A horse-rider rode by;
we exchanged greetings
in the blink of an eye;
then she was gone,
whilst I
remained;
having gained a moment
of interaction
with another human being.
Seeing the momentary passage
of a horse and rider
through my realm
is not uncommon;
the fact that her horse was called ‘Lady’
and her name was ‘Godiva’…
well, that wasn’t at all usual.
Will and Ben: Renaissance Men – ‘Codpiece Shinola™️ (or ‘Something of a Poisoned Chalice’)
One day (in the Tudor Merchants ™️Ltd. workshop):
Ben: Hey, Will, I’ve just invented a special new product: ‘Codpiece Shinola™️’.
Will: I’ll be over right away, Ben, this could be our big break.
Will soon agreed that the product was special. The marketing boys were put on the case, and, within a week, the sales team had started receiving orders.
The English Mercurie ran an article on the
‘Miracle Polish for Tarnished Codpieces!’,
with the tag-line,
‘There’s The Rub!
…and sales boomed.
Then the bubble burst.
Not enough testing had gone into the product. Complaints started coming in thick and fast; law-suits were raised and Ben and Will, and their ‘Codpiece Shinola™️’, found themselves dumped by Tudor Merchants™️ Ltd.
It seems that, although ‘Codpiece Shinola™️’ gave a fine shine to tarnished codpieces, after an initial positive response from the users, it seemed that the lustrous codpieces had started to shrink – some people had to be taken to hospital for surgical removal of the offending items!
Ben and Will sank into something of a decline and waited for their Golden Age to begin.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #CodpieceShinolaTM, #Shalespeare, #tudor, #WillAndBenRenaissanceMen
as for after…
I was not that nit,
I was another nit entirely.
Older, obviously;
wiser, unlikely;
a paper shade of pink?
Who knows?
I do not have a colour chart with which to compare my fleshy tones;
chart my progress from Grae to Black,
and back.
I don’t know what the next line is…
Perhaps I should end here,
whilst I am a head?
Quite random, methinks.
It’s what I do.
G:)
‘A very simple perpetual calendar consists of two cubes in a holder. One cube carries the numbers zero to five. The other bears the numbers 0, 1, 2, 6 (or 9 if inverted), 7 and 8. This is perpetual because only one and two may appear twice in a date and they are on both cubes.’
Having explained all that, let us move on to our little story.
Data Cat was unsure whether it was a Tuesday or not. It could have been. Or it quite easily have been one of the other numerous days available; Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Yesterday, Today, Someotherday and so on.
Data Cat knew exactly the date, and the month, but not the day, and not the year – never the year.
Actually, Data Cat was often a day or, occasionally, a month behind, because he relied on the human to change the numbers and the words of Data Cat’s Perpetual Calendar.
And sometimes the human forgot.
Humans often forget, and elephants, who never forget, are simply unable to change the date due to their thumbs being slightly too large for the job.
Data Cat considered an idea that he had just thought of: what if there could be made a Perpetual Calendar that just told the day and the year?
An ideal companion for a date and month Perpetual Calendar!
Truth be known, Data Cat was a little lonely for one of his own kind; a Perpetual Calendar mate?
True, he did have Sergeant Salt and ‘Boxy’ to keep him company; but, they were not PC (in so many ways) and could not be the soul mate that Data Cat yearned for.
Another day passed.
Data Cat was a watchful cat – and that doesn’t mean that he was a cat full of watches, that would be silly.
He kept his eyes wide open as life continued to proceed before him.
Nothing escaped his attention.
There was another cat that shared his life, Rosie Cat; but, she never noticed him.
This also made Data Cat a little sad.
The days passed. The months changed in order. Life went on.
One Day – if could have been a Thursday – there was a knock upon the door: ‘Knock!’ but, nobody was around to answer that knock.
Then the doorbell rang: ‘Ring!’but, there was nobody around to answer that ring.
Then there was the sound of smashing glass: ‘Smash!’ and, as before, nobody was around to hear that sound.
Somebody had smashed the window in order to break into the house where Data Cat lived.
This was actually very silly, and a lot of wasted effort – never mind the damage caused – as the door wasn’t locked in the first place.
Data Cat stood silently and awaited the forthcoming events.
No days passed.
It was a matter of seconds.
The Burglar moved into the house, passing Data Cat, and into the lounge.
Data Cat noticed that the Burglar was dressed in a black and white striped shirt, black trousers, soft-soled shoes and had a black mask covering his eyes.
Data Cat didn’t notice the black beret that the burglar was wearing as the burglar wasn’t wearing one.
Luckily, Sergeant Salt was taking notes.
The burglar turned the place upside down – everything fell down on to the ceiling – and then the burglar decided that he wasn’t the sort of person that would tidy up after he had made a mess.
There was nothing of value to be found. Data Cat (now laying at a strange angle from where he could see up to the floor) whispered to Sergeant Salt: “He’s a messy tyke!”
To which comment Sergeant Salt heartily agreed: “He could do with a good stiff talking to.” was his reply. “If only I was six foot tall like my father.” Sergeant Salt, being only three inches tall, was in no position to apprehend the naughty burglar.
Data Cat noticed that all the numbers and months that he treasured so proudly had fallen to the ceiling and were now proclaiming that it was August, May or February the 91st – although whether it was a Thutsday or not was still unknown.
The burglar, a little miffed at finding nothing of any worth in the house, stole away.
Part of a day passed; midnight came and went; but Data Cat’s date didn’t change – as things stood, it wasn’t likely that that would happen for a while yet.
Data Cat, Boxy and Sergeant Salt just lay there on the ceiling, looking up at the floor, patiently awaiting the return of the Humans.
As to whether Data Cat found a Day and Year Perpetual Calendar to share his time… well, that is for another story
“Hello!”, “Good Morning!”
or some such greeting
to an unknown stranger
in a moment fleeting.
I, am Hermione Granger,
Harry Potter…
I think not –
I have my own
Cloak of Invisibility,
I wear it a lot.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #CloakOfInvisibility, #Greeting, #HarryPotter, #HermioneGranger
The radio is talking
to itself;
the outside world seems to be on ‘mute’;
I pass from one realm to another.
A bird calls, is answered, responds accordingly.
Clouds scud across the sky, lazily following their heart’s desires.
The wind has gone AWOL;
but, will be back when its batteries are recharged.
The sun shines down weakly upon those seeking warmth – but, they remain chilled, only their minds are warmed.
I pass amongst the inhabitants of the Earth
and watch as they process their lives
in many valid ways.
I can hear the bells of Menheniot
calling me to prayer;
but, maybe they aren’t calling loud enough
for me to travel there.
“St. Lalluwy…” I call,
“Why so do you ring;
there’s twenty thousand Cornishmen
who cannot hear a thing.”
