Poem: Crow Song

Sunshine and crow song

dissolve my muddy sleep

their acidic piercings

washing the eyes clear

Dressing Gown Friday

It's Friday and I'm still in my dressing gown.
Oh God I've showered and all that sort of stuff but I'm having a major dress down Friday and I can't be bothered to dress at all.

So what's happening/happened in Gloria's house?
The X Factor is on tomorrow night but I won't be watching it on account of me and the great man going socialising. But I dare say I'll watch it on Sunday. I'm hoping my three favourites go through to the next round. My favourites being: The gorgeous and amazingly gifted Laura, the dangerous and exciting Rachel and the divine and gentle Austin. I adore these three kids, and seeing such a ton of talent in one show makes me feel all kind of warm and soppy inside. We Brits can really churn out some corkers. Way to go babes and boys.

I was up late last night writing a poem at the behest of my Muse, like I've said before my Muse is a fine old girl, in fact so fine is she that I can't imagine life without her. So at a 'very late time last night' (her words, not mine) I sat here in this still untidy office and got some words down in no particular order. I then jostled them around lots, tickling them until they sat nicely and then gently moulded them into little saucy verses. Words are pliable little bundles of letters and it's amazing what these bundles can do. Anyway this poem full of a lady's words rushed straight to my clever head and greedy heart and left me a bit breathless and that was just fine with me. It isn't finished of course, but then again no work of art is ever finished, merely abandoned. Of all the poems I've written this one is fast becoming a favourite, it might even get a gold star for it's playful, suggestive content, I do love to play.

This week I've been in creative heaven, and I'm reaping them rewards big time. Oh yes indeedy. Some of the nubile scanty three liners I've written are just plain wicked and aren't for public consumption at all they're all for me, just for me, to wallow wallow wallow in. Yummy.
If my blessed Muse comes tonight at a later time, and drags me by the hair all along the hall, and then clamps me to my well polished office chair I might just get to a finish on my poem.
On that superior note I'll sign off, I'm going all goosebumpy...

National Poetry Day

It's National Poetry Day.
When poets whip out their quills
but my quill has been chewed up by me
so I don't have nothing to say.

On the Horsehound agenda today: Removing beard.

Time for rest

A day of ups and downs, no wonder I'm having a dizzy spell.
Cooked, chatted, cleaned and created. So being tired and lazy I've opted for a little Haiku tonight.
Listening to Seal.
Fabulous.

Autumn barges in
his great coat hurtling dead leaves
on patient spring bulbs...

Night Poem

.........................Sleep is coming
and as I feel my dreams approach
I welcome them

For their lunacy offers me sanctuary
and so happily like a madman
I take it.

As I sip my tea and munch on a Rock cake I'm looking at the pile of poems I'll be taking to the infamous Poetry group. It's a nice collection but I don't expect I'll be allowed to read ALL of them out, so I think I''d better winkle the pile down to just three. Don't want to upset the natives. Eh, Dig?

Been a funny old day weather wise, clouds getting in the way of the sun and a dainty half hearted shower dampening my new trousers as I got in the car. But I like Saturdays.

Am so tired this evening so I expect my mug of Ovaltine will knock me for six at ten. Still that's what it's for, isn't it?

On the menu tonight, Spanish Omelette and the remnants of a strawberry cheesecake. But not on the same plate, that only occurs when I haven't got me specs on. Ho hum.
Tomorrow is Sunday and Sunday is roast Chicken and de-fuzzing of the legs day.

Toodle pip.