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Daily Archives: August 25, 2012

Who says you can’t have a holiday romance


After bank Holiday

Now deserted are the roads
Where awhile the lovers went;
Vacant are the field-abodes
Where a vivid hour they spent:
Solemn dark
Broods again in lane and park. 

‘Tis no matter where are gone
Those warm lives—to halls, maybe,
Festive, or to lodgings lone:
Of the land their tenancy
Now is o’er;
Earth to earth belongs once more. 

Gone are they as hourly goes
From the sombre fields of space
Our world, with its little glows—
Passion’s ship that has no place,
Leaves no track,
On time’s endless ocean black. 

Elizabeth Daryush

Bank holiday the Miracle man



I took my children to the county fair,
To sample the delights of simple lives.
The sounds and smells of livestock filled the air,
And merry banter of husbands and wives.

Exhibits passed, munching apples we strolled,
Breathing in the burnt crisp October air,
Chanced upon a friend, who pointed and told
Of a miracle-man just over there.

A miracle-man! The children’s eyes glowed.
I confess that mine began to glisten.
As we approached him, our quickstep it slowed
And ears unfurled and began to listen.

“Come one, come all! Gather round, gather round!
Let me make you richer than you can dream.
Hush now, hush now! Folks, please don’t make a sound!
Allow me to tell you about my scheme.

“Something for nothing’s the name of our game,
We use the latest financial magic.
Just give me the spark and I’ll make the flame,
To miss out on this chance would be tragic.

“You lend us your livestock: cows, pigs and sheep.
We package them on to the street known as Wall.
They’ll earn tidy interest for you as you sleep,
And always remain within easy recall.

The farmers applauded as their eyes brightened.
“We get paid for our herds and we don’t have to feed ’em!”
Miracle-man smiled as my stomach tightened.
“You can always call back your swine when you need ’em!”

My friends and neighbours rushed to fetch their herds
And lead them to the miracle man’s camp.
Too busily straining to exchange a few words
As they pushed their cows and swine up the ramp.

The speaker left, his trucks bulging with meat,
Each hoof and mouth checked for impurity.
The farmers were holding a bright pink receipt,
Left by the miracle-man for security.

The winter rolled in and hoar-frost descended,
Each day farmers strode past empty stable,
Felt a regret at the herds they had lended,
The winter is long with no meat on the table.

At last, spring’s green shoots escaped winter’s cold clutch
‘Tis the time that the farmer loves the most.
This year, not least because of the crutch
Of good news from the miracle-man in the post.

When the envelope came, he snatched it with glee,
And called in his wife, two sons, and his daughter.
Then ripped it open, his jaw dropped to see
The miracle-man had sold his whole herd for the slaughter.

by Macro Man 

Nottingham by the sea August 2012

Where is the sea

Bank holiday


Bank holiday, what can I say?
A chance to brush the cobwebs away.

Shake off the work blues and stresses of the week,
We have an extra long weekend and the weather’s not bleak.

Fish out the flippers for a day by the sea,
Clean up the bar-b for a burger or three.

Polish the gate it’s well overdue,
Paint it yellow with dots that are blue.

Get the car washed ‘cos it’s looking quite grubby,
Endulge in a takeaway with an aim to get chubby.

Balance on a washing line while juggling fruit,
Or use a space hopper while playing a flute.

Dress as the grim reaper and knock on peoples doors,
Anything to avoid doing chores.

Spread out the deck chair and worship some sun,
Perhaps do the garden, that’s always fun.

Go catch some rays in minimal clothes,
Use a high factor and don’t burn your nose.

Let down the sun roof and cruise around town,
Or blare out Bob Marley with the car windows down.

Pack your swimmers and sit by the pool,
Remember your shades ‘cos you’ll want to look cool.

Spend time with family or go out on your bike,
Call a few mates and go for a hike.

Repair that fence so the dog can’t escape,
Or dress him in a tu-tu and get it on tape.

Call up your bro, go out for a beer.
An afternoon pub crawl and the good times are here.

Arrange some bowling for if the weather turns bad,
It’s a damn sight better than the week you have had.

But whatever you do, enjoy your break,
‘cos you’ve worked so hard with all give and no take.

I could go on but you get the idea.
Just don’t waste time, the next week is near.

Ian Pointer 

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