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Harriet Cleve May 2019
Cuthbert Cutknife was a peculiar young lad. When he was nine, his mother toughened him up for Grammar school.
Veronica, his mum, was as hard as nails and came from a dubious parentage. Her peers said she was the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter. It was rumoured that her ancestry was vintage thuggery.
Some even said her great paternal grandfather was a pirate. This would account for the affluent lifestyle her family enjoyed.
Whispers were in circulation that she was a military trained former assassin; assigned to protect her Majesty the Queen.

Either way, she was one tough mother. Cuthbert was a nancy to the naked eye. Demure in appearance and manner, he looked as soft as melted marshmallows in an autoclave. A skeleton had more flesh on it's bones than he did. His voice was girlish and his gait effeminate.
This made him a target through the years and was the cause of many a bully's demise. Cuthbert was deceptive in his masculinity but he was a hard ******* and a vicious, malevolent streak ran through his veins. He had just turned sixteen and was enrolled in Grimshaws Grammar school for young gentlemen. This was a boarding school notorious for bully boy pupils and bully man teachers. Education was secondary to survival and the worst of young men excelled in the art of debauchery and villainy; which were on the curriculum.

Cuthbert was 'welcomed' on the first day by the headmaster, a nasty piece of work, Master Whipfrenzy. A young **** was at his side, Tom Thompson, and given instruction to settle young Cutknife into his form quarters.

Thompson didn't beat around the bush. As soon as they were out of sight of Whipfrenzy, he pulled Cuthbert into a side room where seven young lads were waiting to give him a hiding.

Thompson started the ball rolling and lashed out an unmerciful
kick at Cuthbert intended to destroy his manhood. No sooner did he do so than it was countermoved by Cuthbert by a concealed flickknife. Thompson's leg was sliced open like a side of bacon on an eager chef's skewer. Shrieks of terror followed at the rapid response of Cuthbert and all seven lads ran for their lives.

In shock Thompson wailed as his lifeblood was pouring out in torrents. Skilled in the art of battlefield wound surgery, Cuthbert applied a tourniquet and waited for the scattered lads to return with the authorities.
Between the tears and fears for his life, Thompson was subjected to a few well placed boots to the kidneys by Cuthbert.

'Spread the word around Thompson'

'Anyone taking me on better be carrying iron or steel'

'Next time one of us dies and I don't fancy your chances of survival'

Thompson bawled his eyes out and the blood poured and poured and poured.

Footsteps came scurrying down the hall in panic and no one could believe what happened.

'He looks like a girl?'

'Are you sure it was him?'

Cuthbert had arrived and Grimshaws Grammar school for young gentlemen was in for a rude awakening.
John F McCullagh Dec 2011
King James demands a Scottish play
and believes in witches three
Look close and see they are the fates
that set our destiny

I can't write about his mother
or the ****** of her clerk
One whisper about Darnley
and we'll all be out of work.

After that unhappy business
about Essex and the Queen.
I won't risk another incident
no abdication scene.

Keep the text, in time to come
it will prove rare like gold
I kept it shorter than King Lear
your attention span to hold.
Shakespeare responds to his publisher who has rejected his draft of MacBeth
Donall Dempsey Jul 2015
"I bagged this one
out in In-di-A!"

...the braggart's boast.

"It's a very rare
( these days)ALGERNON!"

And indeed, an Algernon
bares his teeth

above the roaring fire's

He looked startled as
he had been shot just that second.

"The head is splendidly mounted
complete with handlebar moustache

...& monocle.

One feels that one could
pop next door and there

would be ha ha...the rest of

sticking out the other side.

The glint in the eye
the sneer just so


"And to the right of the Algernon
is a genuine Cuthbert.

Again from 1901 or there or

"It is indeed a perfect specimen of
the good old chap..."

the white rhino brags yet again
of what he calls his baggings.

White Rhino's
collection of colonials

is the envy of
all the other animals.

"Some more hot *** old chum?"

But the White Tiger
puts a paw over his glass.


The fire's flickering
leaping up the wall.

The shadow making
the humans almost

come alive

as if the Cuthbert
could turn to the Algernon

and say
"OH...I SAY!
stephen mastel Nov 2015
C-"Come baby come" that,s my soul calling
U- Unconditional love in my heart its flowing
T- Take my heart baby L.O.V.E is its code
H- Hold it with care its the 9th wonder
B- Because its the only archive that your heart is treasured
E- Every tourist come looking for it but like a
R- Rite it is protected in my blood streams
T- Taking it to another level and romance is its interest rate
Terry Collett Dec 2015
Compline bell rings,
cloister dark except
where lamp lights up,

salva nos, Dómine,
vigilántes, custódi nos

moonlight on cloister wall,
I finger the stoup,
holy water on fingertips,

Hugh thin faced
fingers after me,
touched me she said

touch me here,
Dom Peter walks
the stone slabs,

cork lined boots,
black cowl,
I stand in the choir stalls

near the wall,
lamps switched off,
darkness and chant begins,

plainsong unison,
enter me she said
I am as a church to be filled,

the world's your ship
not your home Therese said,
I gaze at the monk's head

before me silhouetted
in the semi dark,  
our Lady's statue

high above lit up
by a single light,
the abbot walks the aisle

with young Cuthbert
who holds holy water
in a sprinkler,

show them by deeds
rather than words
Benedict said,

I stare at the ******'s stillness,
alma Redemptóris Mater,
quæ pérvia cæli porta manes,

a world in darkness
out there beyond the high windows,  
silence after prayer,

complete stillness,
'. If anyone competes as an Athlete  he does not receive the victors crown unless he competes
according to the rules 2 Timothy ch 2 v 5

I watched from the hallway of 19 Cimla Creasant ,my Gran with her Bible praying by herself .
Just Gran and God , her daily act of obedience unto thee.
' Call yourself a Christian ? '. My Grans rebuke of some mischevious deed ,
For all I knew were scorcher comics and superman books , and sooty and sweep
Squashed in a cupboard .
Yet Gran has her victors Crown her wreath of golden bronze , She ran her race with Gods
Good grace , and at last seen Christ face to face ' well done my good and faithful servant . '
Green shield stamps coop books , ham salads and cups of tea .
To look out over skewin and see the night lights shine as if just for me .
Then there was rusty the dog , and the odd 50 p from Aunty Jane in our grateful hands
For an Ice cream for being good as gold ,
We would listen for the coo coo bird on the hour and like trumpton take a bow .
My Grandads shed where My Father as boy would hammer nails on wooden floor ,
And the scarey cracked old mirror at the very back of the wooden floors.
Of walks to Opels for fish and Chips with white wet hanky at hand .
Sudden stops , just to listen to her grand children talk  and walk down the Cimla again .

Jesus Christ has risen today , Gran took us to her church one Easter
To sit in pews and sing nice hymns , to smile and be polite ,
no Barlymagrew as yet I knew Cuthbert Dibble doubt.

To the knoll we walked ,past river stream , and woodland ,
A cross was marked in some rock along the way ,
Is this where Jesus died , was crucified  , hung up on a tree ?

The book I read on mothers stairs  this man in comic strip ,
When i was 10 years old ,
The same man who died for me  torchered on a tree .
Would it be tie a yellow ribbon , or the ****** red Barron from Germany ?

We used to pray in Chennestone  hands up all to see
a peek to see who's looking
We  listened to Griegs Morning , and sung  there's  no discouragement to be a Pilgrim .

Then one day God came calling on the Isle of Wight.
On  Covie camp on blended knee i opened my heart to thee .
Oh the lion may roar from time to time ,
Gods grace is still enough for me

— The End —