Thursday, 24 March 2011

The Carrier Queen

 Funny how a trickling heart
stays with you from your teens.
That first influx, that bated breath
and endless 'where's he been's?'

Following his chosen path,
a corridor that you..
Have no need to be walking down,
or simply passing through.

How those eyes drew girls alike,
that thick fair hair that shone.
So aware that deep inside,
beat unison forlorn.

Today he sat beside her, 
not through choice but on command.
Her food it stuck on it's way down,
as his pinky brushed her hand.

She kept admiring from afar, 
feeling quite inept.
A prince to silent pauper,
in her lacey head she kept.

One day she plucked the courage,
asked a friend to plea her case.
He answered 'never in a million years",
laughing in her face.

Her friend delivered his reply,
a heart so wrenched it splits.
And without so much, as a mere touch,
cut her into little bits.

Soon parading round the school,
arm round another's waist.
Brains over beauty, rightly wrong
puts vermin in it's place.

Unrequited, feelings drowned,
into the pool of hurt.
No point in trying to keep afloat,
something that life reverts.

30 years along the line
they met up quite by chance.
Was not so much as a mere touch,
but an evening of askance.

This heart he once had broken, 
beat a multitude of class.
Unable to believe his eyes,
kept topping up his glass.

This shy and hardy woman, 
now a mother and a wife.
Encumbered all his adds and thoughts,
his exilir of life.

Now he sought out his shadow,
with her interests alike.
A voice with words that flowed away
onboard a satellite. 

And when he plucked the courage, 
through the why's, the when's, the woe's.
Without so much, as a mere touch
she clicked her first hello.

Sunday, 20 March 2011

Sunday Snippet (27)

I'm glad and very appreciative that food manufacturers include 'serving suggestions'  on their tin labels. I would never have thought of putting beans on toast.

Friday, 18 March 2011

Get To 'F'

Fridge Friday.....This week's F-ing find!
                                     You can't get any fresher than that!

Tuesday, 15 March 2011

Really...? Go On? Kidding...?

Not that it will impress or even be known to many, but my son called two hours ago to say that the Scottish band, Deacon Blue, (big in the late 80's early 90's in Britain but rebanded a few years ago) is recording in the same studio as his band is today. A fairly big deal for a local band on the climb.

But weirder still, the lead singer of Deacon Blue is called Ricky ROSS. There are 3 ROSS's in Casino.  Casino are recording LOADED GUN, and Deacon Blue had a hit single called LOADED. They both booked the studio within an hour of each other and from what I've heard both bands are getting hammered on the Special Brew right now. Well, maybe not that last bit....

A little bit of odds going on there....don't call themselves Casino for nothing, you know!!

And here's Deacon Blue's biggest hit.  REAL GONE KID.  What Scottish house doesn't stomp to this one at New Year..??

Friday, 11 March 2011

Get To 'F'

Furry Friday.....This week's F-ing find.......I think this little guy is fangtastic. Edward who....?

Sunday, 6 March 2011

Sunday Snippet (26)

I love a weekend film - duvet and popcorn added - but it got me to thinking......How is it, despite all the millions of dollars spent on special effects, no Hollywood film has ever been able to produce a 'waking up' shot, where the character looks as fucked up as I do at seven in the morning......? Costs next to nothing to duplicate drool...!!

Friday, 4 March 2011

Get To 'F'

 Every Friday I go on a cyber hunt to find a picture that fits under the letter  'F' catagory, so today is Fish (fruit) bowl Friday.  A clever little edit this......

Thursday, 3 March 2011

Timeless Tarnish

You stood for lorn against the wall
in the age of water and oils.
Saw time expand, mellow and grand
as you 'tocked your outer toils.

Speechless, though a talking point
to everyone who entered.
Mahogany with golden trim
gracefully you tenured.

A solid base that held you still
proudly and erect.
Yet ticked away your own demise
oblique, willful neglect.

For all the eyes you catered for
and all the ears that listened.
Anointed with a soothing base
denied your right to glisten.

For who cares for a time piece
that calls past Centuries? 
Not quite fitting in a plan
with adequate degree

You stood there proudly serving
till the young hereditary
Chose digital and lazer beams
domestical contrary.

Alas you wait with artifact
collections in the attic.
To be destroyed, nil and void,

Farewell my timeless beauty,
finite in its clutch.
Oh, the stories you could tell
without hands or Newtons touch