C.C.

Thursday, March 9, 2017

I am being disrespectful; I pull my spare trousers out of the old trunk. ‘Are we going to get drunk? I smile. She deserves smiles. Suddenly I feel a weakness and touch her hand. They never used to feel rough like this; I had not planned to get sentimental. Perhaps next Christmas I’ll get her a... Sign in to see full entry.

Wednesday, March 8, 2017

Smallholder That is what an old chap said; keep them well laid and short of shoes. They can't run away and you've nothing to lose. His wife ran off with a cobbler. But she was always gallivanting around. That's why I chose this old girl she can make a pound of flour into a rabbit pie I don't know... Sign in to see full entry.

Tuesday, March 7, 2017

Smallholder. It is evening; I listen to the cricket in the hearth and feel easy Although my cord trousers are stained with animal urine. The old black kettle spits out droplets of hot water. My knees steam it smells sharp and familiar. There is wine warming in an old pot on the hob. The fire... Sign in to see full entry.

Sunday, March 5, 2017

I suppose Perhaps I should feel more reverence for those who have departed. It is a quirk of nature that they still are so vivid, especially where I left each person and did not personally feel thwarted by my maker. The young are still as beautiful; the old carry on with tasks that are obsolete. The... Sign in to see full entry.

Friday, March 3, 2017

Sunday. She picks primroses a small bunch of yellow floats under a blue sky. A bluebell is a smudge of colour against the short green grass. She wears jeans cut to her pale knees; brown hair flowing. I watch a length of white ribbon, it drifts haphazardly as if it might pass and have no connection.... Sign in to see full entry.

Monday, February 27, 2017

Poem. So you sing in the clear waters of scented showering. Forgetting the rise and fall of a lover who passed seeking gratification. Stringing another bead upon the amassed collection of amusing recollections. The spear rises in an arc and falls into the soft flesh of the quivering fawn. This is... Sign in to see full entry.

Sunday, February 26, 2017

Goodbye. Slowly he reasoned with himself and wondered about such a fuss. At first it had seemed unwise to dwell on the same thoughts they came back from each small push sweeter settling softly, soothing. A spirit, he was sure luring with soft fingers laughing gently and entwining memories. It had... Sign in to see full entry.

Saturday, February 25, 2017

The Alien returns. Two years later and one month. He stands at the entrance to Mrs Bertwhistle's Castle. He pulls the rope and rings a large bell. A robot glides down the pathway and takes a photograph of the Alien from a long distance lens it also serves as a discerning eye. Satisfied by what it... Sign in to see full entry.

Wednesday, February 22, 2017

For Gentle women folk. Knock knock! Mrs Birtwistle answers the door Stranger 'Good morning Earth woman I am an Alien.' Mrs Birtwistle 'Yes so I see what is that thing on your nose?' Alien 'You are very perceptive Madam, no one has remarked on it to date.It is to enable me to breathe these toxic... Sign in to see full entry.

Tuesday, February 21, 2017

Places. One could say that beauty was a source of anguish to a lonely soul. One cannot put it in a niche and say this is a comely dish because one likes things round, or little bits that sound awful when dissected. One must be protected from believing one can pick peaches if one overreaches, if the... Sign in to see full entry.

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