Because you’re worth it

When crossing boundaries you’ve set,
he’s showing signs of disrespect.
A little here, a little there
are sure fire signs he doesn’t care.
Your feelings hurt, your love subsides;
you sense you’re taken for a ride.
His acts put paid to words he speaks;
your mind starts reeling, something reeks.
There’s something rotten; in a state
you seek to refresh, but it’s too late.
Yet find more things in heaven and earth
and motion set for your rebirth.
Because you’re worth

NaPoWriMo 2016 – Day 18: Castrato


From a glossary of classical musical terms

Canon? The salesman struck a chord,
despite the drone in his voice.

This would be my fifth printer,
and not a major choice.

He continued his exposition
with an impromptu display of glee,
before his intonation
turned to parody.

His pitch was espressivo
and the form was filled – hey presto!
But the printer was temperamental
and now his trill‘s castrato

NaPoWriMo 2016 – Day 17: Whippets and Witches

Pendle Antiques Centre
Pendle Antiques Centre

Better late than never!

Weather: Gloomy
Flora: Bluebells
Architecture: Lowry
Customs: Pie and chips
Mammals/reptiles/fish: Whippets
Childhood dream: Librarian
Found on the Street: Penny
Export: Whippets
Graffiti: Lots
Lover: Too young for that!
Conspiracy: Witches
Dress: Flat cap
Hometown memory: Black eye
Notable person: Dad
Outside your window, you find: Fields
Today’s news headline: 50 years hence
Scrap from a letter: Dear me
Animal from a myth: Dragon
Story read to children at night: Magic Faraway Tree
You walk three minutes down an alley and you find: Whippet poo
You walk to the border and hear: Whippets howling
What you fear: Whippets
Picture on your city’s postcard: A pack of wild whippets

Wild whippets whipped their wiry tails
Wondrously wagging at the witches of Pendle
Lowry landscape leapt up on the hills
Tall, pointy, witches hat mills of yesteryear

I spent much of my childhood in Burnley – very close to Pendle Hill, renowned for its witches.  Read all about them here.

NaPoWriMo 2016 – Day 13: Jane Eyre

Grabbed a copy of Jane Eyre and got creative.

A little solace came
Burning with fire and brimstone
Calm betrayed alike the tinkle of the nearest streams
Darkened by a drizzling yellow fog
Elegant conveyance, I meditated much
Fresh now as a succession of April showers
Graceful scarf and golden rose
Head bending with native grace
I stood lonely enough
Judgment untempered by feeling
Key of sweet subdued vivacity
Likely, I returned, or perhaps
Metamorphosed into a lion
Nightingale warbling in a wood
Obliging, and amiable too
Picking at ripe cherries
Quaking heart and through my spirit
Rest yourself here an hour
Solemn eyes melt with sudden fire
Transformed myself into a will-o’-the-wisp
Utterance to this conviction
Voice murmured
Waved leafy and fragrant as groves between the tropics
Xperience to long for the calm
You – with truth, fervour, constancy