Category: litchrachoor

In Which Your Humble Blogger has but a broken poem, to be seen through tears.

In Which Your Humble Blogger chooses a slightly different sort of poem for the annual observance. Also, there are technical issues at present; don’t be alarmed, blogging will resume. Eventually.

In Which Your Humble Blogger was unaware of the story of Woodbine Willie.

In Which Your Humble Blogger returns to Siegfried Sassoon, because this one made me cry again.

In Which Your Humble Blogger stood on line, chatted, greeted neighbors, voted, went out to breakfast.

In Which Your Humble Blogger would like to write a proper appreciation, and perhaps someday will, but that day is not today, nor any of the other recent days I’ve attempted it.

In Which Your Humble Blogger returns to the traditional observation of this Tohu Bohu.

In Which Your Humble Blogger is in the dumps for diamonds are trumps and the kittens are gone to St. Paul’s. The baby is bit, The moon’s in a fit, and the houses are built without walls.

In Which Your Humble Blogger again marks remembrance.