Tag Archives: #soc

3 pieces on the Liskeard Writers Group prompt: ‘Childhood’s End’

Childhood’s End – LWG Prompt ‘Childhood’s End’ 1

When does childhood end, and adulthood begin?

Or, is the period of puberty a gap between the two?

Do some people never grow up, staying childlike, or remaining childish?

Peter Pan – the boy who never grew up.

J.M. Barrie

Barry Island, not named after the author of Peter Pan, nor anybody else named Barry, or Peter – not even after ‘Barry Sheene’ – that shiny polished motorbike man, that was, but no longer is – sad face.

And definitely not after Barry Potter or his mum Beatrix Expelliarmus Potter.

Why do ‘I’ act like a child?

And, why do I write things like this, when I could be devoting my writing hours to writing serious… stuff? Well, the fact that I wrote ‘stuff’ there probably says a lot about me. I do like to keep it light, and, I try, (try) to keep it funny, it makes me no money, there is no fame, to my name, and very few know me – do you see?

You see, I am a poet, writer, day or nighter, is when I write, and the subject matter ranges from Cheese to Chinchillas,

– which is not much of a range if you think of their adjudication… conjunction… consumption? juxtaposition! that’s it – their juxtaposition’ in a divmvtuoobary. Sorry, that should read ‘dictionary’, but, I do sometimes suffer from BTS, that is BIG THUMBS Syndrome, which is definitely not helpful when writing upon an the teensy, weensy screen of my iPhone.

But, that’s better than… I can’t read this… I think that word could be ‘ferret?’ – not that having the word ‘ferret’ in the middle of a story about intergalactic space travel to the planet ‘Waffle’ makes any sense whatsoever.

And why the planet ‘Waffle’?

Well, I was looking for a mnemonic, mnemonic? Mnemonic – Ah! it has a silent ‘m’ like in the mbubonic plague – anyway, I was looking for – one of those thingies – to memorise, so that I could say it when I needed to know the names of the planets as you travel away from the Sun – which, luckily, I very rarely do.

The one I found – and liked – was,

‘My Very Educated Mother Just Served Us Noodles’.

Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Uranus and Neptune – there is no Pluto in the phrase as Pluto has recently been declared a ‘dwarf’ planet – presumably, it’s where the dwarves live – allegedly.

Anyway, when I needed to remember the planet order, I recited the ‘mnemonic’ and made just a slight error, in that I recited,

‘My Very Educated Mother Just Served Us Waffles!’

So Planet Waffle was born.

This, basically, is how planets, the wheel, fire, electricity, the hole in Polo mints and many other discoveries were… discovered.

All of which brings me back to dough, a deer, a female deer… sorry, that’s a song.

It brings me full circle – just imagine getting an all-day ticket for the Circle Line on the London Underground – can you do that? I mean, can you actually purchase an all-day ticket for the Circle Line? You can? Oh, that’s good – isn’t it? And that last question was a ‘rhetorical’ question – you need to watch out for those – crafty little beggars that they are.

So, round and round on the Circle Line for a whole day – is that possible? I mean, there isn’t going to be a buffet car or a nice man or lady popping along with a trolley of goodies for you to peruse and purchase, is there? I’m not sure if they have toilets, either. So, perhaps it’s not going to be a ‘good’ experience if you try and go round and round for approximately fifteen hours. And, if you did choose to try it, would you go clockwise or Widdershins (which is an old term for anti-clockwise – which is seldom used nowadays – widdershins, not anti-clockwise, that would just be silly). Anyway, old terms do go out of fashion, like ‘Larboard’ which used to be the left hand side of a boat if you were looking at the pointy end – Starboard was the right hand side of the same boat as you looked at the pointy end. Larboard and Starboard, being very similar, caused confusion – as did turning around on a boat and looking at the blunt end – and so Larboard was replaced with the term ‘Port’ – so as you look from the blunt end of a ship to the pointy end, Port is on the left, Starboard is in the right. This only helps if you know your left from your right – and you are not ambiguous – sorry, ambidextrous.

I don’t think that London Underground trains have pointy ends, so that probably won’t help you to work out which is Port and which is Starboard when you are deciding whether to approach Notting Hill Gate from the South or from the North.

—//—

fabian and Zelda – LWG prompt ‘Childhood’s End’ 2

fabian (with a small ‘f’) was less ‘fabulous’ than a fish in a frock.

That is to say, fabian thought that ‘that’ was the case.

Zelda (with a capital ‘Z’) begged to differ.

They were twins.

And… they were Siamese twins.

Not, as a rule, did they share the same thoughts, nor have the same outlook on their life (or lives).

fabian would rather read an exciting crime thriller in a quiet corner; whilst Zelda liked to be amongst friends and having a cheerful conversation, with half a dozen engaging colleagues, about all things that there were under the sun.

This may have caused conflict amongst some couples; but, somehow, fabian and Zelda managed to make it work.

When, in their eighties, the unmarried fabian and the thrice engaged Zelda finally said ‘goodbye!’ to this cruel world (fabian first, Zelda two days later) it was the end of an era.

They outlived all of their childhood friends – mostly Zelda’s – and it was with a quietly fond farewell that the world said its own adieu.

Buried together, they still lay within a relationship that few could even begin to comprehend.

—//—

19:14 – LWG prompt ‘Childhood’s End’ 3

It was approaching a quarter past seven o’clock when the young men left their childhood’s behind and signed upon the dotted line for the reward of the King’s shilling and a muddy grave.

Seagulls flocking

Seagulls flocking,

mocking the affected;

crows calling out for more,

“Encore, encore!”

Sheep chasing sleep

across mossy meadows;

ducks waddling past,

looking to the present,

unaware of the future,

uncaring of the past;

a dog yawns lethargically

in a farmyard,

he’s heard the news,

so gives his views

in the pretence of a bark.

Cars driven to

and fro,

with people

who just have to go

and return,

who cannot rest

when isolated from the best –

and worse is yet to come?

‘Co’ #SoCS, @LindGHill

‘Co’ #SoCS, @LindGHill

See here for Linda’s fabulous WordPress sited

The room was quite…

well, quiet.

Copious amounts of the absence of noise.

Consequently, when I heard a pin drop, I was startled to say the least,

“The least!”

Thank you.

Who had dropped the pin, I did not know.

I looked around – I was not a square.

Pin’s location and hurler, I knew not where. Nor did I care.

I picked up the pin, and remembered the rhyme:

‘See a pin, pick it up, all the day you’ll have a pin.’

which never made sense to me.

‘Cobalt is a colour: it could be brighter, it might be duller.’

which is something I’ve just made up – is there no beginning to my talents?

“Where” SoCS @LindaGHill

“Where” SoCS @LindaGHill

See here for Linda’s blog and details for #SoCS

‘Where were you when Wednesday came, and went? I know that you ‘come and go’ as is your wont; but, on a need-to-know basis, we need to know ‘exactly’ where you were.’

Whether it makes any sense to you is a matter of no concern to us. We are just doing what we are programmed to do – be it unavoidably etched in binary codes upon our souls, or in a flippant aside made by our master (Hail to Parrlos) which we still obey as if it were one of the ten rules.

So, starveling, where were you?

We can only ask three times, then we have to dispose of you as ‘faulty’. Any ‘Ting’ not found worthy, or deemed to be in a state of disobeyance is to be disposed of.

I ask for the final time: where were you?

No?

Nothing?

In that case we shall have to say ‘arriverderci, starveling!’ ‘

A click was heard. Nothing more. A click where there should have been a shaft of light that ‘disposed’. Another click.

‘There seems to have been an error.’ Obot1 faltered. Its database calculating all possible causes of this occurrence happening here and now.

A light dawned on Obot1’s dark horizon.

‘You weren’t, by any chance, where you shouldn’t have been on Wednesday? Messing with our parameters. Where you could have altered our core programmes?

Starveling thought. ‘Where ‘was’ I on Wednesday? Where?’ And laughed. ‘Where indeed.’

For / Four / Fore is the prompt for: #SoCS @LindaGHill

For / Four / Fore is the prompt for:

#SoCS @LindaGHill

See here for Linda’s blog – G:)

Fore Street was busy – for a Saturday – and all the funny footfallers, as I called them, were searching for a bargain. Four ladies individually saw it, in the window of Barnecutt’s, and collectively swarmed into the shop to become the proud owner.

Four pairs of hands grabbed it and it would have needed a photo-finish for anybody to declare a winner. Unfortunately, once clasped by four times ten fingers (including thumbs as fingers – as you must do nowadays) the prize became a battle for ownership. The outcome was foretold by an ancient goddess as ‘the one who keeps a hold when all the others have relinquished their claim shall be the victor’.

And so the battle for the spoils commenced – the rest of Fore Street focussed on Barnecutt’s and the four combatants. First, and foremost, to crumble was a Mrs. Fortuna Fumble who lost a single hand hold and slipped on the tiled floor, incidentally catching herself on the Formica work surface, and her claim was lost.

The trio left fought tooth and nail for the cup of wonder; Fortitude Trennewick had the upper hand; Felicity Forsyth the lower; Fenella Fudge the Fourth was betwixt and between them.

It was at this moment that Fenella Fudge the Fourth’s estranged (and strange) husband arrived upon the scene and Fenella’s fortitude left her, and she left the competition for better or for worse (as it was to be her case).

Felicity and Fortitude fought further.

The force used to retain their handholds on the trophy of tempestuous was fierce and no forgone conclusion. First Felicity, then Fortitude seemed to have the upper hand…

Until, finally, by a forefinger and a thumb the hard fought Battle of Fore Street (as it came to be known) was over.

Fortitude had claimed the day. She held aloft the last (and, now, very much reduced) cream horn of plenty in the shop.

It didn’t look much, all forlorn as it was.

‘Silence’ #SoCS @LindaGHill

‘Silence’ #SoCS @LindaGHill

See here for Linda’s instructions on #SoCS

Once. when I was a young, ambitious poet,

and I was writing cutting- edge poetry,

I got the word ‘Herring-bone’ stuck in my gullet;

which was kind of weird,

as I hadn’t been writing about fish at all,

neither Hake, Cod, Mackerel or Mullet,

and definitely not Herring.

Anyway, off to B & Q I went,

not A & E (a place I did not care to frequent)

to have the word removed.

They asked ‘Can I help?’

and I said ‘hhhhhhaaaaaaaagggggghhhhh!’

which they understood immediately,

as my… admitting to being mad.

They called on the Tannoy.

‘Please could Tony Chestnut come to the checkout,

to checkout an idiot,

who needs to be chucked out.’

then repeated it in Welsh,

or Cornish, or Greek;

I couldn’t really tell,

my pulse had become week.

So, after they laughed

at the fool on the ill;

they sent me to C & A

and I would be there still

queuing at the changing rooms

for a cubicle to free,

if a kindly passing Opthalmologist

hadn’t said that he could see me.

He looked me over,

up and down,

then announced to the world,

‘He’s an idiot, a clown!’

and told me to ‘take two aspirin

and get out of this town!’

Which I did,

Eventually the word ‘Herring-bone’

came out all by its self;

and that is why, people,

many a poet

is alone on a shelf.

‘The rest is silence.’

as Hamlet, sad,

said, after having a clear-out of family,

his friends, but, mostly,

his “dad!”

(who was actually his uncle,

but I had to get that rhyme in – I had to.)

“Strain” #SoCS @LindaGHill

“Strain” #SoCS @LindaGHill

Linda’s site here for more info

“Strain my socks in a colander, dear.”

“A ‘please’ would be nice, ‘dear!’ “

“Please strain my socks in a colander, my angel.”

“Better.” a pause, “But, and I ask this not expecting a sensible answer, why?”

“Because my socks need straining.”

she looked at him from the safety of her ‘normal’ mind. “Oh, that’s alright then, I thought there was some ulterior motive.”

“No. I’ve not been outside all morning.”

“Ulterior! Not ‘exterior’, you numpty! Are you saying that you’ve got your socks wet ‘indoors?’ “

“That’s right. I was straining custard through them – to get the lumps out – and so I had to wash them in the sink. Now they need straining in a colander to get the soapy water out of them, what’s not sensible about that?”

“Shall I just say ‘custard’ and walk away in disbelief?”

“If you like.” he turned back to the semi-professional mud-wrestling on the TV, “Otherwise they’ll be damp when I put them back on.”

“You have other pairs of socks, you know?”

“Them’s me favrites!” he almost spat the words, “And they don’t have holes in heels or toes.”

Maud shook her head in mild amusement and slight bemusement, and reached for the colander.

“Thursday!” she commented. “As I live and breathe, I will never know what goes on in his mind on *Thursdays.”

—//—

*My 10-minute timer went off here.

April The Eighteenth #SoC write.

April The Eighteenth #SoC write.

April The Eighteenth

I feel an April Fool;

all my ideas have run out,

and there are still many days to go.

No. There is nothing left in the pot

of mind;

leastways nothing that I can find.

Why doesn’t the Eighteenth

signify something… anything?

No. There is nothing.

Not one single, solitary crumb

left upon the plate.

How I hate

to be bereft,

with everything gone,

and nothing left.

Linda G Hill’ #SoCS Prompt ‘Dough / D’oh!’

Linda G Hill’ #SoCS Prompt ‘Dough / D’oh!’

Linda’s SoCS details here.

Through thick and thin

we moved within

never went without

and, in case there is any doubt,

left our cares within the bin.

We never borrowed,

so we did not owe;

made our own bread,

from our need for dough;

then made it so.

We helped our selves

to add to our shelves,

and he who delves

often finds

himself in two minds.

Though, it has been said,

if you are well bread,

then you can see your head,

from behind –

or is that all in the mind?

Looking back, as you would,

to seek the bad from the good,

you should always remember

the sixth of November

as being the day after

the fifth.

If this is inconvenient,

you might consider being lenient

when it comes to…

from a coma

or a comma

my punctuation

fills nobody with elation

across this nation,

it just amuses some,

amazes others,

and is totally ignored by the masses,

lower, middle and scupper classes.

“D’oh!” Is not a phrase that I will ever use in my writing.

Though, as you can hear, or see, it doesn’t work like that for me.

“D’oh!” Was used earlier. And then again, just then, when I repeated it for cosmic effect.

“Can you hear the songs of angry men?”

No?

It must be just me.

Anyway, I have to go now,

as I know that there is only so much of this Double Dutch that you can take – even though there is so much more of it that I could make – and my 10-minutes is nearly up – although last week, I stopped about a minute and a half early as I had run out of things to waffle iron on about – well, I certainly won’t be letting that happen again. Says I.

“D’oh!” *

*Timer went off here.

Blue-Sky Thinking

Blue-Sky Thinking

Picture and words here.

I am thinking about blue skies;

whilst looking at…

well, obviously, blue skies.

This is what I call

‘true’ blue-sky thinking.

I am not thinking about clouds –

due to their absence –

apart from my thoughts upon…

their absence.

This is not a ‘cloud’ poem.

If it is a poem.

Which it may be –

I am in no position to verify,

or qualify,

what it is that it may be –

I just write the words that forever stain the cleanliness of my screen.