Then

We set the night ablaze, the shadows
scuttled as infernos burned
and in your arms, soft thighs, sweet sighs
a dance of life lived to the full.

Advertisements

We set the night ablaze, the shadows

scuttled as infernos burned

and in your arms, soft thighs, sweet sighs

a dance of life lived to the full.

Not ever did I all those nights

wonder would we ever be

a thing not this, not all consumed

a violent tempest, blissful still.

And to this day, this hour, this now

this very moment still we rage

and burn, sheets scorched and satisfied

and tender smiles such tales do tell…

Yet another Wednesday limerick!

This week I shall explore those ‘get well soon’ limericks I so enjoy.

Once a quite lonely farmer from Leeds

On his tractor he rode with dark needs

Dreamt of plouging and plucking

Quite aroused at bulls bucking

Fantasised about sewing his seeds

Awake

Words…

These scars u bare etched on your skin

While smiles spread sweet across your face

Soft sighs, clenched fists, eyes red like dawn

love’s vows, now bitter on your lips.

Each broken promise, empty words

Ring in your ears quite deafening

And into darkness breathless screams

As tempest black consumes your voice.

Back bent, weighed down you claw and stretch

Cold fingers, dragging from your mire

Face to the sun, new dawn, new day

Slowly emerging free once more

Always you – Part 1

At this point I remember why I wanted to work in an office.  I’ve never been any good with my hands, unless you count typing, which most people don’t.

It was raining the day I met old Tom, my light summer coat proving completely inadequate against the violent deluge that fell from the dark November sky.

“Did you not check the forecast?” Joanne asked me as I stood huddled in the office doorway as she locked up.  I started to answer but the question was more an admonishment that an actual interest in my ability to plan for meteorological eventualities.  She didn’t wait to find out though and scurried under the shop awning of the bakery next door and lit up a cigarette.

“Those things will kill you” I told her trying to be funny.  Her withering glance told me I had been anything but.

“See you tomorrow then.” I shouted. 

She nodded and waved as she took a long drag on the cigarette, the embers lighting up the sharp features of her mostly unremarkable face.   

Waving back I turned as the rain cut through the pall of silver smoke and pulling my coat around me as best as I could headed off to catch the bus.

The number 45 runs just a few minutes from my place and If I hurry I’m thinking I might catch the Five-twenty which means I will be home before six and at the pub by seven.

Not wanting to get my good work shoes too wet I avoid the puddles as best as I can and trying to stay under cover I head past rows of unremarkable shops all closing for the night.  Lights blink out and shutters rumble closed as people, seemingly as grey as the sky above, head home after another day not wholly different to the day before and likely quite similar to tomorrow.

The place has certainly seen better times I think to myself, and that’s when I saw him.  

He had the posture that only age can bring, hunched over an old blue shopping cart and the rain cascadied onto his flat cap and spilled down his long brown coat.  

“You alright mate?” I ask him checking my watch.  I’d normally not bother asking but somethign about him said he needed help.  And if everythign is okay there’s still time to get the five-twenty.    

He looks up slowly, his face long and gaunt with thin lips and deep set dark eyes.

“Bloody wheel’s come off” he says pointing a long bony finger at the right side of the trolley, which I can now see is sitting quite lopsided.  “Typical when I’ve just bought my week’s shop.”  He shakes his head and fumbles with the wheel.

I tell him I’ll take a look if he wants and he nods appreciatively. “My eyes aren’t great, thanks” he says.

At this point I remember why I wanted to work in an office.  I’ve never been any good with my hands, unless you count typing, which most people don’t. That said even with my limited knowledge I do know though that it looks knackered and tell him so.

“Oh that’s no good” he says shaking his head and he asks me if I think he needs a new one.

“What do I know” I think to myself and check my watch.  If I don’t leave now It’ll be gone eight before I get to the pub.

I nod and scratch my chin as if I’m suddenly a shopping trolley mechanic.  “Do you need a hand with it?  Are you going far?”

“Oh yes please” he says, his face brightening.  “Are you sure?”

I shake my head and tell him it’s not a problem really and he smiles.  “Not too far” he says, “it will only take ten minutes.”

 

Would you?

As seasons turn and memories fadeonce vivid, love like mist gives wayto vistas new and fresh caresswhere once we lay in summer sun.

As seasons turn and memories fade

once vivid, love like mist gives way

to vistas new and fresh caress

where once we lay in summer sun.

Those vows, heartfelt, made evermore

so easily spilled from our lips

where kisses soft and sighs so sweet

such promises we swear to keep.

 

Such declarations sworn that I would be the first,

and last thought every day 

and undertakings to not fail

loves lustre binding tarnished truths.

Through tests and trials and seperation 

Face lined, time urges to recall

Let slip for blurred my recollection 

will you, like me, forget at last…

 

 

 

Inevitable

Where once we lay

Do your think of me those days

Where dark thoughts senses suffocate

That joy I watched drain from your face

As life and lies cruel whispers told

Fools promises and could have beens

I could not keep them from your door

Arms wide you beckoned them inside

Smiles melancholy, sickly sweet

Coarse noose of lies, soft velvet hopes

Blinded, stumbling, on and on

And to this end inevitable

But now alone where once we lay

Things I would not place inside myself – A poem

it’s somethign I guess…well actually not really…meh…

It seems that there are those that will, and I think it’s a farce,

but people (per the internet) do hide things in their arse.

I’m told (though not seen it myself for I share my PC

with kids) so cant research it but if I did I would see

 

Ripe marrows place in darkest holes, and veges by the barrow

inserted, lubed and with great force, pushed into bottoms narrow.

Digits, midgets, varied widgets placed where sun shines not

a friend of mine vanished a vase when on it she did squat.

 

This bloke from Scotland, cavernous, spread wide, bent to receive

the contents of Old Nick’s full sack when drunk on Christmas eve.

And I did read a tale of woe of one lad who took pleasure

dressed as a pirate placed gold coins inside like hidden treasure.

 

A story told of one young chap one night when feeling fruity

filed down a tooth bruch, electric type, to place inside his booty.

But not outdone a lass invited several chaps to sample

her gaping hole but it turned out that just the two were ample…

 

Things stuck inside, spread open wide, or isides falling out

each to their own, and when at home, I really have no doubt

that there are those who cant recall, have lost things, or forgotten

I might suggest they might just be lodged inside your bottom.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My First Book – For those who missed it last time…

Seems I wrote one…

You can read about the WHY here…but it’s out there.  300 of my finest limericks.  Currently trending at number 359 in the limericks category on Amazon!

After a few people have read it I am probably about ready to admit I am kinda proud of it now.  🙂

Paperback in the UK is here

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1916089011

And in the US here

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1916089011

There are ebook versions too.

 

 

Succumb

Mostly just rhymey lines of stuff

If time will tell of darkest deeds

Succumbed to burning wants and needs

And how for love she gladly bleeds

Hunger unfulfilled she feeds.

 

And in those moments laid quite bare

She spirals skywards through the air

And soars like morning clouds most fair

Unbridled without thought or care.

 

Lips blood red and wild unleashed

A lovers tale between the sheets

Where love and lust at crossroads meets

To bliss succumb and love most sweet

 

 

Still processing this…

They say confession is good for the soul but bad for the reputation.

I wrote here about things I am not good at.  Mostly to do with towels.

Anyway, turns out I dont know one superfood from the other either.

It is school holidays at the moment so I’m mostly spending time with the boys, not doing a lot but enjoying it nonetheless.  So we sit down and we are watching something on netflix and for whatever reason they serve up a serving of quinoa.  I believe it is pronounced Keen-wah.

Well I believe it now but until yesterday I had no bloody idea that is the same as that quinoa (Kwinoah?) stuff I force down my face when I am feeling particularly fat.

I honestly had no idea.  I mean one look at me abnd you’ll understand that I am don’t have a heavy keenwah intake but for whatever reason the fact just avoided me and I thought they were seperate things.

I told the family and they all laughed their arses off at me.  Even the 14 year old who’s brain only works between 11 and 2 each day and who is currently obsessed with knives and fire.

They then reminded me that until perhaps 8 years ago I had no idea that the spike in the end of an ointment cap is used to pierce the film lid.  Up until then I tended to use the outer prong of a fork though this did often result in something of a premature ointment explosion.

I reminded them that they were all garbage human beings and the 11 year old blonde one, fond of his facts and a bit of a know it all, ceased laughing most heartlily when I reminded him that he still couldn’t ride a bike and he better hope his hair darkens before he gets older because blonde haired male adults are just weird and creepy.

I wanted to say he would look like like a kiddy fiddler but showed some restraint when Mrs Afterwards gave me the look.

The even came to an abrupt end and we all had an early night after I suggested they eat my backside.  I know, wrong on so many levels and I know I ought to be ashamed of myself.

I blame it on the lack of keenwah in my diet…

 

 

 

 

Waking

These battles played out on the streets….

These battles played out on the streets

For heart and soul, beneath the sheets

And words they spill, lips full of rage

And like blood spill onto the page.

 

My now

Your then

Our what might be

 

And blinded, clambering to see

The path not taken, setting free

And time will tell, and roads will wind

As shrouded pasts are left behind

 

This evermore

That what could be

Those sweetest of tomorrow’s

Stars

Like stars beyond my reach …

Like stars beyond my reach those thoughts of you

slip through my fingers to my feet

head bowed faintest recollections blown like sand

I’m left here on this precipice.

Here in the darkness looking out

and fire burns on horizon distant

blood red, golden on my face

One last time wind whispers your name

Fading

One of these?

At night he whispers sweet reminders

of how it felt, quite swept along.

Returning tides compelled, jump in,

strong currents have their way.

And beaches red at sunset burn

as she returns to land once more

and on her lips his promise lingers

salt stained on her skin.

 

Until tides turn and whispers fade,

sepia tinged her longing rests

and deep she sighs, sea at her back

and smiling turns away.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wtf

The end is nigh!

I’m away in the van out Flanborough way for a few days with the boys and within 5 minutes of arriving the sky turns into something I imagined would surely herald the end of the world.

I got the tent out that fixes to the van but hastily packed it away as there was no chance of getting it up before the storm arrived.

More to follow but just lying awake rather early due to my snoring, flatulent children and my most urgent bladder…

Next time…less beans…

Reduce — constant Variable

You’re gone, and then you’re back again You’re back, and then you’re gone Reduce your words by lacking pen The hourglass you fractured then But swirling grains of you, I’ve seen before, they never linger long You’re smiling, and then you frown You’re laughing, then you cry Reduce your presence and your sound I search […]

via Reduce — constant Variable

 

Read it damn it.  Read all of his stuff!