BREAKFAST AT TIFFANY"S

NEW YEAR'S EVE PARTY


It is my intention to incorporate the prompts from 'Carry On Tuesday' 'Sunday Scribblings' and 'Three Word Wednesday ' in this ongoing poem (ballad ) as well.

The above photo is from "Breakfast At Tiffany's " and the poem is loosely based on
on the story of the film.

PROMPTS
Carry On Tuesday:"No more talk of darkness. Forget these wide eyed fears."
Sunday Scribblings: progress
3WW: plausible, taint, willingly


NEW YEAR'S EVE PARTY
It was not easy for a country lass
listening to all this crap
She longed and sighed to be at home
watching tv or taking a nap
But hang on,she was at home
and who were all these people?
The guy with the eye patch
Blondie with the bow tie
Wild horses racing in the steeple
Who are you?
Who are you?
And what's the story
behind the blue tattoo
Surely you're not
a you know who?

And what is that burning smell?
Truman's cuban cigars perhaps
the ones he's always trying to sell
Oh, I've set fire to Ralston's mother
she really can be such a bother
decked out in diamante brooch'd asps
Tiresome Miserable Old Bat
Turning up to all the parties
in her oversized inflammable hat

And as the flames aflickered
Truman started to laugh
Already three sheets to the wind
I was hoping he would let it pass
But no, in rigoletto ribald roar
he belted out the song
" No more talk of darkness
Forget these wide eyed fears"
Silly drunken bugger had
reduced everyone to tears

The neighbours started complaining
They said there was too much noise
I invited them down to the party
which I thought showed a certain poise



Mr Yoko Yoohoo from Tokyo
was clearly not amused
He thought the invitation
was just a derisive ruse
Boho chicks were not his bag
he did not like them at all
and when they worked for him in summer
he'd fire them all before fall
Business deals and auto mags
were his idea of progress
And as for female companionship
he preferred the Mikimoto hostess
He was highly unoriginal
copied ideas and presented them as his own
but everyone came to expect that
from an uncreative and illiterate drone

The police were called
They were appalled
at the lack of illegal drugs
The champagne flowed
but that was all
they went home empty handed
not even a persian rug

This party girl life
was filled with strife
It might be easier
becoming a wife
The social butterfly tag
had lost its appeal
terribly boring
reduced to snoring
Zzzzzzzzzzz
Alas no zeal

But where to find my other half
someone sharp and interesting
someone who could make me laugh
without diurnal bickering
Lots of money would be good
inherited not earned
We could enjoy la dolce vita
holidaying in Swiss Berne
I would call my first son Peter
after my favourite cat
With any luck he will be sweeta
than the standard spoilt rich brat

It was indeed a plausible dream
in a tafetta gown of pure silken seams
A frothy meringue shimmering wedding dress
with a veil that trailed in confetti mess
For an' off white' affair without taint
she would willingly be patient and wait
And Wait



THREE DAYS LATER
But in reality how long could she wait?
It was at least three days
since she'd been on a date
She went to the doctors for a renewed prescription of pills
He said " two hundred dollars will cover this bill"

She picked up her stiletto and clamped it to his ear
Middle school teachers are not the only ones to fear

'Remember Columbine and the teacher involvement
numbers since then have soared for private enrolment
My expensive children fortunately attend the right schools
to ensure they aren't killed and segregated from fools
We all know these people,such horrible creatures
cruel, incompetent and euphemistically called teachers
Money is important, paramount in my life
and besides I run a very upmarket wife'

She then removed her heel without much ado
and quietly shed tears for her smashed broken shoe
'I want to get married to someone filthy rich
I'm not too fussy, he doesn't have to be a dish'

'You can marry my brother he likes a good sort
He's as rich as Croesus and is mad about sport'
He's also titled which is always a good thing
if you want to produce some cute billy lids'

So she met his brother and very soon found out
he was extremely stingy and known for' fooling about'
He dumped her when he found out about Truman's cigars
and bored her rigid playing his spanish guitar

Relieved it was over she contacted her neighbour
the good looking writer who was to become her saviour
He had an older mistress who paid all his bills
but Holly's advantage was that she was not over the hill
They rented an apartment in chic Brooklyn heights
singing
Moon River all day and all night




THE END


.

Party Chit Chat

3WW evade wedge buckle

He was being very evasive
slouching cool with a drink
glancing furtively at himself
in the mirror
running his fingers through his
thick mane
practising moves
driving a wedge between us
I didn't like the cut of his jib
But the message on his belt buckle
seemed appropriate

A NEW YEAR'S MESSAGE

Red Shoe Artist...Susan Yammouni's words struck a chord with me so I thought I would share her manifesto with you.


RED SHOE ARTIST

THE MEANING OF MY LIFE
If you want to be like everybody else,read a paragraph out of a book and recite.Have no independent thoughts.Question and accept all situations as they come to you. Don't make noise.Be more concerned about the shape of your nose rather than the enfashioning of your character. Gather around your material possessions instead of gathering knowledge. Don't be yourself around people, you may scare them off. We all know how important it is that everybody likes us.

Pffttt....

Celebrate and embrace your uniqueness.

Red Shoe Artist
Susan Yammouni 2010

Only One Night From Old to New

Three days went so quickly
Sandwiches, slices of Christmas cake and juice
for the long journey back to the big smoke
My heart sinks to see them driving down the gravel track
wrenching open the railing gate
and driving away

They always leave something behind
They must want to return
And with this type of hospitality
Who would blame them
It was all so lovely
Nice having a group at breakfast
But in reality
Three days are enough

I have become very happy
in solitude a deux
The idea of a New Year's Eve party
has no appeal
Thankfully we always have the bush
as an excuse
After all
It's only one night from Old to New

Carry On Tuesday

Female Eunuch ? ( I think Not )

Methinks the female
has bronze balls
Manifesto
Marx and Engels

Small fry quavered
in their boots
when she entered the pub
regal disdainful cool
Long haired guys
tres not so intelligent( in retrospect )
swarmed about her
like bees to the honeypot
She swatted them
when they became boring

There was talk of sisterhood
a new and puzzling concept
All this is a haze now
except for the unkindness
brittle bitchiness
remembered
rampant

Enough
to make a fledgeling hide
under the starched petticoats
of Doris Day
Not a happy time
The only kindness and help ever demonstrated
came from the men in the group
Nothing has changed

Sunday Scribblings

Surrogate

Stony River

"Mother is not going to be pleased when she discovers that you have swapped our baby sister for this!"

The lamentable decline of the Eccentric

3WW..object educate silence

Sex like love, my father thought, had been greatly overestimated by the poets.
He would often pause at tea time ,his biscuit half way to his mouth,to announce,
'I have never had mistresses with thighs like white marble.'
while my mother without making any objection, cut more bread and butter or spooned out home-made marrow jam in silence.

'The roses and raptures of vices are damned uncomfortable as you'll certainly find out. You have to get into such ridiculous positions.'
This was the extent of the sex education I received from my father and rather bewildering for an eleven year old boy but not more so than the greeting he often used when I was very young
'Is execution done on Cawdor?'
a question which at the age of six,I was at a loss to answer.

Paraphrased and based on "Clinging to the Wreckage" John Mortimer

For Unto Us A Child Is Born

Wishing all visitors to this blog

A Merry Christmas

Wonderful
Counsellor
The Mighty God
The Everlasting Father
The Prince of Peace

" The Messiah "

A tiny local church
choir sings
valiant effort for
such a lofty work
touching
quavering scratchy voices
earnest sincere
in many ways more moving
because of the struggle
than polished expertise

old gent offers us 2 chairs
sweet
A tear rolls down my cheek at
"For unto us a child is born"
the old Parson seems pleased
anyone has turned up at all

INTERVAL

"I've got to get some money from you "
"Oh, a donation... Certainly!"
Hand him ten
"No, thirty dollars "
Jaws drop to the floor
" These things aren't free you know"
and I think of the Jewish child
lying in rags in a manger
and I weep again

Wordle

Big Tent Poetry Wordle
'These words are like challenges thrown out into the darkness in the hope they will start a tournament,or like clay pigeons shot up into the sky for anyone to pot at.'
John Mortmer


swift...yes
squeezed...yes
disloyal...no
roped and immersed in the engine basement...yes
a slightly hoarse performance...yes
toppled...yes
"Is execution done on Cawdor?"...yes
banished...yes
vanish...yes
my lady hunsdon's
PUFFE
GONE

December

Summer
blue sky today
after grey and drizzle
Off on the boat to Hawks Nest
Blustery Nor'easter
Choppy but fun
Sailing
Sailing
Over the ocean blue
Sea air clears away
the cobwebs
the oil slick murk
and to you two little jewels
who floated to the surface
it was worth wading through
the cess pit to find you
now part of my very small
but priceless collection.

Dear Santa

" How to skin Rivoli's Humming Birds to violin sonatas and save the turkey for later"

Dear Santa
Please send a copy of the DVD
"Psycho Acapulco and the Horror Hags"
a group that revels in toxic poetry, whose tour de force is the recitation of Amon Goeth's

'How to skin Rivoli's Humming Birds to violin sonatas and save the turkey for later"

to my friend Fleabert who is shedding her skin at the moment and needs something to sink her teeth into.

For the Kiddies

3WW lean dabble utter

It was the last job for the night
The house had a bit of a lean on it
Could pose a problem
He levered himself up the drain pipe on to the roof
To think a few years ago he was agile and
could accomplish this like a cat burgular
Arthritic and puffing he squeezed himself down the chimney
and halfway became stuck
This is no time to dabble in diy construction
Only one way out
Shed all the heavy clothing
It worked
Sliding down and landing with a thud
in warm embers, bare skin lacerated from rough bricks
To his utter dismay
There sat three eastern exotic gentlemen
looking blankly into the fireplace
eyes fixed to his corpulent largesse
"Who the hell are you ?" he said
They burst into chorus
"We three Kings from Orient are""
Bugger off, you're in the wrong story!"

For all those who would love a Summer Xmas...Seasons Greetings

Beach Holiday

A winding road of buttercups
Red Xmas bush aglow dotted
Everywhere

Blue sky streaked with cloud
A pale cream ribbon of sand
softly outlines the mountain range

A school of dolphins swims
close to the shore
What better companions to dive with
in the cool calm water
colour of Tahiti turquoise

Few people,just locals and young travellers
with that exclusive ambience
of a Friday wedding

Mince pies
Xmas cake
Blue swimmer crab
Coloured beach umbrellas
Daiquiris

Zinc coated faces
Fish and chips
A new wet suit
And it's not
even Xmas yet
Wondrous

Waving

Prompt
"Not Waving but drowning"...Stevie Smith
COT

She swam out past the breakers
Looked back at the sea of bobbing heads
Every part of her being tingled
This was her domain
The ocean
Vast deep and free
She looks up and sees him
Smiling from the cliff top
She waves
Two lifesavers zip out
One drags her into the surf boat
His strong muscular embrace - reassuring
Too embarrassed, she has never admitted
She was just waving not drowning

Stuffed

3WW ..nightfall judge safety

The rainbow lorikeets
jump like hiccups
on to my feet
What has that judge been putting
in those bread crumbs?
They will soon head off
to the safety of the trees
before nightfall
stuffed with bread
like little fat chooks
returning hungover tomorrow
for another feed

Christmas Truce

' It came upon a midnight clear '
the choir sang their hearts out
The shoppers smiled their woes unwind
in snow flake moment of white out
But in this lovely sepia light
there lurked a tone deaf spoiler
out of her depth, not hearing the tune
she committed the act of a soiler

Smash and wreck she mowed them down
the singers all lay dying
And all of a sudden
she stood quite still
howled and started crying
She realized she had made a gaffe
and did not have a clue
Amy and Emily etiquette hacks
would thoroughly disapprove
One must not kill at Xmas time
and this would never do

Desperate to sort this unsightly mess
with the appearance of being normal
She pinned a little Xmas card
to each lapel,seasons greetings - formal
" I'm sorry if I have offended you
I did not want you dead.
It was far more fun torturing you
Merry Xmas, enough now said."

For The Weekend

You never know what can happen at a shopping mall at this time of year!

Wasted Effort

demise effort revival

It seems that you are intent
on my demise conducting a campaign
hoping that I will disappear
A very low rent event indeed
befitting someone of your ilk
A wasted effort I think
as I sit here at dusk
in Paradise listening to bird chorus
and the soft lapping of the waves on
to the shore
Is it possible that your murky shadow will
not follow me here?
That there will be no revival of your
deranged and psychotic outbursts?
Probably not.

Quest for the Holy Grail

Who finds intellectual fulfillment
in the acquisition of a new kitchen?
A stunted pugilist I suppose
who dons a china doll mask
with a smiling money box mouth
to drop pennies in

A captious charity case
who claims to be a Christian
( and Jesus wept )
whilst clubbing the fragile to a pulp
for sport
with the word "MOTHER"
stamped on her forehead

to fool the crowd
into believing she's
just a laughing house frau

Flood Rain

I know that sound of flood rain
A sforzando symphonic tutti
emptying the contents of the universe
on to a tin roof
then - silence
Pitter patter go the raindrops
is not a follow up
The marmalade boys have packed their bags
Time to go

Montezuma's Revenge

Montezuma's psycho cuckoo
Stalks me
Trawls
Through all my poems
Desperate for information
Inspiration
Anything
Up to 145 hits per week
A little excessive
even for Psycholita
who mistakes plate throwing
for passion
Emulation
for creativity
Endless thank yous
for good manners
"ENOUGH,already"
Get over me
Find yourself
Another' Magnificent Obsession '.

For The Weekend

Stairway To Heaven

Poetic Asides Prompt 29 ' Steps '


The stairway to heaven
is not what it seems
It is climbed by dullards
taking measured steps
tripping over themselves

Pathetic,self delusional and mediocre
these unfortunate clods
are only able to present a poor pastiche
of their aspirations built on
A flimsy house of cards

Unable to unlock stick insect limbs
to leap bound or frolic in joy
They conspire to cripple those who can
plotting from their joyless lairs
breathing depressing drivel
on to the page with tedious regularity

In Cold Blood

I listened
The stories were mesmerising
of the survivors in Mumbai

Vicariously I experienced
the suspense, the terror

But, most terrifying was the response
from the middle class Anglosaxon wife
who watched her husband's murder
her demeanour au naturelle medicated calm

her countenance understanding and kindness
who held no animosity for the terrorists
poor sad and ignorant people

My eyes widen and emerge like stalks
Aghast
I look at him
He looks at me slightly bemused
and takes my hand tenderly
Eyes filled with gratitude

A Bad Paint Job

What is the antidote
to painting a study
Green?
The wrong green
Bilious green
Colour of the poison poet
manic depressive malcontent
a half price special
in a third world hardware store
Antidote
obliterate the bad paint job
defiling the walls
with fine art and fine books
Small mosaics of hideousness
still peep through
but go almost unnoticed
Or
you could always repaint it
I don't think so

La Nina

Saturday
Lying on a banana lounge
in the late afternoon
after hours of macheting and mulching
looking up at a blue blue sky
fringed by purple jacaranda
and large red chinese umbrellas
offset with green foliage
sipping a shandy
flopped in a sarong
listening to the feint hum of cicadas
watching a spider spin its web
in the stillness of the heat
I was happier than I have been for a long time
How could I be this lucky

Sunday
Rain storm and wind
A tree crashes on to the fence
the goats have got into the garden
I left the washing out overnight
The overflow pipe fell off the tank
A bright green frog sits in the toilet
pretending to be invisible
La nina
La nina
La nina
Nasty bitch
You've followed me here
How could I be this unlucky

For The Weekend

" I Do "

Wordle by BTP
" I Do "

She had resurfaced triumphantly
after an unceremonious and very public
Dumping
If she had been passed over
again this time
she may as well have hit
the bottle
turned into an old boiler lush
cupped her nibclunks in her hands
and hung herself from a forklift
over an ash-pit
But, this persistently patient lass
stayed awake and alert
Her procrastinating Prince finally proposed
and the world awaits the April wedding

For The Weekend

Congratulations to Matthew McDonald on being
the first Australian to become a principal
of the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra.

Berlin Philharmonic and Simon Rattle

It is not often that I witness perfection at a musical performance but last night's concert at the Sydney Opera House was one of those occasions. We had the best seats in the house and I don't mind that we will be living on half rations (including the animals) for the next few months. It was worth every cent and an experience that will stay with me forever.

CLOUD 9

Sitting on cloud 9
watching a maestro
performing miracles
I want this to go on
Forever

Double bassists
standing tall
bowing beautifully
passionately
slow dancing
moving like exotic birds
I am
sitting on cloud 9

Simon Rattle
a cotton wool white hair'd
sweet smiling Harry Potter character
turns into a monolith
before my eyes
I am
watching a maestro

Like a bee drawing pollen
from flowers
making measured magic
carefully waving his wand
he sprinkles star dust on
musicians
performing miracles

Primavera is also thrilled
putting on her best display
I know I'm never going to see this again
in a setting of lights twinkling mirror'd
on the gleaming waters of Sydney Harbour
I want this to go on

Bravo,another encore
The normally staid audience
is going beserk
foot stamping,whistling and whooping
Beaming smiles shine from the stage
I will remember this
Forever

For The Weekend...For The Old Boppers

This reminds me of Cross St Double Bay in the last century and all who partied there.
The champagne consumption in this country rose significantly during those years and the French wine industry owes us a lot.

The Adventures of OOK and GLUK

Ook and Gluk
set off to solve the mystery
of the ' buuk '
They scratched their little jelly heads
and wondered why Poms said
'buuk' instead of 'book'?

They searched high and low
across land and sea
to find the origin
of this affectation
that is used quaintly
by the entire Queen's nation

It wasn't their station
to question these things
but they didn't care and
went for the fling

The clue was traced to Captain Cuuk
a sailor charged with finding a place
to dump old England's unwanted cruuks

They were an irreverent wild lot
Their descendants far worse
Though now they read buuks
and are amongst the world's great cuuks
They still retain that endearing habit
and certainly not from reading
Beatrix Potter's 'Peter Rabbit'
of telling their betters
to go and get fooked

Catfight

This is an interesting read and reminds me of why I am so drawn to men. It is a book that is an eye opener especially for younger women and possibly a good one for men to read as well ; although maybe not. After reading this, men may decide to bat for the other side.

"There is a pernicious consequence to the 'kinder gentler' myth. Girls and women
internalize the idea that being aggressive is only acceptable for men..we express our aggression indirectly through social sabotage,gossip,or vague double entendres.Indirect aggression is slippery..it is disguised beneath a veneer of politeness or gentleness. If confronted the aggressor has an accessible backdoor
' I didn't mean it the way it sounded'."

" Niceness of course can serve a person well..you don't alienate people, since being nice is really about seeking the approval of others."

"The healthier one is,psychologically speaking,the less one needs to compete."

Women and Resentment
According to Nietzsch,resentment occurs when one lacks some value, yearns to be the person who possesses it and then seeks to undermine that person.It is part of a 'slave morality' of the weak, who don't like themselves and attempt to bring down the strong.

In the marshy soil of self contempt
Every poisonous plant will grow
Yet all of it so paltry
so stealthy, so dishonest, so sickly-sweet
-GO Nietzsch!

PS
I trust this post will not adversely affect my already diminished blog popularity (she added breathlessly,wiping a Brenda Starr tear from her eye, tossing her peroxided locks nonchalantly over her shoulder, with a smile as wide as the Nile.)

Power of One

A sea of grey helmets
stamping in jack boot precision
came marching up the strasse

Clinging to the shadows
blinded by trickles of sweat
she headed in the opposite direction

This was a lifetime ago

Mind you
she is still heading in the opposite direction
ducking and weaving
avoiding the jack boots

For The Weekend

Ah,this song was everywhere during summer in the 80s

Miss Pommeroy Breaks Out

I'd been thinking old loves
It was hot and humid weather
The hook sunk deep into my delicate bone
A perennial problem with ill fitting under garments
I want to burn my bra
Time to trade my straight jacket for a backbone
and let it all hang out
I want my bones to shake and dance loose like opals' milky fire
on the dance floor at one of those clubs
where happy hour spills over some nights
where nirvana happens to someone puffing a cigarette
of the exotic middle eastern variety
This evening is for leaving all tension behind
And then he walks in
It wasn't a sight anyone expected to see
my wild dirty dancing girations
His eyes were riveted on
my mounds of golden rod studded with ironweed
quivering like a couple of circus wheels in motion
He said" your eyes are sanctuary for my heart "
Uh oh, this has happened before- I know the signs
He is not looking at my eyes
At this rate we could end up
our bicycles leaning into the rain

I'd been thinking old loves
on this hot humid day
encased in my armory
The hook sunk deep in the delicate bone
that's a perennial problem with ill fitting undergarments
I want to burn that bra
Time to trade my straight jacket for a backbone
and finally let it all hang out
I want my bones to shake and dance loose like opals' milky fire
on the dance floor at one of those clubs
where happy hour spills over some nights
where Nirvana happens to someone puffing a cigarette
you know, one of the exotic middle eastern variety
This evening is for leaving all tension behind
I am dancing in wild abandonment doing an Isadora Duncan impersonation
And then he walks in, his intense gaze glued to my
mounds of golden rod studded with ironweed shaking like
a couple of circus wheels in motion
He says " Your eyes are a sanctuary for my heart"
He is not looking at my eyes
Uh oh, This has happened before- I know the signs
If I'm not careful this could lead to
two bicycles leaning in the rain

AND THE WORDLE CHAMPION IS FRANCIS SCUDELLARI

Both judges unanimously voted Francis Scudellari as this year's WORDLE CHAMPION.

Congratulations Francis. Marianne came a very close second. Footsie and Barbara came third. Because the standard was so high and the challenge was quite difficult everyone will receive a prize. Thank you to all for being courageous enough to participate in this challenge. Next year I will conjure up something even more fiendishly difficult and I hope to see you here again.
Cheers
Rall
PS
The consolation prize for being fashionably late and making herculean efforts to get here as well as writing a ripper poem goes to Pamela Villars.

FOR THE WEEKEND ...Paolo Conte

Go Paolo! An ex lawyer who became a pop star in his 70s.

FINALISTS 100 WORDLE EXTRAVAGANZA

Pamela De Ville (fashionably late entrant and former prize winner )




MARIANNE



DOCTOR FOOTSIE



MOZZARELLA CICCOLINI (Judge)



FRANCIS SCUDELLARI with two Aussie sheilas!



COURTNEY ACT (Judge)



BARBRA SEVILLE

A Message for Mary Bale

For those who don't know Sydney... Elizabeth Bay.






I was rather touched by this plaque outside a block of flats in Elizabeth Bay. It renews my faith in human beings. I am glad there are people out there who still like cats and wouldn't dream of harming a defenceless animal.They say you should judge a society by the way it treats its animals. I think that's correct!

Storm Over Sydney by John Trantner

It has been storming here this afternoon. My favourite poem came to mind and I thought I would share it with you. Beare Park, Elizabeth Bay is the park referred to.




Blustering over the Harbour,brilliant rain
slaps and blathers at the rusty Bridge.
I dodge for cover as the sky turns green.
Cars wobble and skid on William Street
hot with mechanical rage.

Lightning strikes twice: a blinding white
crack! and the echo whacks the concrete.
I fossick and dawdle in the supermarket aisles
safely underground, among the paper plates
and the jars of honey.

The thunder has trundled a thousand miles
and boiled the Pacific black to bother us all,
and it's dull and sick from its long journey.
Now I'm trying to wheel a crook trolley
from the shopping mall.

the chrome's rusty and a bent wheel clanks.
It's the season of ruby cellophane and holly;
the gutters are chock -full of summer hail
fresh frozen and smashed into chunks.
At the cafe I doze

in a corner,read the messages and the mail,
and unwrap the book I've bought. It's old,old:
the writer's fervour whispering down the years,
epigrams elaborating a narrative-
as though such fragments could!

On schedule, the weather grumbles and raves
westwards over the suburbs. I'm happy; I know
a little park where I can park the car,
sit on a wet bench and watch the waves
fume in the amethyst air.

FOR THE WEEKEND

THE INNOCENTS

THE INNOCENTS



My new charges
Miles and Flora
delightful children
sweet happy cherubs
are playing by the lake

Flora is singing
a sad haunting little song
"Who taught you that my darling?"
I ask
" Miss Jessel" she replies.
Miles smirks and his face contorts
supercilious and cruel momentarily
It is the face pressed to my window last night

Perturbed, I walked to the summer house
and watched them from a distance
A slight breeze from nowhere
catches my scarf winding it tightly
around my neck and veils my face.
Through gauze, I see them both
speaking to an imaginary figure
At first,I think it's a game
And then, a goose walks over my grave

I think of all the whispering
soft echoes in the corridors
I think of the excessive politeness
the disingenuous concern
I think of the knowing unsettling looks
well beyond their years when Miss Jessel
and Mr.Quint are mentioned
I think of the mysterious slamming of doors
sobbing in the middle of the night
I think of Mrs Grose , the housekeeper
becoming agitated and turning pale when the
candles flicker inexplicably at supper time
I think of Miss Jessel, my predecessor and her fate
My heart is pounding
I know I am in danger
I know I must flee
Now
before it is too late

Laurie Lee, The Well Loved Stranger by Valerie Grove

Lorna Wishart, Laurie Lee's mistress, one of the great beauties of her day.


A very entertaining biography about Laurie Lee, one of the UK's favourite authors.

TASTY MORSELS

' On frosty mornings he woke cold and desolate.His mind ugly and raw, clutching desperately at the precipice until Lorna came again, with a bag of sweet cakes and two bottles of wine. He played the violin while she cooked him salmon and potatoes
or steak and onions filling the caravan with oily aromas.'We felt secure in the warm shadows of the van'

A German bomber flew over the woods, dropping four bombs; Laurie heard the whistle of a splinter beside him, six feet from the caravan..He was fine as long as the sun shone and she was with him. After she left silence fell like a deafening wave.

As Britain's industrial cities were devasted, Laurie was guiltily conscious of his apparent immunity from engagement. Whole days would pass when he made a few drawings, did a cross word puzzle, cooked a stew,trimmed the lamps, played his fiddle, and wrote two poems,one unprintable and the other incoherent...

" I am in some way amazed that I am allowed to do this. My life is more tranquil, more lacking in incident than it has ever been.When I find myself making love on sunny afternoons with the sound of battle overhead, I can only think there is something marvellously right about my life or something terribly wrong. Although I like to feel, as I have always done, that nothing but life and love is my business, I have a recurrent breath of suspicion that I have some duty to my fellow men. We shall see how long I can ignore it."

He spent an eyeopening weekend with the eccentric artist Cedric Morris in Suffolk.
Morris took him through pink walled rooms hung with sickeningly diseased and cynical portraits. Lorna's painter friend David Carr was there, drooping his grecian locks, and there was a shaven headed Nazi type who cooked staggering meals.Everybody seemed very free and easy and used words that made Laurie blush.

THE TIME OF LIFE by Elizabeth Riddell

I owned my body once but now my body owns me.
It bends me,breaks me,
gnarls my fingers, splits my nails,
paints me in red and grey and brown,
splinters my bones, shreds my skin,
leaches the colour from my lips and eyes.

My body tells me what to do and why
where once I gave the orders-love here,love there.
The takeover was a slow affair,
painful, it diminished me,
but I can say now all is over.
The crying is finished with the kissing. All is quiet
except for a little late rebellious heat,
a random pang of memory in the blood.

FOR THE WEEKEND

Boy, does this spin you back?

My Thoughts on Critiquing

More than ever, I agree with the principle of only giving positive feedback as a commentary on a poem, unless the poet specifically asks for a critique, and even then, I would not advise anyone to do this particularly with my latest Machiavellian experience.

I put on a 100 Wordle competition. A vindictive person posing as a blog friend sent me three comments telling me her poem was absolute rubbish and that she was not prepared to put it on her regular poetry blog. I found this extremely insulting but chose to ignore it and deleted the comments, as finding 100 words takes some time. I could not imagine why anyone would want to submit a poem they thought was such rubbish,that they were too embarrassed to put it on their regular blog site. I do understand now. I am very naive when it comes to being set up.

She persistently sent a 4th comment so I stupidly went to the site where she prefaced her poem with a statement saying it was rubbish and shame should prod her to remove it. I could only agree with her. Since then she has removed the poem with the preface and left my comment which has provoked personal attacks. I walked right into this. So the moral of this tale is don't be coerced into giving a negative comment. Poets are not above viciousness and character assassination, whatever their motivation.

When I was a student I was supposed to read 'The Prince' by Machiavelli. I never did. That was also a mistake.

Muddy Extract Plucked from a B Grade Movie

Allo, I'm Home !
Do you have a
bitter sweet kiss
for me Cato?
Is that a drooping eye
gloss purple bruised
I see before me?
A hard right hook to
your china doll face peut-etre?
Is that your gourd-like head
I see hiding behind the curtains?
Non.
Eh bien
Surprise!

SPILLING THE BEANS

Compelling story of Clarissa Dickson Wright's amazing roller coaster life encompassing an extremely priviledged upbringing, child abuse, alcoholism, addiction, homelessness and finally success. Even though I disagree with her views on hunting, I still found it, a ripper read.

TASTY MORSELS

' It all had the elements of a farce: The anaesthetist was determined I must have a bad heart due to my size and was, I think, mortified when he had to admit that it was the healthiest heart he had seen in ten years;and the operation was
performed unsuccessfully as it transpired by an Indian doctor with very average English. I was in the Dickson Wright ward and we had a ridiculous debate because he couldn't grasp the fact that my name was the same as the ward's and thought I was
mocking him.Later, on the day of the operation, someone came and actually served a summons on me in my hospital bed for unpaid parking fines.'

'..for the five years that followed Clive's death were a mish mash of blackout and unmanageability. He died the day the war in the Falklands was declared in 1982. One day some time later I was standing in the rain under an umbrella and there was a parade going past and I asked a young man standing beside me what it was for.
Smiling, he said it was the Falklands parade. Mystified , I asked him whether something had happened in the Falklands, and not surprisingly he fled. After I was a few years sober someone gave me a book on the eighties: I don't even remember the Pope being shot because I spent the first six years of the decade with my head in a gin bottle.'

THE FOREIGN FOREST by Dorothy Porter

1954 - 2008

You burn your bridges
going into a foreign forest
like a gleaming cruel
new school
where you don't know
the bluffing bullies
from the silent cougars

You learn from experience
going into a foreign forest
where cold pine needles
have a smell
like a new lover's hair
in winter-
slippery ice spiced

You can't name the flowers
going into a foreign forest
but the leaves blaze
against the early snow
like a moment-fire
blowing into your eyes
hot. too much.cold.



MULTIPLEX
Every night
MULTIPLEX
shines through my hospital
window

big blue neoned letters
aimed vertically
at the thick dark sky
like a rocket
steadying its nerve
on a launching pad.

Hiya, MULTIPLEX
Whoever you are
you look like
you're going places.
Take me with you.

100 WORDLE

Well I thought this was great fun. Hopefully, someone will enjoy doing one as well.
All of the words have been taken from my most recent poems.

LOVE
is a choir of sparrows
a bloom of blush red rose buds
a waft of primavera jonquils
a burst of beautiful butterflies
a polite lunch of baked fruit
chocolate figs and iced snow flecked gin
an ardent moist silken cherry kiss
on the nape of a neck set off by a
jewelled clasp

LOVE
is walking along a country road
gazing at puffed sheep clouds
modulated warm hearted laughter
tinkling bells
a gloss moon ball glowing over
distant diamante stars in the night sky
hot urgent fiery young desire
a delicate touch to an alluring naked back
an amazing frisson of cool magic
The stuff of dreams
JOY

But still, a roll of the dice
can change everything
SNAP
SWITCH
Lightning flash, a severe storm
jet engine rumbles, wings sliced
torn apart, rapid descent, downfall
desperate attempt to open tight damaged latch
ranting, screaming like hunted prey
no escape
CRASH

A trickle of sunlight streams across the logs and branches
the tattered debris of dawn
Flotsam and jetsam softly bobbing like a slow swan gliding across a glass sea
At the bottom of the ocean, white tapered shrivelled fingers
will never know the drudgery of old age
Fine maquillaged faces have turned into foetid pap
a frieze from a grubby hippy pot market
A school of fish darts through long flowing hair
wrapped in wilted seaweed plant
Ashes to ashes
Dust to Dust

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LIBRANS

To celebrate,here is a challenge for those who love wordles.I hope these 100 words are legible.I found them when I was doing the washing. If more than one person enters there will be a prize; a DVD " Under Milkwood " by Dylan Thomas with Richard Burton, Peter O'Toole and Elizabeth Taylor.

For The Weekend

Roulette d'Amour

It can happen
It does happen
Perhaps only once
A throw of the dice
could be your downfall

You might be lucky
You may survive
Or
You may not
Faites vos jeux

A glance
Too ardent
A gaze
Too impertinent
sets off butterflies and hot blushes
illuminated in the candle glow
The atmosphere is crackling
Sizzling
Alarm bells
Faites vos jeux

You feel an urgent need
To escape
To breath cool air
To recompose
You leave
Toute de suite

He follows
He instinctively senses
Vulnerable prey
He knows the latch is damaged
Clicks it open
and walks right in
It's already too late
Rien ne va plus

You feel yourself being dragged
under by the current
Drowning in a sea of rose petals
Rien ne va plus

Cet amour
si violent
si fragile
si tendre
si desespere
splinters and smashes
with tsunami force
Personne ne gagne
Personne ne gagne

Doris and the Domestics ( Drawings by Mary Leunig )

Drudgery
Doris
Domestics
Dreary
Draining
Why me ?
Say no
Say no
Sucker
I am leaving
I am leaving
I am too tired to
LEAVE
I have too much stuff
I am throwing every thing
OUT
I'm going to escape
ESCAPE
from all this stuff
from
THINGS

Friendship

For Jennifer Patterson (1928 - 1999 )
" Friendship marks a life even more deeply than love." Eli Wiesel.

You swore by the magic properties
of the foetid water of the Yangtze River
Of your childhood
Got expelled from the Convent
for being an unsuitable gel
Gave the gels gin for period pain
as matron of a boarding school
Got yourself into scrapes in Portugal
Drove the boys wild in Germany
Cooked up a storm with tapered red claws
Catering to Party Princesses
Loved your dahlings at the Oratory
Roared with laughter crackled with cigarettes
Pontificated in upper crust cut glass
modulated tones about choir boys being egg bound
Laced the custard with Brandy for the nuns
Drink, till it was coming out of your ears
Spill out over your tight black leather
Roaring around with Clarissa on your Harley Davidson
Eccentric adventurous warm kind creatively mad
You gave so much
You planted smiles
And you didn't know it

For The Weekend

Woman In White

Wrapped completely in white
Delicate jewelled hands
Small feet in white high heels
Only bare heels exposed to the world
Jet eyes outlined in kohl
Berry coloured lips
Diamantes sprinkled over scarf
and flowing top like glitter
Tapered white slacks
Alluring

A beauty hold hands with her love
A hand gently placed on his broad back
They gaze out to sea
A camera is handed to a passerby
They stand side by side, apart
They do not touch
I watch
I know
I remember

Willow's Annual Ball.

Disappointment and heartache
Your annual gift to me
Just once
Just once I ask
to slip my hand around your
ever thickening waistline
and dance the night away



You know I love you dearly
Jean-Pierre Bacri of no ignominy
Poor Salvador Dali is pleading
He's stuck with such a bitch
I cannot refuse his invitation
Although it's a little brazen



Over my dead corpse
Jezebel
Flirts beware
I am Queen Bee
He stays with me




I'll venture out on my own
and dance the night away
or maybe stand in a corner like
little Jack Horner




Allo Allo
Who have we here
Drop dead gorgeous
So probably queer




And no he's not
Cupid hits the spot
I'm in love at a glance
Let's dance



Dance
Swirl
Bend
(my back)
high heels
(broken feet)
Who cares
Exquisite pain
blind from champagne
Will I go back for a nightcap?
Sure



Beautiful Hotel
Expensive Champagne
Slightly blotto
Slurred speech
Oops
A daisy