WISH YOU WERE HERE?
Evaporation, condensation
Tiny particles of vapour
Mist, to you and me
Dreams released; truth supersedes them
Picture slides back into focus
Face reality
Your embroidered imagination
River cruising, water splashing
Sun soaked summer leave
Our experience – tug boats, seaweed
Frost bite, seasick and an oil slick
As I live and breathe…!
Her appearance was totally unexpected and her surroundings, though vaguely familiar were at the same time unusual. Instead of her customary preference to soft pastel shades, she wore a long, black cape, buttoned to the neck. The fur trimmed hood, thrown casually over her head, was speckled with delicate, white flecks of snow, fallen freshly from above. A trail of dark footprints in the icing sugar path behind her, led back to a point, where I could just make out slender tree trunks, rising and bowing to form a canopy of oversized leaves, enclosing the pathway like a tunnel. They faded out of vision in the descending gloom as a fresh fall of fine snow began.
As she opened her mouth to speak, an icy blast of air whipped her words away, whistling through the trees, and bringing with it a further, heavier fall of snow. A whirling wall of whiteness obscured the entire scene.
I awoke, shivering, disorientated and confused.
Initially, I attributed the chill I felt to the dream and my sudden return to consciousness. But as the chill continued to bite, I realised that I was experiencing something I’d not felt these past three years; cold. Not the artificial attempts of air conditioners, but the bone gnawing grip of winter.
“I’m still asleep.” I said out loud, immediately realising I wasn’t. It was almost light, so I sat up to take a look out of the window and try to make some sense of my dream. Outside, a thick blanket of fog, restricted vision to a few yards and an eerie silence added to my confusion. I inhaled a deep breath, which felt sharp as the cold hit the back of my throat. As I exhaled, a jet of steam shot from my mouth. For a fleeting moment, I imagined I was back in England and lightning flashes of memory reminded me of those bleak winter days, when it never quite seemed to get fully light.
For We Write Poems - Take it to the limits
INTO MY MIND
I’m going
Into my head
To see if it’s true
What they said about
No bread and half a loaf
Both not the full shilling
But the thing that’s nearly
Killing me
The thing I’m
Really dying to know
Trying to be
Oh so sure of
And not just so by the law of
Averages
Is this:
What exactly is the score?
Now
I’m not the sharpest tool
But I’m not a fool
Or am I?
Can I be less
Serious?
Clearly this is more the case:
No empty space between your ears
May not be
All that it appears
A full loaf only half baked
Make no mistake
Believe you me
Is gonna be
Most detri…
…Mental…!
So you see it’s not true
What they said…
…Now I’m going
Out of my head
OUT OF MY MIND…
Posted to Writers Island
LAST SHOUT?
Before you know it…
well…it’s all over.
That’s bar the shouting,
which in this here case
(and here at this place
- The Rub a Dub Dub -
which in this here case
is only the name
of your local pub
- not some Cockneyesque
Rhyming Slang thingy -
on tonight’s mission
to get legless; drunk,
you and your mates)
means shouting as in
shouting up the ale.
Your final round of drinks
YOUR FINAL ROUND OF DRINKS
(A Syllable Sestina)
“Your final round of drinks?”
Winks – “Pour off, my sound gal!”
Mal Brown sinks four… sigh… quaff
Froth shall fly! Blink, roar, frown…
Browned off? Normal… Drinks dry
five rounds – stinks of alc… More…?
Posted to Writers Island
I WOKE UP THIS MORNING…
(in a ditch within Crawling Distance of home)
Friday night, just finished work
By work I mean that thing I do
With bright orange, reflective tape
(Y’know, the sort that indicates
A potential roadside hazard)
To pass the time until that thing
That we all live for - the weekend
I’m not talking about that
Crime Scene/Police Line Do Not Cross/
Danger – Unexploded Mine
Type of tape, but rather that
Bog-standard, common or garden
Bright orange, reflective stuff
Supported by steel spiked poles
Used to cordon-off areas
To warn of road works… and such like
Y’know, to prevent accidents
That’s the theory, anyway
And the way the whole thing works
This very theoretical
Accident prevention thing
Is all down to one thing; this:
The reflective properties
Of the ultra-bright orange tape
Which is not only reflective
No – more, so much more than this
It’s thoughtfully reflective
Indeed one might even say
Considerately reflective
Because not only is it
Reflective of the light of day
But also it’s reflective
Of artificial light sources
During the hours of darkness
Which means you’d really have to be
Some kind of fool to miss it
…Wouldn’t you?
For Mad Kane’s humour blog
And posted to Writers Island
GOOD FIGHT
A fellow who loved a good fight
Had a go at the wrong guy last night
One punch to the jaw
Sent him straight to the floor
And our fellow was out like a light
A fellow who loved a good fight
Said ‘Come on then’ to guys twice his height
To guys twice his weight
‘Who you lookin’ at, mate?’
And to everyone else, ‘I’m hard… right!’
A fellow who loves a good fight
Gets involved in a brawl every night
He warns when he starts
He can do martial arts
A bit like Bruce Lee, but not quite…
Posted to Writers Island
OVER TIME
So you’re lying there
Feeling quite pleased with yourself
Feeling pretty smug
And you remember
Why it is you feel so smug
It’s only because
Despite getting drunk
You still managed to get home
On your own two feet
And you remembered
To set your mobile’s alarm
…Weekend overtime
Which doesn’t pay you
Enough to cover last night
What you drank, smoked, ate
But still worth having
Even after Income Tax
…Just about… innit?
It’s almost as though
You’re willing; even daring
The alarm to ring
And in doing so
You’re actually causing it
To sound its ringtone
Just as these smug thoughts
Of Mission accomplished, and
Next weeks fat pay cheque
Navigate the space
(Empty space) between your ears
The useless thing sounds!
And the reason for
The sudden transformation
From ordinary
Common or garden
Mobile communicator
To a ‘useless thing’?
A look at the time
Tells you it’s nine fifteen
Not seven fifteen
You’ve gone over time
Late for work an hour ago
What’s all that about?
Posted to Writers Island
FAST FOOD TO TAKE AWAY OR SIT-IN
To the chippy with Charlie it is then
“Fish ‘n’ chips twice mate,” Charlie shouts
Looks like he’s ignoring you, Charlie boy
“Fish ‘n’ chips twice mate,” he shouts again
“I heard you the first time, second and third
Saying ‘fish ‘n’ chips twice’ two times, makes four
Makes some people laugh… but you look drunk
So I’ll just… get your fish ‘n’ chips… twice”
“That would be nice, if you’d be so kind
Because what I really wouldn’t like
Is to have to ask you for a sixth time
I know my limit and you should know yours”
“Ha ha… a sixth time… I like your style…
O.K I’ll… just get on with it then”
“You’re a gentleman and a scholar
But I bet you already knew that”
“Oh, by the way, is it takeaway
Or is it, perchance, to sit-in?
Thought I’d better ask, ‘cos you never did say
And I wouldn’t like to get it wrong”
“Is that another one of your daft ‘jokes’… ?”
“What d’you mean…? Oh, I see… SIT in
You don’t wanna be sitting in your food
…I really never thought of it like that”
Posted to Writers Island
Brenda at Beyond the Bozone set us a wordle using the following words: cheap, steal, tissue, tattoos, quenching, pinwheels, replenish, piquant, diminished, creep, eternal, sharp, squeeze
INDELLIBLE
Sharp shooter, standing by
to squeeze artistic trigger,
designed tattoos proclaiming
promise of eternal life.
…They didn’t steal the creep show.
They (just like those pinwheels
of responsibility)
diminished to a three-ply
tissue of lies, lies, lies.
Merely cheap, fast comfort food
served with a piquant relish.
No intent to replenish;
just to leave a raging thirst
…that knows no quenching drink
Posted to Writers Island
FAST
On Friday nights we go to the pub
And meet up with a guy called ‘Fast’ Pete Jones
Asking him to shout up a round is
Like trying to get blood out of a stone
It’s true to say that Fast is really slow
But in a way he can be really fast
He’s always the first to ask ‘Who’s shout?’
But he makes sure he always shouts up last
He times his arrival at the pub
To coincide with the first pint being downed
So he’ll be last in line for the shout
And shouldn’t need to get a second round
Our mate Fast is a man with a plan
On a mission to dodge the rounds
Get drunk as a skunk, eat a takeaway
And all for only twenty pounds
Or sovs, or nicker, or even quid
Whichever slang term you prefer
Or years ago you could have said ‘notes’
When pound coins were still made out of paper
But what’s it gonna be on the menu tonight?
If Fast doesn’t waste his money on a cab
Maybe steak and kidney pudding and chips
Or perhaps he’ll get a doner kebab
He can never rush decisions like these
(We’ll make him buy more beer if we can)
But one thing’s for sure with our mate Fast
He’ll make certain he achieves his plan
Posted to Writers Island
HOW NAIROBIC?
When Doktir Nairobi speaks
The words of The Ancient Ones
“Close your eyes and visualise…”
Using Month Sixty techniques
Sixty degrees separate
The Pan-Pacific Process
From the other side of Time
The Transatlantic Thought Club
Enters a new dimension
Time and Space turn full circle
Three hundred sixty degrees
And Eternity transforms
From a theory; a concept
To an infinite domain
Inhabitants of Tiny Tree
Take a break to visit Time
Travellers like you and me
Experience Life On Earth
Time out from Eternity
To learn the lessons of Life
Our aim; to remember why
And from where and when we came
We use the Memory Chain
It’s not rocket science, it’s
Space Travel For Beginners
…How Nairobic is that…?
Doktir Nairobi is a fictional character
from the pen of Andy Sewina.
Click HERE to find out more.
Posted to Writers Island
I WANT, I WANT, I WANT!
When I stop to think
I often ask myself
What is it I want?
And then I ask myself
What do I want more?
I’m not a kid, you know
I know what I want
I don’t want everything
Just a tiny bit
Of everything there is
Most of all I want
The freedom to be free
Free to spread my wings
To soar above contempt
And be who I am
Another thing I want
Generosity
To leave you in no doubt
Of my intention
To give without question
Finally I want
The time to take in all
The love you can give
Your love keeps me happy
Wanting for nothing
Grant my three wishes
And I’ll be content
I’ll have all that I need
And, my life complete
I’ll die a happy man
For Mad Kane’s humour blog
And posted to Writers Island
CHUMLEY WOOSTERSHIRE TAME
A guy with a very long name
Claimed the same was to blame for his shame
Not just double-barrelled
It started with Harold
And went on – Cholmondley-Worcestershire-Thame
Posted to Writers Island
OLD GUYS
So, there’s this really old guy
With white hair and everything
Sitting in the pub tonight
Must be eighty at a guess
You’re thinking but you won’t ask
That’s because you’re too polite
Or too scared by the warning
The old guy continues with
Even as you’re deciding
Maybe just seventy eight
Because the oldest person
That you ever knew before
Was seventy eight years old
And looked very similar
…With white hair and everything
Though maybe a bit fatter
Than this old guy in the pub
But other than that, you think
Vey similar looking
…Although that guy could have been
An inch, two inches shorter
…Or would that have been taller?
Doesn’t really matter now
The one you knew dropped down dead
About seven years ago
But was very similar
…White hair… and… everything
…Or was he seventy six?
Whatever; the only thing
You’re able to remember
This other old guy saying
Just before you take your seat
Is, I quote; “And I should know
I’m seventy two years old
At least, that is, I will be
If I see this whole year out”
Which is so disappointing
Because you so wanted him
To be, say, seventy six
Even better still, eighty
As you initially thought
Then he’d definitely be
The oldest old guy you’d known
And you always get a buzz
When a new and personal
Record is set… don’t you just?
Posted to Writers Island
From a suggestion by Dominic Berry of Animal Writes
First line: His greatest fear was…
And include some or all of these words: green, salt, clouds, shatter, sticky, ostrich, nails, oil, baking, peel,
IT’S JUST NOT CRICKET
His greatest fear was the other side
Where the green, green grass is always greener
And there just ain’t a man between you worth his salt
Their heads are in the clouds, the other team’s are
Don’t wanna shatter anyone’s illusions
But you might just reach the same conclusion
That you’re always on a sticky wicket
When your cricket team’s heads are buried in the sand
Just like the proverbial ostrich
But why so nervous?
No nails, he’s chewed his fingers to the bone
‘cos their captain’s done a runner with his wife
No-one home to linseed oil his cricket bat
Do the baking, peel the spuds
What was responsible for that?
His greatest fear was
Posted to Writers Island
Brenda at Beyond the Bozone set us a wordle using the following words:
Silver, phrase, scars, inept, forever, message, flattery, perfume, sprouting, crescendo, crude, recounts
ANNIVERSARY
Unopened package
Contents; predictable
Printed message
‘FOREVER BEAUTIFUL’
Same ironic phrase
Same crude attempt at flattery
This gift of cheap perfume
The same inept apology
He uses every year
Anger taking root
Sprouting dark thoughts
That build to a crescendo
As she recounts the incident…
The cause of those silver scars
Posted to Writers Island
SHED GEAR
It’s all shed gear though, innit?
Not stuff you put in your shed
Stuff that does your shed, right in
Remember; when I say ‘shed’
I obviously mean ‘head’
And I’ll qualify that
Not stuff you put on your head
No… I’m not talking head wear
Like it’s some French to English
Guillaume; meaning William
Garderobe; meaning Wardrobe
Or Gear; translating to Wear
G to W exchange
Thingy, or something like that
No… Stuff that does your head in
And I mean right in… Got it…?
AN OFFER I CAN REFUSE
None of what they say to me
Is written down on paper
Do they really think they can
Expect me to remember?
Some of what they say to me
Seems to contradict itself
Their minds forever changing
In a constant state of flux
Half of what they say to me
Is intended to confuse
The other half is bullshit
That’s not just my opinion
Most of what they say to me
Is inept and insincere
Delivered by their spokesmen
And designed for flattery
All of what they say to me
Sounds hastily prepared
The words they use sound hollow
And the way they say them, crude
Finally they say to me
‘Take your time to think it through’
What I want to say to them
Would be better left unsaid
Posted to Big Tent Poetry
and Writers Island
LIAR
It’s not true that… it’s just not true
You’re barking up the wrong tree
Making it up as you go along
Telling pork pies; conning me
You’re so wrong; man… you got it wrong
You’re having a laugh; must be
You’re pulling the wool over my eyes
Making a fool out of me
It’s not on, pal… it’s so not on
Your words aren’t deceiving me
I swear it’s a lie, and I should know
You can’t kid a kidder… see?
Posted to Writers Island
First, a Kenning from a suggestion by Dominic Berry of Animal Writes
THE CLOCK STRUCK FIVE
Town Hall
The clock struck five
When it was quarter to
That was just one of its faces
Of four
And a limerick for Mad Kane’s humour blog
GUILELESS & SWEET
A girl who seemed guileless and sweet
Wrote a note on a boat in the Fleet
‘Dear Captain…’ she penned
‘Our romance must end
First we meet, then you cheat… you’re dead meat…!’
And a bit of fun with words – It’s an Acrostic, reading down the page from the first letter of each line and reading back up the page from the last letter of each line. Also each line is an anagram of the title.
FOURTEENTH POST
For the soup tent
on the turf ; poets.
(U.S. font there…
>>>>>>>>>>>>>P.T.O)
Re the fount stop;
ton-up for test, eh?
Enter ‘FOOT’; push ‘T’
…er, ‘F.T.’ to shut/open…
No… put fresh tote,
‘the post fortune’,
hot fortune pest!
Post, Teeth ‘n’ four
others… sent to P.F.U.
Spent to fret U… ho!
Thus tenet proof…!
Posted to Writers Island
SIX AND TWO THREES
Father; Slav
Mother; Anglo-Saxon
Making me
Mixed race
Technically
An Ethnic Minority
But only by default
So some might say
In my case
You could say
It’s a stand-alone status
Without official
Recognition
No visible
Distinguishing features
No support group
No discussion forum
I look and sound the same
As all the rest of us
Caucasians
Because my history
And recent history
Occurred the way they did
I have no history
Only fading memories
Of faded traditions
And soon to be forgotten
Customs and culture
If, like me, you’ve spent
A life away from home
In a land that’s not your own
While your father’s homeland
Remains a foreign place
To him as well as you
Then so the search begins
For a place to call home
And all the while
You do your best
To fit in
Between the sniggers
And nervous smiles
The distrust
Uncertainty
Suspicions
Snide comments
“He’s not one of us…
At least not one of them…”
“What’s your name… er… mate?”
“Ski-bin-ski…Spelt as said”
“That’s a mouthful innit?”
“I suppose… I never thought…
What do you call yourself?”
“E-ther-ing-ton… with a ‘th’…”
“Oh yeah… that’s…
So much easier…
To say… and to spell…”
And so it goes on
You get used to it
…I suppose
Posted to Writers Island
Brenda at Beyond the Bozone set us a wordle using the following words: ash, gloomy, hovels, corrugated, cobwebs, dandelion, scrambling, hum, laugh, feeble, crucial, words
THE FACE OF CONCERN
Are we supposed to give up
On everything we hold dear
Just because it’s Ash Wednesday?
Just because we feel gloomy?
Because we live in hovels
With corrugated tin roofs?
Rooms full of dust and cobwebs
Yards, where dandelions grow?
Make the most of what we’ve got
Or spend our entire lifetime
Scrambling to avoid the hum
Of a deprived neighbourhood?
You can choose to listen, or
Laugh at my feeble attempt
At crucial words of wisdom
Either way, the choice is yours
And here's a link to a 40 line sentence (38 actually), I wrote last year.
Posted to Writers Island
EARLY DOORS
Pete the Parky’s already in
And he’s well on form tonight
He’s not a real Parky though
Is he…?
In fact he’s never been
Any kind of Greenkeeper
Council or otherwise
Has he…?
It’s just that P-word thingy
Sounds good tagged on to his name
Conversation piece nickname
As Peter likes to call it
Doesn’t he…?
And he just loves telling folk
He meets for the very first time
All about the adventures
In local parks and gardens
He’s had…!
And what an important service
He and his fellow Parkys
Or Greenkeepers, provide
For the local community
Innit…?
Posted to Writers Island
QUITE THE OPPOSITE
If I asked myself
“Did you remember
To buy cheese today?”
In all likelihood,
I’d probably say
“Quite the opposite”
But that’s not because
It’s like I’d forget
To buy cheese today
No, nothing like that
“What am I thinking?”
I’d probably ask
Then maybe I’d say
“So you remembered?”
So I’d qualify
‘Quite the opposite’
My response would be
“No, no… I FORGOT…
Forgot to SELL… CHALK
…You know… YESTERDAY...Posted to Writers Island
THE BEDSITTER
What’s in the fridge then?
Cup-a-soup, already made
As luck would have it
Yesterday, the day before
Microwave, highest setting
Four or five minutes
Old stuff edible again
Nuke it; only way
It’s not worth taking chances
Especially on Friday night
Oh great… wholemeal bread!
What’s wrong with Mothers Pride White
Bit hard round the crust
Pack left open in the fridge?
…Can’t wait till Sunday at Mum’s
Posted to Big Tent Poetry
This week’s prompt(s)
We are into April, National Poetry Month,
and some of you are madly writing-a-poem-a-day.
And some of you are saying, “Um, no.”
To keep all our circus-goers happy and well-fed
on cotton candy (inspiration) and peanuts (prompts),
here is a list of seven prompts:
1. Write about a broken window.
2. Write about something that no longer exists.
3. Write a poem with lungs in it.
4. Write a poem as though you are a fish.
5. Write a letter poem to someone in a war zone or a revolution.
6. Write a poem that starts, “I am sorry about _____.”
7. Write a poem that starts, “Legend says ______.”
Also posted to Writers Island
JOHN DOE
Just like me he used to smoke
Hand rolled reefers; cigarettes
That’s what they tell me at least
So I set about my task
Tobacco at the ready
Tissue-thin rolling paper
Sprinkle, roll, lick, seal and light
Fill both lungs full of toxins3
Exhale to his memory
Friend of a friend of a friend
The death of a chain-smoker
Who survived Afghanistan5
Only to fall to Cancer
At the age of twenty nine
Legend says he’s a hero7
History thinks otherwise
Local history at least
Our man – let’s call him John Doe
Is a year passed-on today
Played his part for his country
In a scene from Hell On Earth
Back to civilisation
Where the Peace On Earth Brigade
Play a war-game of their own
Hiding behind their morals
Those without, sin; cast their stones
Music to rabble’s ears, who
Love the sound of window pain1
…Stones and glasshouse residents
Hero saves another day
Takes his wife into his arms
She’s beside herself, poor soul
And flapping about the house
Like a fish out of water4
Justice – what’s all that about?
Whatever became of it?
The justice heroes deserve…?
Alas it no longer exists2
…If it ever did at all
I am sorry about that6
Posted to Writers Island
SUPER
Only takes a minute
Innit?
A smile
A nod and a wink
Don’t you think?
And sworn enemies
Are reborn best friends
Time mends
The deepest rift
Attitudes shift
And happy days
Replace the haze
And hopes are raised
Remember yesterday’s
Childish game?
I claimed my dad
Was bigger than yours
But of course
Yours was bigger than mine
That’s fine
But mine drives a Batmobile
And he can see
Through solid steel
For real!
And he flies the open skies
With an ‘S’ on his chest
He’s the best!
But me
I’m no Superman
Maybe
Desperate Dan
Less than a hero
On a scale from zero
To ten
Me, a hero?
Think again!
Posted to Writers Island
PALINDROMIC ACROSTIC AMERICAN SANDWICH STYLE NAISAIKU
Dentally tortureD
Excruciating toothacheE
Thursday afternoon, I saw the local dentist for an appointmentT
About ten minutes late and I was overcome by the aromA
Rushing around the surgery like a madman, gasping for fresh aiR
THURSDAY APPOINTMENT
Reclining into the dentist’s chair, I fell into a deep slumbeR
Agony followed as he injected my lower gum areA
That’s definitely the last time I’ll see that particular dentisT
Excruciating toothacheE
Dentally tortureD
Not exactly pwoemwrds, but fun with words anyway
Tomorrable – Not possible today, but next day, sure.
Lardsm – Fat bloke
Bootyful – Fat woman
Secondomery – as practiced by:
Secondomerists – following the principles of:
Secondomerism – A political movement supported by corrupt M.P’s
Posted to Writers Island
and Mad Kane's Humor Blog
4 5’s 4 5 - (Four fives for five)
A fellow was fit to be tied
Then hung with fresh herbs to be dried
It suffices to say
He’s still hanging today
But he’ll soon be chopped up to be fried
A fellow was fit to be tied
As he walked past the hangman he sighed
“Spare a life would you, mate?
For the usual rate…”
A request which the hangman denied
A fellow was fit to be tied
To a bride who had recently died
“If only she’d cared”
The sad groom declared
“It takes pride to reside by her side”
A fellow was fit to be tied
To an ambulance fifteen feet wide
Then dragged through a field
Until he was healed
Of what illness he could not decide
What’s it got?
What’s a what?
What’s a Tardist?
Not a ‘what’
No it’s not
It’s a ‘who’
As in Time Lord Doctor Who
Who’s a Tardist?
You say Doctor Who is a Tardist?
Doctor Who is only The only Tardist
Pilot of a Time Machine
No less
Tell me you can see what I mean
Oh yes
To drive a TARDIS
Is not the hardest task to face
Regardless of Time and Space
In any case
They’re mere dimensions
Inventions created by Man
Doctor Who is no big fan
Because Who really is the man
So what’s a Time Lord?
Who’s a Time Lord
Who’s a ‘who’ who should be adored
And his TARDIS Temple should be toured
On journeys through Relative Dimensions
Extensions we positively activate
While we celebrate the times he’s saved
The day, the age
Wave upon wave
Of Daleks invading Earth
It was worth the Time Lord’s time
Time after time
The Doctor’s worth every dime
Who’s sublime?
Doctor Who, that’s Who
Who‘s Doctor Who?
You know who
You know Doctor Who
Who’s the Tardist
Posted to Writers Island
ON YOUR DAY
Always in my thoughts
Miles away, years departed
Happy Mother’s Day
