Month: January 2021

3TC#495

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Three Things Challenge #495

It looked like it would SUPPORT him. Charlie, that was – Vera’s father. She and Bill had moved down to London, for work, from the Lincolnshire sticks. They’d managed to find a flat down there, but it only had one bedroom, so Charlie had to either make his bed on the HARD floor or on the sun bed that was residing in the living room. He chose the sun bed, BECAUSE, as he said, he could imagine himself being in Ibitha or somewhere.

Vera and Bill had just gone to bed when they heard a kind of shouting cum wailing noise coming from the living room. Vera went rushing into the living room wondering what on earth had happened to find Charlie still on the sun bed, but with his head on the ground and his legs up in the air. Being a tall man, this was quire a spectacle!

“How on earth did you manage to do that?” inquired Vera.

“Well I only tried to turn over in bed, and suddenly went arse over tip,” replied Charlie.

GOING HOME

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Down the lane live many lives
That only in my mind I know
Though names are so familiar
Many years have passed since I was in this place
And I know not what you do
Or what you ever did
But here I sit on hallowed ground
Brimming full of stories
My reverie is broken
By the sound of horses going home
Clip clop clip clop
A wave a smile
I know you but I do not know you
Horses are always the same
And one day soon
They will bear me home
At the setting of the sun
The setting of the sun

SOBERING THOUGHT

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On Friday morning at 10 o’clock, our phones were hot! A baby had been born at 9.20 a.m.! My brother’s son’s wife (work that one out lol) had just given birth! The baby was only just over 4 lbs. in weight, and had not been strong enough to help propel himself out, so a forceps delivery was required. So when he did finally come out, he came out with a great roar! I can’t say I blame him. His name therefore is Rory!

I so felt for the poor little mite. His baby clothes are far too big on him, but he is feeding well, so hopefully he will grow fast! Mother and baby are both doing well and should be home now.

The one thing was, though, that straight opposite to them in the labour ward was the Intensive Care ward, where all the Covid victims were. My brotger remarked on the strange but sad fact that on one side of the corridor people were coming into the world, and on the other leavingit

THE TRUTH AND THE ILLUSORY

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If I follow my heart
How do I know where my heart goes
It can take me so many places
Some of them high some of them low
Some of them illusory
How can I know the truth

Someone once said “What is truth?”
Does it really live in the heart
So many things are illusory
A place where anything goes
Sometimes the good seems to lie low
Yet it lives in so many places

I have been to many places
Have I ever found the truth
I too have laid low
Trying to hear my heart
Often my sense goes
I dwell in the illusory

Some things are just dreams illusory
I dream of many places
Sometimes my sanity goes
As I try to find the truth
I long to follow my heart
But not to be brought low

The ground is very low
And here things are illusory
Is this where I find my heart
Out of all these many places
In my heart there is truth
But here anything goes

My heart goes where it goes
Be it high or low
It seeks only the truth
Not wanting the illusory
I reject now all those places
That seek to confound my heart

3TC#489 THE BALLET

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Three Things Challenge #489

It was to be the event of the season at the local opera house. The BALLET Swan Lake to be performed on ice. June and Roy had been going to this event for many years, and now in their latter years they were quite MELLOW. They had a PAIR of tickets, as usual, and looked forwards to the outing. Each year when the ballet was performed Thexstage was turned into an ice rink. It was quite an attraction.

The day of the performance arrived, and outside the snow had fallen. Everywhere was white, and the whole of the countryside was like one gigantic ice rink. June and Roy looked out of the window and laughed at the irony of the situation. No way were they going to get the car out and attempt to travel the eight or so miles to the opera house to see the ballet they had seen many times before.

“Let’s stay at home and have a hot toddy,” Roy said, with a wrinkle in his eye.

“Good idea,” said June.

Sent from my iPad

STILL LIVES OUR LOVE

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Shall we dance in the toast glow of the fire
Close to each other singing love’s lone song
Forgetting all our love will never tire
The hours pass my heart for you does long
I hear your voice in every rustling leaf
The wind sings soft the fire it never dies
But now I know the pangs of parting’s grief
My breath begins to catch my spirit sighs
In darkness once death took you from my arms
But now I hear your spirit call to me
The fire crackles living are your charms
Even in death your spirit is set free
Gone now is every death defying tear
Still lives our love that ever was so dear

Sent from my iPad

MY LOVE DEPARTED IN THE NIGHT

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Above the river I sit and wait
Where once I heard the curlews call
And raptors danced up in the air
The geese flew by speaking of love
Teaching us how to help each other
The wind blows strong in winter’s night

A light shines kindly in the night
As I for morning sadly wait
I remember how we held each each other
But now I do not hear you call
All my life I searched for love
Breathing in a fresher air

I sense a beating in the air
With the passing of the night
Is it your heart beating with love
In silence now I sit and wait
I fancy now I hear you call
It must be you and not an other

We danced we could have done no other
Just like the birds up in the air
Like them we knew each other’s call
We held each other in the night
For the morning we would wait
Breathing still our deepest love

Oh how beautiful is love
Caressing holding tight each other
For your kiss I could not wait
Sighing in the cold night air
You departed in the night
Just before the curlew’s call

Then you heard Love’s deepest call
A greater Love than our shared love
My heart was broken that sad night
And now I’ll never love an other
I hear your spirit in the air
Now for eternity I will wait

TAKE SEVEN

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Take Seven: January 22nd

Henry thought himself to be rather good at writing COMEDY. DAILY he worked on his scripts for shows. It was when he was in the army that he had DECIDED that this was the life for him. Having had a taste of being in the Ralph Reeder shows, It would be EASY, he felt, to make his living as a script writer and comedian. He lived with his wife, Dora, in a FLAT in a small Yorkshire market town. He had married her whilst she was still just a GIRL, showing off in her HIGH heels. But she had grown into quite the LADY.

One day Henry spied a letter on the MAT in the hall. In fact, it was a bit more than a letter, for the envelope seemed to have a lot of PADDING around it.

Henry and Dora seemed to have the PERFECT life, and they looked quite the PICTURE when they walked out together, arm in arm. Until, that was, that Henry got the PUSH from work. Then, everything was thrown into chaos. He had never managed to fulfil his RESOLVE to make his living as a comedian, though he had gone a bit SIDEWAYS and got to playing his banjo at the Club every Friday night.

Dora was still quite beautiful, slim and rather serene, having adopted a diet that Henry could not quite understand – like STUFFED peppers and the like. A bit different to your normal pie and peas. She was quite fond of that strange (to Henry anyway) thing called Afternoon Tea, and often the China TEAPOT would be on the table, surrounded by the tiniest of cakes and delicacies. Dora would have a few friends in, and Henry would feel quite out of it. Sometimes she would have as many as TEN friends there, and the TONE of the conversation was very different to that at the Club.

Henry was well and truly out of his depth. But one day he TOSSED caution to the wind, rebelling against all this high falutin’ stuff that Dora had brought into their marriage. He joined a Dating Agency. Tentatively, but excitedly, he opened the package on the mat, wondering what he would find inside. There, staring up at him, on the very top of the pile of photographs was a photo of Dora, looking not a bit like she looked at her Aternoon Tea parties.

#FOWC

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FOWC with Fandango — Snitch

Susie settled herself in her chair. The room was the same s always. Big. Dusty. Dim. In front of her was a window that looked as if it had never been clened. To the right of her a pile of kneelers, once brightly coloured but now faded. He pulled up a chair next to her and put his arm around her shoulders.

Susie felt that familiar tickle, felt around in her bag until she found her handkerchief. She drew it out of her bag, and put it to her nose.

“You’ve got to have your SNITCH right,” she said, before removing his arm from round her shoulders.

CAGED BIRDS

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I AM HAVING TO REMIND MYSELF OF THIS EVERY DAY. THIS IS AN OLD POEM THAT I HAVE POSTED BEFORE
Caged birds
Sing because they
Must and so must I in
Harmony with all who from their
Prisons
Sing with
Clear intent, showing the world that
Nothing can stop the song
Not even chains
That bind.

TEARS

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Tears
Jewels
Shining lights
Bright like the stars
Glistening rainbows
Made of the purest light
Coming from your heart to mine
Shining your love into my life
Caressing me with this pure water
Washing me clean of the grime of my life

CRACKED

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THIS POEM WAS WRITTEN IN AWRENESS OF THE GRIEF OF THE WORLD OVER THE PANDEMIC AND ALL THE WAYS IN WHICH IT HAS AFFECTED PEOPlE

Cracked
Splintered
Like my heart
World fukl of cracks
Openings to sorrow
Slipping through so silently
But now a crescendo rises
Piercing the heavens in agony
The Universe groans with the shaking world

#FOWC. Trouble

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FOWC with Fandango — Trouble

TROUBLE had followed her all of her life. She never quite knew why. Her father was the same. Nearly ended up in the river one day! There they were, going along in the car, when suddenly they found themselves going up a grassy embankment.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” she yelled at her father, as they teetered perilously near to the top of the steep embankment, over which was the river.

“This is the right way,” he insisted.

“Right way to where?” she barked at him.

It wasn’t only embankments, and they had been up a few. It was dual carriageways as well. He never could get the hang of dual carriageways, especially when they had to turn right off one of them. It was ridiculous. They were only on their way to the fish and chip shop, which was deemed to be one of the best in the area. The only problem was, it was in a little village a few miles away from their town. People flocked to it, as the owners fried the fish and chips in an old coal fired range. Jemima wondered how that could make the fish and chips taste any better. But everyone seemed to think that it did. So there they were, on their way to sample the delights of fish and chips cooked in an old range, when it happened. He pulled over to the right, and waited in the waiting area, to go up the road that went to the fish and chip shop when suddenly he lost all his senses. Jemima screamed as they started going up the road into the oncoming traffic.

“Back up again Dad. Back up.”

Nervoulsy yet sheepishly, he backed up. She pointed vigorously to the road down which they should have gone. He followed her finger.

Jemima could never understand why he was like this. Until one day she found herself driving down an ancient track that seemed to be going nowhere. Very soon she found herself in a filed of cows.

“What the hell. Am I doing here?” She exclaimed to herself.

He’d been dead a few years, b ut she could have sworn she heard him laughing in the seat behind her.

DARE

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Take this day and live it
Break illusions, let them go
Wake to better things, and dance
Shake the world in your energy flow

Wear with pride your new self
Tear away old skins
Share your heart with those you meet
Dare to be the one who wins

IN A COMPLETE MESS

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My old iPad has now gone and updated itself, and I can no longer “Like” or Reply to many people’s posts. I am beyond upset.

i want more than anything to come to your blogs and read and like your pists but WordPress won’t let me. I have had enough. As if being blind was not enough. I am angry, distressed, and fed up. I can’t deal with contacting anyone at WP because of being blind. I will try to keep posting my stuff but I wouldn’t blame you if youvdon’t read me if I am not reading yours. If you are interested in my poetry etc then please read and comment.

i am just feeling totally done with WP

THE SONG OF LOVE

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When I was a little girl, I learned to sing. Singing just seemed to be part of me. I sang when I was happy. I sang when I was sad. And I sang when I was frightened. At nights, when I was often frightened, in my bed, I would sing. Singing took the fear away. It seemed to ward off anything that could possibly hurt me.

My happiest days were spent at my grandparents’ farm, and always, I would wake up singing. Singing with the birds. I would lie in bed singing at the top of my voice.

Little did I know then that one day I would be unable to physically sing. But that is the case today. Not only can I not sing, but as most of you know, I cannot see. I am now blind, following a serious and advanced cancer that took my ability to walk also. There was a time, during the period when I had cancer, when not only could I not sing, but I could not speak. It was impossible for me to string words together. Yet here I am today, and I can both talk, and write. The ability to string words together has come back.

I had a date on December 24th. 2013. A date with a friend in America, to sing the well known Carol, “Silent Night” to her over the telephone. I had not yet finished my chemotherapy, but it was my dearest wish to be able to sing on that holiest of nights. And I did. Croakily, but I did.

My voice has never come back properly, but in my heart a song remains. A song that I sing whatever happens to me. It is a song that I would like to leave behind me, should I pass away. It is a song about LOVE. Love isvthe greatest thing in the world. I call it the oxygen of life. Whatever happens to me, I hope that I will leave a song of Love behind.

PROBLEMS LIKING AND COMMEBnTING

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I seem unable to “Like” or comment on posts on my new iPad. I can do it on my old one, but that will soon be unuseable. I click on “Like” and it just kind of disappears and comes back with no “Like” clicked on.

With Comments, it asks for my email address etc. and I just can’t deal with it, being blind.

I am struggling here, and I think it might be something to do with new IOS updates or something.

Can anyone help please? I want to visit your bligs and be able to like and comment. This iPad will do it, that I am on now, but not sure how long it will last as it is old. Help!

SO INCREDIBLY HAPPY

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I am feeling the most incredible feelings today – sitting here holding in my hands a book. It is called FAE DREAMS, published by FAE CORPS PUBLISHING INC in which six of my poems have been published. WOW!

When I first started writing poetry seriously I never thought I would ever be published, i did not think I was good enough!

I did self publish six books which I sold for the Lymphoma Association, which was the cancer that I had. But to actually be published by someone else is the most amazing feeling in the world. Thankyou Fae Corps Publishing for including me in this Anthology.

The book is available on Amazon, though in the U.K. there seems to be a dearth of the hard copies, though you can get it in Kindle form. In the U.K. there were only a few hard copies available and they were in large print form. This problem does not extend to other countries, where the hard copy is available.

The book is lovely, with great graphics,and I feel so proud and honoured to be included.

RATS

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Trapped
A rat
Though human
Trying to run
Screeching out in fear
Soon the cries will die down
The rat will breathe its last breath
Its body stiffen in the trap
No one will care about the dead rat
For rats are only rats despised vermin