Monthly Archives: May 2019

Chasing Butterflies

Click below to see the words with a picture – G:)

https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=434810980417852&set=a.200245313874421&type=3&sfns=mo

I’m chasing butterflies,

though it’s not allowed,

under the auspices

of a wandering cloud.

©️graemesandford.com

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Who to pay?

Who to pay?

It’s not the monkey

it’s the organ-grinder,

not the ferryman,

but the coffee-grinder;

not the celebrity,

but the celebrity-minder,

that you have to pay.

But, don’t!

They won’t thank you

anyway.

Will & Ben: Renaissance Men – a Horf?

Will & Ben: Renaissance Men – a horf?

Ben: My horʃ, my horʃ, my kingdom for a horʃ?

Will: It’s a horse, Ben; ‘a horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse.’

Ben: Thou art so old fashioned, Will. How will anyone be able to read this rubbish?

Will: I’m not letting you trick me into admitting it is ‘rubbish’, Ben; I think that a lot of people are quietly pleased that I am keeping the old mother tongue alive.

Ben: Quietly indeed, Will – my mother’s tongue and my father’s eyes hath I – in this box, durst thou wan’t to see them, again, Will?

Will: Nay, good Ben, I have neither the eyes nor the stomach to spy upon them a second time – once was once more than enough.

(A pause)

Ben: ‘the sound of one hand clapping frightens no chickens’.

Will: One of yours, Ben?

Ben: A line that I have recently quilled for my ‘Every Man in His Humour’. I quite like it’s understated relevancy, Will.

Will: A palpable hit with the unwashed molasses, Ben, palpable in truth for a distance of feet.

Ben: ‘Two feet makes a distance much further than three.’ I shall use that one day.

Will (aside): Use it ‘and’ abuse it, I am sure. The fool shall speak it well, be that it is in your own voice.

Ben: Charming!

Green Tissues

Green Tissues

These… are white tissues.

These, on the other hand,

are green tissues –

sorry, it is green ‘issues’

that I am supposed to speak upon;

they are the big tissues of the day

sorry, ‘issues’, I should say;

This Isn’t Cornwall – a song

This Isn’t Cornwall – a song

This isn’t Cornwall,

this isn’t Home,

it isn’t anywhere

I’d like to roam,

It isn’t Padstow

or Bodmin Moor,

it is a picnic

on the slopes of Barad-dûr.

Chorus: This isn’t Cornwall

this isn’t home;

it isn’t anywhere

I’d like to roam;

this isn’t Cornwall,

this isn’t home,

it isn’t anywhere…

When I do wander

up country way,

I dare not travel

more than a day;

I begins to tremble,

my skin turns grey,

if I’m not in Corrnwall

I fade away.

Chorus: This isn’t Cornwall

this isn’t home;

it isn’t anywhere

I’d like to roam;

this isn’t Cornwall,

this isn’t home,

it isn’t anywhere—

This isn’t Cornwall

this isn’t home;

it isn’t anywhere

I’d like to roam;

this isn’t Cornwall,

this isn’t home,

it isn’t anywhere…

Tom The Seagull @Looe

Tom The Seagull @ Looe

Tom The Seagull,

What a catch,

round by the crabb pot

meets his match;

there is Anna

eating chips,

they pair up

and watch the ships

and boats upon the river;

but Anna she won’t share her fare;

she’s a taker, not a giver.

‘Adverb’ #SoCS @LindsGHill

‘Adverb’ #SoCS @LindaGHill

See Linda’s fabulous site here

I am writing this

slowly,

making sure that I make no mistakes;

for, if I wrote it

quickly,

I do not think that I have what it takes to make a difference – and I shall edit

thoroughly,

checking for any grammatical errors,

for not to do so would give me the night terrors.

But, I have to think

sharply

if I am going to create a piece of worth.

Add a verb here,

a pronoun or two in random places (Stevenage, Crawley)

maybe a past participle

(If I can work out what one of them is exactly)

and a gerund.

I’ve always wanted to add a gerund to my writing, but I’ve never been confident about doing so.

And, I’m also not sure if they bite.

I mean, it’s a wild animal when it comes to grammar – or so I’ve heard.

And the final word of my piece shall be ‘walking’ or the like.

Because it is my writing party, and I’ll cry wolf if I want to, as long as there is trifle, I’m happy.

What has all this been about?

About a page of writing too long; which is being honest with you.

It’s surprisingly lame in its own way.

And I actually wrote it

quickly.*

*my 10-minute time limit alarm went falteringly off here.