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Monthly Archives: June 2013

We linger for a while, our happiness so very fertile; a selection of micro-poetry. X

Friends,

I was recently asked, “Can you describe your book in 3 words? #morningchallenge :-)))”
Well I replied, “Yes @smileylms FAITHFUL is;”
F-antastical
U-adulterated
N-aughty
Well that’s actually four words creatively arranged!
I’m brimming over with inspiration and creativity.  I write poetry, lyrics and short stories, so please drop by again soon.
The following’s a selection of my ‘micro-poetry’ which I tweet regularly.
Steve X
LANGUAGEpoetry
We met by chance through tweeting
Befriended without a meeting
We read and write for a while
Returning to our busy lives
With a smile
XOX
Another day another sun
For time will wait for none
Tis a fresh new week
For friendship we seek
Lower one’s strife
For a healthier life
XOX
Climbing from the mire
Looking to the spire
Reaching out
And inspire!
XOX
Smiles 🙂
Travel miles
Linger for a while
Happiness, so fertile
An email, tweet or a dial
Go on! Give me a smile
XOX
poetry cogs
© SR Clarke X
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Posted by on June 27, 2013 in Micro poetry, Poetry

 

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Twas the voices in my head – No, not I but them, they and me…

Dear Friends,

While stretching my abilities as a writer, I thought I would step into the character of a schizophrenic in Victorian England.

It’s been enlightening, a little disturbing, but above all enjoyable – which is what literacy’s all about.

Therefore a piece of pure fiction, or is it really? I’ll let you decide…

Steve

Twas the voices in my head – No, not I but them, they and me

mental-illness-pyschosis

The voices are in my head
Pic Courtesy: /healthculturesociety.wikispaces.com

Twas I a lonely lad

Without a friend – sad

But for the whispering voices

But for their whispering choices

§

They whispered steal cash

They whispered rip and dash

Twas the voices in my head you see

Their voices in my bed – not me

§

Together we’re a serial killer

Together we’re a real thriller

But twas not me, I cry

Twas my friends, not I

§

I recall the day they were born

While I lied, blamed and scorn

The demise of my loved one

Beneath the rising sun

§

For as I plead through time

Plead with you through rhyme

Please don’t let them out,” I shout

For their thought’s be their’s not mine

§

May get better my Mother did say

May get better my Father did pray

But as their voices scream out – I sigh

But why can’t you hear them? – I cry

§

Tis the voices of the faithful dead

Ravaging, raging through my head

We’ve committed many a murder you see

No! Not I; but them, they and me

§

As I awaken beneath the rising sun

Torn flesh, bloody mess and an empty gun

I scream at the voices in my head and cry

Oh dear God, what have we done?

Oh dear God, why oh why oh why?

§

Please father forgive our sin

For I truly loved my next of kin

For they committed the murder you see

No! Not I, but them, they and me

§

For as I plead through time

Plead with you through rhyme

Please don’t let them out,” I shout

For their thought’s be their’s not mine

§

For as they lied and plotted; I did rue

For I tried to stop, left you many a clue

For I just wanted them caught

Because I was so very distraught

§

For twas I wanted you to catch

While bodies burnt wit a match

I feared the faithful raging undead

Feared the unfaithful rage in my head

§

And as they made me bludgeon

Spilt blood with his own truncheon

You must lock us away I did say

Within your deepest, darkest dungeon

§

For twas not I, but them, they and me

For twas not I, but together you must see

That we’ve been one bloody serial killer

That we’ve been a real dirty evil thriller

§

For as I plead through time

Plead with you through rhyme

Please don’t let them out,” I shout

For their thought’s be their’s not mine

§

And finally you found my new clue

Thankfully as our penance so long overdue

And so now we’re all wrapped up tight

I lay here mourning from noon till night

§

Lay like tied infants in a cot

Lay awake as more evil do they plot

The voices of the faithful dead

Raging, nagging through my head

§

And as I lay awake that night

While others scream and fright

I listen till the early morn

Of other voices of the scorn

§

For tis time to leave nay,”

Two men in white coats say

With their bloodied, torn seams

Dragged beyond other’s dry throats

From a night of such awful screams

§

For as I plead through time

Plead with you through rhyme

Please don’t let them out,” I shout

For their thought’s be their’s not mine

§

As we walk beyond the stench

Of the awful grizzling Wench

Stand there,” He doth say,

For no last rites you deserve

As no souls did you preserve”

§

With no time left to pray

I hear a rasp, then a gasp

And with no slack, a crack

§

For the voices I knew would stay

Were it not now for today

As our heavy body does sway

And my mind drifts away

§

Father tucks me in and doth pray

And my Mother’s soft voice does say,

My dear your only real friends

Are those whom Jesus sends.”

§

For I now know, heart aglow

As they scream and I do sigh

That today is the day

The day that we will die.

© SR Clarke X

 
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Posted by on June 24, 2013 in Poetry

 

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“Matthew sleeps on the left,” she gestures like a theatrical actress, “…always has done.”

Welcome back fellow readers, authors and fantasists, are you enjoying the ride of your life; on my roller coaster of a mid-life crisis?

How many men to you know who fantasise? Do you? Or do you suspect someone who does? Is your / his secretary really a blonde-bombshell, coming on to you / him at every opportunity, or is she really just suffering from a similar mid-life crisis? Certainly not flashing her cleavage or sticking her arse out when picking up something from the floor? It’s probably be just your imagination or is it..?

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Extracted, with pleasure, from Chapter 4 – It’s plenty big enough.

…“Matthew sleeps on the left,” she gestures like a theatrical actress, “…always has done.”

Neil’s eyes are drawn to the king-size bed, immaculately dressed with plumped up pillows and a frilly valance and Matthew’s personal belongings perfectly placed on the pine bedside-table: a ship-builder’s manual, glasses case and a red and white envelope torn apart with match tickets spilling out.  Each item carefully placed just like a shrine but the ejected, ransacked drawers tell a very different story…

Over the other side of the bed, ‘Fifty Shades’ in paperback, age-defying eye-cream, half a glass of water and a fallen bottle of ‘Diazepam’ with just a few pills remaining, scattered like little golf balls around her wedding ring.  Out of sight, in the ottoman at the bottom of bed, beneath discarded copies of fashion and home-style magazines, is evidence of a tantrum having taken place; torn up credit-card receipts, a clear plastic bag (the type you use in the airport) of Matthew’s personal effects handed to her at the police station along with his mobile phone – it survived the impact but not Annabelle’s inquisition, now smashed up like a jigsaw puzzle into a million pieces…

Faithful is available for download on Amazon Kindle, dig deep into my blog for some very good reviews and why not purchase a copy for yourself?  It’s enlightening and entertaining.

Fidelity, my second adventure in the series, will be coming soon!

Steve X

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Posted by on June 21, 2013 in Faithful extract

 

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Sensually gesturing me into the squeaky tight gap with her flirtatious enunciation

photo

Do you know men who are having a mid-life crisis? Maybe you are yourself?

Is he living a life of fantasy? Is he really staying late to finish a report? Do you really know his secretary? How do they behave at the Christmas party – is this too familiar?

Extracted, with pleasure, from Chapter 2: Vigorous vibrations.

As I exhale a perfect smoke ring, it’s attracted, like a powerful magnet, towards number sixty-nine with curtains drawn and radiating such pure desolation. The picture postcard property appears well maintained, but is looking so forlorn; emanating such deep sorrow with its red roof tiles frowning and yellow bricks and mortar presenting an upturned smile. Pretty ‘Rose Cottage’ seems unloved and unkempt, with the contents of a fallen wheelie bin: plastic bottles and discarded envelopes scattered across the drive.  The uncut lawn is full of daisies and dandelions swaying in the gentle breeze while unclaimed cartons of semi-skimmed milk and fruit juice are souring beside the porch in the fresh morning sun.

As I pull up alongside a potential parking space, opposite number sixty nine, Rebecca my feisty red-headed parking assistant takes over, sensually gesturing me into the squeaky tight gap with her flirtatious enunciation.  I’m filled with desire, watching her in my rear view mirror, as she sprawls out across the back seat – bleep! That’s close enough and with a sharp tug on my handbrake, I re-check the precision timepiece prised, with such skill, into the walnut-veneer – Fifteen minutes to nine – It’s too early! I know from bitter experience not to rush clients: ruffled hair, sleepy dust and bad breath can be so unpleasant…

Faithful is available for download on Amazon Kindle, dig deep into my blog for some very good reviews and why not purchase a copy for yourself?  It’s enlightening and entertaining.

Fidelity, my second adventure in the series, will be coming soon!

Steve X

tie

 
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Posted by on June 19, 2013 in Faithful extract

 

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Wanna laugh? Then guess What am I?

What am I?

§

There’s a far cry in the sky

Oh, what am I?

§

Did you know?

We’ve homes in Wimbledon

Did you know?

We’ve homes by the sea

But you still say common

My feathered friends and I

§

Did you know?

We take offence

While perched on your fence

§

You say we make mess

Well maybe just a little on your dress

Or in your hair while you stare

Well we do like to give and share.

§

Did you know?

We clear your waste

In volume and with haste

Tossed aside crisps and fries

Tossed aside sandwiches

And even dead flies.

§

But did you know?

We hear your terrible cries

We hear your incessant lies

We listen to those who roam

And those without a home

§

You say a curse

But surely no worse

Than our cousins the Hawk

Who still give a squawk

We make little sound

Beaks drumming to the ground

§

You say vermin

But surely a pest no lest

Than our cousins with a crest

Have you tried our egg?

Just kidding – pulling your leg!

§

And as for those posh ones

With their cheep red breast

You feed them nice seed

Coo, fuss and need

While we just sigh

And try not cry

§

You say

Rat of the sky

While we swirl up high

Well we do have feather

But we ain’t no never

Ain’t no never

As common as a rat!

§

And just cos we’re grey

And not white you say

We are Pigeon not dove

We are Pigeon without love!

§§

A few words from my Funny Bone

© SR Clarke X

 
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Posted by on June 17, 2013 in Poetry

 

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Happy Father’s Day – The Bestest Friend I’ve ever had

Fathers-Day-Wallpapers

The Bestest Friend I’ve ever had

For it takes a split second

To become a father you know

x

But to become a good Dad

A lifetime of practice had

x

For some sadly never knowing their Dad

And Others sadly wishing they never had

x

But I’m one of the lucky ones

But I’m one of the lucky sons

x

As my Father, Dad

Now my Bestest Friend

The Bestest Friend

I’ve ever had

x

And I just want to say

Happy Father’s Day

x

To my Bestest Friend

Precious to the end

x

The best I’ve ever had

My lovely Dad

X

Spoken from the heart

© SR Clarke X

 
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Posted by on June 16, 2013 in Poetry

 

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Cancer, watch out – cos we’re coming to get ya!

Dear Friends

I remember the day a good friend left a message on the answer phone at work, “Ring me!” I did and after the usual chatter he blurted it out, “I’ve got cancer…I wanted to tell you before you heard it on the grapevine.” Before I could open my mouth he said, “It’s inoperable, but I’m fine – I’m starting treatment tomorrow.” Well I spent the next ten minutes in a bit of a blur – empathising, sympathising – in shock. When he hung up I couldn’t believe what he’d told me and as I told another friend, I had to question myself have I made a terrible mistake?

I remember one of our ‘lunches’. I’d not seen him for weeks, he’d been unwell after the chemo – not able to keep his food down, not taking visitors, and boy did he look thin. Of course I didn’t tell him that – instead I said a little white lie, “You’re looking well – how are you feeling? How’s the treatment going?” – I could picture the ward – the lovely caring nurses the bright colours the sunlight – I’d spent an hour or so with him, during his previous treatment, as the drip flooded his system with chemicals to fight the cancer – but the side effects weakened him. I remember smiling sweetly at the others on the ward – gripping their partner’s hands while the wonderful nurses replenished the clear bags of the wonder drug. I wanted to say something, but instead I could only smile – they smiled back. He arrived at the cafe, for lunch, with a new hat – he didn’t wear hats, but this one was quite stylish – covered his embarrassment; he quickly made excuses, hiding the truth – but we both knew…He interrupted before I could ask, “And how are you, how’s work?” He said totally selfless, a shadow of his former self. The waitress delivered a tray; two pints of our usual – ‘Peroni’. He snapped, quite out of character, “Can’t stand the taste anymore…Sorry mate, you’ll have to drink mine – can I have a coffee please…” And that’s when I realised…

Sadly, I’ve now said goodbye to my buddy – he lost his battle with stomach cancer. He was so brave, fought it to the bitter end – never made a fuss.

I’ve been inspired to write this rhyme – pass it on to your friends and family hopefully it may help to further raise awareness and remember; Cancer, watch out – cos we’re coming to get ya!

Cancer, watch out – cos we’re coming to get ya!

We ain’t afraid to say ya name

Cansa

And certainly not hold our heads in shame

Cansa

§

Cos we’re one step ahead of ya

Better watch out cos we’re coming to get ya

§

We know how you start

A simple mark

A lump or a bump

Can take hold in a spark

§

You try to demean so very mean

We know ya wanna friend

But ya just so pretend

And we’re gunna rock ya

Take a trip to the docta

§

But through fear or dread

Hear what they say

And never delay

§

A friend a colleague a child or a spouse

All God’s animals including a mouse

Age, gender or race holds no bounds

Cos Cansa’s doing the rounds

§

Whether you’re a dancer

Whether you’re a chancer

Cansa’s without loyalty

Can even strike Royalty

§

But through fear or dread

Hear what they say

And never delay

§

Whatever Cansa send

Gunna fight to the bitter end

Treatment loss of hair

Others may stare

§

But you’re not gunna shake us

And certainly not break us

For one day be sure

A prevention or cure!

§

But through fear or dread

Hear what they say

And never delay

§

We know someone who’s tried

Someone who’s died

So gather your friends

Against whatever it sends

§

Cos it’d better watch out

As we scream and shout

For we’re so sure

We’ll find your cure!!!

Written from the heart

© SR Clarke X

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Posted by on June 13, 2013 in Poetry

 

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