Retirement and Beyond For Avis Tenacity of the tiger, ferocious in your calling, constantly seeking a better way, how to live a fuller life; sometimes fierce in your cajoling, always kind for kindness sake. You've danced your way though working days without tiring, never stalling, to build a world where all are equal, where justice triumphs over greed. We sometimes feel, in that, we never will succeed, but each act links to every other, every sister, every brother, everyone that you have known who cared enough to struggle on. For us, we will continue, partners, lovers, friends, so many sparkling days and moon drenched nights lie stretching out before us, these hours transfixed with light. And for all of our remaining years we'll write a simple syllabus of love, a plan of dreams and aspiration, hand in hand, heart in heart.
Month: Apr 2021
Mortals Inc./Immortals Inc.
Here’s a go at Ronovan’s Decima Challenge #52, with Noise being the prompt word on the B rhyme line. I’ve done a couple….
Mortals Inc. I wake. Somewhere there is a whine not so unlike those clockwork toys that children wind up for the noise; but could, perhaps, be endocrine secretion from those glands of mine in need of oiling or repair, some maintenance, mechanic care. Bodily organs, failing fast, (although they are not built to last) infrequently come with a spare..... Immortals Inc. Jim said, You know the haunted pub, the one out there in Theydon Bois? The landlord swore he heard a noise, a voice spoke of Beelzebub! They filled their knapsacks with some grub and travelled on the Central Line, arriving there at closing time. The darkness came, they waited, mute, both fearful and irresolute. Next morning, they were Scene of Crime.....
The Cause
A contribution to Ronovan’s Decima Challenge #51 with CAUSE being the prompt word on the A rhyme line.
The Cause I've long been faithful to the cause, the striving for a kinder world, a pregnant blossoming unfurled, capitalism's menopause. Arms dealers, with their rabid wars, consigned to tilling common land; beachcombers on the long sea-strand picking over long lost treasure, that pure, ancient, human pleasure of reaching out a helping hand.
