
Bee laden lavender blooms in twilight sunbeams reflect our last carefree Arcadian Summer together.

Bee laden lavender blooms in twilight sunbeams reflect our last carefree Arcadian Summer together.
Filed under nature inspired, On the lines of romance, Self compositions
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Having shown me the Priest’s hole John recognised that I was not only intrigued but downright jealous of his and Sue’s stately home in miniature. We continued up the staircase with John calmly leading the way. At the top he stopped suddenly. This made me pull up with a start. “What is it, man, are you okay,” He smiled.
“This is probably what was once the long gallery but as you can see it is now just a series of rooms that we haven’t got round to fitting out yet, well, not much. We’ve put you in the one at the far end and don’t worry, there is a bit of furniture in there, no need to use the floor this time.”
”Great, “ I enthused, “but do you always keep all the doors open? Bit draughty isn’t it?”
”Well, funny you should say that but there’s a reason for it,” he put his finger to his lips. At that moment we heard Sue call up from the kitchen, “Haven’t you got him settled in yet John, the tea’s getting cold down here.”
”She means well, I’ll tell you later but don’t ask her about it. I can’t decide if she thinks I’m foolish or if she’s a wee bit worried.”
“Not long my dear, he’s been asking too many questions, wants to know the whole history of the old place,” he called back down. Turning to me he said, “We’d better get on, as you can imagine a place this old has stored up a few quirky habits that we can have a talk about later if we go down to the village for a drink.”
We proceeded along the corridor to the end. My room for the night was sparsely furnished, a double divan, a small bedside table, over large dark oak wardrobe, which had probably been in the house since it’s earliest days, due in part to the great difficulty anyone would experience in trying to remove it. A modern high-backed chair completed the tally. Leaving my bag on the bed we made our way back to the kitchen to rejoin Sue.
Whilst sipping our tea we discussed our plans for the evening but all the while I kept thinking about John’s enigmatic comment about the open doors. It was becoming increasingly difficult to contain my curiosity. Luckily the phone rang during our chat. It was Magdalena my partner checking that I had arrived safely as I had forgotten to ring her and confirm it. A cardinal sin in her eyes.
She then proceeded to announce that she had been able to leave work early and would we mind if she drove down to join us for the weekend. We agreed that it would be a great idea and settled down to await her arrival.
Knowing that Magdalena and I would be sharing the room I thought again about the doors. When Sue went out of the room I asked John if we could go out and move our cars around so there would be enough parking spaces on the gravel drive. He agreed guessing the true reason for my suggestion.
Immediately we were outside the door I voiced my concern. I asked whether Magdalena would be affected by the open door policy. He said that he had better tell me the curious story and later tonight would be a good test.
Sadly he was unable to elaborate as with a laugh, Sue came out of the house to join us thinking that we were hatching some conspiracy against her.
Big-eared David was dating big-nose Eileen
who was determined to prove she was keen
she said I love you, I’ll show it,
lean back and I’ll blow it,
and the poor boy said no, that’s obscene
My first and instant reaction to the photo was a flashback to an amazing concert I was lucky enough to attend a few years ago. A Pogues annual tour where the band played their amazing Xmas hit, the wonderful, “Fairytale of New York,” which of course includes the melodic, lyrically masterful phrase, “You scumbag, you maggot, you cheap lousy faggot.” What else would you expect me to think of?

courtesy of pixabay
On a moonlit night
we sat and watched frogs dancing
till one of them croaked
I knew a girl whose name was Kate
she used to stand by her garden gate,
she would flash her thighs
when the boys passed by
perhaps that’s why she suddenly put on weight

PBS
Fertile Earth mother
mankind nourished in my womb
through the sands of time
Filed under faith, Haiku, On the lines of romance, Self compositions
The grail quest anew
posing as the pot of gold
in search eternal
Sadly, my mother passed away two weeks ago. As you can imagine there is always a lot to do at this painful time. I am currently seated in her electrical recline and lift chair making all the necessary arrangements. She was confined to this room and two others for two years prior to her demise. Her main regret was not being able to watch the birds on the feeders as she was able in her previous garden. Due to her inability to stand she was unable to see the birds frequenting this small garden from this seat. Looking up, I glanced out of the window as I had noticed a stirring of the abundant foliage of the honeysuckle bush beside the window. Then the dark brown head of a hen blackbird emerged. Within two minutes a cockbird flew into the bush, passing in full view of the window. Had my mother been alive she would have reported the sightings to me during our next telephone chat. In all this time this is the first time a bird of any species has chosen to nest in the bush. She would have been able to follow the progress of the raising of a family from the comfort of her chair. But sadly this is not to be. Is this irony, I for one cannot say but it underlines the sadness that invariably accompanies death whether a curse or a blessing.
Stine86Engel@pixabay.com.
I awoke with a start. Disappointed I found myself in my cramped bed-chamber but I was intoxicated with joy for I had dreamed of an encounter with the Gods. Voices from on high had echoed in my head. Inviting me to join with them in their magnificent palace in the skies. Zeus himself had called my name. He had sent a magnificent swan to stand beside my bower. I climbed upon the beautiful bird’s broad, silk-soft back and was carried up into the heavens. Faster than the wind we flew till we reached a golden castle adorned with towers and minarets. Oh, so gently the swan landed in a magnificent garden where fountains played and I was greeted by a group of hand-maidens who, laughing at my shy confusion, ushered me into a scented room. Along one wall was a carved ebony bench on which a smiling cherub sat, in his hands a lyre from which he teased a tune of infinite harmony. In the centre of the floor was a steaming pool of water on which floated many brightly coloured lotus blossoms. I was invited to bathe and afterwards. emerging from the pool was anointed with sweet perfumes. They wrapped me in silken robes and I was gently ushered into a room with white marble walls. Each covered in damask tapestries of intricate design. Dazzled by the opulence of my surroundings I was urged to recline upon an amber couch furnished with cushions of infinite softness. My feathery steed stood sentinel and held his wings above me as a canopy. I laid my head upon the pillow and immediately fell into a deep slumber. That is all I, Leda, remember of my encounter with the Gods, be it fantasy or frolic.
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