If I should die before I post

If I should die before I post
it means I’m toast.
If you can read this homily
it’s not for me.
If words and phrases fill this page
I’ve ceased to age.
If you can see me still, and hear
I’m very near.
But if I’m neither seen nor heard
just take my word.
I only wished to do my bit
but death is shit!

Well, that was a short birthday!

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Twittering Tale #67 – “The Tree” – 16 January 2018

It’s time again for Kat Myrman’s wonderful challenge to tax our creative souls. Just take her photo prompt and write a story, inspired by it, in 280 characters or fewer.

pexels-photo-veeterzy

Here is this week’s prompt and my contribution. Check out all the fabulous entries here.

OK you pesky elves, someone is having a laugh.
That middle tree is upside down!
I want you to dig it up and plant it the right way.

We can’t do that mister, it’s getting dark.

Never mind about that, just get it done.

No, we can’t do that! It’s against the new rules for elfin safety!

(279 characters)

It rather spoils the tale but, on checking, I find that what is “Health and Safety” in the UK is “Occupational Safety and Health” in USA, “Workplace Health and Safety” in Australia, and any number of other descriptions in other countries, so my tale falls a bit flat! Put it down to age!!

Twittering Tale #65 – 2 January 2018

It’s time again for Kat Myrman’s wonderful challenge to tax our creative souls. Just take her photo prompt and write a story, inspired by it, in 280 characters or fewer.

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Here is this week’s prompt and my contribution. Check out all the fabulous entries here.

“I’ll just explain again. You accelerate hard. Don’t worry about the bumps and bends, the bus will keep you safe. Now, this is the important bit. Once you get to 97mph the vehicle will disappear. You’ll still be in it though.”

“Any side effects?”

“You may wet yourself.”

“Thanks!”

(278 characters)

My Brain

This was written at the age of about 17, in my “sort of journal”. It probably explains a lot about me, and definitely shows up the early onset of idiocy!

In case some readers do not know what tripe is, you probably don’t want to know, but this is what it looks like:

tripeSeriously, would you eat this?

The harder I try to put my feelings and thoughts into words, the more difficult it becomes.

To write down these words, on paper, is even more difficult, nye impossible. The seeming infinity of the brain’s reasoning functions, and its associated thought patterns, far surpass the ability of man to put these resources to use.

Ever since time began, man’s brain has puzzled even the most brilliant specialists. Looking like a lump of tripe, its intricacy, yet simplicity is still not fully understood and, I think, will remain so until long after I’m dead.

With the brilliant circuits, made up of still more brilliant microscopic electronic components, man has strived to produce an artificial “brain”. However, the powers that made us, obviously did not intend us to know the “elixir of life”, for that’s surely what the brain must be.

Man can artificially produce all components of the body except the brain, and, perhaps, someday he may be granted the knowledge of knowledge. God help us when he is. Just think of the corruption it would bring.

I do not see, however, how such a wonderful collection of matter can possibly understand itself. The mere fact that it is so marvellous makes it unbelievable and, therefore, I think, almost impossible to fathom. I say almost because, in this age, specialists have successfully probed and repaired and, in one case transplanted brain matter.

I could go on for pages and pages but my lump of tripe tells me to stop, and who am I to argue with such wisdom?

Twittering Tale #57 – 7 November 2017

It’s time again for Kat Myrman’s wonderful challenge to tax our creative souls. Just take her photo prompt and write a story, inspired by it, in 140 characters or fewer.

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Here is this week’s prompt and my contribution. Check out all the fabulous entries here.

The emu skull looked great mounted on the shiny springs. The bone was acquiring a fine patina, but it was still a most uncomfortable ride!

(139 characters)

Skies of Tomorrow

I ask about the skies today and wonder on tomorrow

On clouds, and wings, and stranger things, to beg, to steal, to borrow

Perhaps I’m here, but maybe not, I’m sure I do not know

Just as I come, I turn around, and then proceed to go

I float away, and drift on high, in cuddly, snuggly clouds

I hover high, up in the sky, all covered in the shrouds

I look down on the fields and towns on rivers and on streams

I ponder now on what I see and wonder what it means

 

I am indebted,  entirely, to Ward Clever for planting these thoughts in my head, based on his lovely post which you can find at:

https://wardclever.wordpress.com/2017/10/07/skies-of-tomorrow/

 

A bent lady, eclipsed by wet ducks?

There was a young lady from Gwent

who found that she came as she went.

She didn’t know why,

that as she passed by,

her back was incredibly bent.

 

She went to the doctors to ask.

“Lost cause” he said, “Go buy a cask.

Drink plenty of sherry

until you are merry,

sit back in the sun and just bask.”

 

She died and was buried at noon.

Some said it was awfully soon.

Some others thought “Why,

when I look at the sky,

can I see both the sun and the moon?”

 

Of course, it is perfectly plain

that we often see ducks in the rain,

and the lady from Gwent,

who came as she went,

was horribly bent and insane!

Spitting image

This morning I was talking to my brother in law about my time in the army. It’s not a thing I do very often. When I do, I recall all sorts of odd facts that have been filed in the back of my memory bank.

This afternoon I saw a youth spitting on the pavement, a filthy, dirty habit I abhor, BUT, it did remind me of something I witnessed as a very young trainee soldier, at the age of 16 or 17.

A couple of lads were marching (we were not allowed to walk!) past the drill square (you stepped onto it at your peril, unless undertaking drill practice). One of them spat onto the square.

Immediately there was a terrifying roar of the Regimental Sergeant Major’s stentorian voice.

“You there! PICK THAT UP.”

And he did!

 

From that idle thought this poem popped

 

My mouth is full of spittle and I care no jot or tittle

I am going to spit it out upon the floor.

As my juices flow I find my spittle starts to grow

and, as time passes there is more and more

I know not why it is but my spittle starts to fizz

It is spilling from my mouth and from my nose

So beware if passing by for I’ll spit right in your eye

as I’m covered all in spit from head to toes!

Twittering Tale #40 – 11 July 2017

It’s time again for Kat Myrman’s wonderful challenge to tax our creative souls. Just take her photo prompt and write a story, inspired by it, in 140 characters or fewer.

Here is this week’s prompt and my contribution. Check out all the fabulous entries here.

recordplay

He was just going round in circles, not getting anywhere. Just as he thought of a brilliant plan, a huge black disc fell and squashed him.

(138 characters)