Occasional writings
For Ronovans Decima Challenge with Beach the prompt word on the A rhyme line.
The Shipwreck He left the port set on a reach, genoa tight, clenched in the cleat. Quite soon, he knew, he'd have to beat, remember all sea dogs could teach. Portland loomed above Chesil Beach, a darkling sky filled him with dread. The white whipped waves he saw ahead would see his boat tossed, as the squall held his surviving hopes in thrall. The last he saw, his mainsail shred.
The Trail Is Cold - A Decima
We've had our fill and gone without;
it's all part of life's ebb and flow.
We sometimes wonder where years go,
how seasons change and change about.
When certainty turns into doubt
as youthful days grow ever old,
prognostications turn less bold.
Ever unsure of what we've learned
we mourn for wisdom, less discerned
and somehow lost. The trail is cold.
A contribution to Ronovan’s Decima Challenge 65 with Go being the prompt word on the B rhyme line.
Old Possum Rides Again Our garden boils with local cats. They dig the earth where seedlings grow, squat, poop, paw back the soil and go on sniffing out domestic rats. They are feline aristocrats whose sleek demeanour, haughty ways drove Eliot to overpraise their practicality. My wife is apt to chase them with a knife, back through the local alleyways.
A contribution to Ronovan’s Decima Challenge with WHIM as the prompt word on the B rhyme line.
The Dylan/Perkins Controversy
Bob Dylan, in Workingman's Blues,
once went into town on a whim,
saw his Pa (or thought it was him)
wearing a pair of Blue Suede Shoes.
Carl Perkins was shocked at the news,
thought, How can this possibly be.
Those shoes are agnatic to me!
But Dylan was not to be crossed
and Perkins was not to be bossed.
It ended unmusically!
For Ronovan’s Decima Challenge with GOLD as the prompt word on the A rhyme line.
Gave Up Years Ago I liked my cigarettes self-rolled. The craft of it is quite a trick; paper out, baccy in, quick lick the glued strip, fingers poised to fold an aromatic Autumn Gold. I did enjoy a puff, a drag of a smooth, perfect, homemade fag. The curling smoke, the stained ceiling showing how my lungs were feeling, enveloped by this noxious shag.
This week's contribution to Ronovan's Decima Challenge #54 with BIRTH as the prompt word on the D rhyme line
How We Mythologise
When Joseph found his wife with child
he was suspicious as she'd not
found time to let him have the lot;
he thought she may have been defiled.
She claimed that she had spent a wild
night sleeping with some holy ghost,
but being young, inclined to boast,
and noticing her growing girth,
invented tales of virgin birth;
because otherwise, she was toast.
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.....
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.
Here’s a contribution to Ronovan’s Decima Challenge #50 with Dance as the prompt word on the D rhyme line.
Let's Dance The Tango from the Argentine, the Salsa with it's Cuban thrall, the Cha Cha, Rumba, Samba all pervaded with their Latin shine as minds and bodies intertwine. The Waltz, the Quickstep, Foxtrot too, are more sedate, yet couples glue their lower trunks intact, perchance to move as one throughout the dance. Enrapturement! Love's rendezvous!
With Chirp and Twilight as the prompt words.
Astronomical dusk full of final chirrups our night birds settling
