I did an online food order and the delivery came with a free ginger bread man/woman/person
Androgynous baked golden creation
smiling, painted and lifeless . Tempting me.
a single bite I crave, perhaps a leg
or two
Soft on my lips
warm on my tongue
sweet and spiced welcomed into my mouth
just one bite more.
but not the face
with your plastered on smile and dead eyes
neat little jacket between my teeth
I gobble you down
and deny you ever existed…
Just the one…
I believe that the limerick form can cheer up even the most horrid of subjects. What do you reckon?
There once was a fellow from Crete
had a quite kinky craving for feet
how he craved toes and heels
cos it gave him sex feels
and the odour he loved, oh so sweet
An attempt at a proper haiku
This week I am having a crack at not being weird and odd when it comes to my itsy bitsy japanese poems.
Wind through the tree tops
Gate ajar banging all night
land swept clean at dawn
Did yo know there are more rules than just the 5/7/5? Oh yeah there are tons of the chuffing things like:
She watches, he, a picture of his father
beautiful and flawed
forever and always in her heart
protected, loved , adored
She watches, he, a picture of his father
beautiful and flawed
forever and always in her heart
protected, loved , adored
A world awaits, alone she prepares
first steps, first words, forehead kissed
hand held, knee scraped tears wiped
he – birthdays, Christmas missed
Held tight she wishes a life far more
than she can ever give
love overflows, it’s all she has
to pave his way to live
And seasons pass, she watches
he grows, eyes bright, unknowing
not realising what he does not have
the scars hidden, unshowing
Such pride she wears on tear worn face
a life surrendered without regret
to see him grow from boy to man
though her heart cannot forget
the life now passed her by, in days
each lived but not her own
freely given yet taken too
by the man he has not known
Not what it seems I assure you.
I believe that the limerick form can cheer up even the most horrid of subjects. What do you reckon?
Once a fellow from Afghanistan…
Okay so I have failed tonight. I tried a couple of places right and ended up choosing Afghanistan, and Tehran and Pakistan thinking I would go a little further afield. As a second line though, no matter how hard I tried all I could think of was these people packing their families up into a van. No matter where I tried to go these poor buggers ended up squashed in the rear of an old battered pickup.
They weren’t going anywhere nice though, not on a holiday or anything. They weren’t even going to the shops to pick up some of whatever people would go to the shops to buy in Afghanistan. Probably toilet roll and crisps like everyone everywhere else on the planet.
No, I had them in a van, accompanied by a goat doing their damnedest to not be where they were. What do I know about these places I then ask myself. Not enough probably – they might be perfectly happy in Tehran shopping for magazines and orange cordial and pillows.
I get I can be ignorant, I suppose we all can be. I might have to do a bit of research and then – if it turns out I was right – then I will happily pack them into a van and have my way with them.
Let’s try a little serious shall we…
Okay so I piss about a bit with my blog I realise. If my poems had a ‘Eeeeuuuwww button’ then I am pretty sure it would get pressed more than my likes. I was challenged by Roda – I think that’s what happened – to try a happy ending or two so for this week I will have a crack at a few more pleasant subjects.
At Days close he waits content
to say goodbye and drift to night
and in those moments years rolled back
warm smiles and joy and eyes shine bright
Her warm embrace and tender kiss
and babies cries and laughter sweet
when blankets laid across his knees
worn eyes do close and visions greet
First words, first steps, first dates first kiss
long days dark nights but then
he sees her face and hears her voice
and love’s restored again
And as he slips to dark and rest
a life well lived he sees
of family, love and heart and hearth
life passing like the breeze
And in that moment vivid, clear
old lips whisper and say
each day a treasure I received
farewell, on this last day
A tale of love in the middle ages
This week your WordPress feed with be filled with the theme of love, and through my limericks and haiku I will attempt to fill you with some of mine.
Once a fellow quite fond of romance
took a buxom young girl to a dance
he was charming and sweet
swept her right off her feet
all a plan to get into her pants
photo courtesy of me
A piece where I mention turkey wattle in an inappropriate way
As a balance to the inevitable avalanche of love and tenderness spewing into your WordPress feed this week I bring you these.
Heart beating, mouth dry
knotted stomach, hands trembling
Love? Food poisoning?
As far as she could see the dark pine trunks contrasted against the thick blanket of snow that stretched before her broken only by a dark smear of a track that wound its way through the wood just a stone’s throw from where she was now crouched.
I had the urge to return to this. Let’s have another part shall we. It was only ever meant to be one part…
Faeries: The long winter – Part 2
Faeries: The long winter – Part 3
Faeries: The long winter – Part 4
Kostromo brushed away the snow at the entrance of the narrow cave exit and looked out across the wood before her. As far as she could see the dark pine trunks contrasted against the thick blanket of snow that stretched before her broken only by a dark smear of a track that wound its way through the wood just a stone’s throw from where she was now crouched.
“It looks safe” she said to fox in the tunnel behind her. Behind fox, owl and rabbit pushed forward to get a glimpse of the wood.
“We must hurry” Owl insisted flapping impatiently. We must find a place to hide ourselves.”
“All in time my friend” Kostromo said turning to him. “All in good time. We must not be hasty, soon this road will be filled with those from whom we hide. We need only follow them from a distance, and we must not be seen.”
For many months now no news had come out of the north wood, and every time the Frog King had despatched his spies none had returned. Day after day reports of strange creatures marching down the road filtered back to his caves but never word about where they headed once they headed beyond the black river.
“Dark forces” muttered rabbit. “Dark forces indeed.”
They needed to know more so Kostromo had chosen rabbit, owl and fox because not only did they have keen sight but they were brave, they knew the wood as well as any of the animals and were fleet enough to escape should they be seen.
“Owl, take cover in the highest branches and hide yourself well” Kostromo instructed moving to one side to allow her to pass.”
Owl nodded and blinked and in a flash she hopped from the mouth of the cave and launched into the cold morning air, disappearing into the tree tops.
“Rabbit, fox” Kostromo continued, “head up the bank to the left and follow the path to the north from up on the ridge. Stay below the ridgeline and do not let them see you. I shall wait here until they pass.”
Without a word rabbit and fox slipped from the cave and disappeared into the snow leaving Kostromo alone in the small entrance in the side of the hill. She should be safe up here, it was close to the road but the entrance remained obscured by the fresh snow that had fallen the night before.
After only a short while Kostromo heard something approaching from the south. Something unfamiliar. At first the noises were muffled and difficult to make out against the whistle of the icy wind that blew through the pines, but they soon turned to the stamp of marching feet and the clink and thud of metal on wood and leather.
She crouched low and pressed up against the side of the cave entrance, her gossamer wings pulled in tight. She melted into the shadows and watched as a small squat creature burst through the trees and scurried along the path, stopping in the road directly across from where Kostromo hid. She held her breath. It was nothing she had ever seen before, the size of a badger but with a longer head and with small red eyes set deep in its skull. It raised its h It was covered from head to tail with thick black fur and a long tailed trailed through the snow behind it. Slowly it sniffed the air looking about then stood quite still. It looked high up into the tree tops and then up to the ridgeline and then raised itself up onto its back legs as if searching for something. It was then that Kostromo noticed the rows of long sharp white teeth in the creatures blood red mouth.
She held her breath, heart beating furiously in her chest. Surely it could not have detected them. What felt like minutes passed as the creature stood, nose high in the air. The noise of the thump of feet grew louder and louder and Kostromo saw a dark mass of creatures break through the trees heading down the track.
Every part of her screamed hide but she felt transfixed, terrified to move for fear of the creature spotting her. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to calm her mind and slow her racing pulse. She breathed deep and slowly opened them again. She looked out towards the path and noticed the creature was no longer sniffing the air.
It was staring straight towards where she was hidden.
Photo courtesy of pixabay
A tale of love in the middle ages
This week your WordPress feed with be filled with the theme of love, and through my limericks and haiku I will attempt to fill you with some of mine.
A sweet maid gave her heart to her fella
but alas she was ripe he could smell her
from her feet to her pits
tits and girl naughty bits
but was desperate so chose not to tell her
photo courtesy of me
A piece where I mention turkey wattle in an inappropriate way
As a balance to the inevitable avalanche of love and tenderness spewing into your WordPress feed this week I bring you these.
Tender caresses
Kisses planted in the dark
Grunts, rolls over, snores
I thought perhaps I would turn my hand to a spot of erotic fiction…
Another month of M’s writing prompts lies ahead. I did them all in December but was less successful in January. Let’s see how we do in February shall we.
I thought perhaps I would turn my hand to a spot of erotic fiction for this prompt piece but realised that I would need to be serious and found it rather difficult.
There I am trying to create the right mood for you the reader but before I know it I am throwing in words willy nilly such as throbbing, veined and moist.
“You’re better than that Michael” I tell myself sternly and quickly follow it with a paragraph where I choose to toss in engorged, breathless and arched in quick succession.
“No one needs that, the 50 shades phase has passed” I insist (though Mrs Michael did go to the cinema the other night to watch it) before attempting a scene where a white cotton shirt is ripped asunder exposing a smooth taut chest.
I had to do a spot of research on the matter and by the time I was done my description of the smoothness of the aforementioned chest was such that it made it sound like it was that of a child and I quickly deleted it because no one wants to read about children ripping anything asunder never mind nice cotton shirts.
My browser was also full of dark curly haired fellow looking wistfully into the distance whilst their shirts flapped in the wind.
At this point I am thinking I will give it one last go but I found myself overusing the letter ‘m’ in my ‘mmmmm’ and realised that I had no idea what I was doing, the female in the piece sounded like she had a really bad cold and that not only should I pack it in and go fill the dishwasher or empty the bins but I should delete all trace of the piece entirely just in case one of the kids stumbles upon it.
I really don’t know my vulva from my Volvo and I wouldn’t want tmy boys having to ask why nice Mrs Chambers from number 4 was having her Volvo examined by the postman. He’s a nice enough chap but not sure he knows much about cars.
A grown up attempt at a tanka.
Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday
I don’t take many things seriously as you probably know but I am going to make a concerted effort to do Colleen’s challenges properly when I do them. I have scant regard for the correct use of haiku and tanka and often do such beastly things to them but I think it is also important to show appreciation for the little blighters because they are so fabulous when done right.
This week the challenge was to use synonyms for Character and Affection. I used Disposition and Tenderness.
Cold disposition
Winter holds firm unyielding
until spring awakes
Her tenderness revealing
new life long hidden in sleep
A piece where I mention turkey wattle in an inappropriate way
As a balance to the inevitable avalanche of love and tenderness spewing into your WordPress feed this week I bring you these.
Old people loving
pendulous, gravity pulls…
think turkey wattle
Dirty dirty dirty
This week your WordPress feed with be filled with the theme of love, and through my limericks and haiku I will attempt to fill you with some of mine.
A comely barmaid from Mauritius
proclaimed “Semen is oh so delicious
and so good for my skin
and it keeps me quite thin
full of protein and very nutritious.”
photo courtesy of me
Sometimes the words are just lost in the noise.
Another month of M’s writing prompts lies ahead. I did them all in December but was less successful in January. Let’s see how we do in February shall we.
It’s been an odd week this week. I have barely been able to get to my blog as life seemed to get in the way. I found my days filled, from morning until night, and most nights I found myself looking longingly at my blog but losing the battle and having to sleep instead. In the past I would have beat myself up about it but this time I simply succumbed and let life do it’s thing. It did not look like a fight I was going to win so I chose to not have the fight.
Things feel a little more under control now though and I have managed to post a couple of pieces but it’s the piece below I have found myself struggling with. I started it and flew through those lines, quite excited by the idea and really keen to get it written out. Five days later however and the energy I felt at the time and the ideas that were forming have disappeared. I had made a few notes but I am thinking that the moment has passed and it will be a piece I may never finish. I have only ever had one other piece like that and again, it was a piece that I let lie dormant for a few days and the flames turned to embers and were eventually extinguished.
I’m okay with that though, I have learned something about my own creative process and will hopefully not make the same mistake again. I guess the title of this works in many ways…
INEXPRESSIBLE NOTIONS
In the everyday back and forth of life Johnathan Cholmley-Ambers was a man who simply went with the flow. He was as forthright as he was opinionated, which was not at all, and in most situations could largely be relied upon to cause neither a fuss, a drama nor a kerfuffle. His friends, of which he had exactly none, would likely have described his as wet if they existed and those who would count themselves as colleagues would often forget his name so forgettable was he.
It therefore came as a surprise to him, as much as those who knew him, when one morning he awoke and quite simply decided that today he would speak his mind. He did not know why today of all days he had made this decision but a decision it was and he took to it with much aplomb. It was also somewhat of a revelation that he held such strong opinions, because he was pretty certain that he had not historically felt so passionately about anything at all.
He awoke, showered and dressed and very briefly considered having breakfast but then decided that the marmalade on toast could go screw itself and instead opted to head out to work with an empty belly and a skip in his step.
His poor neighbour, Mrs Laud, a full bosomed kindly old lady who sported a purple rinse and a love of cats stood aghast as he greeted her with a “Shove your good morning up your bottom” as she was bringing in the milk. She was still stood there quite speechless as Jonathan’s front gate snapped closed and he headed for the bus.
I’m sure he chooses these words to test my self restraint.
Ronovan provides the words. Then a haiku follows. Though mine are kinda haiku in form only and I believe senryu in every other way.
geriatric slip
how quick their hips dislocate
like well cooked chickens
An attempt to defile love and the haiku form all at once
As a balance to the inevitable avalanche of love and tenderness spewing into your WordPress feed this week I bring you these.
Fingers tight ’round throat
playful, pushing back boundries
too far, cold dead flesh
Men…really.
This week your WordPress feed with be filled with the theme of love, and through my limericks and haiku I will attempt to fill you with some of mine.
Chap I know met a lass from Djibouti
Eyes like sapphires and lips red like rubies
said he so loved her mind
but quite adored her behind
and was rather obsessed with her boobies
photo courtesy of me
Chances are they will be inappropriate. In fact it is almost certain.
This week your WordPress feed with be filled with the theme of love, and through my limericks and haiku I will attempt to fill you with some of mine.
Loves young dream at the alter they stand
the wedding she wanted, quite grand
three hours later all tears
full of champagne and beers
bridesmaid caught with his knob in her hand
photo courtesy of me
Isn’t it great when bad things happen to terrible people.
This week my mind turns to revenge and perhaps, for that special someone who has slighted you and has now finds themselves in a pickle. Maybe you want to send them a nice card with a limerick expressing how sad you are that they have had such a lousy spell of bad luck.
There once was a waiter named skip
tried so hard, customers did not tip
paid the bill, left and sneered
got run over, car veered
ran them down, both now dead, what a trip!
Remember, always tip!
photo courtesy of pixabay
An attempt to defile love and the haiku form all at once
As a balance to the inevitable avalanche of love and tenderness spewing into your WordPress feed this week I bring you these.
He watches and craves
from the shadows his love grows
restraining order
Both serious and playful. The Japanese would not approve
The haiku, so proud, tight, formal. So little saying so much. Mostly though I like to defile them with the ridiculous. Oh, and I know they’re probably Senryu. I struggle with boundaries a bit.
The eager bride groom
hungry for the wedding night
he arrives early
More stuff from my brain meat…
Charlie’s Journey – OWPC Challenge
Deep and insightfully insightfulnessnessHo
Isn’t it great when bad things happen to terrible people.
This week my mind turns to revenge and perhaps, for that special someone who has slighted you and has now finds themselves in a pickle. Maybe you want to send them a nice card with a limerick expressing how sad you are that they have had such a lousy spell of bad luck.
As it is Saturday I will, rather than do full limericks as I have been doing all week, just give you a taste of the opening lines I did not use this week. I don’t think they need explaining…
So your penis got caught in your zip. (I’d lined up rip, snip, bleed and seed to go with it)
What this gun? Oh don’t worry it’s fine
Heard you got back from hols and have aids
Saw your wife wow her butt has got huge
Anyway…have a nice Saturday wherever in the world you are!
photo courtesy of pixabay
There once was a lady called Mary
Who’s back was incredibly hairy
and her arms legs and tush
shoulders chest neck and bush
in a two-piece was really quite scary
Afterwards 