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amman's (amman on UKA) UKArchive
29 Archived submissions found.
Title
Members (posted on: 03-07-15)
Copy of entry to Weekly Flash Challenge. Challenge prompt - Membership. A sort of acrostic poem in two distinct parts (using the 1st letter of each stanza instead of each line).

 photo lambs_zpsmktdzrun.jpeg Part 1. Mary had a little lamb, a rhyme we all remember. We ooh and aah and feed it up and eat it in September. Every ewe begets a lamb and sometimes two or three. So flavoursome with minted sauce followed by well aged brie. Mutton stew goes down a treat the Irish make it well. A tot of whiskey afterwards will ring this gourmet's bell. Beware the curse of gluttony if too much food consumed. An ample waist, a bloated face may make one much lampooned. Part 2. Each member of the UK clan does bare their soul in print with silly verse or solemn prose they try to be succinct. Remember folk that each one's words are dredged from deep inside. A kindly prompt, a reasoned crit may soothe a fearful pride. So, may the moral of this verse be plain for all to see. Like lambs to summer slaughter we bend to critics knee.
Archived comments for Members
gwirionedd on 03-07-2015
Members
Mawaeasfmtawbiam?

Edwtraamsblw?

I'm confused...

Although the last one looks a little bit Welsh.

Maybe that's where the sheep come in.





Author's Reply:
Spoken like a true school teacher. Took liberties with the acrostic format and have amended the preface accordingly. Thank you for your input.

Rab on 03-07-2015
Members
I really liked this, Amman, both parts. Funny and serious.

Ross

Author's Reply:
Thanks Ross but yours was a deserved winner. As an avid golfer I identified with the last man on earth perishing at the 19th hole.
Cheers.
Tony.

Mikeverdi on 03-07-2015
Members
Great stuff, just love the part two HaHa!
Mike

Author's Reply:
Thanks, Mike. A game of two halves so to speak.
Cheers.
Tony.

Ant on 04-07-2015
Members
I really enjoyed the flow of this Amman. Now my head is filled with all the Mary had a little lamb rhymes I have ever heard!

Author's Reply:
Thanks, Ant. Sorry if I've taken you back to your childhood!
Welcome to UKA.

stormwolf on 04-07-2015
Members
Hi Tony,

So good to have you posting again:-)
Now, I never eat lamb. I saw a film of them all bah-ing for their mothers as they were put up on meat hooks in a slaughterhouse and it ruined my appetite forever ;(((
now all I need is to see someone abusing chips and I'm sorted.
However, I am not a humourless sod. ๐Ÿ˜‰ I got the poem and agree that we post stuff om here that is sometimes (for me at least) like spilling my guts on a table. It makes us very vulnearble and so I do not think there is any place for cruel or scathing comments.
Get a bit cheesed off on the rare ocasions with too much 'preciousness' too though haha

Alison x


Author's Reply:
Hi Alison.
Thanks for dropping by and commenting. Doesn't seem to be much readership at the moment. I don't eat lamb, either. Seen too many skipping about on the hills when out trekking. This was just a daft entry to the weekly challenge; trying to get back into the swing after lengthy absence.
Regards.
Tony.

chant_z on 04-07-2015
Members
This was somewhat ingenious. Very witty. Never mind the Welsh ... ๐Ÿ™‚

Author's Reply:
Hey there. Thanks for reading; just a bit of nonsense really. As for the Welsh reference, best to just ignore sarcasm.
Cheers.
Tony.

Bozzz on 05-07-2015
Members
Mary visited the abattoir - guilt abandoned - end of story. I much enjoyed this poem Tony and also eating lamb - but not when mutton is sold as lamb. Yours aye, David

Author's Reply:
Hi David. Glad you enjoyed my bit of fluff. Ha ha to the mutton reference.
Cheers.
Tony.

Pearldiver on 05-07-2015
Members
Hi Tony
I didn't eat Crayfish for 30 years because as a young child I heard them 'screaming' as the the air escaped their shells in the cauldron of the copper! Never turned away from the Kiwi traditional roast lamb Sundays though, but I did feel sorry for the uneaten leftover mushed potato, soggily hiding the peas.
Nice piece of wordplay... nothing bah about it
Rob

Author's Reply:
Hey Rob.
Thanks for reading and commenting. I get your aversion to eating crayfish although, personally, I don't eat them 'cause they're too darned expensive. Give me roast beef any day, definitely less cute than gamboling lambs.
Cheers.
Tony.


Ionicus on 05-07-2015
Members
I quite understood your meaning, Tony. Not being a Welshman what confused me were gwinioredd's questions.

Author's Reply:
Hi Luigi.
The questions were to obliquely point out that the 1st letter of each line rather than each verse forms the basis of an acrostic poem, which is why I indicated a SORT of acrostic poem. C'est la vie.
Thanks for reading and commenting.

Nomenklatura on 05-07-2015
Members
"An acrostic is a poem or other form of writing in which the first letter, syllable or word of each line, paragraph or other recurring feature in the text spells out a word or a message." Yes, this is from Wikipedia, but it is what I understand an acrostic to be.
You did right to explain further in the note, though.
Regards
Ewan

Author's Reply:
Thanks for stopping by to read and comment, Ewan. Yeah, I also
referenced the wiki definition.
Cheers.
Tony.


By the light of the moon. (posted on: 12-06-15)
An entry to the weekly challenge a couple of weeks ago. The challenge word was illumination. Sort of medieval.

The wickering moon cast a ghostly glow upon the glade where she was loathe to go. The forest cast dark shadows all around and flickering, dancing demons on the ground. The maid was much perturbed, nay sore afraid, the light was fickle and would surely fade. Her swain who walked beside was without fright, he'd have his wicked way this very night. But then a grey wolf's howl did cleave the air and then another from their wooded lair. The young lad's lustful aim did quick abate, the maiden's honour saved by nighted fate. Just then a cloud did hide the feeble light and darkness left them fraught and without sight, but they did stumble back along the path that led to safety and a homely hearth. As fate transpired the girl was later wed brought intact virtue to the marriage bed. Her husband was a strong and Godly man, between them flames of passion they did fan.
Archived comments for By the light of the moon.
deadpoet on 13-06-2015
By the light of the moon.
This is a lovely poem- I love all things medieval- just would have hated to live in those days.
I think you wrote this very well and it is not hard to imagine the scenes, so well you have described them- good choice of words to set the medieval atmosphere.
Piaxx

Author's Reply:
Pia. Thanks for your kind words re. my first posting for over a year.
Ciao.


Mnemonics (posted on: 31-01-14)
A few silly verses in response to Luigi's weekly poetry challenge. Key word - MNEMONICS, which is also the title of said posting, if I remember correctly.

 photo d0191d9d-c3ff-4948-9649-cf79a447d311_zps7f3027a9.jpg My recall ain't as good as when I was young and bold; forget me head if not screwed on so I am often told. Mnemonics help remember things like numbers, dates and names; maybe I'll ring old wotsit, I think his name is James. Now what's his bloomin' number I knew it yesterday; me memory's like a garden sieve as brain cells leak away. Ah, now I've got the hang of it, perhaps just a simple rhyme; remember, remember 5th of November when it is Guy Fawkes time. It really works this memory stuff, it's positively symphonic; like music to my feeble mind, I'm feeling quite harmonic. I'd better end this silly verse, what was it all about? Oh Gawd, me memory's gone again, mnemonics came to nowt.
Archived comments for Mnemonics
Elfstone on 31-01-2014
Mnemonics
Very good amman - not the easiest of Challenge words to work with. I like the humour in this. Elfstone.

Author's Reply:
Thanks for reading and commenting. Just a bit of fluff really but pleased it amused you.
Regards.

stormwolf on 01-02-2014
Mnemonics
Loved it. Very well executed and the pic was perfect

Alison x

Author's Reply:
Thanks, Alison. Not much interest in this one.
A lot of the old regulars seem to have gone away.
Regards.
Tony.

Savvi on 03-02-2014
Mnemonics
I really enjoyed this one Amman, I agree about the falling interest not sure what to do people seem to drift in and out and it's not everyone's cup of tea, writing on demand. Still keeps us smiling. Best Keith

Author's Reply:
Thanks Keith. Pleased you enjoyed it. As to the other, I think I'm going to drift away; not sure if I'll be back.
Keep well.
Tony.

Mikeverdi on 03-02-2014
Mnemonics
Excellent stuff, gave me a smile anyway...don't go. Mike

Author's Reply:
Thanks Mike.
Keep well.
Tony.

stormwolf on 03-02-2014
Mnemonics
Drift away my fat backside ๐Ÿ˜›
I will lassoo you if you try.
Not only one of my fav poets but have given me honest insightful crit from day one and read me and what I am trying to convey so well
I think we all feel like this from time to time I know I do.
I am thinking of dropping rating so giving it a try or I would have given this a 9
There are lots of new folk to read but some old ones coming back too
๐Ÿ˜‰ xxx

Author's Reply:

franciman on 03-02-2014
Mnemonics
Hi Tony,
I can only echo Alison's invite to plant a bissou on her shapely derriere! What will happen if we all drift off?
I hate it when the high peckers drone on about how much better it was in the Golden Age of UKA! When you project the shadow of an ego onto a backcloth, all you get is an even bigger ego, only much less distinct. We'll be as Golden as we paint it...
cheers,
Jim

Author's Reply:


A ray of sunshine. (posted on: 27-01-14)
What it is.

Walking by a lively stream, water slapping and hissing over green stained stones; hurrying to the embrace of the mighty river Seine. He was indifferent to the music, the symphonics of its passing. Brow furrowed, lips pursed in abstract contemplation of a life askew. Then across the way, emergent through the morning mist a beauty of some twenty years, clothed in summer hues. A Madonna in a flowered dress. 'Bonjour Monsieur, une belle journee'. A little wave, a cheery smile. 'En effet, Mademoiselle, en effet'. A chance encounter, a passing fantasy. A little ray of sunshine to pierce the darkness of his mood: and now he heard the rhythms of that playful stream.
Archived comments for A ray of sunshine.
stormwolf on 27-01-2014
A ray of sunshine.
Oh this was lovely Tony.

The title perfect and the poem demonstrating the uplifting effect of something of beauty or inspiration and how it can then affect the interaction with your world.

Some lovely words and phrases.

"A Madonna in a flowered dress."



I just wonder why you used 'thru' which jumped out and grated a bit as an 'Americanism' that to me was not required and seemed out of place, for the length of the word was not altered to fit the rhythm. Just a personal view ๐Ÿ˜‰



Alison x

post script
That tiny alteration made all the difference ๐Ÿ™‚

Author's Reply:
Thanks Alison. Pleased it struck a chord. I thought I'd better write something after a lengthy absence.
Amended as per your suggestion.
Cheers.
Tony.

Mikeverdi on 27-01-2014
A ray of sunshine.
Just the sort of 'ray of sunshine' needed with the depths of winter upon us. I think the summer dress will have to wait a bit though ๐Ÿ™‚ Mike

Author's Reply:
It's lovely here, Mike. 25 degrees centigrade in Christchurch and a big high sitting over the whole country.
Thanks for reading.
Cheers.
Tony.

EmotiveSoul on 27-01-2014
A ray of sunshine.
Nice story captured with few words. Great imagery.

Author's Reply:
Hey Fella. Thanks for dropping by and commenting. I lived in Birmingham for 20 odd years.. Kings Norton and Edgbaston.
Cheers from sunny New Zealand.

ValDohren on 27-01-2014
A ray of sunshine.
Lovely Tony. We all need a ray of sunshine to awaken our souls in this dismal world. Very inspired.
Val

Author's Reply:
Hi Val.
Thanks for taking the trouble to read and comment and for the generous rating. Pleased you liked it.
Cheers.
Tony.

Ionicus on 28-01-2014
A ray of sunshine.
You lucky fellow: 25 degrees centigrade and sunny in Christchurch. Here it's been raining for yonks but as I write a ray of sunshine has come my way. Just that, no Madonna in a flowered dress I regret to say.
A lovely, uplifting poem, Tony. Nice to see you posting again.

Author's Reply:
Thanks, Luigi. Sorry I can't airmail a bundle of sunshine to you and all the Madonnas I know are spoken for.
Got another post in the works (in response to your forum challenge). A bit silly but, at least, it's something.
Cheers.
Tony.

Nemo on 28-01-2014
A ray of sunshine.
An agreeable innocence to this, Tony, and something about it that brings Verlaine's poetry to mind. But note sp. mademoiselle! Regards, Gerald.

Author's Reply:
Hi Gerald.
Thanks for assessing this and for considered feedback. Come to think of it , it is somewhat in the style of Verlaine. Thanks, also, for spotting the spelling mistake. Silly me! Duly amended.
Cheers.
Tony.


False Images. (posted on: 06-09-13)
My entry to the Forum Weekly Challenge. Key word - FLANNEL. An incursion into Andrea territory, but perhaps she won't notice.

 photo b5387261-4873-49bf-87f6-c348f7f28c7d_zps3b559279.jpg Fair of face and a fabulous figure, we met in the pub, got stuck into the liquor. Looked at each other thru' booze clouded eyes, an erotic uprising and all that implies. Arrived at her pad, an upmarket place, tripped on the doormat and fell on me face. Never say die as we weaved to the bed, first she took orf 'er wig; t'was a bald, shiny head. Next put 'er teeth in a porcelain mug, my libido was waning as she gave me a hug. Ever the gent and I'd had 'arf a keg, but desire went south when she unscrewed 'er leg. Last thing I recalled as I fled down the road, me trousers were still there, at her posh abode. Postscript. If you think this is flannel, then you've got it right 'cause I ain't no portrait to take home at night. But beware of a vision too good to be true, could be a false image, if you only knew.
Archived comments for False Images.
stormwolf on 07-09-2013
False Images.
Oh the infamous beer goggles! How many of us have suffered the removal of them the next day ;-(((
Fab Tony.
Really loved it and the wee many on the pic was absolutely perfect!
Gave me a much needed laugh.

Alison x

Author's Reply:
Hi Alison. Thanks for dropping by. Not much interest in this one. C'est la vie. An old theme but I tried to give it a bit of a twist with the final verse disclaimer and the little guy legging it up the road was kinda cute. Glad it helped brighten your day.
Cheers.
Tony.

Bozzz on 07-09-2013
False Images.
Brilliant Tony, high density misfortune to a tee, first come the laughs, next the sorrow for the poor girl and finally your own awakening misery the morning after. The stages of man condensed to three.....David

Author's Reply:
Thanks David. A bit of a giggle and I enjoyed playing around with the format.
Cheers.
Tony.

Ionicus on 08-09-2013
False Images.
The demon drink has a lot to answer for, Tony. Your acrostic poem reminds me of a famous quote about Winston Churchill:
โ€œ'You are drunk Sir Winston, you are disgustingly drunk. 'Yes, Mrs. Braddock, I am drunk. But you, Mrs. Braddock are ugly, and disgustingly fat. But, tomorrow morning, I, Winston Churchill will be sober.โ€



Author's Reply:
Thanks, Luigi. Yeah, one of the all time classic rejoinders.
Cheers.
Tony.

Weefatfella on 10-09-2013
False Images.
 photo 89f4a5d0-5f15-4509-881e-443a08debcc5_zps272a8411.jpg
Sorry I missed this Tony.
Why didn't you ask her to pull herself together.
The thing that amazes me is, if you'll forgive me; women spend a fortune on their hair and makeup.
Then they spend an exorbitant amount on perfume.
What's the first thing they do? P.M.
Weefatfella.

Author's Reply:
Thanks, Paul for responding to this. Got your PM - very witty.
Cheers.
Tony.

Andrea on 10-09-2013
False Images.
Ah, excellent - my kind of...er...flannel ๐Ÿ™‚

Author's Reply:
Thanks. An old theme from him who ain't no oil painting!

Nomenklatura on 06-10-2013
False Images.
I like a bit of doggerel myself: good, fun poem.

Did you watch the game against S.A. yesterday? What a match!

regards
Ewan

Author's Reply:
Thanks, Ewan. I enjoyed writing it. Yeah, it was a great contest. More like a Barbarians match with SA desperate to score 4 tries; trouble is, the mighty AB's got 5.
Cheers.
Tony.


Empty chairs (posted on: 26-08-13)
Went to the city (Christchurch, NZ), yesterday to see the temporary memorial to the 185 people who died in the 2011 earthquake. 185 white chairs. Very sad, very moving.

 photo 78f254e5-93c7-46f2-98c9-16a588c36ec5_zpsd5aea8a1.jpg          Row upon row          of empty white chairs,          a ghostly tableau in its way.          Haunting and desolate,          in the thin morning light          of a cold winter's day.          Hear the cries of the children          in the whip of the wind,          feel their pain.          So much innocence lost          in the intractable force          of nature's refrain.          In this place of remembrance          let us mourn the loss          of so many that day.          Some young and some older,          a mother and infant,          their lives snatched away.          Yet, these chairs a reminder          lest we forget,          our consciousness cease.          A simple memorial          to their hopes and dreams,          may they rest in peace.
Archived comments for Empty chairs
Bozzz on 26-08-2013
Empty chairs
I found your words very moving, Tony. Man cannot compete with the forces of nature and that leaves us with mourning and rebuilding as the only options.

Author's Reply:
I'm pleased this touched you, David. It was a very sombre and humbling experience, just being there.
Regards.
Tony.

franciman on 26-08-2013
Empty chairs
Incredibly simple, exquisitely sad.
Both the memorial and the poetry.
Well done Tony.
Jim

Author's Reply:
I tried to make this a simple elegy with no extraneous words. If the words touched you then, perhaps, I've done justice to the poor souls memorialised. A permanent memorial will be built, but I think the concept and presentation of the empty chairs is perfect.
Jim, thank you for selecting me as a favourite author. I'm both flattered and honoured.

Romany on 27-08-2013
Empty chairs
Very sad indeed. I think that the empty white chairs are a simple yet beautiful memorial



Author's Reply:
Yes, very sad. Thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts.
Regards.

Romany on 27-08-2013
Empty chairs
Very sad indeed. I think that the empty white chairs are a simple yet beautiful memorial



Author's Reply:
Pleased that this touched you. Only temporary but very effective. A permanent memorial will be built on the same site in due course.

stormwolf on 27-08-2013
Empty chairs
Hi Tony
Very stark and haunting pic and the poem is very sad and captures everything so very well. I felt the rhythm let it down a bit if I am to be honest. (I recite out loud as I read) ๐Ÿ˜‰
I was just getting into the swing of it and it kept throwing me off but the words were poignant and fitting.

Alison x

Author's Reply:
Thank you, Alison. Yeah, the 2nd half of the 3rd verse is out of kilter with the rest. I will re-visit and re-work in due course. Okay, have reworked the offending line and think it works better now. If you happen to pass by again, would appreciate your opinion.
Regards.
Tony.

Bradene on 27-08-2013
Empty chairs
Hello Tony, Very sad, I'm sure the ceremony was beautiful. Christchurch NZ is somewhere I have always wanted to visit. I have relatives in Aukland on the North Island and hope one day to go. Hope you are OK Valx

Author's Reply:
Thank you, Val. I hope you get to visit your rellies in Auckland one day. We used to live on the North Shore in Mairangi Bay. There are 10 miles of coastline with 9 little bays, each housing individual communities. Very beautiful and it doesn't shake up there!
Keep well.
Tony.

Nomenklatura on 27-08-2013
Empty chairs
Good poem about a remarkable idea for a temporary memorial to a tragic loss.
Ewan

Author's Reply:
Thanks Ewan. Simple but effective.

Ionicus on 27-08-2013
Empty chairs
A nice elegy, Tony. Simple but effective and emotive.
No need to dip into your lexicon for extraneous words.
Well done.

Author's Reply:
Thank you for your empathy, Luigi. Simple words seemed to be most appropriate.
Cheers.
Tony.

barenib on 27-08-2013
Empty chairs
A very poignant memorial which reminds me of a permanent sculpture in Krakow for different reasons, but all about the loss of life. You have captured the feelings well - John.

Author's Reply:
Thanks for reading and commenting. A small loss of life here but such tragic circumstances.

Andrea on 27-08-2013
Empty chairs
Very well done, amman. I have a NZ friend who lost relatives/friends in that quake. Tragic.

Author's Reply:
Thank you, Andrea. My last word on the subject; time to move on.

Nemo on 28-08-2013
Empty chairs
A well penned and fittingly moving poem. Well done on the nib. Reminds of how I felt when I saw the words 'You'll Never Walk Alone' inscribed before the steps up to Liverpool Cathedral.

Author's Reply:
Hey, thanks for dropping by and commenting. All memorials touch us in some way.


Spotlight (posted on: 23-08-13)
This week's poetry challenge - Key word - Applause

 photo 66b72fe2-abf8-4bd5-a959-d7df0cdc1a03_zps6c617e2d.jpg          He stood there transfixed          on that lonely stage          like a deer in the spotlight,          a rat in a cage.          The play was self-penned,          a one person role;          each blood-tinged word          wrenched from his soul.          Desultory applause          the initial reaction          that grew in crescendo          to relieved satisfaction.          'Bravo, bravo',          the audience bayed;          his doubts disappeared,          no longer afraid.          Then back to his digs          on Theatrical Lane;          tomorrow to lay bare          his soul, once again.
Archived comments for Spotlight
stormwolf on 23-08-2013
Spotlight
Bloody good Tony!
Loved the pic too. Just perfect!
Alison x

Author's Reply:
Thanks for your encouraging words, Alison. The picture was the best bit.
Cheers.
Tony.

Mikeverdi on 24-08-2013
Spotlight
Have to agree with Alison, great write; your not so bad with the pics yourself! Mike

Author's Reply:
Thanks Mike. Tenacity will always find appropriate pics on the Internet.
Cheers.
Tony.

ValDohren on 24-08-2013
Spotlight
Bit like posting on UKA - baring our souls for public appraisal. Excellent amman, very well penned.
Val

Author's Reply:
Quite right, Val. We never know if our stuff will be favourably received or be greeted with rotten tomatoes.
Thanks for support and super rating.
Cheers.

Bozzz on 24-08-2013
Spotlight
Life in repertory was a drag. Like being a nurse - you had to be dedicated. I suppose today's pop groups are in the same slot - but with slightly better rewards - mostly a mirage though. Immaculate verse Tony ......David

Author's Reply:
Didn't know you were in repertory, David. My favourite entertainment medium in the UK. Saw many fine actors learn their craft and graduate from the Birmingham Rep. Thanks for reading and rating.
Cheers.
Tony.

franciman on 24-08-2013
Spotlight
Hi Tony,
A deserved winner. I love the pace of this. The build to crescendo and then the structured anti-climax. Except it's not that, it's a deep, meaningful bit of rhetoric.
It's a pearling a plan wrapper bud!
cheers,
Jim

Author's Reply:
Hi Jim.
I'm bowled over by your comments. Thanks for nominating and also taking this into favs; not much of my stuff finds it's way there.
You will have to explain the 'It's a pearling...' comment. Over my head!
Cheers.
Tony.

franciman on 25-08-2013
Spotlight
Sorry Tony, poor editing on my part. Should read 'It's a pearl in a plain wrapper.' Yes?
cheers,
Jim

Author's Reply:
Gotcha. Thanks.

Andrea on 25-08-2013
Spotlight
Oooh, very good indeed, amman.

Author's Reply:


Awakenings (posted on: 09-08-13)
A close cousin to a short piece cobbled together for the weekly challenge; took all of 15 minutes, but the challenge cupboard was looking a bit bare at the time. Key word - Ignorance or ignorant.

Innocent in the ways of a lover's world, Green as a virgin, not yet unfurled. Naive to subtle signs from some, Oblivious of seductions yet to come. Reticent when we find one another, Awkward in the arms of my first lover. New to the arts of sensual fashion, Thankful for our mutual passion.
Archived comments for Awakenings
stormwolf on 09-08-2013
Awakenings
Bravo! Bravo! The title was perfect, the poem original, creative and very skillfully done.
Alison x

Author's Reply:
Thanks, Alison. I think the title was probably the best thing about this off the cuff poem; apropos to the content. Pleased you liked it. I wasn't sure if it was up to scratch.
Regards.
Tony.

pommer on 09-08-2013
Awakenings
cheers.well composed Congratulations Val.Pommer

Author's Reply:
Thanks for reading and commenting P. Nice to meet ya, so to speak.
Cheers.

Weefatfella on 09-08-2013
Awakenings
 photo 915e0b75-fce7-4fc2-9921-556099197c13_zps1f6b3c50.jpg
Aye, spot on Tony.
Weefatfella.

Author's Reply:
Cheers, Paul.

franciman on 09-08-2013
Awakenings
Tony this was oh so clever. Feigning ignorance of women is a great aphrodisiac in itself (so I'm told!)
cheers,
Jim

Author's Reply:
Thanks, Jim. Not in your 'challenge' class but it sort of works (I think).
Cheers.
Tony.

ValDohren on 10-08-2013
Awakenings
Very good amman - second line 'unfurled,' this word often confuses me as it means to open up rather than closed up. I would have thought that virgins were furled rather than unfurled ? Just a thought, perhaps I am wrong. Great read though.
Val

Author's Reply:
Quite right, Val. Have changed to 'not yet unfurled' to get the tense right. Pleased you liked my off the cuff poem. Thanks for constructive comments and super rating.
Cheers.
Tony.

ChairmanWow on 10-08-2013
Awakenings
Nicely done, Tony. Kind of want to see it without the first letters boldface.

Ralph

Author's Reply:
Thanks, Ralph. Guess I could have left it to the readers' intelligence to work out that the 1st letter of each line spelled IGNORANT in this acrostic poem. It was actually quite hard work bolding each of those 1st letters.
Cheers.
Tony.

Mikeverdi on 10-08-2013
Awakenings
It may have only taken fifteen minutes...but they were well spent! Well thought out clever writing. Mike

Author's Reply:
Thanks Mike. You are too kind.
Cheers.

Andrea on 10-08-2013
Awakenings
Well, it ain't bad for 15 mins!

Author's Reply:
It ain't really good either, but it was about time I posted summat.
Cheers Boss.

Bozzz on 10-08-2013
Awakenings
Cobblers should know better than to tread on uncharted waters. Marginally preferred the RANT to the IGNO. Great fun, great stuff Tony

Author's Reply:
Uncharted waters! Good one. Thanks for reading and commenting. They say the first time is always the best but I dunno about that.
Cheers.
Tony.

orangedream on 13-08-2013
Awakenings
Wish I could do only half as well in fifteen minutes, Tony. Great writing.

Tina;-)

Author's Reply:
Thanks, Tina. A short burst of creativity which will, undoubtedly, be followed by a long period of non creativity.
Regards.
Tony.


Grumpy's Fate. (posted on: 17-06-13)
Poetry Workshop Challenge. The Snow White tale - aftermath - focussing on 'Grumpy'. Sounds better if recited with a west country accent.

 photo grumpy_zps40295f2e.jpeg 'Tis fifteen year since young Ms White was woken from her sleep; she used to cook and scrub for us, was sad and oft did weep. The handsome Prince who wakened her did sweep 'er orf her feet and whisked her down yon Royal mall the King and Queen to meet. But Papa passed away last year, now Willie's on the throne and good Queen Snow sits by his side the Regal seed thrice sown. They took me on as kitchen-hand the Royal fruit to taste; no apple will pass Snowie's lips if I am laid to waste. So, that's my fate and as you know I'm not one to whinge and moan; if too much fruit churns up me guts I've got my own white throne. Postscript;- It's not all about me, you know. The other Dwarfs still mine for gold, they march to their own beat; 'cept Doc who embraced the modern world, treats snobs in Harley Street.
Archived comments for Grumpy's Fate.
franciman on 17-06-2013
Grumpys Fate.
Tony this is luscious comic verse.
This reads well, scans well and made me laugh aloud - no mean feat - I'm a dour Scot!
Again, a really clever concept. I love my white throne.
cheers,
Jim

Author's Reply:
Thanks Jim.
I was afraid this was going to be rubbished. Hard to write seriously about fairy-tale characters.
Cheers.
Tony.

Mikeverdi on 17-06-2013
Grumpys Fate.
Excellent, agree with Jim, it gave me my morning laugh as well. Mike

Author's Reply:
Pleased you got a chuckle out of this bit of fluff.
Cheers.

karen123 on 17-06-2013
Grumpys Fate.
the Regal seed thrice sown.

I loved this line - very funny throughout - and it's good to know that Grumpy did well for himself - and Doc - who would have thought!

Author's Reply:
Thanks Karen. That Doc character turned out to be a sly one.
Cheers.

Savvi on 17-06-2013
Grumpys Fate.
I like what you did with this, and very funny to boot, once I got the ang of the west country I was away, No nits from me scans well and tickled me funny bone. S

Author's Reply:
Yeah, a west country accent definitely helps.
Cheers.

e-griff on 18-06-2013
Grumpys Fate.
Very good indeed. Wish I'd written that! ๐Ÿ™‚

Best of the rhymes for me.

Author's Reply:
Thanks for generous comment on what I thought was pretty ordinary. Poetry is so subjective.
Regards.

ValDohren on 18-06-2013
Grumpys Fate.
Excellent, funny and great rhyming. Val

Author's Reply:
Thanks, Val. Glad it tickled yer funny bone.
Cheers.

ChairmanWow on 19-06-2013
Grumpys Fate.
Not exactly Disney, Tony. More enjoyable actually.

Ralph

Author's Reply:
Cheers Ralph. I fear this bit of fluff garnered more positive comments than it deserved.
Cheers.
Tony.

Rab on 30-06-2013
Grumpys Fate.
Loved it! Pity you dealt with the other dwarfs (dwarves?) in the postcript, would love to see more about them.

Author's Reply:
Thanks for reading and rating. Pleased you enjoyed. I thought about dwarves but apparently dwarfs is the standard plural of dwarf altho' Tolkien popularized the other.
Regards from shivery NZ (it's winter here)!

expat on 09-10-2014
Grumpys Fate.
Just been through all your doggerel subs, they're right up my street! I wondered what the definition of doggerel was and reference.com came up with this:

Doggerel might have any or all of the following failings:
trite, cliche, or overly sentimental content
forced or imprecise rhymes
faulty metre
misordering of words to force correct metre

What a load of bolleaux, especially seeing as they don't even bother using capital letters or full stops where they're supposed to be...

Anyway, an entertaining little piece and I'll keep watch for more.
Steve ๐Ÿ™‚

Author's Reply:
Hi Steve.

Agreed, a load of bolleaux. I always thought of doggerel as being irreverent, comic verse.
Anyway, pleased you stumbled across this old one and was amused. The are always fun to write.
Cheers.
Tony (Amman).


Charity, sweet charity. (posted on: 03-05-13)
A dodgy poem in response to last week's poetry/prose challenge. Key word - CHARITY.

 photo 46356ce2-f410-4e71-96d8-2baab04a73cc_zps7275bc96.jpg My dream girl's name is Charity, a sweet and giving lass, but when I tried to get some she knocked me on my ass. 'Er left hook was a purler, Mike Tyson would be proud. I gazed at 'er in wonder as I sat upon the ground. I think I swallowed 'arf me teeth, 'twas not a pretty sight, but I still love that bonny gal with all me gap-toothed might. I live in hope and have much faith that at some future time, charity will start at home and one day she'll be mine.
Archived comments for Charity, sweet charity.
ValDohren on 03-05-2013
Charity, sweet charity.
Hahaha - funny Amman, amusing read.

Val

Author's Reply:
Thanks val. Glad it tickled yer bone.
Cheers.

Nomenklatura on 04-05-2013
Charity, sweet charity.
Very jolly! I might have looked at 'upon' vice 'on' and fiddled with the metre in a couple of places, but that might just be how it turned out when I read it aloud.



Welcome back.

Author's Reply:
Thanks Ewan. Just a bit of a giggle. I thought about 'upon' instead of 'on' (grammatically) but that seemed to put an extra syllable in the line. Trust things are Okay with you in 'present day' Spain.
Cheers.
Tony.

stormwolf on 04-05-2013
Charity, sweet charity.
hashaha good one! I would have added 'I' in the last line to keep the rhythm tight.

I live in hope and (I) have faith
well done.

Alison x

Author's Reply:
Hi Alison. Glad you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I thought about the extra 'I' but decided to omit since there are so many (blooming) 'I's in there already. (Just as there are in this reply). LOL. Thanks for rating.
Cheers.
Tony.

Weefatfella on 04-05-2013
Charity, sweet charity.
 photo c8985de3-44fa-4972-8452-209c5b038bed_zps41f8f0a0.jpg
Aye Tony, All's fair so they say.โ€œIt is as a soldier that you make love and as a lover that you make warโ€ Antoine de Saint-Exupery. "
"Ad A Larf Guvner"
Weefatfella.

Author's Reply:
Hi Paul. Glad you had a larf with this piece of fluff. Impressed with the classical reference, you old intellectual, you.
Cheers.
Tony.

Andrea on 04-05-2013
Charity, sweet charity.
Haha, very amusing ๐Ÿ™‚

Author's Reply:
Thanks, Andrea. Not as good as yours tho'.
Cheers.

Ionicus on 04-05-2013
Charity, sweet charity.
Tony, you have my sympathy. In my youth I was always hoping that some good lass would show some charity and let me have my wicked ways. I never lost that faith.
A good giggle, just as you say.

Author's Reply:
Thanks, Luigi. Yeah, back in the day...SIGH.
Cheers.

japanesewind on 04-05-2013
Charity, sweet charity.
Surely you are from yorkshire? "PEARLER"....HAHAHA
class.....D

Author's Reply:
Glad you enjoyed, JW. Yorkshire!! Heaven forbid.(LOL). Wales, dear fella, the land of the Bards.
Cheers.

freya on 16-05-2013
Charity, sweet charity.
Tony, this made me laugh. Perhaps 'sat upon the ground' and 'have such faith' ?

Just to make sure the rhythm keeps on rocking, if you know what I mean...


Author's Reply:
Belated reply yo your cogent comments. Thanks. Pleased it amused.
Keep well.
Tony.


A gentle man (posted on: 22-02-13)
I posted a poem a few months ago 'Welsh Funeral' about a very special cousin. This is about her brother who is also very dear to me. He passed away on Tuesday. It's not crafted, just a few words from the heart, from far away.

He was a gentle man. Left no great footprint on the world, yet leaves a hole in the fabric of the lives of many who mourn his passing. It's the Welsh way; to lament and beat the stricken breast of desolation and grievous loss. Enough of melancholy. Let us celebrate with unbridled passion a decent man, a family man of quiet mien. No Nobel prize or Royal approbation to proclaim his worth, but honoured by all who knew him. RIP
Archived comments for A gentle man
Kat on 22-02-2013
A gentle man
This is a very moving and heartfelt poem for someone dear to you. Love the way you segue to the celebratory part with,

'Enough of melancholy'

And the last stanza is perfect, I think, as it simply sums up what is important in life:

'Let us celebrate
with unbridled passion
a decent man,
a family man...
honoured by
all who knew him.'

Kat

Author's Reply:
Thanks Kat. The words were very spontaneous and heartfelt about a lovely man.
Cheers

franciman on 22-02-2013
A gentle man
Tony, it's obvious this is from the heart and that critique, praise even, might be unwelcome.
However, as poetry this has real depth. The imagery paints a picture of the man but allows us the grace to put our own face to him. I know you say it is unstructured, but I believe it has a natural structure and whilst others might share your sentiments, very few could articulate them in such a manner
Thank you and my commiserations,
Jim

Author's Reply:
Thanks Jim. Your words mean a lot to me. My cousin Eric was and, to me, will always be special. it was a privilege to know him.
Regards.
Tony.

Ionicus on 23-02-2013
A gentle man
So beautiful in its simplicity, Tony. A tribute straight from the heart. Well done.

Author's Reply:
Thanks Luigi. A simple poem about a lovely man.

Andrea on 23-02-2013
A gentle man
Absolutely love it Amman - poignant, powerful and moving.

Author's Reply:
Thank you Andrea for the kind words.
Regards.

freya on 23-02-2013
A gentle man
Anman, this is superbly evocative. Particularly wonderful phrasing and imagery with what I feel is the heart of your poem:

leaves a hole in the fabric
of the lives of many
who mourn his passing.
It's the Welsh way;
to lament and beat
the stricken breast
of desolation.

Wondering what you would think of omitting the first 'Left' (to avoid repeating this verb a couple of lines down)? I don't think you really need it. In any case, a moving elegy and well deserved nib. Shelagh


Author's Reply:
Hi Shelagh. I'm knocked over by your comments and feel that they obliquely honour my cousin. Thank you.
Loathe to lose the first 'left', but will give thought to (possibly) amending the 2nd line.
Cheers from sunny NZ.

freya on 23-02-2013
A gentle man
Ooops! Amman.
Amman.
Amman.

By gosh, I've got it!

Author's Reply:

ValDohren on 23-02-2013
A gentle man
Alovely tribute to your cousin. Beautifully written, and the message is clear that one doesn't have to be a great achiever to be great. Congrats on the nib and the nom, both well deserved.

Val

Author's Reply:
Thanks Val for your generous remarks. Pleased the overriding sentiments came across so well.
Cheers.

Weefatfella on 23-02-2013
A gentle man
 photo 615f3747-f93a-4017-925a-493d3a9cd963_zps9cdcaec0.jpg
A very moving and heartfelt piece.
My deepest condolences Tony.
Weefatfella.

Author's Reply:
Hi Paul. I'm pleased this struck a chord. Thanks for your empathy.
Regards.
Tony.

By the by, I've been trying to locate and download your short story collection on Kindle but can't find it. Can you point me in the right direction.

Texasgreg on 24-02-2013
A gentle man
Tony,

I've not really had time to delve into recent subs. as I hate to look at a couple, (or few), while neglecting other well-deserving folks, but...
I happened to catch the title on "tweets" while passing by and had to look as it's a favorite subject of mine, (gentleness), and so glad that I did!
Bro, I've had glimpses of your inner-being and this doesn't surprise me a bit. The following, I must point out, was an honest error on your part.

Left no great footprint
on the world


He obviously left one with you, and now me through your super testament to his life.

Greg ๐Ÿ™‚


Photobucket.

Author's Reply:
Hi Greg. Nice to see ya, so to speak. I'm so pleased these few words resonated with you. I last spoke to Eric just before Christmas, when his lovely daughter was out here visiting us, and feel so sad that was to be the last time. Anyway, thanks for selecting this as a fav. and come back to see us more often.
Keep well, my friend.
Tony.

stormwolf on 03-03-2013
A gentle man
Brought tears to my eyes. So genuine, lacking frills and written from the heart. Just the way I like it. Well deserving of the nomination and nib!

Alison x

Author's Reply:
Thank you, Alison. Simple words that befit an uncomplicated man. I've not known many like him.
Regards.
Tony.

rcc on 12-05-2013
A gentle man
"left no great footprint
on the world, yet
leaves a hole in the fabric
of the many lives
who mourn his passing"
........... what a good line. Nice tribute to the man we all should aspire to be.....peace--robert


Author's Reply:
Thanks rcc. Pleased you found and liked this. He was a good man, not many like him.
Regards.
Tony.

Leila on 18-08-2013
A gentle man
An elegy full of grace, humility and emotion, a fine piece of writing...Leila

Author's Reply:
Thanks, Leila. I'm so pleased you liked this simple elegy written to celebrate the life of a good man.
Regards.
Tony.

Chinamanink on 16-11-2013
A gentle man
Good job on the poem Amman, it takes a lot of courage to expose something so personal as well.
Thibault

Author's Reply:


Homeless (posted on: 28-01-13)
For January Poetry challenge - word is 'Raincoat'. A plain language poem about one of Society's misfits whom people are quick to judge and shun with no knowledge of happenstance/circumstance.

 photo homelessman_zps8fe5b92b.jpeg An unkempt man shuffles on leaden feet down a slick and puddled mean and darkened street. His raincoat sodden from a storm, so cold, a bottled, fiery brew enveloped in its folds. Some place of refuge a sudden, urgent need. A place to rest his head, an appetite to feed. Where he might muse on earlier regimes, when once he lived and breathed societal dreams. Sleep well old man upon encroaching dawn, when life's fierce clamour is once again reborn.
Archived comments for Homeless
bo_duke99 on 28-01-2013
Homeless
'breathed societal dreams' - great

Author's Reply:
Yeah, I rather liked that line. Thanks.

butters on 28-01-2013
Homeless
at first i worried this was going to fall foul of that double-barreled shotgun clichรฉ and sentimentality.

it didn't.

you raised this up with some astute phrasing in your final 2 verses. this had some impact, amman. thankyou!

Where he might muse
on earlier regimes,
when once he lived
and breathed societal dreams.

Sleep well old man
upon encroaching dawn,
when life's fierce clamour
is again reborn.



Author's Reply:
Thank you for reading and commenting. I agree cliche (never) and sentimentality had no place in this subject matter and was at pains to avoid it. However, I think sentimentality can be appropriate in a softer, more winsome piece.
Regards.

ValDohren on 28-01-2013
Homeless
Very poignant. Excellent write amman.

Val

Author's Reply:
Thanks Val. Always up for a challenge.

franciman on 29-01-2013
Homeless
Tony this is real poetry. It bites the reader. It says there but for circumstance could go you.
This is what poetry is all about in my humble opinion.
Love it.
cheers,
Jim

Author's Reply:
Jim. It pleases me no end that this earns your approval. I value your judgement above all others. Thanks. This will be my last post as I'm signing off, but will continue to follow and learn from your poetry. Keep well.
Regards.
Tony.

cooky on 29-01-2013
Homeless
Excellent write. For the grace of God there goes I.

Author's Reply:
Thanks Cooky. I have great empathy for our poor homeless brethren. Who knows what tribulations have brought them to that state.
Regards.

Texasgreg on 30-01-2013
Homeless
Aye, Tony!
Many years ago I was distribution manager for a food service company that catered to vendors, supermarkets, and schools. I was told to keep dumpster divers out as the owner feared them getting sick on the rotting contents heavily laden in meat we would throw away. Though I did so, I felt guilty as they were clearly very hungry if resorting to such. I often wondered how long it would take me to do the same thing if homeless and unable to obtain gainful employment. I feel so much pain and this piece enforces my resolve to help feed 'em, (my favorite charity is one in Dallas that feeds homeless and there are sooo many men, women and children in this predicament).

Thank-you!

Greg ๐Ÿ™‚


Author's Reply:
Thanks Greg. You are a good man and I'm sure you'll find a way to make a difference to the Dallas shelter/charity. I'm working voluntarily (2 days a month) for a charity, here in Christchurch, which does just that. It breaks my heart to see folks in such straitened circumstances.
I've sent some sunshine your way (airmail). It's forecast to be 33 degrees Centigrade here tomorrow so can spare a few rays.
Keep well Texas and enjoy future happiness.
Tony.

stormwolf on 31-01-2013
Homeless
Hi Tony

Very sombre heart-rending poetry. Apart from the gypsies who now sit outside so many shops in Edinburgh at least...the homeless are a very varied people and I would be the last to condemn them knowing that it only takes a few wrong deals of the cards to land there.



I feel the last line needs 'once' put in to keep the rhythm

Alison x

Sleep well old man

upon encroaching dawn,

when life's fierce clamour

is (once) again reborn.





Author's Reply:
Thanks Alison. Modification made. Pleased you found this, buried down at the end of the pack.
Regards.

Andrea on 08-02-2013
Homeless
Just found this, Amman, loved this bit:

'down a slick and puddled
mean and darkened street. '

Good stuff, much enjoyed.

Author's Reply:
Thanks again, Andrea. People are so quick to judge and/or turn the other way. Who knows what unfortunate circumstances bring about homelessness.
Cheers.


Taboo (posted on: 21-12-12)
Weekly challenge - word 'Taboo'. Felt a bit of humour coming on.

Photobucket Last night I got drunk - had a few, went home with a dodgy tattoo. The missus went wild, she really was riled, made me sleep on the sofa to stew. I guess what I did was taboo, the words that she uttered were blue. Well, she ain't no prude but the artwork was crude, a blonde, smoking weed, on the loo. Her favours I'm seeking anew, a soft comfy bed would help too. The sofa's a bad fit, me back's givin' me gyp all because of that seedy tattoo. Moral So, guys, if the booze gets to you, stick to yer good mates like glue. Don't be a daft git, no two ways about it dodgy tattoos are taboo.
Archived comments for Taboo
cooky on 21-12-2012
Taboo
Been there a few times. i like this

Author's Reply:
Glad you enjoyed.
Cheers.

stormwolf on 22-12-2012
Taboo
Fab!

Great rhyming, rhythm and the content was hilarious. :-)))

Alison x

Author's Reply:
Pleased you found this and it touched yer funny bone, Alison. I enjoyed writing it. Happy New year.
Tony.

Ionicus on 22-12-2012
Taboo
A good amusing ditty, Tony.

Author's Reply:
Thanks, Luigi. Happy new year to you and yours.

Texasgreg on 28-12-2012
Taboo
Aye! been there, done that...They do good cover-ups now, lol.

Problem is I'm the one who drags my mates into the tat shop. I'm covered in 'em and need touch ups from time-to-time so as to stay "colorful".



Thanks fer the grin, Tony!



Greg ๐Ÿ™‚

Photobucket.

Author's Reply:
I'd say you were plenty colourful , Greg. No tats on me, tho'; as pure as the day I wuz born!!!.
Pleased you found and enjoyed this. Don't seem to get much readership these days. Must be the dodgy stuff I'm writing.
I hope the new year brings you health and happiness.
Cheers.

Andrea on 08-02-2013
Taboo
And then I found this...hahaha, hilarious!

Author's Reply:
Thanks. Pleased it tickled yer bone.


Eclipse (posted on: 10-12-12)
Poem

Photobucket I sat by her side and watched her life force extinguished, like a guttering candle snuffed out by an unseen hand. Like the moon embracing the sun she slipped into darkness, enveloped within that ecliptic celestial shadow to shine no more.
Archived comments for Eclipse
ValDohren on 10-12-2012
Eclipse
Quite lovely Amman - very poignant.

Author's Reply:
Thanks Val. Pleased you like it.
Cheers.

franciman on 10-12-2012
Eclipse
Tony, this is such great poetry. Understated and to my mind elegant.
cheers,
Jim

Author's Reply:
Very pleased you liked my attempt at minimalism and the simplicity of the poem, Jim.
Regards

butters on 10-12-2012
Eclipse
For me, a poem of two halves that don't really marry up as well as I would have hoped. V2 is rather better than V1 as its imagery is more original and therefore fresher.



The problem I have with V1 is 'like a guttering candle/snuffed by an unseen hand': whilst the guttering candle is a strong image in its own right, using 'like a' renders it more clichรฉ than I feel comfortable with as a reader. Not only that, there's a suddenness about the word 'snuffed' that conflicts with the more ethereal nature of the eclipse image... eclipses take some time, and feel a more gradual taking of the light than 'snuffed' implies.



I would also say I feel your last line adds nothing to the concept that a reader can't insert themselves, and wonder - - should you be intent on extending the metaphor further - if it should be an absence of the flaming corona/diamond ring thing you focus on. I'm not sure if that was your intent or not with your final line, but I wasn't getting the diadem thing from it.

looking at this again today, if you lost L's 3&4 entirely, and made this into one V, it would shine brighter. x And thanks for accepting my words as intended. I always try to look at a write subjectively when critique's looked for.



obviously this may please others far more than me, and I trust you take my thoughts in the spirit they are offered :rose:



Author's Reply:
Hi Butters. Thank you for the in-depth analysis of my, deliberately, simple little poem. I, also, rather liked the 2nd stanza more than the 1st and I take your point re. the gradualness of an eclipse although the guttering candle image (and illustration) was meant to convey the end of her journey, and the extinguishing of her life force to marry up with 'to shine no more', in the darkness of an eclipse, in the final line. I could have extended the metaphor but was aiming at minimalism. Thanks again for taking the trouble to evaluate and comment.
Regards.

Andrea on 10-12-2012
Eclipse
It's very poignant - I wouldn't really dare to comment as it might be autobiographical and I wouldn't want to upset.

Author's Reply:
Naw, not at all autobiographical. Just an attempt at a minimalistic poem.
Regards.

Texasgreg on 12-12-2012
Eclipse
Aye, my friend!

Moving moment in my mind. To be by her side as she leaves you when she never would by choice.

Greg ๐Ÿ™‚

Author's Reply:
Many thanks my friend for this and the private feedback. You are a good fella.
Cheers.

cooky on 12-12-2012
Eclipse
Beautiful and moving.I like this

Author's Reply:
Thanks Cooky. I'm pleased that this moved you. Keep well.
Cheers.

Mikeverdi on 13-12-2012
Eclipse
I also like this one, I didnt feel the need to dig deep for hidden meanings, for me it was all there. Mike

Author's Reply:
Hi Mike. Thanks for reading, commenting and rating. Very pleased your understanding of the poem matched the way it was meant to be perceived. Made my day.
Cheers.

Capricorn on 18-01-2013
Eclipse
Oh that is so poignant and beautiful.

Well written
Eira

Author's Reply:
thanks Eira. Very pleased the simplicity of this struck a chord with you.
Regards.


A Heinous Crime (posted on: 07-12-12)
Some 'dodgy' verses for last weeks challenge - subject word was 'heinous'.

Photobucket They said my crime was heinous, a label that's outrageous. The headlines were just scandalous but they made me in-famous. (sic) The bank I robbed was predaceous, the fees they charged iniquitous. All bankers are nefarious, the harm they cause is grievous. My new digs are atrocious, the inmates are so villainous. Some of them are monstrous, the future's looking hideous. Moral If the itch becomes contagious to rob a bank - that's dangerous, make your escape route flawless, the punishment is heinous.
Archived comments for A Heinous Crime
stormwolf on 07-12-2012
A Heinous Crime
BRAVO!!!

Made me laugh alright. Clever use of words and a moral to boot!
Alison x

Author's Reply:
Thanks Alison. Just a bit of a giggle.

ValDohren on 07-12-2012
A Heinous Crime
If you ask me, it's the Banks which are heinous - love the pic. Good one Amman.

Val

Author's Reply:
Yeah. Bankers are down there with the bottom feeders these days.
Cheers.

Texasgreg on 07-12-2012
A Heinous Crime
That was really good stuff, Tony! Best on the subject I've seen so far...

Greg ๐Ÿ™‚

Author's Reply:
You're too kind Greg. Thanks for finding this and for encouraging words.
Cheers.

Ionicus on 08-12-2012
A Heinous Crime
I liked this Tony. Do you know, until I checked it I thought that 'predaceous' was an invented word. Well done.

Luigi ๐Ÿ™‚

Author's Reply:
Thank you Luigi. I had a bit of fun with this.
Cheers.

Slovitt on 09-12-2012
A Heinous Crime
amman: it reads like you had fun writing this. swep

Author's Reply:
I did indeed Swep. Thank you for reading and commenting.
Cheers.

Bozzz on 09-12-2012
A Heinous Crime
"Ous" - raus !. ....Drowning in it ... Bozzz

Author's Reply:
Yeah, outrageous isn't it. Thanks for dropping by.
Cheers.

japanesewind on 09-12-2012
A Heinous Crime
really thought out and joined up....enjoyed....D

Author's Reply:
Many thanks for your comment on my 'heinous' verses.
Cheers.


The Pledge (posted on: 05-10-12)
Two hearts beating as one.

Photobucket I see your face in rippled waters, hear your voice in rustling leaves, feel your presence with me always, hear your whisper on the breeze. I remember the dawn of our loving entwined in our first wedded bliss; the thrill of your touch as your lips brushed mine soft as a butterfly's kiss. But pernicious fate came calling to strike you down in your prime; you died in my arms on a bleak winter's night while I pledged my love for all time. As I lie down at night on a stone-cold bed your image is close to my heart, for in memory and in fractured dream we will never be apart. In memory and in troubled sleep you will always have my heart.
Archived comments for The Pledge
Mikeverdi on 05-10-2012
The Pledge
Simply stunning!! 'Soft as a butterfly's kiss' you have to love that! Mike

Author's Reply:
Hey, thanks for reading and commenting.

stormwolf on 05-10-2012
The Pledge
I was just getting into the rhythm which swept along for the first six lines then it suddenly changed. It could have worked for me if this was all repeated but after that it came over a bit random
Shame as it has the potential to be a winner.
Liked the pic as well.
Alison xl.

Author's Reply:
Thanks Alison. You have mirrored my own feelings re. this poem. For me, it's the final 4 line verse which is out of kilter (ignoring the final 2 lines). Perhaps you could suggest (pen) something to augment the previous verses which, I feel, flow quite well. Yeah, great pic.
Cheers.
Tony.

cooky on 05-10-2012
The Pledge
I like this excellent write

Author's Reply:
Thanks Cooky. Glad you liked it. Good to see you again.
Cheers.

ValDohren on 05-10-2012
The Pledge
Love it, my kind of write. Very sad and poignant. The inconsistency with the rhyming was not a problem for me - it flows well, was very readable, and imho I think that is more important than sticking to rigid poetic form.

Val

Author's Reply:
Thanks Val. Yeah, it was a tad inconsistent and, altho' it flowed well, it's good to get reasoned critique. I've actually changed the last verse for greater consistency and I think it's now a little better.
Regards.

Andrea on 06-10-2012
The Pledge
Crikey, that's sad, though. Hope it's not autobiographical, amman. Loved the pic.

Author's Reply:
Hi Andrea. Not autobiographical at all; just a product of an imperfect mind. Have actually changed the final verse following Alison's reasoned comments. Hope it's a tad better now.
Regards.

stormwolf on 06-10-2012
The Pledge
Hi Tony,
I think you have shortened the first lines too? anyway, SO much better now. Just flows and expresses what you wanted to say.

Alison x

Author's Reply:
Thanks Alison for your feedback. I wish more people would constructively criticize so that we can get better. I knew the last verse wasn't right but needed a kick up the rear-end. Loved your 'merman' poem, by the way; deliciously and erotically slimy.
Regards.

stormwolf on 06-10-2012
The Pledge
I agree about accepting crit, after-all, they are only suggestions and everyone has their own take and everyone has their own way of relating to a poem but feedback is crucial to learning and developing.

If I mention basics like typos or really bad grammar and the person just leaves it as it is...I will not waste my time reading them again.
I feel our work is too precious to not try to make it the best it can be.

As for the Merman?
yes, now you have had a peep into my slimy inventive mind! lol ;-0

Alison x

Author's Reply:
cheers.

Bozzz on 07-10-2012
The Pledge
I felt no lack of continuity as the first part is of the past and the second is the awakening to the harsher present and future. A sensitive and very beautiful poem. David (Bozzz)

Author's Reply:
Really pleased you found this one and understand the construction of the poem.
People read poems differently but you ( I feel) are spot on with your observations.
Glad you liked it too.
Cheers.

Ionicus on 07-10-2012
The Pledge
Hi Tony. I don't know how many alterations you have made but I like the poem in its present form.
I am in two minds regarding criticism: there is a danger that a poem is 're-written' by other authors so many times that it ceases to be your work.
What I tend to highlight are the misspellings, euphemistically defined as 'typos', and the bad grammar which should have no place on a writing site such as UKA.

Author's Reply:
Thanks Luigi. I just changed the last 4 line verse. IMO the stylized picture and the 1st two verses deserved better than the aftermath. A game of two halves so to speak.
Cheers.

Capricorn on 15-10-2012
The Pledge
Beautiful poem!

Eira

Author's Reply:
Hi Eira. Sorry to be so tardy in responding. So pleased you liked it. Thank you for reading and commenting.
Regards.

Harpie on 03-11-2012
The Pledge
This is absolutely beautiful and seamlessly written, smooth as butter and as easy to read. Lovely writing.

Author's Reply:
Hello H. Thank you for your kind comment. I rather liked this one myself but you never know how others perceive your work.
Cheers.

Texasgreg on 24-11-2012
The Pledge
Trying to catch up...

This really took me there Tony!

Greg ๐Ÿ™‚

Author's Reply:
Thanks Greg. I rather liked this one meself but a bit short of inspiration since.
Again, welcome back to the UKA family.
Cheers.

Nomenklatura on 25-01-2013
The Pledge
Very touching poem. Lucky woman.

Author's Reply:
Not personal. Just my imagination. Thanks for reading.


Mirror, mirror.... (posted on: 07-09-12)
Photobucket

When you looked into the mirror defining your life, did you see darkness or did you see light. Did negative images stare back at you, when life's disappointments were all that you knew. Did sickness or break-up inhabit your past; was sadness the cauldron in which you were cast. Or did positive images gaze back at you; at one with yourself with confidence too. You stared down the doubters and bade them be gone; confronted with problems, you met them head on. Stand proud at that mirror and see yourself clear, choose white over black and live without fear. Whilst history reflects your past, plain to see; look to the future, be all you can be. Look to the future, be all you can be.
Archived comments for Mirror, mirror....
Nomenklatura on 07-09-2012
Mirror, mirror....
"Be all you can be" was the US Forces recruiting slogan for the early 80's, so that spoiled your poem a little for me personally. However, I can get past that to appreciate an uplifting and well crafted poem. Well done.

Author's Reply:
Glad you appreciated this despite the slogan which I don't recall hearing.
Cheers.

niece on 07-09-2012
Mirror, mirror....
So musical, amman ... an absolute mood-lifter...especially the repeated last stanza...it sort of rings in your mind...

Regds,
niece

Author's Reply:
Thanks Niece. Wasn't trying to moralize but saw the picture on the Internet and the poem sort of materialised from that.
Regards.

Texasgreg on 07-09-2012
Mirror, mirror....
Aye Tony, when I look in the mirror I'm a lyin', hehe...

Superduper piece for the soul, IMO.
Photobucket.
Greg ๐Ÿ™‚

Author's Reply:
Hey Greg. Hope that mirror is kind to ya. I daren't look into mine anymore, cracked it too many times!
Cheers.

stormwolf on 07-09-2012
Mirror, mirror....
Loved the image and the moral of the poem too.
Lack of self esteem is extremely common and can really hold a person back from their full potential.

A very empowering message.
Alison x

Author's Reply:
Thank you Alison. Was hoping the poem wasn't too moralistic. We all need to look into the mirror now and then, I think.
Regards.

franciman on 07-09-2012
Mirror, mirror....
Hi Tony,

Great verse, well constructed. So easy to be maudlin with these, but you gave it a natural, almost belligerent voice, which works so well.
cheers,
Jim

Author's Reply:
Thanks Jim. Just a simple plain language piece and so pleased you caught the intentional naturalness.
Cheers.

franciman on 07-09-2012
Mirror, mirror....
Hi Tony,

Great verse, well constructed. So easy to be maudlin with these, but you gave it a natural, almost belligerent voice, which works so well.
cheers,
Jim

Author's Reply:

Nomenklatura on 07-09-2012
Mirror, mirror....
Re: 'Be all...' Why would you unless you'd suffered the accompanying commercial on Armed Forces Network? Quite why they were showing a recruitment ad to military personnel, I never could work out.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QplWbNg57h4

Author's Reply:
I've had a look at the u.tube ad. and entirely agree with you. If I can think up an alternative ending which expresses the same sentiment, will be tempted to change it.
Thanks.

Nomenklatura on 07-09-2012
Mirror, mirror....
In truth, I don't think it matters. It's interesting that subjectivity is the sum of all our own cultural experiences, that's all. As I said, I think this is good poetry.

Author's Reply:
What you say is very true. Thanks for the encouragement.
Regards.

Andrea on 07-09-2012
Mirror, mirror....
Great message, amman. Too many people, sadly, brought up by bad parents to believe they're worthless. It can take a lifetime to get over it. Good stuff.

Author's Reply:
Hi Andrea. I know I've done something right if you like it. Thank you. As you say, too many bad parents around, then and now.
Cheers.

Andrea on 07-09-2012
Mirror, mirror....
Forgot to say congrats on the nib! Someone beat me to it ๐Ÿ™‚

Author's Reply:
Thanks again.

soman on 09-09-2012
Mirror, mirror....
Struck a chord in my mind -- I too suffered from neglect during childhood and boyhood due to adverse circs. It took a long time for me to recover and discovre myself.

Author's Reply:
Hello Soman. Thanks for stopping by. The human spirit (in most cases) sees us through in the end.
Regards.

Ionicus on 09-09-2012
Mirror, mirror....
A nice bit of philosophy there, Tony, and with nicely constructed verses.
Cheers.

Author's Reply:
Glad you liked it Luigi. Great picture to go with it.
Cheers.

Pelequin23 on 18-09-2012
Mirror, mirror....
a possative powerful message ...doubt can be our worst enemy ...very well written and delivered to ๐Ÿ™‚

Author's Reply:
Thanks Pele. Glad you liked it. As I said to someone else, we all need to look closely into the mirror now and again.
Cheers.

ValDohren on 18-09-2012
Mirror, mirror....
Great write, very well written and rhymed - perhaps the image we see in the mirror changes every day depending on our mood, sometimes good, sometimes bad.

Author's Reply:
Hello Val. Sorry to be so tardy in responding to your comment. You make a good point re. day to day mood swings but, hopefully, most reflections are positive. Keep smiling.
Regards.

Weefatfella on 23-09-2012
Mirror, mirror....
Confidence has to be instilled, either by achieving ones own goals; gaining self esteem or by being lauded.
self esteem is more fragile than snowflakes. a very well constructed piece. Thank you for sharing.
Weefatfella.

Author's Reply:
Hi WFF. Thanks for finding and reading this; very pleased you found some merit in the message and in it's construction. Totally agree with you that self esteem can be a fragile thing, often buoyed by opinions and encouragement of others. I think this applies in our writing endeavours but , more importantly, in our personal lives. Keep writing, my friend and, as the man from Texas would say, keep smiling.
Regards.

purplespirit on 27-01-2013
Mirror, mirror....
What a wonderful poem with perfect picture to mark out the great message. If we make it, to just be what we are, without hiding behind a mask, then we have gained some real wisdom of life. Thank you for this inspirational read, it is much enjoyed. Purple

Author's Reply:
Hi PS. Nice to meet you. Very pleased you liked the poem. I guess we need to look into the mirror now and again and try to see positivity and balance in life. Welcome to UKA. Look forward to reading your poems
Regards from sunny New Zealand.


The legend of Jack Pratt (posted on: 20-08-12)
Very loosely based on the 'Jack Sprat' nursery rhyme. Haven't posted for a while so thought I'd better get something done, however dodgy!

Photobucket Jack Pratt would eat no fat his wife would eat no lean; whilst he was skinny as a rail his missus was obscene. He tipped the scales at eight stone two but she was double that, and when they toddled off to bed she squashed him pancake flat. She nagged the old sod night and day 'til things came to a head; so Jack went out and bought a gun and shot poor Gladys dead. The nosy neighbours called the fuzz and they got there real quick; before Jack's feet could touch the ground they had him down the nick. But Jacko squeezed right thru' them bars and now he's on the run; he dyed his hair and changed his name and bought another gun. So, ladies, if you date a runt with red hair called O'Day, who likes to chomp on fillet steak, be careful what you say; don't criticize the little git cos he'll put you away! BANG.
Archived comments for The legend of Jack Pratt
Texasgreg on 21-08-2012
The ballad of Jack Pratt
Hehe, funny guy! Didn't know ya had it in ya...Andrea musta shared her funny bone.
Good relief piece and I thank you for it.
Photobucket
Greg ๐Ÿ™‚

Author's Reply:
Thanks Greg. Just a bit of a giggle.
Cheers

niece on 21-08-2012
The legend of Jack Pratt
๐Ÿ˜€ Hilarious, Amman...!!! Enjoyed ๐Ÿ™‚

Regds,
niece

Author's Reply:
Thanks Niece; you are very kind. So pleased it brought a smile.
Regards.

Nomenklatura on 21-08-2012
The legend of Jack Pratt
I'm surprised Andrea hasn't been by for this one!
Tickled my funny bone anyway.


Author's Reply:
I'm pleased you found some humour in this. I enjoyed writing it.
Cheers

CVaughan on 21-08-2012
The legend of Jack Pratt

Good idea, well run with and good use of the root classic. Could be the making of a series perhaps.

Author's Reply:
Thanks CV. I think I'll leave well enough alone after this; don't want Womens Lib on me case! Just kidding.

Ionicus on 21-08-2012
The legend of Jack Pratt
It is truly in the Andrea tradition, Tony, except that with her it is usually the woman who gets the upper hand. The eternal struggle of an incompatible couple is always a source of fun.
Enjoyed it.

Author's Reply:
Thanks Luigi. Yeah, the battle of the sexes can, sometimes, be a fertile source for humour. It might be in the boss's tradition, but there the comparison ends. Would that I could write half as well.
Cheers.

Andrea on 22-08-2012
The legend of Jack Pratt
Hahaha, loved it, Right up my street ๐Ÿ™‚ Sorry for late comment, been a bit busy, but glad I finally got around to it!

Author's Reply:
Thanks Andrea. Pleased you found it funny. Lots of subs this time for you to cast yer eagle eye over. Cheers.

expat on 08-10-2012
The legend of Jack Pratt
I'm a complete Phyliss Stein when it comes to 'serious' poetry but this sort of thing really appeals to my humour.
Top rhyme. :^-)

Author's Reply:
Really pleased if it made you chuckle. I really enjoyed writing this one.
Cheers.



Ruined City (posted on: 20-08-12)
This is a re-run of an item, about the Christchurch, NZ, earthquake posted a few months back, so not expecting any feedback. However, thought I'd post it again because a picture can be worth a thousand words.

Photobucket                                                          A city of contrasts,                                                          of parks and gardens                                                          a river running through.                                                          Tall towers of steel and glass,                                                          uneasy neighbours with those                                                          of Gothic weathered stone.                                                          But then the sands                                                          on which the city stood                                                          were moved, as nature                                                          cleared her throat                                                          and buckled the thin crust                                                          that hides the shifting plates                                                          beneath our feet.                                                          And some of that familiar 'scape                                                          reduced to ragged stumps                                                          as in a broken mouth;                                                          decayed beyond repair.                                                          Much worse, the random loss                                                          of young and old,                                                          some local bred                                                          and some from distant shores.                                                          We will remember you                                                          for evermore.                                                          RIP                                                         
Archived comments for Ruined City
SugarMama34 on 20-08-2012
Ruined City
A very poignant poem. Your words are heartfelt and true. I loved the creative way you described some of this, very clever and unique, you have put your own spin on such a tragedy and it works very well in my eyes. Beautiful and descriptive write.

Lis. xx

Author's Reply:
Hello Lis. Thanks for kind comments. The picture says it all really.
Regards.

Texasgreg on 21-08-2012
Ruined City
Good God, dude! Looks like a tornader hit ya...
Seriously, I'm grateful that your damage is material in nature as it can be replaced and helps you appreciate the greater things in life. Super poem and the picture sets it off very well, my friend.
Photobucket
Greg ๐Ÿ™‚

Author's Reply:
Thanks Greg. Luckily we don't get tornadoes over here. Seen pics and TV footage of some of yours (in USA). Very scary.
Cheers.

niece on 21-08-2012
Ruined City
Great contrasting images, amman...a picture of a happy flourishing city followed by the devastation caused by the earthquake...you are right...it's all in a day's work for Nature...nice one!!!

Regds,
niece

Author's Reply:
Thanks Niece. Yeah, Nature's got a lot to answer for around the world. Too many darned earthquakes recently.
Regards.

Ionicus on 21-08-2012
Ruined City
As you say, Tony, a picture is worth a thousand words but your written description of the disaster emphasises the loss.
I particularly liked: "...as nature cleared her throat".
Very expressive.

Author's Reply:
Thanks Luigi. I know it's a re-run but just had to post the picture.
Keep well.

Andrea on 21-08-2012
Ruined City
Just terrible. I have a dear friend from Christchurch (here for 25 years now) who has family and many friends there. She was devastated. Poignant stuff, amman.

Author's Reply:
Thanks Andrea. I know it's a re-run but just wanted to post the photo.
Regards.

Weefatfella on 23-08-2012
Ruined City
Very thoughtful and telling. amman. thank you.

Author's Reply:
Hello WFF.. Thanks for dropping by and looking at this one.
Regards.

CVaughan on 25-08-2012
Ruined City

Soberly described devastation, contained but empassioned reflection well-balanced in tone with some choice phrasing, well done amman.

Author's Reply:
Yeah, I tried to keep it succinct. The picture tells the story, really.
Thanks for reading and for considered comments.
Regards.


Solitary Confinement (posted on: 25-06-12)
This was originally half a chapter of a novel I penned a while ago, but abandoned just short of completion because of a lack of topicality (self assessed) and who wants to read about a 1970's Welsh schoolteacher. Have adapted as a short story by including job loss and fiance death and tagging on an ending. The guy's feeling very sorry for himself so not a lot of laughs! Definitely works better in the original format where the characters and circumstances are more fully fleshed out. If anyone's got the patience and inclination to read this, I welcome your critical comments.

The man awakened as shafts of sunlight filtered through shuttered windows high up on the opposite wall creating a kaleidoscope of shifting patterns. He looked at them and was confused. Perhaps he was dead at last. And then he remembered who and where he was. He was Jonathon Hanley and he taught English to the senior classes at Bromley comprehensive school. The recognition brought him no pleasure and he turned inward to shut his mind off to the continuing pain of existence. Random fragments of recollection crept, unbidden, into a befuddled consciousness. His eyes brimmed with tears, twin reservoirs of liquid emotion, and then, once again, he slipped into sleep. A blessed refuge from the tyranny of memory. When he awoke, the light of the day had quickened. He was in a hospital in central London but the name escaped him. He had been in this room for three weeks. Confined. Alone. There was another bed in the room but it remained empty. His only companions were the torturous memories he could not hide from; that stalked him, even in sleep, in incessant nightmare. He thought of the events that had brought him to this place...his life had been uneventful a few months before. He was a bit of a loner, he knew, but not unhappy with the solitude his disposition wrought. He was a good teacher and was able to pass on the intricacies of language and the way that language and literature informed the world. His world changed when he met Bethan. An innocuous encounter at the holiday hotel where he was staying. She was the niece of the proprietor. That first meeting led to friendship and then a burgeoning romance. She changed his life and he hers. In many ways they completed each other. The first months of their courtship were the best Hanley had known. A growing togetherness and arrangements to be made toward a lifetime commitment. But fate had other plans. Firstly, he lost his job. A starstruck girl in his 6th form English lit. class intimated impropriety and a vengeful mother sought retribution. An officious schools inspector insisted on suspension and Hanley had lost his rag. A heated altercation with the man got out of hand and Hanley's resignation was the inevitable outcome. The girl recanted the next day but the damage had been done. Bethan had made light of his predicament. 'Plenty of jobs to be had and he would be a kept man until something turned up'. A few days later she informed him that she and her friend Mary were going into the city to buy some girlie stuff. 'A sexy nightie on her list and no more Mr Grumps when she returned'. That last kiss held the promise of infinite possibilities. It was the last time he held her, felt the warmth of her; the coupling of two intertwined spirits. The IRA bomb detonated in central London that fateful day killed many and injured countless more. Bethan and Mary never returned. A clank of trollies in the hospital corridor announced the routine of the day. The door opened. 'Morning Mr Hanley. Time for your medicine and breakfast, dearie'. Hanley grunted an acknowledgement. He liked Nurse Jones. Buxom and warm of nature and seemingly impervious to his crankiness. 'A lovely morning, Mr Hanley. Gonna be a good one, you'll see'. Hanley swallowed the pills as he did each morning at this time and in the evening too with supper. He knew the medicine was part of the regime; to anesthetize the pain of his injuries and to make him docile whilst his body healed. He thought the pills as much a jailor as the anonymous, confining walls. He'd tried to hide them under his tongue at first but they knew the trick of that. They always checked. And the Doctor had been angry. 'He must take his medicine like a man. It was part of his treatment. It was wrong to take a life, even his own. They would help him realise his life. He must take the medicine they handed out so that he would grow into the man he once was; that he might exorcize the demons that haunted him'. Hanley thought the man was a pompous prick who would one day choke on the platitudes that fed an overweening ego. After nurse Jones left, Hanley picked at his breakfast. He ate the cereal carefully. His movements were laboured. As well as pain from his broken body he knew it was the drugs that restricted him. It was why he was confused all the time. He eschewed the scrambled eggs that lay on a plastic plate like last night's vomit, felt gorge rise in his throat and, deciding that discretion was the better part of valour, pushed the plate away. Christ! now he was spewing out homilies. A contagion of cliches. Hanley placed the tray on the floor with difficulty. The pain from his broken ribs made movement difficult as did the plaster that encased the partially severed achilles tendon on his left leg . A hairline fracture of his skull accounted for incessant headaches. He arranged the pillows carefully so he could assume a comfortable position. Eventually, the pills began to take their customary effect and dull the pain that held his body hostage and played tricks with his mind; but, as much as they distorted the logical thought processes and intuitive patterns of his brain, they couldn't blot out or change events of the recent past. He thought of Bethan. Her image was with him all the time. The suddenness and brutality of her death had devastated him. The loss of his job was as nothing in comparison. She was worth a hundred old jobs. A tear trickled down a crease in his face but he was oblivious to it. After the funeral he'd wandered into an aimless existence supported only by the dubious crutch of alcohol. He'd literally tried to drink himself to death but his system couldn't handle excess. Balked at finality. He'd pushed away well meaning friends with a stubbornness and ill humour that saddened and sometimes alienated. His brother was his only link to reality. Tom's wife, Barbara, refused to visit him again when in a drunken stupor he'd called her an interfering whore and please to mind her own fuckin' business. The weather provided a pleasant warmth as the day progressed but Hanley was impervious to its comfort. He propped himself up into a sitting position, as stiff and waxen as a mummy, embalmed within the strictures of his memories. He thought again of Bethan. Pictured the serenity of her face as he had seen it in repose, forever idealized in the innocence of those moments. Tears seeped from eyes screwed tight in concentration. He seemed unable to control emotion, trapped in a chemical fog that smothered the anger that fed him; that left his mind as incontinent as the bowel movements of an infant. Then the image faded, like a photograph exposed too soon to the light, leaving blankness where once had been the clear, sharp imprint of life. And his thoughts were consumed with a consciousness of what he had done, what he had become. He tugged at them, worried them, trying to unravel strands of self justification, but the tightly woven fabric of truth would not be re-arranged. It stared back at him implacably. He knew he must come to terms with the hurt; escape this vortex of self loathing. The day grew warmer and Hanley's face was beaded with moisture as he now lay supine upon the bed. He stared at the ceiling; examined a jagged fissure, stained brown on either side like a suppurating wound. Once again his mind regained some lucidity as, inexplicably, it did from time to time. His love affair with the demon alcohol had come to an abrupt end about four weeks after Bethan's death. He'd quarreled with a thick-set Irishman in the public house near his home. No matter what the cause. All Irishmen were terrorists in the certitude of his rage distorted mind. Hanley was obliged to leave the pub. Told to go home and sleep it off. He'd not gone far when he was set upon by the Irishman and a couple of his mates. They'd beaten him unmercifully with fists and boots; kicked him repeatedly about the head and body as he lay unprotected on the pavement. No man would get away with calling the Irish 'a pack of murdering bastads'. Then, for good measure Paddy had picked him up like a sack of potatoes and hurled him against the plate glass window of a nearby shop. The three men had melted into the night as Hanley fought for his life in a pool of blood and shards of broken glass. He learned later that he had been comatose for a couple of days as he lay in the critical care unit of the hospital in which he was now incarcerated. His first action, on regaining coherent thought, was to smash the life-support paraphernalia that was attached to his body. He didn't care to prolong his life in a world gone mad. He'd resisted with a demonic strength as doctors and nurses tried to restrain him. Twice more, in the days that followed, he'd plucked away the tubes and electrodes that were attached to him like so much space-age junk, until they had lost patience with him. It was why he was confined to this room and made docile with chemicals while his body healed. The day droned on. Interminable, relentless, programmed by the ever tilting axis of the earth in relation to the sun. Hanley ate what he could of a turgid lunch and then, once again, lay back to examine the wound on the ceiling as he did so often in these days of haphazard images. His thoughts regressed to childhood. He pictured a small child who thought little of the playthings of youth. A solitary being who thrived on the imagery that lived within the covers of books. 'Forever got his head stuck in a book' was the favourite catchphrase of his father. Now there was an unforgiving man. A caricature of virtue. A church warden and a pillar of the community. A shop owner of items of hardware. The boy, who was named Jonathon Idris Hanley cared nothing for the nuts and bolts of commerce and many the beating he'd endured when he was caught 'with his head stuck in a book' when he was supposed to be helping out in the shop. And chapel held little fascination for him for he couldn't sing worth a fig. 'A Welshman who can't sing' his father would say. He was good with the put-downs. Used sarcasm as a weapon. The beatings had stopped when the boy was eleven. Tom had stood in front of his father as his younger brother crouched defiantly in a corner of the back room, his back red with the welts from the belt, and his mother crying outside the door. 'No more dada, never again'. Tom had stood his full height. He was fifteen, broad in his back and as tall as their father. 'No more dada'. The boy had never again felt the sting of the belt, only the lash of a cruel tongue. Late into the afternoon there was a kerfuffle as a moveable trolley was wheeled in and it's occupant settled into the empty bed. Curtains were drawn around as orderlies and nurses administered to the patient. One of the nurses came to Hanley and told him what was going on. The man's name was James Fahey and he had been severely injured in a car accident. He'd lost the sight of one eye and grave fears were held for the other. He had broken bones but now after several days was now stabilized and could speak. After a while the curtains were drawn back and Hanley was able to see the other man. Only his mouth was visible through the dressings on his face and head. A framed picture of a handsome young woman and two nice looking kids had been placed on the locker next to his bed. Hanley stirred. 'I'm thinking there's someone there, or am I dreaming' called a voice from across the room. 'Is it you again Nurse, come to sample me charms. There's precious little else I can be offering you right now'. 'Oh my God, a bloody Irishman' thought Hanley. And then the hatred drained out of him as water spills through the cracks of a cupped hand. How could you not feel for a man injured almost to death, with a family who must fear the future with a certain dread. How could you hate a whole nation for the sins of a few. Hanley introduced himself. The man's name was Jimmy but to call him Paddy 'cos everyone else did. The two men talked into the night as thoughts triggered other thoughts and were given voice, relating history and circumstance. Eventually the words petered out and Hanley, for his part, drifted into blessed, dreamless sleep.
Archived comments for Solitary Confinement
cooky on 25-06-2012
Solitary Confinement
I like this. you often hear they should lock em all up. In reality a nation cannot be held responsible for the few. The pretence of freedom often breeds terrorists or heroes, depends which side of the fence your on. Someone is always the victim though.

Author's Reply:
Hi Cooky. Thanks for taking the time to read and comment. Like you say, there are always victims (often the innocent and vulnerable) in the name of 'freedom' or downright terrorism.
Cheers

ChairmanWow on 28-06-2012
Solitary Confinement
THis evoked for me the TV news of the Troubles in the 70s we had such a problem comprehending as little kids in the USA. (for us it was black vs white who cared who was Catholic or Irish). Prose that flows very well with a protagonist that is sympathetic tho with terrible luck. Like the plea for common humanity in the end.

Ralph

Author's Reply:
Hi Ralph. Thanks for commentating. Pleased you caught the message for forgiveness at the end. We all have to live together in this crazy old world.
Regards.
Tony.

Texasgreg on 28-06-2012
Solitary Confinement
Tony,

Really good story on ills men,(and women), face daily in the name of ignorance, the thoughts of retribution that you encounter in search to complete the circle, and finally the closing of said circle with forgiveness.
I would personally like to have the ending removed and have the story split into two parts with the second depicting how he first loathed the irishman and came to know him as a man like any other. Maybe he could even be healed emotionally by a visiting sister?



Photobucket.

Good stuff!

Greg ๐Ÿ™‚

P.S. I should take time to read more prose here in hopes that I find more good stuff.


Author's Reply:
Hi Greg. Your first para sums up what I was trying to illustrate in this story. As for the second suggestion, I think this largely 'stream of consciouness' story doesn't need anymore hospital bedtime stuff. In the longer version he goes back to his roots and the introduction of another possible soulmate comes, more appropriately, at a much later time. Thank you again for your previous editing and for taking the time to read and critique.
Stay Cool (if you can in hot, hot Texas).
Tony.

Texasgreg on 29-06-2012
Solitary Confinement
Aye! After a while, you don't even notice the heat. You just become delirious and start posting weird shit on UKA...stay tuned. ๐Ÿ˜‰

Author's Reply:
Nice one!

Andrea on 29-06-2012
Solitary Confinement
I really liked this too (must have missed it!). One thing that struck me was how well you conveyed the 'Irishness' of the Irishman, Jimmy.

'I'm thinking there's someone there, or am I dreaming' called a voice from across the room.
'Is it you again Nurse, come to sample me charms. There's precious little else I can be offering you right now'


That's actually very difficult to achieve without resorting to 'Och aye' and 'Bejaysus' ๐Ÿ™‚ Kudos for that as I immediately knew he was Irish (almost before you did :))

Surprised Griff and David haven't commented yet, but I know they're both v busy (and Griff's in hospital, poor sod).

Anyway, good stuff, much enjoyed.



Author's Reply:
Thanks Andrea. Was hoping for some critical comment. My ma in law was Irish so the patter came easily.
You've got your work cut out for you with the latest batch; so many entries.
Regards

Texasgreg on 01-07-2012
Solitary Confinement
So is that to say you're staying with the short ending? I just find the meet and greet too quick. Best intentions as I'm one for the build in a relationship, especially if something is to be overcome.
Photobucket.
Greg ๐Ÿ™‚


Author's Reply:
Hi Greg. I see where you're coming from but I think it is long enough for a short story. For me, the last para sums up the situation as they talk into the night relating history and circumstance. In the original longer version there was indeed more interaction between them, as well as between the protagonist and Doctor but, as they say, that's another story! Thanks again for critiquing and offering suggestions.
Keep well.
Tony

Nomenklatura on 14-07-2012
Solitary Confinement
Perhaps it is long enough for a short story, I tend to agree that the ending is a little abrupt. I think Griff might possibly say it's a little 'overwritten' and that you could pare some description. However, it's a stream of consciousness piece and I think you can allow for more descriptive language thereby. I'd think about looking at the ending, it kind of unbalances the story.

I haven't done a word count, but most magazines' absolute cut-off for a short story is 15,000 words. When I did a CW course with the Open University, the dogma was that 3-10,000 words constituted short story length. I think we're all a little intimidated by the effect on-line reading has on attention spans. Flash-fiction has been made very popular by on-line readers.

Well, it's your story and I enjoyed it very much as is.

Author's Reply:
Thanks for taking the time to read and critique; I was hoping for some in-depth criticism. I see where Greg and yourself are coming from and am coming around to your collective point of view re. the ending. I think I was, intuitively, thinking of the on-line attention span issue when the ending was penned. Nonetheless, glad you enjoyed.
Regards.

SugarMama34 on 11-08-2012
Solitary Confinement
Hello amman,
such a sad story and yet one hell of a peek into someone else life and what they go through and how their coping mechanism works and doesn't at times and how they pull through slowly. The severity and tragic circumstances show how it effects the mind and the thoughts of this man, and you have executed them extremely well because the reader feels his pain and understands. A very good read. I think that you should send it in to a magazine. Such a sad story though. Thank you for letting me read this poignant and personal piece.

Lis xx

Author's Reply:
Hi Lis.
Thank you for taking the time to read this and for your considered comments. Hard to get folks interested in a 'stream of consciousness' narrative and so I'm really pleased the guy's pain/anguish touched you.
Keep well.
Tony (Amman).


The Singing Mountain (posted on: 15-06-12)
The beauty and majesty of the mountains of the South Island of New Zealand. Sometimes a tad dangerous but always exhilerating. A great place to chill out with friends. Not entirely satisfied with this; should have been written in free verse for greater language freedom.

Photobucket

Up to the singing mountain thru' bush and native trees, bellbirds and tuis sing in tune and fantails ride the breeze. Along narrow, shingled ridges a stiff nor'wester blows, on the savage edge of weather in the grip of nature's throes. Ahead the glare of virgin snow lies on a western slope; a place where no man's dallied of purity and hope. Aloft a pair of keas let out shrill, raucous cries; the green-clad mountain parrots patrol their sacred skies. Up on the windswept mountain where close friends trudge along, leave care and troubles far below take heed of nature's song. The singing mountain's song.
Archived comments for The Singing Mountain


stormwolf on 15-06-2012
The Singing Mountain
Well I think this read really well in the format that you have given us. I actually saw it with an illustration on the opposite page in a book.
The title was perfect and the theme ran through the whole poem culminating in the last stand alone line (again a nice touch)
Really enjoyed it and it was uplifting to read and made me so want to go there.
Alison x

Author's Reply:
Thanks Alison; your critique is always welcome. Glad you understood the music theme; to my mind like Mozart on the lower bush-clad slopes and more like Rachmaninov up around 5 to 6 thousand feet. Thanks also for rating.
Regards

ChairmanWow on 16-06-2012
The Singing Mountain
Marvelous imagery, exotic and yet inviting in a familiar way; what New Zealand seems to be at least in my mind.

Ralph

Author's Reply:
Hi Ralph. Glad you found this and enjoyed. Yes, the southern mountains of NZ are majestic in their varying moods.
Cheers.

Ionicus on 16-06-2012
The Singing Mountain
Your verses, amman, make the landscape come alive with vibrancy. I can visualise the exotic panorama.

Author's Reply:
Thanks Luigi. So pleased you found this and that the words created for you the visualization that was intended.
Regards

Texasgreg on 17-06-2012
The Singing Mountain


Sorry it took so long to discover this 'un.



Aye! A wonderful and desolate place to be with friends.



Photobucket







Good stuff, Tony!







Greg ๐Ÿ™‚ Photobucket.

Author's Reply:
Hi Greg. Pleased you found this and the words conveyed that sense of desolate grandeur to you. Thought of incorporating a photo showing the mountains in all their splendour but couldn't work out the mechanics of doing it. Any chance of a tutorial?
Cheers

stormwolf on 17-06-2012
The Singing Mountain
Upload your pic to photobucket (or similar) then choose the option that transfers the image directly and put the code in before your poem ๐Ÿ™‚

Author's Reply:

Andrea on 17-06-2012
The Singing Mountain
Beautiful! Full of imagery, as Chaiman says. I have a friend from NZ (Christchurch) and could never understand why she'd want to come to Amsterdam (20 years ago now) and live in a shoebox. But she's married to a Dutchman she met there who wanted to come 'home'. Personally, I'd have told him he could go 'home' alone ๐Ÿ™‚

Author's Reply:
Thank you Andrea. The mountains are indeed beautiful on a calm day but it usually blows pretty hard high up and then it can get a bit hairy. Wouldn't miss it tho' even if we have the occasional fall; all part of the fun!
Regards

Andrea on 18-06-2012
The Singing Mountain
Absolutely stunning photo, amman!

Author's Reply:
Thank you Andrea. You are a brick, and I mean that in the nicest possible way. I took this picture earlier this year; it's called the Rob Roy Glacier, just outside of Wanaka in the south Island of NZ.
Regards

Nomenklatura on 19-06-2012
The Singing Mountain
Much enjoyed, what a beautiful place. No wonder your poem turned out so well.

Author's Reply:
Pleased you liked it. Yeah, the mountains are pretty stunning on the right day.
Cheers

JackKoozie on 19-06-2012
The Singing Mountain
Hi amman, I thought this was very good and captured the essence of your picture. In fact even without it, this picture would have been formed in my mind. But itโ€™s easy to see the inspiration that this scene has given you. Excellent rhyme and metre โ€“ well done!

JK


Author's Reply:
Hi Jack. Thanks for your cogent comments. I'm pleased you thought the rhyme/metre worked. Just getting the hang of it; usually write free verse.
Cheers.

niece on 26-07-2012
The Singing Mountain
A really beautiful word picture, amman...your poem almost took me there ๐Ÿ™‚

Regds,
niece

Author's Reply:
You are very kind Niece. The picture tells it all really.
Regards.

sunken on 02-08-2012
The Singing Mountain
Wot a picture! What a poem! What time is love? Very nice work indeed, Mr. Amman. I see you've been nibbed and nommed. I therefore feel it my duty to bring you back down to earth by slapping a smelly Bernard on you. This is what happens when you get too good. Nice work, fella.

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Author's Reply:
Hello Mr Sunks. Nice to see you back. The joint ain't been the same without ya.
Thanks for generous comments and for nom (I'm presuming it was you). Great photo wasn't it.
Keep well.

ValDohren on 18-09-2012
The Singing Mountain
Beautiful poem, great imagery and very descriptive.

Author's Reply:
Hello again Val. Pleased you liked this. Walking/hiking in mountainous areas like the one illustrated is one of my passions. I receive your positive comments gratefully; a compliment coming from such a talented writer. Thanks for rating.
Regards.


King and Country (posted on: 01-06-12)
A simple, plain language tribute to my father who died when I was too young to know him, and of whom I retain a single vague memory.

Two faded photographs are all I have of you. In one, stood tall and proud, dress uniform of chevroned blue; the other with your arm around a wife, a mother too. You went not gentle to the night as in a Dylan Thomas poem; died in a futile, bloody war a thousand miles from home. My mother with a telegram shed tears to fill an ocean; a tiny boy-child by her side made mute by that emotion. And when I grew to be a man, so often thought of you; a father and a soldier stood proud in Sovereign blue. Two faded, precious photographs are all I have of you.
Archived comments for King and Country
cooky on 01-06-2012
King and Country
Beautifully written.

Author's Reply:
Thanks Cooky. I'm so glad you liked this; it is factual and very personal.
Regards

Romany on 02-06-2012
King and Country
Very moving and touching, simple but powerful.

Romany.

Author's Reply:
Hello again Romany. Thank you for your kind words. I was afraid no-one was going to read this entry.
Regards

Pennywise on 03-06-2012
King and Country
'Two faded, precious photographs
are all I have of you'

Touching, very touching words indeed!

Beautifully written. Evokes emotions. A great poem full of meaning.

Thanks for sharing.

Author's Reply:
Hello Pennywise. I'm glad you were touched by this. The personal poems are sometimes the hardest to write.
Thanks for the rating and nomination.
Regards.

stormwolf on 03-06-2012
King and Country
Hi Amman
Congratulations on the Nomination. This is a lovely poem and the repetitian on the first two lines emphasize the terrible loss.
I feel that this line is not good grammar
In one, 'stood' tall and proud,
I would have put standing..but others may disagree.

It was heart-warming and brings home to us, the human cost of war.

Alison x

Author's Reply:
Hi Alison. I'm so glad you found this and I thank you sincerely for your kind words. This one was personal.
The 'stood tall' was a poetic device since 'standing tall' would have put an extra syllable into the line. Once again, thank you.
Best Regards

Andrea on 03-06-2012
King and Country
Wonderful, Amman. What a pointless and futile conflict that was (as they all are). My dear departed pater served in the RAF for the duration, and it screwed him up for life.

Author's Reply:
Hi Andrea. Thank you for your kind words and rating. Sorry to hear of the emotional travails of your father.
My mother did it tough after that terrible war with the loss of her (life) partner and having to do 2 and sometimes 3 jobs to survive.
Regards

stormwolf on 03-06-2012
King and Country
Hurray for the nib! ๐Ÿ™‚
Alison x

Author's Reply:
Cheers.

Andrea on 03-06-2012
King and Country
Yes, the women were made of strong stuff in those days, amman. A very moving piece indeed.

Author's Reply:
Still are Andrea; still are. Thank you.

Inchrory on 03-06-2012
King and Country
Hi Amman,
Well this is a finely constructed poem.
However, there are a couple of things bothering me with regards to the content.
Normally, I stay well clear of poems with a personal content, experience has taught me that poets can be overly sensitive to comments on such personal matters.

However, I do note that it is listed under that strange heading of faction, which I now understand to be another American import for what now appears to be that unfashionable expression of half-truths. โ€œrepetitianโ€ must be another new buzzword, not heard that one before...

I was puzzling with regards the time scale of your poem. The title indicates that you are at least sixty years of age. Your father apparently is wearing the British Army No 1 dress which was discontinued in 1914 and subsequently reintroduced for wear by officers and NCOโ€™s in 1947 and sometime after that for general wear by certain regiments. Apart for a few minor skirmishes, the only real action by the British army between 1945 and 1948 during the Israeli /Arab war, which is some way outside your thousand miles, range?
The Korea War 1950 to 53 is within your time scale, but certainly more within the range of Commonwealth soldiers than British service men... That is of course if your father was a British soldier?.
No doubt, you have a perfectly good and reasonable answer to those questions.

As I say, the poem is emotive and well constructed, most deserving of its nib.

Well done.
Morchuis.


Author's Reply:
Thank you for reading and commenting. Pleased you found some merit in the construction of the poem.
The faction category seemed to be the most relevant and, personally, I don't find it at all strange. As to your puzzlement regarding the uniform colour, I can't help you with that. The photo's are in black and white
(WW2 vintage) and the uniform is definitely of a dark hue. To the best of my recollection my mother told me the colour was dark blue. In any event, this was a poem about a father I never knew, not an historical document.
As far as the misspelling (or typo) of the word repetition is concerned, I think your comment about that is uncalled for. Again, thank you for commenting and critiquing.

Texasgreg on 03-06-2012
King and Country
Tony, I almost missed this one. I only rate the ones that personally move me to do so and have never awarded a 10. I believe that this will be my first 10 and last rate altogether as I am beginning to see why people turn it off.
Your father would be very proud of you, my friend.

Greg ๐Ÿ™‚


Author's Reply:
Thanks Greg; I'm flattered, but really pleased you were moved by this tribute. I don't really understand the rating system either and tend to rate only the ones I really see merit in or, as you said, move me.
Keep well.

sunken on 05-06-2012
King and Country
Hello Amman. Glad to see this did so well. I read it when you subbed but didn't get a chance to comment. Given my tendency to comment on anything but the actual poem in question. I'd say you got off light. Well done fella. An excellent write.

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Author's Reply:
Hi Sunks. Nice to see you back. No doubt you've been busy with the Jubilee, wolfing down Gran's cake and chatting with Prince Phil. Thanks for your kind words. I kinda liked this one myself; better than my usual drivel. I think I'll get away from the serious stuff and pen a bit of humour next up.
Keep well.

JackKoozie on 12-06-2012
King and Country
I thought this was an excellent poem, amman, so poignant and moving. You captured something here, much enjoyed, especially the final stanza, which nailed it. Great stuff!
Jack


Author's Reply:
Thanks again Jack. This one was special to me.
Regards.
Tony.

niece on 26-07-2012
King and Country
A touching tribute...beautiful indeed!

Regds,
niece

Author's Reply:
Hello Niece.
Very pleased you liked this one. Thank you.
Regards.


Dyad (posted on: 30-04-12)
An attempt at a minimalistic love poem. Breaks all the rules (as usual) but in the immortal words of Frank Sinatra,'Much more, much more than this, I did it my way'.

I laughed You smiled. I growled You sighed. I was loud You were quiet. I live You died. The traits that defined us were the differences that bound us, that kept us in our loving thrall. You were my muse my sage the better part of us. It was my pleasure my privilege to walk beside you.
Archived comments for Dyad
Nomenklatura on 30-04-2012
Dyad
Simple, uncomplicated poem - and very good.

Author's Reply:
Glad you liked it. I wasn't sure.
Cheers

stormwolf on 30-04-2012
Dyad
aw this was lovely! It worked very well and the love shown through it.
Alison x

Author's Reply:
Thanks Alison

franciman on 30-04-2012
Dyad
Well done. I can but echo what the previous commenters have said.

cheers,
Jim

Author's Reply:
Glad you liked it.
Regards

Bradene on 30-04-2012
Dyad
Me too. I thought this was charming and echo all comments above. You've managed to encapsulate a lot of emotion in just a few words. not an easy thing to do, but you did it beautifully. Valx

Author's Reply:
Hi Valx
Thanks for reading and commenting and for the rating. Pleased it struck a chord. I wasn't too sure about this one.
Regards

cooky on 30-04-2012
Dyad
A beautiful poem. Very skillfully done. I love it

Author's Reply:
Hello Cooky.
Thanks for your kind comments and rating.
Regards.

Andrea on 30-04-2012
Dyad
Beautiful!

Author's Reply:
Hi Andrea.
Thank you for liking and rating this when you've got so many to consider. A really high standard in this batch and no mistake.
Best regards.

ChairmanWow on 30-04-2012
Dyad
I love experimenting with minimalism. A great, focused tribute.

Ralph

Author's Reply:
Hi Ralph
Yeah, it seemed to work, I think.
Cheers

Ionicus on 01-05-2012
Dyad
Minimalist, as you say, but it flows and reads well. Liked it.

Author's Reply:
Thanks Luigi. I always appreciate your feed-back. Ta, also, for rating.
Regards

sunken on 12-05-2012
Dyad
Hello Mr. Tony. Sorry I missed this. I blame the economic downturn, Rebekah Brooks' hair and Britain's Got Problems. A beautiful poem, my good man. I agree with Luigi, it flows effortlessly. Had you not been nibbed I'd have kicked up a stink. Luckily it has been nibbed. My stink can therefore remain unkicked. A blessing for is all I feel. Top stuff, fella. Well done.

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Author's Reply:
Hello yourself Mr Sunks. Glad you didn't feel the need to get stinky. I hear there's some good underarm stuff on the market these days. Not that I'd know; smell like a spring breeze meself. Thanks for nice comments on my drivel and for the nice, slobbery beagle.
Cheers and keep well.

CVaughan on 29-05-2012
Dyad

First visit to your page. Well interesting to see the bio. details which you provide more than some.
I can only agree with the plaudits of the others for the neatly composed poem and fulsome tribute. I am no critic but know what reads well to me as this does. Good one as nib usually attests. (Frank)

Author's Reply:
Hi CV. Thanks for reading and for kind comments. It's good to experiment once in a while.
Cheers

JackKoozie on 12-06-2012
Dyad
I think rules need to be broken now and again; there would be no moving forward if we were always confined in the straight-jackets of structure. Anyway, I think the beauty of poetry, ignoring the technical aspects, is the crystallisation of oneโ€™s thoughts, and your poem shoots straight to and from the heart. Lovely sentiments, lovely job, and best of all... you did it your way.

Jack


Author's Reply:
Hi Jack. Thanks for reading and commenting. Nice to hear that someone else concurs with my thoughts re. rigid structure. If a poem flows well and touches people, that should be enough. Oh, by the way; welcome to UKA. You will like it here.
Cheers.
Tony


Ruined City (posted on: 20-04-12)
In case anyone hasn't heard, the city of Christchurch in NZ suffered a series of earthquakes in the past 18 months, the second of which was the most destructive, causing significant loss of life and widespread damage. This is my attempt to convey a snapshot of that. I sincerely wish I could have written this better in honour of those who died and the (almost) forgotten hundreds who were injured. Most of us were lucky, we just lost our homes.

A city of contrasts, of parks and gardens, a river winding through. Tall towers of steel and glass, uneasy neighbours with those of Gothic weathered stone. But then the sands on which the city stood were moved as nature cleared her throat, and buckled the thin crust that hides the shifting plates beneath our feet. And some of that familiar 'scape reduced to ragged stumps as in a broken mouth. Decayed beyond repair. Much worse, the random loss of young and old. Some local bred and some from distant shores. We will remember you for evermore. RIP
Archived comments for Ruined City
Andrea on 20-04-2012
Ruined City
I have a good friend from Christchurch. She was devastated, especially as she herself has many friends and relatives still there. A moving tribute, amman.

Author's Reply:
Hi Andrea. Thanks for commenting and caring.
Cheers

Bradene on 20-04-2012
Ruined City
A very moving piece. Christchurch is a city I have long wanted to visit. I followed the news of the tragic events every day and my heart went out to those caught up in the horror of it all. I hope things are getting back to some sort of normality. i realise it will be a long time before you get your beautiful city back completely. I echo your prayer, RIP. Valx

Author's Reply:
Hello Valx. Thanks for your obvious compassion. Come visit in about 5 years. Thanks too for the rating.
Regards. Amman

ChairmanWow on 20-04-2012
Ruined City
Fine tribute. It is a scandal that more coverage was not given to this disaster. It is some kind of bias for sure.

Ralph

Author's Reply:
Hello Ralph. Thanks for commenting. Glad you liked the tribute. I would have liked to be more articulate, but it is what it is.
Regards

Ionicus on 20-04-2012
Ruined City
A great shame that such a fine city should suffer from these catastrophes. A heartfelt lament.

Author's Reply:
Thanks for stopping by and commenting and for the rating.
Cheers.

sunken on 22-04-2012
Ruined City
Hello Amman. I can't imagine what it must be like to lose your home and consider yourself lucky. In respect to those who died though, I can see what you mean. Particularly liked the line about Mother Nature clearing her throat. Couldn't she just take a Strepsil like the rest of us? Top stuff, fella. Well done on the nib.

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Author's Reply:
Hello Mr Sunken. Thanks for dropping by and for kind comments. Yeah, old Ma Nature can be a bitch at times! Regards to Bern.
Cheers

teifii on 22-04-2012
Ruined City
I think you are quite articulate. Probably better than you think.
My sister in law has family in NZ but I think they are out in the countryside; I haven't heard any bad news from her. On the other hand two friends in Japan have been totally silent since their earthquake.

Author's Reply:
Hi Teifii. Thanks for commenting. I guess (and hope) your sister in law's family live elsewhere.
Keep well.


Red Riding Hood - The Wolf's tale. (posted on: 06-04-12)
Since whichever hemisphere of the brain that allows one to churn out passable poetry has gone missing in action, here is a really nonsensical piece instead. Quite cliched, but deliberately so (the wolf's a bit thick).

Well now it's my turn; to tell my side of the story. To put paid to all them misleading cliches that have been circulating, that've given us Wolves such a bad name. You've heard the insults... wolf in sheep's clothing, wolf whistle, wolf-like smile, wolfed down their food. All coined by humans of course with no thought of the humiliation that us Wolves feel. So listen up, it's time to put the record straight, especially that Red Riding Hood myth. It actually happened like this. There I was, strolling through the woods one sunny afternoon passing the time of day with me friends, the rabbits and squirrels and suchlike when, suddenly, this apparition in some sort of red outfit appears. Didn't see us, too busy texting away on one of those new fangled cell phone thingees. So I said to the little rabbit standing next to me, 'Hey Bugs, you'd better be orf quick or this human person'll have you in the pot before you can say 'Margaret Thatcher'. That put the wind up him I can tell ya and he hopped off right away. Anyway, being a kindly sort of wolf , call me Charlie by the way, I came up behind the red-hooded one, who was bending down tearing up clumps of flowers, and said, 'can I be of assistance my dear', and stone me if she didn't jump arf a foot in the air and shriek out something awful. Could have shattered chandeliers at 50 paces. I could see, by this time, it was one of the female sort and quite pretty too if you like the bare-face look. Then she squeaked, ' No thank you, Mr Wolf. Please go away, my mother told me not to talk to strange wolves'. I was dumbfounded. That's all the thanks you get for trying to be helpful. But being a gentleman, I loped orf down the path. If people don't want to be friendly it's no skin off my snout. After a while, just as I was getting a bit tired, I came upon this cottage at he edge of the woods. Being a bit thirsty, I decided to ask the old lady who lived there for a glass of water. Knocked on the door but no answer so gave it a push and, to my surprise, it opened wide. Didn't even have to use me credit card to slip the lock. No one inside and, you wouldn't believe it, there was a plate of sandwiches and a jug of juice on the kitchen table. Well, what's a wolf to do? I hoovered and swilled down the sarnies and drink darned quick, I can tell you. It seemed impolite not to. I thought the old dear would think kindly on a tired old wolf so nipped upstairs and jumped into bed to catch forty winks but no sooner had I got me head down the front door slammed. 'Hello Grandma, Felicity here. We heard you weren't well, so Mother sent me over with some bread and cookies. And I've picked you some flowers from the woods'. Well, you've guessed it. It was that stuck-up little madam who'd given me such a hard time earlier. As I said before I'm a good natured sort of wolf; most of us are; but then she started making nasty comments about how hairy me arms were and (to paraphrase) how big me eyes, ears and jaws were. Pretty darned rude if you ask me but, then it struck me, she thought I was her grandma. Just the same, I thought it might be fun to play a prank on the little tartlet; teach her a lesson. 'All the better to hold you with..and see you with..and hear you with', I murmured. And then, to add a little realism, 'and the jaws are all the better to eat you with', I shouted as I jumped out of bed. Just a joke of course but you should have heard the performance. You wouldn't think a scrawny kid like that could scream so loud. I didn't know where to put meself. She definitely hit top C this time. Anyway, I thought I'd better scarper but, just as I turned to leave, the local constabulary comes rushing in and before you know it I'm down the local nick. I know it looked bad but the magistrate was a decent enough sort and I got off with probation in the end. So, that's my story gentle reader and I'm stickin' to it.
Archived comments for Red Riding Hood - The Wolf's tale.
teifii on 06-04-2012
Red Riding Hood - The Wolfs tale.
I enjoyed that. Made my morning.

Author's Reply:
Hi Teifii
Thanks for reading my bit of nonsense. Glad it amused you.
Regards

Andrea on 06-04-2012
Red Riding Hood - The Wolfs tale.
Hahaha, like it. Few grammatical errors, but much enjoyed all the same! Certainly a different (and enjoyable) take on things ๐Ÿ™‚

Author's Reply:
Hi Andrea
Pleased you found some merit in this dodgy offering. Never was much good grammatically. Tend to whack in commas and semi-colons whenever I feel a pause is needed. Must work on it.
Cheers

Ionicus on 06-04-2012
Red Riding Hood - The Wolfs tale.
Liked it. I had a good giggle.

Author's Reply:
Glad you were amused. A bit lighter than old DHL.
Regards

ChairmanWow on 07-04-2012
Red Riding Hood - The Wolfs tale.
Hmm, wolves using credit cards to open doors. Seems like a two-legged wolf in some places. So what happened to the Grandma? Everyone has their own side of the story but some narrators are just not trustworthy. Enjoyed.

Ralph

Author's Reply:
Glad you enjoyed my bit of nonsense. How about Red Riding Hood texting! Just can't trust a shifty wolf.
Cheers

sunken on 11-04-2012
Red Riding Hood - The Wolfs tale.
Hello Tony of Amman fame. I read this over a Findus crispy pancake yesterday. A most enjoyable read and no mistake. A very original take on things. Your words seem to flow very easily. I was finished in no time. Unlike my crispy pancake which needed reheating due to a technical problem of my own making. Apparently gas ovens require igniting. Who knew? I wondered what the smell was. To be frank, I just assumed it was gran. She has that old people kinda whiff going on. I sprayed her with Fabreeze earlier but it didn't help. I hope this comment has. Helped I mean. It probably hasn't. I just can't get the hang of it. Enjoyed the piece very much. Should hav been nibbed.

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Author's Reply:
Hello Sunks of Sunken fame.
Pleased you found some merit in my silly little piece. The Chairman asked where Grandma was. Well, I'll
tell you (strictly in confidence of course), she was down the Woodlands Arms having a fag and a couple of
bevvies with her oldie pals.
Thanks for the Bernard and regards to Harold, the bathroom spider.
Cheers.

Weefatfella on 09-06-2012
Red Riding Hood - The Wolfs tale.
Ha! thoroughly enjoyed it. Well done mate spot on.

Author's Reply:
Hi Weefatfella. Thanks for reading and commenting. Glad you were amused; I enjoyed writing it.
Cheers

LS on 11-06-2012
Red Riding Hood - The Wolfs tale.
I enjoyed this, very funny story! LS

Author's Reply:
Thanks LS. It's good to write a bit of nonsense now and again as opposed to the more serious stuff. Keep posting my friend; your first effort was very good.. You'll get excellent feedback on this site.
Cheers


Welsh Funeral (posted on: 19-03-12)
Reading some of the fine recent poetry on the site, I'm inspired to write of a very special cousin (and friend) who passed on many, many years ago, at much too young an age. This is all very spontaneous and probably breaks all the rules but , hey, it's from the heart. The occasion, a very dour affair, populated by seldom (if ever) seen wizened, distant relatives and the ilk.

They sat, solemn and prim, backs stiff, bodiced with bone. Garbed in black like carrion crows, while the men stood tongue-tied, awkward, like cardboard cut-outs in untidy rows. Aunt Kate bustled among the sundry kin dispensing weak tea and sandwiches wafer thin. Dry eyes ringed with red, grief bottled for a later private time. And in the front room reserved for weddings and funerals and Christmas day, she lay waxen, doll-like, shrouded in silk. Cheeks flamed by courtesy of the embalmers art. Encased in oak and satin. While I stood, alone in silent witness. Mute with a ferocious grief that railed at the justice of a God who dared to claim one still so young. Once full of vital life and instinctive goodness. A cousin who assumed the role of surrogate older sister to a frail uncertain boy. And I thought of the boy that I had been, of the friend and confidant that she had been to me. But yesterday, her sun eclipsed and the valley was stilled as grim-faced 'Death' came sidling through the door to take her with him to another place. And now, we who remain behind must face the pain of loss, confront our own mortality.
Archived comments for Welsh Funeral
Andrea on 19-03-2012
Welsh Funeral
Well, I thought this was very emotional, passionate and heartfelt - I liked it a lot, in a sad way.

Must say Irish funerals are a lot more fun!

Author's Reply:
Thank you Andrea for kind words and rating.
I'll never forget the day but most of all never, ever, forget my cousin Mary, a wonderful person.
I feel like you, gimme an Irish wake any day.

sunken on 19-03-2012
Welsh Funeral
Hello Mr. Amman. Sadly we have something in common. No, I'm not referring to a love of cornflakes, I am referring to the premature death of a cousin. I remember him often. He was named Paul and was far too handsome for his own good. He had girls crawling out of the woodwork. I'm glad he did. I'm glad his short life was made sweeter by the fairer sex. It's like fate had decreed to pack all that it could into his seventeen years. An excellent poem. Ferocious grief says it all.

s
u
n
k
e
n



Author's Reply:
Hello yourself Mr Sunken. Sorry, no humour in this one. We never forget the special people do we?
Thanks for the kind words and the Bernard. Give the mutt a juicy bone from moi.
Cheers from Amman the Welsh Kiwi


Bradene on 19-03-2012
Welsh Funeral
Splendidly written very Graghic. These childhood memories do leave a lasting impression I know and writing about them is the best thing that anyone can do, it helps with the healing and in time the understanding. Well done Valx

Author's Reply:
Thank you for your kind comments. I guess I've had these words in me for a long, long time and, as you say, perhaps good to get them out.
Regards
Amman

ruadh on 19-03-2012
Welsh Funeral
Really liked "her sun eclipsed", a heartfelt piece.

Author's Reply:
Hello Ruadh from bonnie Scotland.
Thanks for reading and commenting.
Regards
Amman from Kiwiland

ChairmanWow on 19-03-2012
Welsh Funeral
Evocative imagery. "Ferocious Grief" could have been another title option.

Ralph

Author's Reply:
Hi Ralph.
Thanks for reading and commenting. Good suggestion re. title; or perhaps "Forever Young"
Cheers.
Amman

e-griff on 19-03-2012
Welsh Funeral
a fine poem, with, as you rightly say, some small technical glitches that may affect some readers, but these are so easily fixed. ๐Ÿ™‚

many readers seek a pattern in a poem (how do I read this?) It doesn't matter what pattern of rhyme or even if there are no rhymes, it is better not to deceive them into thinking the whole poem follows the initial scheme. Any pattern is set by the first several lines/verse - here you have the 'crows/rows' rhyme, which will leave some readers comfortably expecting a similar scheme in verse two - but no! verse two has kin/thin! Puzzling. After that there are no rhymes ...

The answer would be (and it would have no effect on the bulk of your poem, just smooth it for all readers) to take out the two incidences of rhyme by word substitutions for one of the two words in each case. simple.

best (and welcome!) JohnG

Author's Reply:
Hello e-griff
Thank you for your detailed comments re. the rhyme/non rhyme patterns in the poem. I quite agree with your analysis and will address this issue in later work. In this case, the rhymes in the first 2 verses (in this emotive piece) just seemed so right and I was reluctant to artificially introduce rhyming to later stanzas to balance out.
Again, thank you for the constructive critique.
Regards
Amman

Leila on 19-03-2012
Welsh Funeral
Definitely a very heartfelt and poignant poem that many of us will probably relate to. Perhaps from a poetic point of view it could be tidied up a little even pared here or there to make it even stonger, however with a poem like this I think it should be read as it was written and it was written from the heart, lovely work...Leila

Author's Reply:
Hi Leila.
Thanks for your kind and constructive comments. I agree that it doesn't necessarily follow the poetic norm but it came out very organically and I didn't feel up to second guessing myself afterwards.
Kind regards
Amman

stormwolf on 20-03-2012
Welsh Funeral
Hello there and welcome to UKA ๐Ÿ™‚
A very feeling piece which caught the whole scenario well. Congrats on the nib too. Typo in this line
Ant I thought of the boy

A great introduction to your work.
Alison x

Author's Reply:
Hello Stormwolf.
Thanks for taking the time to read and for your generous comments. Oops, missed the typo. I'd correct it if I knew how. Regards.
Amman

stormwolf on 20-03-2012
Welsh Funeral
Go into the poem and chose option 'edit' then change what needs to be changed and click appropriate button.

Author's Reply:
thanks

orangedream on 20-03-2012
Welsh Funeral
I was so moved by this Amman. Beautiful writing, straight from the heart.

Tina

Author's Reply:
Hi Tina
Glad this one struck a chord with you. Thanks for generous comment.
Regards. Amman

Ionicus on 20-03-2012
Welsh Funeral
A splendid effort Amman and just the poetic style that I like.
Everyone has his/her own idea as to how a poem should be.
Take note of grammatical errors by all means if they are pointed out to you, but as far as your own expression is concerned stick to your guns.
Having said that, IMHO the first line of the final verse which reads: "And now, we that remain behind" should be:
"And now, we who remain behind"

Author's Reply:
Wow. Generous comments coming from a luminary like you. So glad you liked the poem and the style. Thanks, also, for the rating. Have changed the word in the final verse. You are quite right, of course.
Regards. Amman.

Nomenklatura on 22-03-2012
Welsh Funeral
Re E-Griffs comments, I know what he means, but I'm re-reading a lot of Eliot at the moment and he pretty much fools the reader all the time in this way. I know the poems are a lot longer, but even so.

Anyhow, I liked your poem, but still retain a certain sympathy with El Grifo's point of view. I liked the title you chose, since it meant 'ferocious grief' came up in the course of reading, and was more pleasuably encountered so.

Regards
Ewan

Author's Reply:
Hello Ewan
Thanks for taking the time to read and constructively comment. I'm glad you liked the poem; these words, on a subject close to my heart, have been gestating for a long, long time.
Cheers
Tony

teifii on 24-03-2012
Welsh Funeral
Conjures up the scene and feelings so exactly. There was one just like this in the village recently.

Author's Reply:
Hi Teifii. Nice to meet another Taff on the site (so to speak). Thanks for reading and commenting. I would have thought that Welsh funerals would have lightened up a tad by now, but apparently not.
Cheers
Amman (short for Ammanford in Camarthenshire).

CVaughan on 26-03-2012
Welsh Funeral
Telling slice of life or death splendidly put over as is, of the so-believable characterisations of real people you have obviously encountered. Frank

Author's Reply:
Hello CV
Thanks for stopping by and reading and for generous comment.
Cheers

Gee on 13-05-2012
Welsh Funeral
Such a clear description, Amman. I could picture it all from your words. My cousin died when he was 17 and he was such a special person that I will never forget him.
In writing this, you've made a wonderful tribute to Mary. Beautifully done.

Author's Reply:
Hello Ms Gee. Thanks for reading and commenting on this oldie. I'm so glad you liked it. I went back and read a couple in your back catalogue. Especially liked 'Just a Man'. Brilliant. I, too, tend to write sad stuff, along with the occasional bit of nonsense. Must be the Welsh blood.
Anyway, hope you'll be posting more soon. Look forward to reading it.
Regards


The Urban Terrrorist (posted on: 05-03-12)
The trouble a willful dog can get one into. This is not a moral story, just an attempt at humour. My use of the f word is in context (not gratuitous) so I hope it is acceptable.

So, I said to my dog. 'Fidel, let's walk'. He barked his approval in the language of dogs. And so we walked, him on the leash but me being led on a tour of the neighborhood mapped by lamp-posts and trees, guided by the nose of a rampant canine. Me looking elsewhere, innocent, as he cocked his leg at authority. I'd named him Fidel since he sported a ragged black beard and was a would be Dictator who sought to subjugate me, his master. Suddenly he stopped, abrupt. 'Hey Fidel, shake a leg', I cracked, attempting jaundiced humour. I tugged at the leash. A futile attempt to impose authority. 'Move your flea-bit butt' I snarled, but he stayed, rooted, resolute. Sound ruptured the silence of the day and broke that impasse. Stilloetted clicks and clacks accompanied by the ya, yap of a canine debutant; a smaller, prettier version of the fiend that warred with me. 'Ah Ah' I cried, comprehending, 'So that's your game, you Urban Terrorist'. And then a tangle of furs and mixed perfumes. Fidel looking for ways to mount his offensive. The other ready to repulse yet strangely excited. 'Call off your mangy hound or I'll cut its balls off'. The girl smiled demurely as she spoke. 'Madam', I rejoined with utmost dignity or whatever composure one can muster when trying to control a randy dog. 'The animal means no harm, just letting off some steam'. "Sir', she replied, smiling sweetly, 'shackle that fucking dog or I'll cry RAPEEE'. The words were honeyed yet they stung like bees, venomous in their intent. I may have blanched. I'm sure that Fidel did and we lingered not a moment more as man and dog scampered toward the safe home hearth, ignoring scented trees along the way. Then later, through the window from a distance heard the keening of the bitch. A high pitched yowl of disappointed ire, while dog and I sat cowering by the fire.
Archived comments for The Urban Terrrorist
Andrea on 05-03-2012
The Urban Terrrorist
Hahaha, loved it. Fidel, indeed! 'flea-bit butt' and 'rooted, resolute' - great stuff! Shades of a ruder Lady and the Tramp ๐Ÿ™‚

Author's Reply:
Hi Andrea. Thanks for rating. Glad you enjoyed. I enjoyed writing it. The stanza I really liked was:-
The words were honeyed
yet they stung like bees,
venomous in their intent.
Cheers. Tony.

Ionicus on 06-03-2012
The Urban Terrrorist
Quite amusing.
Please note typo in fourth verse: it should be 'its'.

Author's Reply:
Hello Ionicus. Thanks for reading. Pleased you found some amusement. Thanks for editing; careless of me.

sunken on 08-03-2012
The Urban Terrrorist
Great stuff, Amman. I knew you were one to watch out for. Bernard is insistent that he leave his mark on your poem. You may want stand back a little. Well done. A smashing write and no mistake.

s
u
n
k
e
n



Author's Reply:
Hi Sunken. Glad you were amused by my little bit of doggerel. Tell Red Bernard he can do his business on my stuff any old time. Cheers. Tony.

Buschell on 03-10-2013
The Urban Terrrorist
Just through a dart at your page and hit this one...I liked," The words were honeyed, they stung like bees" A dog called Fidel...spot on! Could doggerel be dog ang mongrel melded? Ultimately people are attracted to stuff that reminds them somewhat of their stuff...sorry! Of course quality is another story, me lacking it that is.

Author's Reply:
Hi Buschell.
Pleased you found and thought fit to critique on this oldie which was one of the first things i ever wrote.
Love the dog/mongrel comment; very amusing. I agree that you and I may have the same sense of humour; well ya gotta larf ain'tcha. If you have time have a gander at 'the legend of Jack Pratt'; similarly daft.
Hey, fella thanks for the fav author tag.
Cheers.
Tony.


Home from home (posted on: 24-02-12)
the enigma of old age

The old man sat on his battered old chair and gazed at the world through far-away eyes out the window of his battered old home. His eyes focussed not on the street outside and his ears were deaf to the noise of the world, the shrill of children playing age-old games. But he saw well enough the scenes of his youth as he walked straight and true down memory lane, as he marched down the by-ways of old. And he heard well enough in his inner mind the voices of those long gone to the grave and he welcomed their ghostly refrain. Then a knock on the door of his battered old home as they came like thieves to steal him away and the hurt touched the core of his soul. Now the old man sits on his battered old chair and looks at the world through far-away eyes out the window of the old folks home.
Archived comments for Home from home
Andrea on 24-02-2012
Home from home
This is great stuff - paints a clear portrait, evocative and emotional. All those memories, eh? Sometimes people forget that the old were once young, and that youth is not forever...

The only thing that niggled slightly was the two 'battered' 's in such close proximity, but perhaps this was deliberate.

I wonder if it could do with a comma here or there, too?

Author's Reply:

e-griff on 24-02-2012
Home from home
this was nice, it had an inherent rhythm, with repetitions like a child's story.

I found the 'old folk's home' a bit jarring though - a bit simple for the purpose. but where else would he be?

Now the old man sits
on his battered old chair
and looks at the world
through far-away eyes
from the window of his
ice-cold sister's home

while the children sell
his battered old house
his ...

๐Ÿ™‚

oh, and welcome!



Author's Reply:

ChairmanWow on 24-02-2012
Home from home
I'll second e-griff's point about "old folk's home." "memory lane" might be a term that is a little over used too. These are niggling points though. Fine work.

Author's Reply:

sunken on 25-02-2012
Home from home
Welcome to planet UKA, Amman. A very strong initial sub in my sunken opinion. They say youth is wasted on the young. My gran says she wouldn't change a thing about her youth. I do get the impression however that she regrets stealing so much stuff from Woolworths. I've told her she's not solely responsible for their demise but she's convinced otherwise. I feel I've strayed from the point. Nice poem. I look forward to reading more of your work.

s
u
n
k
e
n

a symphony in Morris Minor

Author's Reply:
Thanks for the welcome and encouraging comments Sunken. I stole a rubber (the pencil erasing sort!) from
Woolies when I was a kid, so perhaps I share culpability with your Gran. Have been reading some of your poems and love both the vulnerability in the whimsical ones and the irreverence in t'others. Especially like the humour and (here's that word again) irreverence in your replies to the comments of others. You are now officially my first favourite author.

Texasgreg on 12-07-2012
Home from home
Tony,
Decided to look at an oldie and you won out, LOL.
This is a good poem to live by as you interact with senior citizens. Also reminds me of my credo, "The older I get, the faster I used to be", LOL. I have taken several "temporary jobs" in my younger days while trying to figure out what I would do with my life. One such job was maintenance in a nursing home. I only worked there a few months before moving on, but played Santa Claus for them two years because so many of the folks there had "reverted", if you will, and it brought them so much joy. It did much for me in return.

Good job!
Photobucket.
Greg ๐Ÿ™‚

Author's Reply:
Hi Greg.
I think the sub heading 'enigma of old age' sums up the poem whereby some senior citz get to the point where rest home care is the only option, however painful that decision is. It's good that people like you are (were) involved in their continuing care, although I doubt the level of care needed is universally available due to the financial restraints applied by some owners. Heaven help us if we find ourselves in the old man's position; I think I'll hide away and write silly verses for UKA.
Keep well my friend.
Tony

Buschell on 10-11-2013
Home from home
And they always smell of pee and hopelessness and the big heavy handed carers just don't have the time for people that are awake...but I've had some of the most meaningful times of my life in one of these places where a lady called Edith lost her last name in a house fire. Good stuff Kiwi Tony.

Author's Reply:


Skin-deep (posted on: 24-02-12)
the enigma of ageing

My skin is as clear as a cold mountain spring, smooth and translucent as gossamer silk in the clean morning light. These things you tell me in the dark embracing stillness of night. You call me beauty and caress me. run fingers through hair black as the raven. With gentle touch feel the purity of my nakedness and name me 'Snow-Maiden'. But will you still want me in the wintery years when my hair is white as virginal snow. Will you still pluck at my heart-strings and bring sweet music to my soul. Or will you cast aside those fathoming eyes deep as the ocean, and trade me in like an old rusty car for a newer version, with a body as sleek as a vestal virgin. Look well my lovely with unblinkered vision past the paradox of skin-deep beauty. Hold dear my heart that beats under the surface. Embrace my soul and love me completely.
Archived comments for Skin-deep
Andrea on 24-02-2012
Skin-deep
Very nice indeed. 'When I'm 64' eh?

Couple of small typos :

at mt heart-strings
and
of ski-deep beauty (unless that one was deliberate)

Nice dรฉbut though - welcome to UKA!



Author's Reply:

e-griff on 24-02-2012
Skin-deep
this does not read as smoothly (rhythmically) as your other offering today. from the first verse to the second, it changes enough to throw off the reader. also you have rhymes (light/night) creating expectation in the reader which are not continued consistently. even if a rhyme is not intentional, you have to register it and recognise it in constructing your poem. ๐Ÿ™‚

Author's Reply:

Nomenklatura on 22-04-2012
Skin-deep
Might be worth having a tweak using some of what E-Griff suggests. However, the sentiment is nicely expressed. Very close to being extremely good indeed.

Author's Reply:
Thanks for reading and commenting. This was my first posting and still a favorite but I can totally see where you and E-Griff are coming from.
Regards

Texasgreg on 28-05-2012
Skin-deep
Have seen you commenting on pieces, (don't recall if mine), but saw you on line and thought I'd take a look. I can only say that in the end, this is a poem with beautiful sentiments.

Greg ๐Ÿ™‚


Author's Reply:

Buschell on 05-10-2013
Skin-deep
Hey there...It's that thinning skin on your hands as you get older...like crepe paper...that freaks me out..and ironically becomes see through and people still can't see through it, past it...you dig deep with your stuff and thats when poems become more, much more. Busch Man.

Author's Reply:
Hey there Busch Man.
Pleased you found this oldie and understood the thematic message. People are wont to take appearances at face value and forget the intrinsic values of the person beneath the facade. This wasn't particularly well received at the time of posting but is still one of my favourites. Thanks for the encouraging comment.
Cheers.
Tony.