Month: July 2022

In the cool night air,
I sat and watched clouds passing,
and feeling the breeze.

Well it is cooler,
and I am in London today,
taking in the sights.

I want to get fit,
but when I try I get wrecked,
is it what I eat?

A litre of eau,
it does me good, oh no eau,
that means more to drink.

I plucked a feather,
quilling my pen to write words;
be willing again,

Did I sleep too much,
I woke late, or so I thought,
but found time to write.

I’m working from home,
and the sounds of chatter, and noise,
keeps me part of life.

The grass is wilting,
under stern searing sunshine,
that targets each blade.

The things that I loose,
I can search the whole house through;
they love hide and seek.

The sun has come round,
and has the cheek to shine on,
and heat my office.

Monday soon will come,
but will the trains be running,
and will my grass die.

The letters line up,
and forming words as they do,
that all tell a tale.

A small scribble note,
unravels to tell a tale,
in twelve words in blood.

They say it was hot, and it could have, I agree, but I’m not sweating.

The problem with mice,
is that their writing is small,
and it’s never read.

Don’t be like the mice,
that work on piles of paper,
and then sleep on them.

Dawns light chases night,
in wonders across the sky,
heralding the sun.

Breakfast can inspire,
with cold muesli nuttiness,
that cannot be rushed.

The list is growing,
of the things that must be done,
and alternatives.

It is hot today,
and I did my washing, and yes,
it is drying well.

It is ice cream time,
and with that strawberry sauce,
and chocolate flake.

Flicking through notebooks,
ideas returning back,
that spark something new.

My Friday travels,
watching through tired blurry eyes,
the world passing by.

Who is feeling hot?
They say it is but I’m not,
just a summers day.

What a Saturday,
it was gone before I knew;
anything happen?

First Friday coffee,
is smooth, steaming and tasty,
and just what I need.

I ploughed the book field,
planting out some seedling words,
to grow a chapter.

I did my washing,
and I hung it out to dry;
its now on the ground.

Ham and cheese sarnny,
and a pint of orange juice;
a small lunch for me.

Stuck in a meeting,
and I am hiding my face,
but talking a lot.

The page remains blank,
waiting for the words to fall,
and start the journey.

Notes plucked from the strings,
escape in arpeggios,
caressing the chords.

Start on a new page,
uncluttered by other things,
so, your work stands out.

This two train trouble,
both bothered by barmy heat;
undeterred I ran.

Music is helping,
J J Cale smooth southern blues,
always a go to.

The red jagged moon,
I am not sure what happened,
but like wondering.

If it’s important,
make some time to pursue it,
don’t make excuses.