Blogs by Bahais

A compilation

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PiBoIdMo and all that jazz

Sorry may not be as many reblogs during November, but feel free to visit the sidelinks. This is because I wil be doing PiBoIdMo



I’ve done Nanowrimo (that novel is stil waiting for a reboot as a young adult fantasy piece).  What an experience that was.

Those characters still call me and say,  ‘when are you going to do something about me?’

‘Sorry guys I will listen to you soon, promise, on my to do list, ‘  I reply with my fingers crossed behind my back and a pair of runners begging to be put on my feet.  Well seriously I did have a few friends reading it and they did want to know what was going to happen so one day I will get my act together.

This year I am going to participate in PiBoIdmo for the first time.  The idea of this challenge is to generate 30 ideas for picture books in 30 days.  Considering I have presently completed  only one(and it has been sent off to a publisher…

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Learning to plot – a writer’s quest

Reflecting on the creative writing process, moving forward



So I am at a virtual stand still as I realise my major writing hurdle is learning to plot. Time to build some stairs, or maybe a sledge hammer.

I recently managed to finish one picture book and send it off.  One of the things mentioned in critiques was redoing the plot line to introduce some things into the story earlier, to invest the reader in the character, clarifying aspects of the ending, and making some aspect of the plot in the middle even more believable. I reworked it, and in the end was happy with the plot line.  This picture book came from a poem that was without any sense of strong plot, mostly emotion, but the reworking required me to be very thoughtful about the plot.

Going back to the drawing board for some of the other picture books, unfinished short stories, memoirs and novel I am stumped…

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The warp and woof of creation

the Book of Pain

From the warp and woof of creation
are we made, you and I. Truly,
I remember it well,
it was then—that then,
that perfect instance
before the smallest slice of hence,
when every iota was inflating itself
into existence and coming for this now,
this very now—this now of the cold, cruel dragon
screaming its lament to the sky.

But we are made of sterner stuff, you and I,
a longing that binds us to the whole
and weaves us both from and into
the fabric of our time. See?
Warp, here and now,
woof, there and then,
screaming to the darksome sky.

For some odd reason I can neither understand nor explain, I spend a lot of time thinking about time. And although I am not a Christian, let me make my point using an often used quote from the Bible: I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end, the…

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Time. Thanks dollarphotoclub. Time.
Thanks dollarphotoclub.

Time is a man made reality

Chimera of humanity’s making

Time has no true meaning

Robs us of our alacrity


Truth is in the divine synchronicity

To follow the flow of life’s choosing

Let not the clock dictate our doing

 In this lies our world’s current paucity


Let us live for the now with sincerity

Neither the past nor the future is alarming

They are mirages of our claiming

With great and fiery intensity


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Tree Of Life


Veins Are A Kind Of Tree Of Life. Thanks dollarphotoclub! Veins Are A Beautiful Tree Of Life.
Thanks dollarphotoclub!

The Tree of Life is an archetype

Found everywhere in our life’s energy

Shape is seen in water ways like pipes

Drought turns the earth to a fillagree


Our very life’s veins are a tree of sorts

Nerves and pathways in our brains

The way birds fly in the air supports

Innate formation implies they are tame


Mystically we are lead to understanding

Like a pathway with twists and turns

A knowing the reaching branches extending

Ever towards the truth a love that burns


Come let us sit beneath this sacred tree

Discover the realities of God in unity

Changeless, Eternal and Almighty

 Filling up our souls with our diversity.

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Jackson Wheeler

A fictional character undergoing recovery from the loss of a child…

Ripple Poetry

Flying in the Wild Flight – June Perkins

The day we lost our child
I had a dream
of her possible future
with us.

I wanted to comfort Miranda
to share her sorrow
to take our first steps

I couldn’t tell her about
the dream
of our future

I looked at her
unable to see
where to begin
except without words.

Our little one
lost her spin of life’s wheel
she would never
take first steps
with us.

Only in dreams
would we be together
life forever

My heart like a brahminy kite
flew away to the calls of
our daughter and Miranda
wanting to land
we could all take
mortal frames
to be a family
once more.

I knew we would
have to settle on
a name for the one
who took her flight first.

(c) June Perkins

In this poem Jackson Wheeler speaks of the…

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Birthday of Literary Luminaries – Miles Franklin, Katherine Mansfield, Hannah Arendt,

Stumbling Through the Past

Drawing of a woman in early 19thC dress carrying a suitcase approaching a home with extensive verandahs. Google Doodle in honour of Miles Franklin, 14/10/2014.

Today, 14th October, marks the birth dates of three literary luminaries of the twentieth century – Miles Franklin, Katherine Mansfield and Hannah Arendt. These three women have made a big impact on western cultural life and thought and continue to do so.

Miles Franklin’s, novel, My Brilliant Career, has a secure place in Australia’s literary canon. This is extraordinary for a book written by a woman, first published in 1901 and coming from the pen of a twenty-one year old. Miles Franklin threw herself into life and writing, taking herself off to live in the United States before World War I, moving to England, nursing soldiers in dangerous circumstances in Macedonia before moving back to Australia. In the words of her biographer, “Miles was no wimp”. She did not make her fortune but through frugal living she conceived and endowed Australia’s…

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The Currency of Suffering (1/2)

Everybody Means Something

Shrine of Bahá’u’lláh at Bahji Shrine of Bahá’u’lláh at Bahji

My recent post on the plight of Ramin Zibaei, as well as the recent executions by IS, called to mind my various attempts to grapple with the problem of  the existence of intense suffering in a world created, as I believe, by an all-powerful and all-loving God. This entails factoring in natural disasters, the Ebola outbreak being perhaps the most significant recent example, as well as human atrocity, the latter being also something I have attemptedtounderstand.

I felt it might be timely to republish some of my earlier posts on the issue of suffering. For reasons I explain in the second of this first sequence of posts, they are not meant to convince a sceptic that God exists, but may help to persuade him that believing in God is not completely irrational in spite of all the pain there is in the world.

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the Book of Pain

Blown by the chill wind, the blossoms were thick
in the air, the white petals flying and whirling,
building into soft and delicate snow-like drifts.
Along the street, people got out their brooms
to sweep their walks, humphing over the why of it.

She trudged on through the drifts, her face
frozen, tears in her eyes, flakes in her hair,
her scarf whipping anchorless behind her
as she desperately tried to hold onto
that last shred of spring she had left.


All springs of all types—physical, mental, moral and spiritual—abide with new life and hope. But still, much can be asked and hurt at such delicate moments…

The photograph is entitled Courage and was taken in my home town, Putnam, CT. For more photography, please visit the Book of Bokeh.


Photograph, poem and notes © 2014 by John Etheridge; all rights reserved. The poem and accompanying notes are licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works…

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