He wins the nobbly knee contest coz he is so very bony..haha his legs goes right up to his pants, two sticks of skinny polony..and he laughs just like a hyena with no teeth left in his gob..hes abit of a museum piece and isn’t a heartthrob..

But everyone adores Irish Micky Flynn with his Ballymoney Blarney..from County Donegal down to the southwest shores of Killarney..coz all he ever does allday is banter on his jokes, keeping people happy he is the jolliest of folks..and he chats to absolutely everybody, infact he is just a blether..with his thin arms waving high in the air as he forecasts the weather..he talks the hind legs of a donkey and still he doesn’t stop, as he sits with his mug of cocoa in his local coffee shop..

Covid-19 contaminates and collects, it shows no remorse for paying one’s last respects.. infecting our defences one by one, but we need herd immunity to get this gone..

We are dropping down like dominoes, or skittles from a bowling ball.. results are rising higher with the Coronavirus positives, thus gaining negatives from the dreadful death toll..This only started in the early Springtime and yet it is still rife today, as our Autumn season is now upon us, how we wish it would go away..

So with the future facing threats for our survival of humanity, one wonders when will this uncertainty all end ? as our top Scientific researchers dig and delve to understand Covid-19 and experiment to comprehend.. One looks ahead with hopefulness and anticipation, that is all we can do when all is said and done..whilst staying socially distanced from one another, until the delightful day when we have won...

Beware amidst the month of October as Autumn nights draw oh so somber, coz witches and warlocks right across the lands brew black magic betwixt an antechamber..

Hocus-pocus and hoodoo potions, abracadabra and pots of putrid lotions..Voodoo mysticism with witchcraft sorcery, spell-casting sinfulness and wrongdoings of roguery..Lock up your latches, keep your children safe at home..Becareful of the blackness, ghosts and ghoulies are on the roam..

On the last day of October as soon as the clock strikes twelve, daredevil demons shall dig the earth and delve..Shenanigans of mumbo-jumbo conjuring cruel magic spells. amongst the shadows in the moonlight and yon high-pitched yells..Don’t give necromancy it’s satisfaction, stay well away from harm’s door.. the superstition of Halloween has alot to answer for..

On Lily of the Valley land just beside the forget me nots there are three magic mushrooms, scarlet red with white stems and spots..and inside these white stems each with a crimson canopy, dwells Vinnie, Minnie and Winnie all are as skinny as can be..

Each run around amidst the darkness of the night, looking like lean runner beans such a frightful, funny sight..A trio of thorny stick insects, as green as fresh cut grass.. six snakey, slanty emerald eyes sparkle like slithers of glass..and they live nextdoor to one another without a sister or a brother, they are nocturnal little creatures created from the earth Mother..

Vinnie is vivacuous, she loves to dance and sing as hooty Owls joins in her chorus.. with the Pipistrelle Bats upon the wing..Minnie is the most mischievious of them all, this thin, frolicsome friend drives the other duo up the wall.. But betwixt and between Vinnie and Minnie lives the loveliest of the lot, her charismatic charm mixes in their melting ***..So these three green grassy hoppers live amongst the woodland copse, side by side in a magic mushroom with the bright red tops

Charismatic and delightful, hip hopping about..splish splashing in a little puddle from a water spout.. I watch a Robin redbreast out in the pouring rain, he is having such good fun and he doesn’t complain..

Fluffing up his feathers and puffing out his tiny chest, he looks so cute in his little scarlet vest..Oh Mr. Robin you brighten up my day, what a wonderful warming welcome you are I really have to say..making my drab, dreary afternoon something to write about, well thanks to you I found my inspiration without a doubt..I shall crumble up a crust of bread especially for you, coz this is your special treat for stopping me from feeling blue..

“A penny for those thoughts me dear” she hears a Cockney woman’s tongue..as this old Southerner reminisces standing here when she was oh so young.. back in those bygone days when she was only ten years old, stood sobbing her little heart out and shivering in the cold..

As she waits in King’s cross station at platform number eight and just like all those yesteryears ago, this TransPennine train was late..when she worthlessly wandered within a crowd of many others, all little lost evacuees estranged from their loving Mothers..So she stands here today searching her soul from sad traces, as she recalls the screams and cries and that look of languish on those faces..and that was sadly sixty years since she waved her Mum goodbye but she can still reminisce the fraught and rawness with a teardrop in her eye..

Twas one late September morning in 1939 and she held a little hand with all her might as that steam engine sped along the line..and alas that was the last time she ever saw her distraught Mother when her and hundreds of other lost little souls left London with her tiny brother..Yet Oh the sadness and suffering has moulded amidst her heart, from that awful station in September when her loving family had to part..So in the twighlight of her life at almost seventy one years of age she stands waiting on that transPennine train, and in her heart of hearts she knows that this time when she steps off that platform she will never return again...

I see the colours are a’changing amidst the Autumn season and the berries on the branches are a’blooming for an irrefutable reason..paving the way for the colder months ahead, so that all our little feathered friends shall not struggle to be fed..

As Blackbirds cluster amongst the tall trees foraging fruits from the forest betwixt an early morning breeze..The hairy Hawthorn, wonderful Wild Cherry and the radiant Rowan with their rich, ripe rewards, such ruddy red drupelets in an abundance of hoards..And clambering on the branches stripping the bark with sharpened claws are rusty, red squirrels hanging on all fours..scuttling down the trunks, mouths full up with acorns, almonds and seeds to clandestinely cache their prizes between softened earth and weeds..

Our Amazing, annual October show..such a dazzling display from Mother nature’s bestow..Canopies of glorious golden highlights, delightful  eye-candies for our birds tasty bites..Following our summer and into September the Autumn season is upon us right through til’ December..Some will say that this is the nicest time of the year, as such sensational spectacles are everywhere.. within the wildness of the woodlands and the orangey array, each and every artist’s passionate palettes of portray..