Shed No Tears.


Shed not a tear when I be gone,
Don’t wet your cheeks for me.
I’m in the ink you write with
That you can not seem to see.

I sit beside you daily,
as you go about your life.
Watching out for trouble
I try to ward off strife.

I whisper secret stories
In your ear for you to write.
I infiltrate your thoughts
When you put out the light.

So there is no need to feel lonely
Or to wander there in gloom
For I am in every corner
Of each and every room.

Colleen and Ronavan prompted with belief/believe thank you both.

I resurrected this poem because it fits perfectly, i wrote it for an author who was grieving and said she could no longer  write. It now fits me as the words my Dad would say to me when I doubt myself.  If we just believed in ourselves we could achieve anything. Leave a comment, place a word let me know what it was you heard.

    To Capture A Soul.

It came, a mist a fog with stench.

A beast grotesque, teeth he clenched.

He swooped across land and space

until it came upon her place.

Slyly skulking under the door,

she felt it move across the floor.

Filling her with fear and dread,

He flung her soul upon the bed.

Fog gathered thick and tight,

It had blood in his sight.

Evil stared her in the face

held her in its hot embrace.

Trembling she pissed upon the floor

her earthly self could take no more.

Ripping at  her from beneath,

grinding, crunching with its teeth.

Stood and gathered familiar form,

A look of man appeared the norm.

His glowing eyes  cast a light,

She bears the scars this eerie night.

He held her limp and lifeless self,

gently laid her on a shelf.

Where a vase of wild flowers bloom,

throwing spring across the room.

A tear, a shimmering stone,

He thrust it hard against the bone.

pressing into the gaping hole,

that once contained a woman’s soul.

She flinched as if a current passed,

Slowly sitting she looked aghast.

Evil  had taken the place,

Of beauty on this immortal face.

As daylight hovered,

they melted to the floor.

A  green fog






Another journey for me, a dabble with horror. Let me know what you think.

leave me your thoughts in the comments I will answer soonest. 😈😇 

The Capture Of Ralphie.


“Ralph, Ralphie,”
she called from a faraway place.
As his soul had been captured
In lead and not haste.

Lured was Ralph,
by the scratch of a pen
Captured on parchment,
Seen never again.

Now Ralphie lives
In charcoal and ink
Rolled in a box
Stuffed under the sink.

Whisked away,
his name never spoke
Once long before
he was a laugh and a joke

He lived with a friend
Stole socks from the floor
Dj’d a nightclub
Now never no more.

Ralph got too big for his bone
Now Lynn and Michael
Live all alone
Memories haunt every day
Ralphies fame finally got in the way.

A bit of indulgent whimsy scratched out for a virtual friend.
Ralph is the face of an Indie music promoter he has his own blog, the link and see.
Ralph has a radio station and facebook page. Lynn Gerrard is one of the keepers of Ralph along with her husband Michael Lindley ( i secretly think he is the Djay and promoter). Lynn is a madcap stand up comic, Blogger, poet, Author and playwright who’s books make me laugh, cry and enjoy the madness she evokes. Darkness and Decadance, Musing and Mischief the Grumblings of a Gargoyle.

The poem came about when I thought what may happen if he becomes more famous than Michael or Lynn (as you do) I’d love your comments and let me know if you have a celebrity pet, or know of one. I hope I made you laugh and alerted you to Your first four legged celebrity.

Looking It In The Face .


She rests her head, I examine her face

Her beauty buried beneath wear.

The folds of skin that crack the space

Where blushing cheeks once shone.


A beauty spot, faded lashes

Now translucent almost  gone.

She rests, she rests her eyes

those eyes that have seen so much.


Reflected I see love in this face,

The skin that felt my youthful flesh.

That held my arm that time,

Proud to be seen there.


I said I would, I do and did.

She gave her life to me,

To cherish to love and pleasure

Then, now and forever.


Opening her clouded eyes I see fear,

As her mind refuses to know me.

Memories stolen never to return

I pray for her to rest those eyes

Once more.


In trying to experiment with finding my voice I put this together to see if I could be authentic when writing with a male perspective. Your comments would be appreciated thank you.

Together We Sing

scrabble The above picture is a prompt challenge which can be found on  wordpress only a hundred words site. To go to Sonya’s three line prompt, to read comment or join please  PRESS .

My take on it is below.



Together like words in a song rubbing gently by,

not knowing how long until that last quiet sound.

I am helpless when our duet sings it’s last note,

and the letter gets caught in the bend of my throat.

Although you are gone.


Alone I wipe my tears and wonder
Will there be a day I will not cry.
For you’re in every raindrop
That falls down from the sky.

I find you betwixt the pages
of a book we used to share.
In our favorite tea shop
You often took me there.

The fun we once had together
Now my hand you can not clasp.
Illness took you from us
Tore you from our grasp.

Always we’ll remember so
Daddy leave with no regret
For the love that you gave us
It taught us true respect.

The Richness of voice.

I wanted to celebrate with a post, the voices or sounds that have moved me and stayed with me since the first words I heard come from their mouths.

The voices of mesmerising qualities that we can hear in these two men are simply beautiful. There are others who have the “Voicefactor”, the qualities which make whatever they read feel true, and absolutely believable; the ability to make your legs wobble. The celebration of sound and tone of the ones I am sharing today, for me at least stand out as exceptional.
Not being able to show them all here today saddens me, but the wonderful tone of Dame Maggie Smith (just showing I’m not sexist ageist or anyother geist) Betty Davis another such voice, one that curled your toes and made a thousand new born spiders run up your neck ( metaphorically speaking ).

Some not many, but some singers voices resonate, and are remembered more for their voice than the music. Louis Armstrong, Barry White, Leonard Choen and the wonderful Joe Cocker. I am not sexist there are superb females with the same qualities Janice Joplin springs to mind.

Leave a word, be kind, let me know your feelings; do you disagree or know better?
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A Nod to Poe.


At waters edge in caverns deep,
He wandered in repose.
Seeking of his one true love,
Through moon’s latent glows.

Leaving wake upon wake,
Over sea’s far and wide.
When a mermaid swept him
Off on the ebb of a tide.

In honour of Edgar Allan Poe born 19th January 1809

Picture is a free download from pixabay a fabulous resource.

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