Squeeze Me, Please

It’s amusing to muse
as the poetry flows
Appealing to peal
as I ring out my prose
Enchanting to chant
as the mantras I call
Alluding to lewd
as inhibitions fall
Amazing to maze
sometimes twisting and turning
Licensing senses
as I feel the yearning
To riddle or rid
the thoughts tumbling round
Playing with wordplay
as feet leave the ground

Grateful for Grae
(although he’s absurd)
Appreciate his precious
encouraging word
Shower him, to show
for a special birthday
I present this present
and whisk him away
to a castle to cast
away all of his stress
Swearing to wear
my sexiest dress
Squeezing closer to Squeeze
on an Atlantic shore
with a doggerel dog
and another one who is rather scruffy and eats poo,
but who we adore nonetheless.

Happy (early) Birthday!

Let’s get this road trip on the road.

The Quest Begins

And so my quest begins – to post three things every day; one for each blog:

Jane’s Musing – Poetry and other scribbles
MoonRox – Music
Goldstart Fiction – Short stories, flash fiction

In theory, I could ‘cheat’ with Jane’s Musing by writing a haiku each day; and for a couple of weeks could randomly embed something from my Soundcloud into MoonRox; however, the Goldstart Fiction blog, by the very nature of it, is going to need a little extra effort.

Where to start? I enlisted the assistance of Graeme Sandford, and asked him for a prompt. Here is what he came up with…

“The life of a plankton on the bottom of the sea.”

Thank you very much for that, G – and a Hippity, Hoppity, Happy New Year to you, too! There’s nothing quite like a challenge to get the creative juices flowing.

And so, as I zip myself into my ninja onesie, I ponder. My first stop will be a trip to the research department to swot up on plankton life, and you can read the exciting adventures of Little Molly Plankton on Goldstart a little later today.

In the meantime, I leave you with a haiku:

Bottom of the sea?
Plankton? Are you serious?
All systems are ‘go’!


P.S. Trivia: A planktonic individual is known a ‘plankter’.

Update: Little Molly Plankton https://goldstartfiction.wordpress.com/2015/01/01/little-molly-plankton/

If I had a hammer


I attended my first writing course at the weekend and, with another writer, was required to write a dialogue for a play.

I was ‘randomly’ paired up with Graeme Sandford (as is often the case with a lot of things in my life) and, after a couple of exercises to get our creative juices flowing, we constructed our characters; Linda, a lawyer and Henry, a farm café owner.

Our brief was that we were stuck in a lift. At two points during the writing, we were given a further prompt; the first was that there was a sealed box in the lift, and the second that the lift had started moving again.

Here’s the result:

Linda: “Hello.”
Henry: “Hello.”

Linda: “This keeps happening.”
Henry: “You keep getting stuck in a lift?”
Linda: “As sure as eggs is eggs.”
Henry: “That reminds me; I forgot to feed the chickens.”
Linda: “They’re going hungry then?”


Henry: “We might go hungry, too. Just a minute, what’s that box?”
Linda: “Isn’t it yours?”
Henry: “No, I thought it was yours.”
Linda: “I never carry anything.”
Henry: “I always have a pocketful of nails and a hammer. Shall we open it?”
Linda: “For emergencies?”
Henry: “No, I just bought them. I’ve got some shelves to put up.”
Linda: “Always got them?”
Henry: “Always got nails, just bought the hammer.”
Linda: “That must be a pain… a ball pein. It’s a joke; a hardware joke. Not many people get it.”
Henry: “Well, as I’ve got this hammer, let’s open the box.”
Linda: “I’d rather take the money. Oh! You’re not that old, are you?”

Henry: “I’m old enough to be your father, young lady.”
Linda: “Young? OK. Let’s go with that then. I’m 37, you know.”
Henry: “Really? You don’t look a day over 25. Now… about this box.”
Linda: “Yes?”
Henry: “Let’s open it!”
Linda: “Go on then!”
Henry: “One, two, three and schwing!”

Linda: “Oops!”
Henry: “What? What is it?”
Linda: “Well, judging by this label, something fragile; and judging by that noise, something broken.”
Henry: “You could have warned me about the label before.”
Linda: “I could have. I chose not to – it’s not my style.”
Henry: “Just you be careful, young lady, remember who’s holding the hammer!”
Linda: “And just you remember who’s got the gun!”
Henry: “Just you remember where we are – ricochet!”


Linda: “And, as if in answer to your prayers…”
Henry: “I’m sorry; I’m not good in enclosed spaces. Do you have any shelves I can put up for you?”
Linda: “No, I think not! By the way, I thought you were smashing.”

We then performed the dialogue to the group, to rapturous applause (aka polite handclapping!)

Linda was written and performed by Graeme Sandford
Henry was written and performed by Jane Goldsack

Girlfriends on holiday eat supper with the polizia


Great title for a poem, don’t you think?

I was accredited with winning second place in the Andover Poetry Competition with this poem today! Yay! It was a front page announcement! Yay!

Oh! Hang on… I didn’t enter the Andover Poetry Competition. How can this be?

I did what anybody else whose other half is a poet would do… blamed him for entering one of his own poems in my name; it’s just the kind of title he’d give to a poem, and just the kind of thing he’d do! Had he actually done this, he would have scored a hat-trick, as two of his poems won first and third places.

The website said that the winning poems are to be recited at the acceptance night this Thursday. What was I to do with only two days to go? Well, I wrote a poem called ‘Girlfriends on holiday eat supper with the polizia’ in my lunch hour, of course. There’s nothing like a tight deadline!

The actual winner is a friend of mine. I’ve emailed her my poem in the hope that she’ll be happy for me to recite it in the open mic section on Thursday.

Congratulations to Graeme Sandford, my gorgeous soon-to-be-published poet partner, and the beautiful Sandra Gordon, whose poem title inspired this…

Girlfriends on holiday eat supper with the polizia

Men in uniform are a weakness of mine
Street corner hooker, bursting with red wine
Tuscan Chianti kisses*, a wink of an eye
Are sent their way; one thing I’m not is shy

Hunger in their loins, I see them looking
Draped around a lamp post, they see me hooking
They laugh, thinking I’m just a drunken tourist
Legs akimbo and my manner boorish

Comrades-in-arms walking down the street
Swaying gently, with no shoes on their feet
Holding themselves up as they holler, “Felizia!
We’re going to have supper with the hunky polizia”

I undrape myself and join the girlfriend conga
Free supper is relief, as we’ve run out of wonga
They’ve hunger in their loins, but I’ve hunger in my belly
And I crave for seeded crackers and some hot pepper jelly

I get antipasti bunny in a curried stew
Bruschetta, mozzarella; that’s Welsh rarebit to you
Pizza Margherita – Margherita? Now you’re talkin’!
This sure beats the streets and the barefoot walkin’

Spaghetti, amoretti – arrows courtesy of cupid
We’re filling up fast, this is getting kinda stupid
Feast of seven fishes with linguine in clam sauce
I don’t think it’s on the menu, but I’m eating like-a da horse

I am sated, I am slumped, I can scoff no mo
Until I’m handed an espresso and some gelato
I’m sobering up now, feel my senses returning
Look around me, feel my face and my heart start burning

A few weeks on, no longer Brit abroad
I’m munching on salami, ‘cause I’m feeling bored
So I start to book again, when my girlfriends shout, “Felizia!
We can’t go back to Italy, remember the polizia!”

I don’t.

*Tuscan Chianti kisses – If this looks familiar, it’s because it’s the second time I’ve used it this week; see recent haiku 🙂