Oh I would not eat a vegan

Just a little something before bed…

Kinda inspired by this if you’ve never read it. I think its one of my best…I even did an audio version.

There are things that pass my lips that I so willingly enjoy

A baby cow, a deer, some sheep, to them utensils I deploy

Fried , roasted, dipped in fondue cheese my preferences are wide

I know they’re cute on the outside, but I so crave the meat inside

Loin, flank, short rib, grass fed, food bid, to stop my clothes from spoiling

Oh whip me up wild roaming fowl, salted, spiced post boiling

These things I lust, my lips do quiver in anticipation

I realise it leaves some folk in the most sternest consternation

But they are safe, so rest assured, my menu rightly lacks their cut

For far too lean and scrawny I do find them, they don’t satisfy my gut

And even though you add some veg, add onions or some aubergine in

No thanks, fear not, I’ll have a salad, for I could never eat a vegan

Men!

meh…it will do…

A lass angry and jilted from Reading

Burst in and interrupted a wedding

Said “Last night this here groom

Took me back to his room”

So the brides brothers kicked the chaps head in

See, limericks can be sad

Oh such sadness…

Lets explore the sadness of life through the joy of limericks


A young lad I knew as a senior

he got cancer, I think ’twas leukaemia

the treatment it failed

he got thinner and paled

and then died and his wife got bulimia


My dad was a drunk and a cheat

every weekend my mother he beat

took her cash to do drugs

bringing home sluts and thugs

’till we all ended up on the street


First time we met how I tried

not to love, but I made her my bride

then the marriage it failed

when her sister I nailed 

Took her life, overdose, suicide


My dog, my best friend always true

dedicated to me through and through

Drunk, I left the door wide

and she ran straight outside

got ran over and died now I’m blue

A chap that I know who loves choir 

had to quit giving up his desire 

he could not harmonise 

when he lost both his eyes 

and his tongue when he fell in a fire 


I think I’ll stop there, I’m not sure that I’m trying hard enough to make them sad.  Or maybe I should blame the limerick, either way I hope it’s not too inappropriate and I think it goes to show that even the most serious of subjects find some lightness in a limerick.

Until Tomorrow #FFC

Another flash fiction quickie.

In response to Fandango’s flash fiction challenge.

Will try keep these to no more than 200 words. Today the photo below was posted by Fandango as a prompt. Head over to see him, hes a thoroughtly decent chap.

After all of these years, she is still the beautiful girl I fell in love with. Though time has taken its inevitable toll, on both head and heart, there is still that same sparkle in her eyes which so ensnared me what is now a lifetime ago.

Lines paint a picture of a life well lived across her face, and even if now frail, everyone assembled in the room knows she remains a force of such joy and ferocious endeavour, and that she carries still more fervently a love quite fierce and unquenchable for those she calls friends or family, of which assembled now are as many as the days she has lived.

Tears hide that glint now though, and as I stretch out my hand to comfort her she turns slowly to where we spent those many nights, sat quietly, listening to the crackle and hiss of the ‘soundies’ she loved so dearly, and which she taught me to adore nearly as much as I adored her.

I hear my name across the hubbub of the busy room, and somewhere there is an open door as I feel the cold air of December blow through me. It will be Christmas soon. One more reason to celebrate, one more year to look back on. One more year with her.

Children’s voices drift in and out of earshot as I watch her, still light on her feet as she embraces old friends, her silver hair pulled in a tight bun on top of her head. I prefer it when she lets it hang loose, the way it cascades around her face and onto her shoulders, and oh the hours I have spent watching her in front of the mirror brushing it. She would laugh and tell me not to stare so much, but these were some of my happiest moments. Just us. Together.

I feel a tug, pulling me away. Probably one of the grand children I suspect. Cheeks red from the cold and hair tousled, eyes bright and filled with mischief. I allow myself to be led away, and the room becomes quiet. And then, in that moment, a sadness and an understanding descends up on me I look down and I am alone, there is no small hand in mine. I smile as I finger the ring that has sat on my finger these fifty years.

In the distant now I see her turn towards me, my favourite dress of pale blue contrasted against the dark backdrop of the room. She brushes the hair from her face and smiles as I mouth my last goodbye.

Flash Fiction – A toast to no more tomorrows

A bit more flash fiction…variation on a theme really…

In response to The Bag Lady’s Tuesday photo prompt, pic below.

I sought another pic from Pixabay to go with it as further inspiration..

And I made this. Mostly a stream of consciousness, no real editing, just some fun with an idea…:

______________________________

The ‘click-fizz’ of the opening can caused Brian to stir from his nap. Excited neurons darting across the primary auditory pathways of his temporal lobe, back and forth in frenzied stimulation, a primal response triggered as he slept. His brain processed the inputs, considering past and potential future behaviour in relation to the ‘click-fizz’, the likelihood of a positive outcome to that input, the propensity for one ‘click-fizz’ to result in many more  ‘click fizzes’ and subsequently having a jolly good time being had by all. It then determined that an appropriate response to the stimulation would be to wake up and cause Brian to lick his lips.

“Yes please,” Brian said, reaching out an empty hand and sighing. His eyes opened slowly as his fingers clasped around the can he found placed into them.

“You seen that?” came a response.

Brian opened the can and straightened himself on the bench where he had been resting his eyes.

“Seen what, Carl?” Brian asked, opening the can, and taking a drink. It was not as cold as he would have liked but given the circumstances it would most certainly do. That is to say that given that when he went to sleep, he did not have any beer, and, now that he was awake he did, those were circumstances that now seemed decidedly in his favour.

“That,” said Carl, pointing into the sky.

It was hardly necessary for Carl to point given that directly in front of them, looming over the horizon, was something that was quite obviously the moon, but it stretched from one periphery of his vision to the other. Streams of reflected sunlight danced and swirled from the surface, and it had all of the appearance of a golden ball of flame.

“Well, that’s not mean to be there or look like that, is it.” Brian responded quite matter of fact, taking another drink. He paused for a moment, allowing himself to take in the full scene unfolding before him. Ten years on the streets and you think you’ve seen everything, but here he was, surprised once more. “Probably explains why everyone is running around rather panicked,” he added.

“You think?” said Carl, finishing his beer in one long slow gulp, and dropping the can on the grass beneath the park bench where they sat. He then opened a second.

“I’m no astrologist, but I’m pretty sure, yes. I imagine we ought to be panicking too.”

“You mean Astronomer.” Said Carl. “And yes, we could panic, I guess. But what would be the point.”

“Do I?” Brian asked.

“Yes. You mean astronomer. Not astrologist, that’s something completely different.”

Brian looked up into the sky again, then down to his beer, and then back into the sky.

“I expect you’re right on both points then,” Brian continued, “

He sat for a while and watched as a bride ran past them heading somewhere other than the direction that she was running from. She seemed quite determined, and she let her shoes and bouquet fall to the floor before disappearing behind two cars that had managed to have a quite inconvenient head on collision, smoke billowing from one as passengers staggered from both, pointing wildly at the sky.

“That’s a bit of a waste of good shoes,” said Brian, nodding to where they lay in the street.

“You think?” Carl replied taking another drink and opening a third can before he had finished his second. He motioned to the sky with a can in his hand, been spilling down his arm. “That thing’s getting bigger and bigger, so I doubt very much we will need very much of anything in a while.”

“Really?” said Brian as the wail of sirens echoed out across the city. “How much beer do you have?” he asked.

“Oh more than enough my friend,“ said Carl, offering his can to Brian as a toast, “more than enough.”

The last day #FFC

A tale as old as time,…

In response to Fandango’s flash fiction challenge.

Will try keep these to no more than 200 words. Today the photo below was posted:

Nostrils flared and thin slits of bright yellow eyes blinked as they surveyed the unexpected scene below, glittering embers from the fire spiralling into the night, the fiery gold-red shards mixing with the stars of a million unexplored galaxies.

Well, unexplored to these creatures, came the thought, accompanied by a low guttural snarl. Green blue scales rippled in the dying light and a small red panel blinked on a wrist communicator. He punched in coordinates, confirming his location for extraction, and melted into the night and continued to watch.

Living hidden amongst them these many years had shown him their capacity for love, their ability to create from nothing great works of art, and he sighed as he reflected on the wonder of this young and beautiful race.

He had seen the best in them and smiled as he thought of the potential of these people.

But those before him were not those people.

Tonight, when the seventh reconnaissance fleet tore through the atmosphere and filled the skies with death, snuffing out their light and claiming the resources of this world for the First Galactic Emperor, he would sleep like a child at its mothers bosom.

But no, these were not those people. These were hipsters, and he would not miss them at all.

Happy Blogday to me!

5 Years baby! Eat my words!

Well seems I’ve been here for 5 years.

What the limericky fuck…

Last few years Ive been somewhat quiet, especially this year, but bloody hell, how time flies. Seems just 5 minutes since I started the blog and now I’ve vomited out over 2000 posts in that time.

Heavens above…

In there is at least 1 book I did to prompts over the course of a month, which I really need to redo and publish. It also lead to 2 other actual physical books, which is mental, and oh the fun I have with what must amount to rather a lot of of words on so many different subjects. Poems, short stories, life stuff, camping, limericks, filthy drawings, oh the list goes on and on…

And fortunately, 1600 of you have chosen to follow me along the way which is just brilliant. (though I thinkmany are now dead accounts)

I realise I am very much an acquired taste, but that’s on you if you’ve acquired it, and I know some of my thoughts are illegal in much of America and North Korea, but I still I feel like I know some of you so very well and rather quite like you all through our interactions and your own blogs – and that’s something I never ever expected! What a treat indeed…

Thank you all so much for making this such fun!

My Final Draft

Wordy words and waffl

If I could write your story would I change your final pages

Fix your broken heart and put together pieces that you hold

And would I right the wrongs you suffered with new chapters at my will

Tell your story as you dreamt it, as the sun sets growing old

Would I fill your days with laughter, love and care free evermore

With each line crafted for your pleasure and the joys of life unfold

Or cave to writers block that chokes and cruelly robs me of these words

And like embers once so bright now turned to ashes grey and cold

So dot the i’s and cross the t’s then put this pen of hope away

Or maybe leaves the pages blank, and let that story stay untold

For who am I to tell your story, it is yours alone to tell

So live, write it in your own words, I surely should not be so bold

REBLOG: The Downsizing Plan — Today I Downsized This

The best way to achieve something difficult is to have a plan. Here’s mine. I read somewhere that allowing yourself six months to go through all your possessions is a reasonable timeframe. I read somewhere else a long time ago that breaking tidying jobs into either areas (pick up everything off the living room floor) […]

The Downsizing Plan — Today I Downsized This

Just head over and have a read. The diet trolls and snipers scuppered the previous blog, so a new one has taken it’s place. Always a fun read! Do it. trust me…

Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday: LOOSE and TIGHT

My ongoing desecration of diminutive Japanese poetry forms

Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday

Not done one of these in yonks!  Let’s put that right…

This week the challenge was to use synonyms for LOOSE and TIGHT.


clothes baggy like sails

billow in wild winds of greed

tossed as left salad

in exchange for sweet, rich fare

trousers slowly strangle me

__________________________


On the matter of eating endangered species

Ome from the archives…

I would not eat a panda

it does not appeal to me

Despite it being grass fed

and not tough and quite juicy

It’s flesh I would not sauté

bake or broil or steam or fry

I would not make some pastry

and then bake it in a pie

Please do not serve me blue whale

it would surely be obscene

To brown it in a skillet

with chopped garlic and some cream

I could not sample blow hole

or a steak of flesh most pink

Do not prepare me sperm whale

or an orca or a mink

Bald Eagle’s off the menu

it could never pass my lips

I’d never shallow fry it

And then serve it with some chips

Please do not bring it to me

if you do I will reject

The smorgasbord of tasty

claws and wings and beaks and necks

Be gone you furry entrée

do not ask me to abide

A puppy stuffed with kitten

and Koala on the side

It leaves me feeling queasy

and on me it does repeat

I gag on eucalyptus

flavoured mar-su-pi-al meat

I’d never eat a chilli

made of simians for sure

Orang-utan with lentils

that I surely would deplore

I’d not enjoy chim-pan-zee

milk poached with fresh vanilla

I’d rather eat a salad

than bar-be-cued gorilla

But pig and cow I’ll gorge on

and chickens fill the belly

Once eels I even sampled

But the hot ones not in jelly

So why’s each species different

some not headed for the pot

whilst others we eat freely

quite delicious cold or hot

——————————————————–

Fancy something else?
https://afterwards.blog/2017/07/03/first-blog-post/
https://afterwards.blog/2017/07/14/we-unlikely-few/

My wellbeing journey – Fit by 50 – 2nd of July 2021

An update for you…Happy weekend!

You can read the kick off post here

Ive not written about this for a while. I haven’t given up, that I can confirm. I’m mostly just not quite as focussed as writing about it as I was.

I am still walking lots, eating pretty well and mostly mindful of what I put in myself and what energy I expend. I am though, just at one of those stages where I am just trying to refocus and get things really where they need to be rather than it being ‘okay’.

I broke my ankle, then sprained the other, then sprained the broken one so ended up pretty immobile for a few months and took up eating and drinking a little too much during that time so am now working on improving those good habits again.

Ive stayed off the scales mostly, and to be honest they just lie anyway right, so don’t quite know the damage done but I am not bothered either. Creating that permanent change that can survive sitting on one’s arse for a few months is where I need to be and that remains my goal. The rest will follow.