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Aug 2014 · 446
Crumbling Writers Block
It kicks you like the shrill of Dizzy G's trumpet blast when you expected violins:
Finding yourself rolling with the disjointed rhythm.
You savour the unexpected jolts
And know things are changing.
It's a whiskey sour before midday
Tasting oh so perfect
When you would have settled for a glass of red wine after dinner
Or a tonic water.
But that's OK too.
Its the glare of the sun after the darkness of the cinema.
Its the startling phone call at 3a.m.
That turns out to be the wrong number.
A relaxed edginess.
It's cracking open a seal of thought and imagination.
It's gasps of "What was that?"
and "I think she fancies me!"
Breaking the block
Sudden inspiration smashing through.
Pounding down doors
You've got to sink the hooks in deeply.
Expect anything.
You don't want too, but you wonder
Has it always been there
Or birthed anew just for you.
Aug 2014 · 300
Baby Rain
I babysat the rain
Watched over it all day long
The sky didn't come to collect it
Until the early morn

I was fine with that and didn't mind,
But I had to draw the line
When the following night I was asked if I might
Look after the Sun by its mother Dawn
I caught a nasty dose of loneliness
I'm sure it was from the man on the train
Blowing kisses through the window to his children and partner
Whose tears trickled au revoir in the rain

Or maybe it was from the two women smooching
In the night club on the seats opposite me
They were gasping and panting, but  not for breath
while pawing each other with urgency

Perhaps it was because I left my window open
On a sizzling summer night last week
Through which I heard devotions of love being shared
By a tipsy couple gaily romancing on the street.
Aug 2014 · 496
A Lesson Remembered
Being puny, young and too impatient to understand time would eventually change me, I sulked at the unfairness of the world.
He sensed I felt exactly what I was: a limp sapling too fragile and green to be allowed join the hunt of adventure with the older children.”Fetch me water from the well,” he said, more so a suggestion than a request.

Galloping to show my pace under his constant protective eyes, I reached the stone hemmed shaft.
Looping the rope through the eye of the weighted pail handle, I eagerly watched the vessel plummet into oblivion. Savouring the echoed dunk and gulp. The silent count to seven reverberated within.

Bracing myself in a determined stance. Straining against the initial load, I heaved. Hand griped over hand grip on the thick rough hemp cord. I allowed its slack to gather as it wished on the earth by the foot of the attached secure spike.

The last hoist was always the hardest for me. Trying as I could to avoid the bottom of the pail from striking the lip of the well. Swinging it clear, I untangled the umbilical cord. I carried the burden with dread. One arm was awkwardly angled for balance in case too much sloshed over the brim and soaked my feet, or worse, dampened my chances to prove my worth.

“Place it on the bench.” He nodded to the far end from where he sat as rigid and as tragic as a dense tree stump hinting at the might which he once was. Standing by his shoulder, I watched him overlap the flesh of his bog-wood tough hands into a cup. Without a flinch or goose-bump to note the coolness of the water, he sank his hands into the pail.

He slowly raised the basin of flesh. From the gathered pool minute drips seeped back into its source. He looked at me with his tricolour eyes of pitched pupils moated by iris of speckled cloudy blue in a sclera battlefield tinged with a sepia hue.”This is all I can lift. You’ve carried more than I one-handed.”

He sipped the last of the diminishing pool, only wasting the dampness of his fingers upon his woolen top. I followed his gaze to my own petal hands. I did not notice him leaving as I examined my palms in a new light.
Aug 2014 · 1.1k
Insect Vet
"Run down the list, if you please."
"OK. Doc, let's start with these:
An earwig with shin splints,
a worm with heartburn,
A cockroach with a cold-"
"He should have wrapped up like he was told!"
"-A bee with hay-fever."
"She never listens either..."
"A centipede with a migraine,
A fly with wing sprain
And a woodlouse with suspected vertigo."
  "Is that them all?"
"Well, no. There's an elderly spider with a blister on his ***. He can't spin a web to build a trap or home.
There is a grub with possible depression,
A slug with a stomach bug
And a ladybird with gout."
  "Too many greenflies, no doubt."
"There's a butterfly with signs of hypochondria due to a swollen antennae,
no matter what I say he's certain he is going to die.
Now, the last is a delicate imposition: the Queen ant wants birth control,
Because she is sick of her pregnant condition."

— The End —