Today’s blog introduces my new section, Ask Michael.
Looks like lunch time limerick has become a thing…sorry.
Mr Toad watched Mrs Frog hop over to him. “How delightful” he thought to himself.
To enjoy with your lunch…
I am going to have to admit that I love writing these. Today I think I shall write about terrible things that happen to good people.
J pulled his bedding up around his ears and refused to get out of bed. “No” he insisted, only his eyes showing above the blanket “tell dad that I’m unwell or something but I just can’t face it today.”
Get well soon.
A piece on beard growing and there is also a reference to a 3 way with the Clintons.
This just slipped out…next post will be more grown up promise
just a few thoughts before I start the day
I have wanted to use the words “throbbing” and “Angela Merkel” in the same piece for some time. To be honest I would probably not bother reading this…
Proof that a dog is indeed mans best friend
A quick dose of inappropriateness
August was my first full month of blogging, so I thought I would set myself a target of posting every day, and yesterday I completed it. So what did I learn?
These seem to be, quite accidentally, on the matter of the oddities of marriage and such…
A heavy farmhouse door opened and farmer, the girl with the fat bottom and dog stepped out into the crisp morning air.
Just a few haiku, but no t so serious…
Proof that a limerick can make even the darkest of topics more pleasant…
Kostromo stirred beneath the cold earth, it’s weight heavy on her chest and her bones gripped by the icy fingers of winter.
I started my blog about 7 or so weeks ago, and as it turns out this is my 100th post.
Be wary of strangers on the internet, just saying…
The 35 Minute ride across the lake provides some rather lovely views of unspoiled coastlines and magnificent houses which you will never be able to afford…
A haiku challenge on the matter of “taste”
In a world where diversity across society is ever increasingly celebrated there remain places where prejudice and hatred still run free.
Drawn to Sparrow’s not too distant chirps, snake slithered from his hole under the old oak, the summer sun warm on his scales.