Oh Where Is The Agent Who Is Meant For Me?
By MumbleWhy so reticent? Why so shy? Why don't you take me on?
I have been published in magazines. I have written poetry. I am the only person I know who has had a story published in Time Out! I had a poem in Swift when I was seven. (It referred to my tortoise nibbling my sock , which was a lie but I prefer to think of it as creativity.) Beryl Bainbridge once said she admired the intensity of my characterisation. (True) Laurie Lee (yes, it was indeed he) once called one of my stories, 'somewhat sub Lawrence but nevertheless effective in its way', which I think was a compliment. It certainly seemed like one at a time.
I am now on my second novel. Surely there is an agent, a dear little agent, a smart and infinitely wise agent, who will actually read my first novel and take a little interest.
I am not a nasty person. I will not pester an agent with ridiculous queries. I will revise and revise,within reason. I will be kind.
Somewhere, I believe. in this tired old world there is that very person, that courageous and insightful person, that wild and wonderful person who will be the agent who is meant for me. Call to me and I will come.
Ultimately Abandoned Poem
By Has'sanIt goes like this:
Quite a significance they possess, they really do,
whether you ask, they will be there to woo.
Time melts away when they accompany you,
the reason for attachment, i never had a clue.
.
.
.
Henceforth, moon's reflection became sun's,
calm bewilderness and cold anger as if grappled them.
.
.
.
All faded away then as approached the dawn,
smiles prevailed and flowers scented the lawn.
My Published Poem
By Has'sanVerse 1
What's friendship to me?
What's it worth you?
It's like an open window,
And a wide view.
Verse 2
It's a gleam of stars,
The brightness of the sun,
Spreading over the hearts,
Unpleasant to none.
Verse 3
It is a large oasis,
In the desert of death,
A blessing in disguise,
Giving me breath.
Verse 4
It is a glowing fire-fly,
In a world of darkness,
Illuminating the way,
Ridding me of weariness.
Verse 5
It is an unbreakable bond,
Full of fun but without sorrow,
Which helps the world run smoothly,
Or else I will not borrow.
Privilege
By Cyprus67
What a privilege
What a responsibility
Looking to the future
Hearing the failure
Waiting for the peace
What a privilege
What an honour
Heartache in measure
Smiles of equal score
Patience is a virtue
Please Lord I want some more
What a privilege
What a joy
Whether girl or whether boy
Dissolve the generational bore
Looking for more
Being a mother !
Sarah L Hunt
Jan 12 2009
COMMUNICATION
By Cyprus67
Consider this, all you who are there
Keep the lines of communication open and fair
The peace that exists from that which it seems
Gives a sure place for people to dream
Cutting the ties abruptly therefore
Serves to hinder a perpetual score
Wisdom is to growth as foolish is to rotten
Open and honest where fairness is gotten
God breathed the words to live and be
As only we should continue to see
Conduct and thought are two of a kind
Blended with love is easy to find
Jesus is light who reverses the fall
Trust in the Truth once and for all
Patient and kind, prefer one another
Hearts are for good and for your brother
Sisters in Christ grieve with no doubt
Loss is gain, turned inside out
Share of your woe and everyday hopes
Communicate freely as it promotes
Sarah L Hunt
22.09.09
A Selfish Lament
By EzBloke
Ok... so I scanned the monthly competition and thought "aww,
poetry. I can't do poetry." And dropped the idea of entering this
months comp.
This last five weeks have been hell and, don't ask me why, I just
wrote this yesterday. It's raw and, almost, as it came to me (two
slight edits). So, I thought, I'll wang this into the competition
and see what ripples lap on my shore. Then I
read
the rules of the comp and realised it didn't fit. Sigh.
So I've blogged it instead. At the very least I'll become the
third most blogging blogger on this site.
There are no warnings on this one except, maybe, that it's
perhaps not what you'd expect. Of me.
It's called "A Selfish Lament" and it goes like this;
He does not have Alzheimer’s,
It’s not that awful disease,
He’s suffering from brain shrinkage;
His forest is losing its trees.
He does not need treating like others,
Just a nudge once in a while;
To remind him to eat, drink and
One more nudge, sadly, to smile.
What is it with these places?
How can they sleep at night?
The people that surround them,
Reduced to this pitiful sight?
Why can’t I just help him?
Why can’t I stop all his pain?
Give him a tablet or two or three
And bring back my father again?
My God I feel so pathetic.
My God I feel so ashamed.
I’ve screamed at you in the heavens
And by God taken your name in vain.
In truth God is not my problem
In truth it is me that’s at fault
I did not take up medicine
Instead I took up being a dolt
If I had the skills to do it
If I could only find a cure
Only then you’d know I love you
Because right now, I’m just not so sure.
And you know, when this is over
And time hides all that I’ve learned
I’ll still do nothing about it
Until… too late… my turn.
Not quite laureate standard but hell, you get the idea.
Let me know what you think with the usual comments, send
knickers in the post (not you Woody) etc.
Ez
Yoghurt Related Love Affair
By HCF
(Sadly fictional but fun to write anyway -
hope it makes you all smile!)
Yoghurt Related Love Affair
On a warm July day I was walking
into the city
And passed a young brunette who I thought was a fitty
But I passed her by as my throat was parched
And to the newsagent instead I marched
To Mr Patel I asked with conviction
“Do you have anything quench-worthy to cure my affliction?”
He directed me to the chill-cabinets at the back
To his soft drink emporium that would make my lips smack
But scanning the racks crammed full of cheap pop
I happened upon the yoghurt drink Yop
The thought of it’s fruit flavours made me drool
And I purchased the bottle like some kind of fool
Without leaving the counter I screwed off the cap
Opened the shop door and walked through the gap
The next thing I know as I came out of the shop
Was that I was knocked over and got covered in Yop
The bottle took off straight into the air
And distributed it’s contents all over my hair
It’s yoghurty flavour permeated my skin
To express my annoyance I couldn’t begin!
“Look where you’re going, you silly old fool!”
“I’m sorry” said a girl who was ever so cool
I looked up and had a shock as I got to my feet
It was the Brunette I passed earlier on in the street
“You look a mess” She said now smiling at me
“I’d have thought that was obvious” I replied nonchalantly
“My names Rachel and I live 2 streets away”
“If you give me your clothes I’ll launder them today”
So reluctantly and covered in drink
We moved off together in a yoghurty stink
But sure enough she turned true to her word
And undressing I felt perhaps a little absurd
Especially after she’d washed my hair
And I was left in my pants with nothing to wear
As she towelled me down she caught my eye
I reached out to touch her, I don’t know why
But she met me half way in a passionate embrace
And the sauciest look ran across her face
The rest as they say is all in the past
We’re married now; it happened quite fast
And when we’re in bed, the yoghurt I savour
And she still licks my skin for it’s
strawberry flavour.
Henry C Fox 2009
Chartered Accountant's Love Song
By SwimmyIn fact I switched from accountancy into sales, and thus at a stroke avoided having clients and had customers instead. A wise man once told me that only professional people have clients, people like solicitors, accountants and prostitutes, and that the one thing they had in common was that they all s*****d their clients
I am rambling. The purpose of this preamble was to introduce a little ditty I wrote while in training to become a chartered accountant. I apologise for some of the jargon. If I had only understood what it all meant I may have qualified.
Chartered Accountant’s Love Song
I love your double entry and I dig your tax appeal,
But I don’t know how to tell you just exactly how I feel.
I’m just a young accountant with a passion for your looks
Which is very nearly equalled by my passion for your books.
To me you are my ultimate, you have control of me.
If you say you love me, I’m your subsidiary.
I wish we could consolidate and end my lovesick grief,
Then if we got together we could get some group relief
To me you are my schedule D, my SSAP ten
It’s ages since they wrote it, but I’ve worshipped you since then.
I’ve had two years experience since I passed my last exam
So I’m ready now to practise if you’ll take me as I am.
You’re the debit to my credit, you’re the profit to my loss,
And if we double entered it would be the way it was
When I was once before in love and thought we’d never part
But found out she was certified and that just broke my heart.
So if you’ll just be my ACA and debit me with love,
The partnership agreement could be signed by Him above.
The great bookkeeper in the sky would then watch over us
And see we always profit and never make a loss.
Phenomenal Woman
By francisMorris Minor
By SwimmyInstead I offer you this is little ditty wot I wrote when I was but a young man, and the Morris Minor was the car of choice for young men with no money or prospects. For some reason I wrote it as a sort of talking country song, and with a deep south US accent. There is an appalling rhyme 'well' (pronounced whale) with 'gale'. Once again, it's nothing special, just something from my archives.
My pappy gave me fifty pounds,
Buy a car that don’t give no ground
He said, ‘Buy a Morris Minor’.
I went out that day, and I bought me a car,
The salesman said ‘That car’ll go far,
There’s a litre of power beneath that lid,
Enough to make a world record bid”.
I liked it and I bought it
I got inside and sitting real high
I really believed that car could fly
I turned on the engine and stepped on the gas
There wasn’t anything I couldn’t pass
That wasn’t moving.
A mile out from the parking lot
I had to duck when I heard a shot,
More shots came the faster I went
It took me a while to see what they meant
I was backfiring.
I was thinking that salesman wasn’t quite right
When the tone of the engine gave me a fright.
It sounded like the roar from a Formula One
But then I realised what I’d done.
I’d lost my exhaust pipe.
Travelling along I spied me a chick,
I thought in my Minor I’d pull her real quick,
Pulled up beside her and opened the door.
It fell off its hinges and onto the floor.
Right on her toe.
Out on the freeway with a following gale,
Was touching forty and doing quite well,
A dog ran out so what could I do
Stomped on the brakes and my foot went right through.
Through the floor that is.
Watching the road through the hole in the floor
I noticed the road wasn’t there anymore
Wrenched on the wheel it came off in my hands
I found myself loaded with overworked glands
Sweat glands that is.
Out of control the car started to weave
Weren’t nothing to stay for, decided to leave
Opened the door and leapt out of the car
Lucky I did so it didn’t go far
‘Bout as far as the nearest tree.
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