Early Summer Reading

My favourite time

My favourite time is waking early to see a rising summer sun so I can sit in the garden, and listen to a dawn chorus fading into the sound of trees rustling in the morning breeze as the smell of coffee mingles with unveiled flowers, and a page captures me.

Love Across the Generations

A Postcrossing story for Trevor, Michelle and Landon in USA


It was the time of transferring.

My Grandfather weak, gasping held me tight and said “when you survive, tell the truth as it was, don’t make villains out of misguided men.”

The truth told but now words of then burning; my children will find only happy memories after my death.

A rounded view of poverty

Poverty

Grandpa what does being poor mean?

Never feeling fed and afeared that you’ll end up in the streets.

Grandma, what does being poor mean?

Walking by when someone’s suffering and being bitter with your lot.

What its mean to you?

Daddy not buying me the BMX that my friends have.

A reverse Etheree riposte* *

If you’re anything like me, one of your favourite reasons to read is for the story. Not for the character development and interaction. Not because of the descriptive, emotive powers of the writer. Not because of deep, literary meaning hidden beneath layers of metaphor. (Even though those are all good things.) No … it’s because you want to know what happens next?

Or, um, is it just me?

Husband on being asked do you like plots before the first coffee of the day.
Do one-legged ducks swim in circles?
But do you LIKE plots in a story?
Isn’t it’s cold at the North Pole?
I am ASKING about plots.
Is the Pope Catholic?
Listen. It’s about plots,
Is water wet?
Yes but plots..
Fire, Hot?
PLOTS!

**For those that went Err? Click and learn...Etheree poetical form

Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.

Ginger

The Queen did stamp and howleth.
Her meal was fowleth.

For heads roll if Anger hung
so Fools tried a song.

But Wise and Crafty thought on
and sent out for Swan.

Nutmeg, ginger, cloves, allspice:
Roast Swan paradise!

Now Wise or Fool dance and clown
as Crafty steals Crown.

Seen from a window

Man sized feet in flesh coloured stilettos with pig trotter toes poking.

The Third Date

Peanut Butter Cups

“Look, get the candles flickering, the music low, and crack open the wine and serve her:

Sardines sur le pain grillé
Bifteck avec des salades
Tasses de beurre d'arachide”

“You know I can barely open a tin”.

“Mike, even you can do:

Sardines on toast
Steak with Salad
Peanut Butter-Cups”

A Stillness comes

Peanut Butter

The peanut butter sandwich on soft white bread cut into the shape of a soccer ball flew into the air hitting the branches of roadside larches still in Ieaf despite the cold autumn snap; falling the slices, divided, peanut sides face up, flopping down on the boy’s now still body.

Mama Knows Best

Chocolate

Your problem child is you trying to hold him with a plain diet, all gruel and grits. Any man with fire going flicker on that. You want him looking for what else is cooking?

Oh no Mama

Hush, just get yourself chocolate and chilli and he’ll stick around for seconds.

A Dead Cert

Red Geraniums

I tell you the nag’s a long odds cert. I’ve a grand on. The horse is backward to keep the odds up so I’ll mint it. Your money in the bank.

It better.

Red Geraniums limped in last. Soon after, Big Tony went for a ride and long country rest.

Talks in the English Countryside

 Peppermint

We need a decision. So its no to A taste of French cheeses. 'I only stuck up for English Cheddar.'

'Yes, thanks, Marge'
'And, to Tom’s suggestion of Plymouth matches 1890-1939.'
'I could do it with slides'.
'We aired that Tom. So we are left with The Fun of Peppermint?'

Thoughts upon the London Poor

The Blue Lobster

My informant at the curiously named The Blue Lobster told me that when the Irish street-sellers quarrel “they’ll kick like devils, and scratch, and bite, like women or cats, instead of using their fists”. He wished “all the drunkards were teetotallers, if it were only to be rid of them.”

How long do I have to go?

A Postcrossing story for Helvi in Finland

It had been one hell of a day what with kids throwing up, parents getting all weepy and the first day prep talk from the Principal. Mary cracked open a bottle, thinking tomorrow will be worse.

Losing it, she screamed, “Mummy, I’ve done school, its boring, lets do something else

A Last Dance

I’m so

He came not wearing black but
dressed as lover’s
would; finery to pleasure.

My drought watered as on
a first lover’s glance
and kiss. Now my last.

He holds my hand while nurse
shakes me out of my
long sleep in the white night.

I’m so ready for our dance.

Secrets

Birthday Cake

She didn’t want to miss the shops. Her urgency wasn’t a Birthday party with cake but posting a card to Sunday Secrets. Her love was in the words...

I should be saying “Happy Birthday Elliott” for the 9th time…but I never got to say it at all. Love Mummy x

The Devil or the Deep Blue Sea

Arctic

So it’s down to Babs or Lorraine.

Oh, God what a choice, Lorraine makes a drama out of opening a tea bag. When she isn’t crying enough to bury an abandonment of orphans, she up for the most irritating-and-inappropriate-loud-laugh Oscar.

Well, at least she is fun, Babs is…is just Arctic.

blogcatalog

Which Engagement?

I want Elephants and roses
at my engagement.
Your first maybe, your fifth no.

A Modern Girl

A Postcrossing
-->story for Vesna in Croatia
Marie's pitch was opera perfect. Her high C cracked Champagne flutes.
One lover begged her to star in Madam Butterfly at La Scala whist another wanted her covered only with red roses to sing in his bed
Marie being a modern sort of girl, took up rock and roll instead

A Clash of Truths

Spiral

We will know our final destiny when the last human sits shivering under the dead black sky.

Stop, I must object to this monstrous portrayal of a one-road time. We have known for centuries that this is false science; time is a spiral of birth, sustenance and destruction.

I disagree.

Mummy's Love You Forever

Chance

Screech...bang...swoosh.

I am Death, the reaper of souls.

So here, at last and look at you a bag of bones; the slut's too busy to feed you or give me grandchildren. Thank God, I am here now.

Er...Death dude any chance of dropping me off somewhere, anywhere.

MORRIS, COME BACK

A Broken Promise

Temperate

For me it was my son’s birthday. We had agreed mackerel line fishing off the north Cornwall coast. Instead, I went off binge drinking and woke up in a field. Back home seeing his silent face made me take the pledge and I have been temperate for 10 years now.

Ancient Hymn

I remember what

I remember what we did
Oh tell us ancient one
We made the land barren

I remember why we did
Oh tell us ancient one
We made water blister

I remember when we did
Oh tell us ancient one
We took the breath from air

Oh, ancient ones suffer us

British Camping

-->

Tropical

Huddled in what was left of the tent, with the rain drum-rolling overhead, they watched the other campers clomping over fields trying to find boots, towels, wetsuits, pots, bedding and pets, as the wind played tag with them.

Shivering, mum said, “well at least a tropical storm is bleeding warm.”

A Life Ends

Time
When she had been married for a year Mary decided it was time to leave. From under the bed, she pulled out the suitcase packed with his savings, the black dress, a set of red silk underwear and an empty silver frame ready for the next man she would love.

A seed of wisdom

I remember why

Behind on the hill, the house burned with no company kept warm. A bloodstained youth struggled to drag an older man by the rope that bound them both at a single wrist. Hearing his plea for mercy, the Boy turned, stared and then walked on saying, “I remember why not”.

Being a Fifties Goof

I remember when

Peggy glared, I ain’t getting circled that’s for cubes.

Cut the gas, don’t have a cow, I was only asking if we were jacketville.

She leant across and breathed, baby, you’re cool, you want to back seat bingo?

As they left, the waitress, muttered, I remember when kids spoke proper.

Vacation

Holiday may start Friday,
if the Sun flickers.
Camping for the faint hearted.

Contemplating Middle-Age.

I wish the...

Once
we hadexcitement,
passion and sex.
Now its IKEA,
and Saturday nights in.
Clothes shrink, secret snacks,oh joy.He, Adonis sags and bounceswhere once I could sit and have hard fun.
I wish the razzle-dazzle bungeed back.