMPT © Janet Webb

Here I stand, seemingly solitary in the rain,
Maybe you think I am wallowing in pain.
Actually I am grinning in gain!

A mother bent to pick her fallen grain,
I moved along with her bairn,
I couldn't help my main!

Like bees to the honey they came in a dain,
Locked me in their human chain,
She hugged them all, the mother crane!

So you see, I'm singing in the rain!


*The pic reminded me of an incident that I witnessed and was part of in the parking lot of a mall in Orlanda, USA. Hope you get the picture!

DAIN means brook!

SWARAJ, MY BIRTHRIGHT!

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*Friday Fictioneers is talented group of enthusiasts penning down a story, a poem, a prose, etc., expressing their heart about a photo prompt, every week. Thanks for this week’s beautiful PHOTO PROMPT ©Jan Wayne Fields. The picture brought one word to my mind – FREEDOM! I give here a bit of Indian history!

The primary school at Ratnagiri, the teacher enters the class after the interval. Groundnut shells scattered in the classroom.

“Who scattered the groundnut shells like this?”

“Speak, who ate the groundnuts?”

Teacher decides to punish the entire class and starts to give each boy two cuts with his cane. Bal’s turn. He does not hold out his hand.

“I did not eat the groundnuts. So I will not receive the cuts.”

“Then who ate the groundnuts?”

“It is said that carrying tales is bad. So I won’t tell.”

Even at that young age it was Tilak’s nature to protest against injustice.

*Swaraj means national or local self-government in India

Bal Gangadhar Tilak, considered the Father of Indian National Movement, founded of the “Deccan Education Society” to impart quality education to India’s youth. He was a member of the Municipal Council of Pune, Bombay Legislature, an elected ‘Fellow’ of the Bombay University.

Tilak formed Home Rule League in 1916 to attain the goal of Swaraj.
A multifaceted personality, he was a social reformer, freedom fighter, national leader, and a scholar of Indian history, sanskrit, hinduism, mathematics and astronomy.
Popularly called Lokmanya (Beloved of the people), his slogan “Swaraj is my birthright and I shall have it” inspired millions of Indians in the fight for freedom.
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‘Swadeshi, Swaraj (self-rule), Boycott and National Education’- these were the sacred words preached by Tilak. And the people made weapons of these words.
Galvanizing people’s love of their country was itself a revolution brought about by Tilak.

 

DUMBSTRUCK!

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*Friday Fictioneers is talented group of enthusiasts penning down a story, a poem, a prose, etc., expressing their heart about a photo prompt, every week. Thanks for this week’s beautiful PHOTO PROMPT ©Sandra Crook

The convoy left the place, sped on its way by cheering masses. Small but enough to cheer the dusty travelers. .

“We did good, didn’t we?” said the Man, with a sigh.

“Just one more and then you would be speeding on your way”, replied his secretary, smiling away.

“Yeah, just across that bridge, a ten-minute stop, then the highway and bliss!”

The car ground to a stop.

“Baa, baaaa, baa, baaa..”.

“What the…!”

“Just a flock of sheep crossing.”

“Honk hard”.

“They will only mill around more”.

Time stretched.

Gheraoed, the Man fumed, by dumb animals!

*Gherao, meaning “encirclement,” is a word originally from Hindi/Bengali/Marathi. It denotes a tactic used by labor activists and union leaders in India. Usually, a group of people would surround a politician or a government building until their demands are met, or answers given.