When the pen takes control.

If I had become a parish priest

the job that I would have liked the least

would be to sit without change of expression

when listening to a particularly nasty confession

Take a look and what do you see

probably just an old dead tree

but long ago when I was young

I gave relief from the scorching sun

each Spring covered in fresh green leaf

for living things to hide beneath

some would nibble on my soft shoots

others snuffle between my roots

now my energy is depleted

I rest, my work on Earth completed

but no you say, your work’s not done

for in your bones you store my carbon.

We were sitting in the pub the other evening. A nice pub, called, “The Corner House,” it boasts a mixed clientele ranging from the young crowd popping in before the clubs, the council worker still in his overalls, the besuited solicitor and the shop assistant. No music or television screen, just conversation. Anyway my friend mentioned he’d watched a programme about Henry the Eighth being disillusioned with the monasteries. Had to laugh, I think he meant Wolf Hall and the dissolution.

From out the reeds the bleached white egret flies

whilst next the mooring post a cruiser lies

on the far shore the morning mist hangs low

while the sailor up on deck prepares to tow

in a story of the sea that’s often told

as from my perch I watch the scene unfold

Lying in repose

with life’s rocky path full trod

the journey begins

Here’s how it works: Every Wednesday I post a photo (this week it’s that one above.) You respond with something CREATIVE Here are some suggestions: …

Crimson’s Creative Challenge # 230

My take on this at https://bobfairfield.org/2023/04/05/crimsons-creative-challenge-230-castles-in-the-air/

Here’s how it works: Every Wednesday I post a photo (this week it’s that one above.) You respond with something CREATIVE Here are some suggestions: …

Crimson’s Creative Challenge # 229

Another great weekly challenge from the lovely Crispina,

Tried to stick with the true limerick tradition at https://bobfairfield.org/2023/03/29/crimsons-creative-challenge-229-cheers-molly/ I have referenced a blast from the past, Be offended, be very offended.

Young Mrs Slocombe was a brazen hussy

Always promising a feel of her pussy

When I found out she meant her cat

I thought to myself, Well, fancy that,”

but I still stroked it, I’m not fussy.

Though it may be hard for people these days

to remember the palaver that it used to entail

if we wanted to send someone greetings or messages

we used either the home phone or the Royal Mail

The boat leans awkwardly to one side

patiently waiting for the incoming tide

to gently raise her wooden flanks

away from the harsh gravel banks

and allow her steadfast crew of three

to once more take her out to sea

and hope their nets are filled before

returning to the land once more

and as the salty waters leach

can settle once more onto the beach.