Chickens

I have been neglecting my blog for far too long - pressure of retirement I guess.

But we have been very busy with a new kitchen extension and have also acquired

two French Morrans, Hilda and Edna, who are a couple of free range chickens.

They settled in very quickly and have been laying superb eggs from day one.

I have not written a poem in their honour - yet, but will get round to it in due course.

Dangerous Mackeral

(On seeing a novelty ball point pen with the body of a curvy mackeral)

‘Hi Mac,’ I said
As the fish weaved succulently.
‘What’s up, Doc?’ he replied
Somewhat malevolently.
His eye flashed and the
Sunlight shimmered on his scales.
I threw my harpoon
But he was too quick for me.
His razor sharp snout
Reared up
Forcing me off my feet.
A black tail swiped across my face
And I tasted blood and salt.
I watched as his fin
Sliced through the water.
‘Hey Moby!’ I called, angry now,
‘I’ll get you one day!’
The sea swallowed his reply
Leaving me hollowed
And alone.

On Carrying the Rubbish Age Seven

To know the dark
Is to have confidence
In controlling
The wilder excesses of your imagination.

To know the dark
Is to be prepared to step forward
Into an uncertain future
With a confidence born of
Complete
Ignorance

And thus
To find yourself back, many years
Remembering suddenly
Standing
On
The
cold
stone
steps
leading
to
the
cellar
And meanwhile the push-in button
Which lights the single bulb
Has pushed out
And you are once again
In
Total
Darkness
BUT
WAIT
You’ve done this walk before
You’ve carried the household rubbish
down
down
Down
to the great bins beneath the pavement.
Slowly, Carefully
You take each blacked-out step
Hip close to the wall.
Downstairs
At last
You reach the other push button
Light, thank God!
Now, do your job, perform your task and get back up the stairs before………….