Skip to main content Help Control Panel

Shakespeare's Monkeys

Infinite Monkeys. Infinite Typewriters.

More in Member Pages

Paganini's Postings in Poetry and Prose

Random writings ripe for editing

Think of this as a sort of glory hole - mostly old junk but bits here and there may be of use or polish up to something pretty.



nanoParticipant2007.gif

Prose

*
I am not going to run a Marathon My blog recording the highs and lows of training for the Great North Run - a half marathon to take place on September 30th 2007
» Why I am doing this
» Less than 36 hours to go
» Twelve Weeks to go
» Seventeen weeks to go
» Eighteen weeks to go

Poetry

*
One Hundred Poems When the brain and pen runs dry a challenge is needed. My personal challenge is to write one hundred poems in one hundred days at the rate of one a day. The discipline may yet keep me at my desk. So far I have never managed to complete this challenge. This attempt begins on 18th May 2007.
» 011 Poetry Pusher
» 010 Ducks
» 009 Aunt Mabel
» 008 Grandma drinking Gin
» 007 There is no word for Daffodil on Vogon
» 006 Uncle Arthur and Grandma's demise
» 005 The moral of what happened to Uncle Jute
» 004 Emperor Penguin (Diamante)
» 003 London Marathon
» 002 Bad Poetry
» 001 Blessing for one in Hospital
*
Snapshots of grace Some years ago my father was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease. Amidst the long bereavement that continues there are moments of self knowledge, laughter and love. These poems are part of my response. (Dad finally died on Friday 27th June 2008 at 5:15 am. These poems and others I will post remain in the hope that they will help others going through the long bereavement) (15 pages)
» Snapshot, 18th September 2003
» thoughts on Death 1
» The Long Goodbye
» Thoughts on Death 2
» Talking of death
» a diagnosis
» In My Father's House
» Haiku 24th June 2008
» The Why of it
» We don't eat our peas with honey
» An Importance of Mint Imperials
» Francis
» More*

on Jul. 11 2009

Nights like these (working title)

Sensible comments and suggestions please - harsh as you like!

A tired evening and home late
again. The key sticks
as usual, then the sudden
open door, the slight scent
of damp dog and a welcoming
quiet, courtiously waiting
with the familiar slow wag,
the feathered tail. The quick lick,
not quite touching
and a sedate scampering
around my ankles

Later, sitting with Elgar
and discarded Plath,
memory pushes a wet nose
into my hand and rests
your head in my lap.
Running fingers through black fur
and tickling your brindled chest
I remember nights like this
when it was raining but you
demanded a walk anyway
and we ran for the joy of it all.

And after, I fetched a towel and
played you dry as you rolled
and wriggled like a young pup
in a summer meadow. Sometimes
I burrowed my hands into your damp fur
as you tried to lick my face dry,
Or we rested just like this,
Until it was time for a last drink
and bed.

Remembering,
I notice you are gone
and my hands and face
are wet again.

Share
* Invite participants
* Share at Facebook
* Share at Twitter
* Share at LinkedIn
* Reference this page
Monitor
Recent pages
Recent files
Member Pages »