Strange Crud - Kathy Figueroa

A lump of crud on the wall
One morning, I did see,
So I paused to have a better look
To ponder what it could be.

How, when, or from whence it came?
Such questions left me perplexed -
And its incongruous placement
Left me feeling vexed.

Was it something a sneaky, agile
Incontinent mouse had left behind?
Or a type of fungal growth
Which, on the ground, you often find?

I called my knowledgeable partner
To have a look at the strange goo
And… slowly… leaned… in… closer…
For a better view -

As he prepared to remove
This odd addition to the décor,
By deftly, with his finger,
Flicking it to the floor.

From time immemorial,
Humans have existed with critters
And survival instincts dictate
Some will give us the jitters.

Others will make us tremble,
Or even faint from fear.
There are those so abominable
That your sensibilities they sear.

Herewith, I share with others
The hard won wisdom I’ve accrued
Through this experience, which
Was weird and kind of rude:

If you encounter strange crud
It’s best to avoid it and go on your way
…Lest it’s a humongous, springing spider
Slyly curled up waiting for unsuspecting prey….

Kathy Figueroa

Guernseymen Wear Shorts - Diane Scantlebury

Guernseymen wear shorts all year,
Guernseymen are hard
And they don’t care,
Even if the rest of us
Think they’re insane,
They’ll wear their shorts
Come snow or rain,

Whether there’s a gale
Or cool summer breeze,
They’ll be wearing shorts
And bare their knobbly knees,
No matter what the occasion
Or if the going’s rough,
Guernseymen’ll wear their shorts
Guernseymen are tough!

Diane Scantlebury

Writer's Block - Tony Gardner

It's been about a week or so
Since I sat down to write a line
I've been so busy, had no thought
No inspiration, or no time
So I have made some room tonight
In the study, all alone
To clear my mind, call for my Muse
Helped by a little Côtes du Rhône
It's all in vain for nothing comes
I've got a Writer's Block it seems
I'll walk tomorrow in the woods
And maybe there re-capture dreams

Then with my mind alive, ablaze
I shall write verses to amaze

Tony Gardner

The Catioroc Witches - Oscar Milde

Dancing at La Catioroc,
Nell and Dolly, Maud and Alice,
skipping, one rock to the next rock,
sniggering with joyous malice.
Three old witches, laying curses,
incantations, spells and verses.

To invoke their evil Master,
they gyrate and prance at midnight.
Not a stitch on, twirling faster,
ever faster, in the moonlight.
Three fat witches, chanting, smirking,
never guessing who is lurking.

Old Man Ozanne, not the Devil,
in the bushes, drunk and manic,
thinks to join their naked revel
but he causes them to panic.
With appalling shrieks of No, No!
they flee all the way to Cobo.

Oscar Milde

Living On A String - Tony Bradley

It’s ironic, when I look back
how reckless I’ve been
when I think of all the danger
and tragedies I’ve seen.

I wince now, when I think
then, I just wasn’t seeing
everyday I was risking
my very life, my being.

Now I’m much older,and
with a few frail years left
my life’s on a string
that’s soon to be cleft.

Tony Bradley