Monthly Archives: December 2014

A Winter’s Tale?


It was never a ‘Winter’s Tale’ or I would have known. As the Green Man once told me: ‘All living things will pass’ and I knew that it was so.
The seasons come and the seasons go in highly regulated formality; apart from the intricate details of each individual one.
I watched from my hiding place as the millennia merged into epochs and species rose, flourished, decayed and fell. I was not visibly moved – but, I ‘had’ seen it all… before.

It ‘is’ weird being the ‘Being’ who caused it to begin – but, I am comfortable with it.

100 Words Are Never Enough


I asked the question: can I have more? They answered me with a degree of insolence: you have that number and no more; use them wisely.
I resigned myself to this limitation – unwieldy as it was – and proceeded to write the shortest of epistles possible.
When presented to the judges, my words fell upon tainted ears; their decisions made before a hearing was given.
Words, I concur, are often liberally used, without effort, and worth little or nothing; this is not a rash thought, for I have the greater knowledge of values and relevence – an almost lost combination these days.

Flash Fiction Competition

Give this a go – 100 words and flash! It’s all fictional! G;)


Having some time to fill now that I’ve finished the OU course, I’ve started up a little fun flash fiction competition. Open to all and FREE to enter.

I’m really looking forward to seeing all your scribblings. The submissions so far are quite wonderful.

Please share. The more the merrier 🙂

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What ‘They’ Say.

‘They’ ‘say’ that my poetry really stinks; that, if heard, it would bring a grimace to the face of the immutable Sphinx; but, I don’t care what anyone thinks; my poetry is fine… to me.’They’, also ‘say’ that my rhymes are turgid and bland; that they could curdle milk and cause plagues throughout the land; but, I don’t mind, I understand – ‘they’ just don’t get the point… do you see? And ‘who’ are ‘they’ anyway? Just some jumped up critics, I suppose, analytics or the like, who can just get on ‘their’ bikes and go and read prose!

Thoughts From The New Forest 24-12-2014


The breeze through the trees

Sets me at my ease

And the sun’s shine

Doth entwine my heart

Which, from the start, was cold

But, now is warmed

Newly formed into a beating thing

After heating brings restoration

This forestation of William’s

Is here for me

Dear to me;

And clear to me

Is the message it gives…

To me.

The sun through the trees

Aims to please

And its aim is true

As it lands upon me;

And I think of you

The rain through the trees

Tries to displease

Feigns ignorance to my plight

Falls like shards

Long and hard

And dampens my discourse

At source.


Always love the words and emotions – please follow and share the peace, love and pathingy G;)

Peace, Love and Patchouli

Tap tap with the metal saw
Clearing snow from your branches
Delicate beauty
So petite and small
I touch your needles
Oh so soft
Not quite fully grown
Just a babe in the woods
Amongst the brambles and thorns.
From tree to tree I move
Hmmm, maybe?
Taking the saw into my hand
I reach out
As the wind softly blows
And I know I don’t have it in me
To take you or any others.
To the barn I trudge
Carrying down the big red bag
With plastics pre lit wanna be,
No scent of pine,
Just the last year find
And into the house I move,
Stand it up and away we go
Lights still work and I smile
Beyond the window
Your tender branches wave
A thank you it seems
From you to me,
A holiday reprieve
To just let the beauty
Of a tiny tree be,

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April the 21st -@NaPoWriMo2014 – Dabble by Graeme Sandford

As my work has hindered my word I shall repost this for my followers new and not quite so new – enjoy – G:)

Graeme Sandford

I dabble

I do

It is something that I do ‘do’

in poetic form

It is my Norm.


it states in my contract

That I must write fine lines of rhymes at frequent times

not that I do that

I just write some old tat

and pass it of as a poetic piece – oh, desist,


who will know the difference between that and proper poetry – I know I don’t.

and I’m sure you won’t.

There there, don’t despair

If you think that there should be something there

It may not be too late for me to share my words of wise wisdom

Or it may be exactly a moment too late.

he who hesitates is lost

and I am at a loss to explain

what these words contain

They just leak from my brain.

And make no sense at all.

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