Absent.

Wait for me when I’m gone,

Don’t forget I was here.

Come and read a while

There’s nothing to fear.

Life has other idea’s

That keep me away.

But please don’t

stop coming,

I still have a lot

To say.

I am having to take a break for a while. I can’t say for how long, but I hope to pop back and read any comments and reply when I can. I look forward to continuing to read your posts and banter on your blogs where possible. I will be back once I am fit and able.

But when life gives you lemons … you need to stand back and take in the scent, look at the whole tree; not just the fruit.

Wearing A Smile.

The prompt for ‘A Scribble Of Writers’ is the picture below. The picture belongs to Margaret press to here to ask for use of the picture or to join in with the scribblers.

City life is fast and furious, not a soul knows your name once you’re out of context. Heads down watching feet, wrapped up on a dark street. Christmas is only Christmas until midnight, then it loses its glow. Sales hit the high street stores and only a few twinkling lights remain, as the remnants of the day disappear.

 “This year will be different” I said,  pulling the collar up on my red Christmas coat, I stand tall, I feel like a super hero wearing this. I march down the main street, buildings in shadow, frost in the air, me on my toes. I trail plumes of white from both nose and nostrils; a determined stride soon warms the soul. *Thinking* this year I will make it different. I take time to notice the faces and smile at each figure I pass; regardless of no forthcoming response. “Nice evening, seasons greetings” I call; with a skip in my step. 

Our eyes meet so I nod,  a twitch of his lips makes me feel great. Ten steps more and I see her, she looks about eighteen, tying her belt, checking her phone, brushing away hair with her hand as she walks, then bam! “I am sorry” she said scrambling to her feet, she pulled me up while rubbing my cashmere coat with her cold thin hand. “No problem, no bones broken”. Are you okay? Late for something are you”? I said concerned. Her bottom lip trembled as she mumbled a sorry once more. “Look I am fine, let me buy you a drink,  there’s a wonderful teahouse around the corner, we will both feel better for a hot cup of tea”. She stooped, grasping her bag from the pavement; wide eyed, she swallows and nods. 

 The tea was hot and the fondant cakes comforting. She wipes her mouth with a serviette and quietly tells me her story. I nod and smile, shake my head in… I believe all the right places. Her story was one most of us knew and had experienced, girl meets boy and it doesn’t quite work out the way they hoped. We shared the bill and clasped hands for a second as she continued on her way,  and I on mine. 

On return to my flat, in this loneliest of cities, my keys rattle and echo through the hall. On the surface,  all  was just as I left it … but everything had changed. I felt good, invigorated from the walk, and worthwhile. My face is still wearing its smile and my red coat didn’t lose its glow the day after Christmas.

Giving others a greeting, acknowledging  their presence, throwing out a smile or simply listening, takes but a fraction of our time but can change so much. Let me know if you agree in the comments… I love to hear your views. 

Silence Please.

Charli at the carrot ranch has charged us with a challenge in 99 words no more or less write about something not allowed.  🔜 press here 🔙 to join in.

photos curtesy of pinterest.

She shushed me as the door slammed,

My arms full of books.

People peered above their specticles,

Gave me dirty looks..

She wagged a silent finger and 

pursed her lips tight.

When I slipped to the carpet

And toppled off the light.

My card was marked at the library door,

When a cough sent bubblegum

To skid across  the parquet floor.

Her sole was stuck fast 

As I staggered past.

just to round the debacle off

I snorted as I laughed.

Her teeth you couldn’t fail to miss

As the librarian delivered an Almighty hiss…

and pointed to the quote   

#Poetry To Fall In Love With

W.H.Auden an inspiring Author poet playwright

My second choice is #leanardCohen  An extraordinary  man with talent that will live on long after he is gone. He will fill the heaven’s with passion and song.        A thousand kisses deep.

The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea green boat,
They took some honey, and plenty of money,
Wrapped up in a five pound note.
The Owl looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
‘O lovely Pussy! O Pussy my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are,
You are,
You are!

What a beautiful Pussy you are!’

Edward Lear.

 

 

W.H. Auden The most eloquent of poets my first one learned was this,The plan was to step up to the challenge to take 3 poets  you love and use their essence to create my own on a canvas fresh, I began thinking it too huge a task and it was for me. How do you step into the arena with these? GIANT’S  of men and words. I baulked at the idea of choosing my favourites; how the hell do you choose? This is how I did.
E.Lear my earliest remembered poem.

you see The challenge didn’t stand a chance. I couldn’t choose my three favorite poets or even three poems, so there was a hope in hell of me publicly pitting my self beside them. And Cohen the voice that soothed a broken teenage heart. So while the going is good i lay some of the best before you… no competiton.

To see the exercise  in poetry and to be  inspired press 🔜   creative and good luck to those that can.😇

Has a challenge you meant to take been a step too far? or have you excelled?

And did you enjoy… slip answers gracefully into the comments i will feel as if i have somehow been forgiven for failing.thank you.

All thanks to #youtube and #google for providing the copies above.

Other Folks Dreams.

He worked in the butchers did Dan, came home smelling like meat; blood on his clothes. But he had big ideas ones he’d tell me late at night under cover of darkness. Tucked in our bunk beds we’d recount our day, reinforce our dreams, just brothers stuff.
Me, I didn’t have ambition or drive, in and out of jobs every few months. Mum was good, she always saw me right. Me, the runt, the smallest twin. Two and a half minutes younger than Dan, meant I could play her like a harmonica in a blues band, it came off every time.

Always on the bottom I was, being the eldest he got the top. When we was kids he’d wait till sleep had just come; then call my name softly, he wouldn’t want to wake Mum. “Eth, Eth … Ethen,”he’d call. Drowsily, I’d slide my head out and look up. Dan would spit, filling my ever open gob. He called me gormless, said I was always catching flies. Unbeknown to him, I wondered why I didn’t have the drive, what could I be. It hurt me head wonderin. Everyone else had known what they wanted, had plans and dreams; cept me.

Here I am, a man at nineteen, sleeping in the same bunk as I did at three. In Mums house, in the same street still not knowing what will I be. Life’s about getting my leg over on a Friday night, watching footie with me pals on a Saturday; what more could I want?

When Dan gets mad cos I lost another job and Mum bailed me out again, he calls me lazy, says I’m like him, our Dad. He left when we was nine, went for some fag’s and never came back. That’s the only time we’d fall out, me brother and me, when he’d call me ‘Dad. Lucky I was, privy to Dan’s dreams, honoured to know them, but sometimes I wish they included me.

Dan got a girl and he stopped confiding in me … I missed that. Got himself a second job down the Legion behind the bar; saved up bought his self a car and her a ring. When he left the Butchers ole Jack cried … he said he felt like he was losing a son. No choices left I needed a plan, so Dan taught me all he knew got me up to speed and Jack took me on, he, took a risk for Dan.

Now a butcher that’s me, in and out the fridge all day. I got a way with the ole girls, a bit o’ banter makes them laugh, they lap up my twinkle while weighing their mince, it does nicely for me. Jack knows I’m a chancer a bit of a lad, he pays me partly in produce the rest in cash. We eat well Mum and me. She’s in an out the doc’s, can’t work no more … now it’s down to me.

bit-of-a-spiv

Dan married his girl, a good un too, they live in a big house on the hill outside the city. He got his dream I knew he would. Dan the man, sharp suit big car his dream paid off. A footballer for the Arsenal, who’d ave thought.

I bask in his glory, take my brown pay pack and treat the boys. We watch the match on a wide screen down the pub, they slap my back and I am proud. Ole Bill has pulled me a few times, kindly let me sleep it off, pissed as a fart after a game; they always let me go … because of Dan’s name.

ole-bill

But I am a butcher by trade looks after me mam, one day soon I’ll get the house. Maybe then I will chuck out the bunks and be able to stop, stop being in and out of other folks dreams.

Hope !

Click to visit and join Colleen and Ronavans prompt here.
Communication is the most important ability we have, as human beings we ignore this at our peril. The money that would be saved, the lives lived, and problems solved, if communication was used instead of weapons.

Often I am told I talk too much and I probably do, but take a leaf from my book, stop thinking your colour or creed puts you above anyone. There is but one race… the human race. Knowledge is power and know this, communicating clearly and calmly ‘will’ bring world peace.

We share the earth, and share ideas, which in turn  builds relationships and that can alter everything because it opens the way for peace.

For Ronavan’s challenge today, in light of the atrocities that man has committed  I felt this had a place.

Hope for new tomorrows

Open our eyes to true beginings.

Pleased to leave behind yesterdays sorrows

Enrich our lives with hope, peace and love.
An acrostic poem, please comment and connect i will get right back to you.

Why I write.

 

 

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Writing simply  helps me breathe,

Washes my soul before I leave.
Allows me somewhere to place the ink,
To show the world what I think.

Letters, words and rhyme
Are part of my being all the time.
Life without a place to write
Would be like sleep without the night.

A place for love, humour and pain,
Somewhere to be time and again.
Without the pen I wouldn’t be me,

To not exist, to not be free.

 

I would love to know why you write, why you do  what you do.

. Leave me a comment please.

 

The Anti Bucket List

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So many of us put our dreams on a list, a bucket list, a to do list or whatever name you care to give such a thing. How dissapointed you would be if every time you read “the list” you saw all the things you had “not” managed.
A failure that’s what, even if you told yourself that the two or three you had completed or ticked were brilliant and awesome. Each time you looked you would see “I haven’t made it yet,” In big letters before your eyes. The dreams you hadn’t ticked, the things you hadn’t completed would catch your eye first deflate your spirits and *sigh* make you feel flat. My proposal is that we keep an “I Have Done list.”… “Tahdah!”

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Okay the name needs work, we will get to that at the end.
It could be written on the best paper or parchment, in your best handwriting; Italics I think. Such a thing could be displayed in a cabinet like an Egyptian scroll and tied with scarlet ribbon. But best of all it would be a list of all your “firsts” your “look at me moments.” With not a one disappointment in sight.
How motivating, pride inducing, blooming wonderful would it be.
1. I grew my hair
2. I passed my driving test
3. I kissed a girl
4. I kissed a boy
5. I ate desert before dinner
6. I ate a cake to myself 😋
7. I gave blood
8. I am self employed
9. I fell in love
10. Survived my first broken heart 🎉

Of course you could expand or shrink it accordingly, if you have been an adventurer you may begin with your fist solo trip. But I think you get the idea a list of accomplishments.
There would be many more satisfied proud people if we each compiled and read our accomplished list often. We spend so much time on negative unachievable dreams. We bash our own heads with the proverbial stick that we collected ourselves just for the job. I am not saying don’t dream, dream huge and frequently, but as in all things once committed to paper, it stops being a wonderful dream and changes to a taunt, a tongue poking name calling one that you wish you’d never written. Mostly we put on extravagant, expensive, maybe if we won the lottery type of dreams on a bucket list… unachievable to the most of us. Let us begin being realistic, be kind to ourselves.

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What would you Name your list? Where would you begin? At your biggest proudest accomplishment or your smallest earliest?” Do you like or dislike my idea?
Join in let me know in the comments. Look forward to reading and responding.

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“What Is The Meaning Of This Quote?”

Today I came across this quote, it is not mine I can not lay claim to it or find the person who penned it, but if you take it at face value we human beings are horrendous house guests.
Maybe the  lesson is humility? Just maybe it is to live in harmony? Or it could mean to live, care and nurture the earth, like we would tend the garden if it was all we had to feed us. Well it looks to me like we lost, failled the challenge, destined to stand in the corner and wear the proverbial dunces hat!

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I think C.S. Lewis had read the quote and this is his interpretation above. Or maybe he was hovering around a portal and  talking to Aslan, who knows?
So I would like your oppinions, if you have a moment…  What do you think the quote is trying to say? Or do you know it’s originator?
I look forward to hearing what you think. *Waving* dying to read your responses, I know you won’t let me down.

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