there may be blood on the lap top
but i fear not
still running this sunny afternoon
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there may be blood on the lap top
but i fear not
still running this sunny afternoon
that's pretty hardcore Freckle - poetry whilst still dripping blood.
Anyone here beat that?
Only joking folks! Lets not have a literary bloodbath.
Mudclaws ready and off to the hills for me. Where who knows, there may be scraps of parchment floating around with hitherto unknown works by Sassoon, Hopkins and co.
Wow...this is amazing, I just found this at the back of my potting shed written on the back of an envelope addressed to someone called W. H. Auden:
There was a mechanic named Bud
who seemed like a bit of a stud
on a spring day of leisure
we shared immense pleasure
and ended up rolling in mud.
I'm guessing the two friends went for a nice wholesome fell run.
I love that. My Gran knits socks that are so unfashionable that they must border on the fashionable again.
I think it was Eddie Izzard who said fashion was circular. I can't remember it perfectly, and I can't write in circles, but it went something like this...
Fashionable
Stylish
Nice
Plain
Practical
Gross
Rediculous
Fashionable (repeat ad finitum)
I think it is the lack of sleep, but I'm already feeling weary about going back to work after the paternity leave....
I can't decide whether a run or a sleep would make me feel better. :)
Leaving Today
So suddenly awake.
No light from yonder window breaks, no crowing cock,
Just my old clock, please make it stop.
I try to wrestle free,
But like the dew she clings to me,
"No way Jose, you don't get away that easily".
Leaving today, leaving today, leaving today.
"Release me let me go.
I love you more that you could know.
All I can do is promise to come home to you".
I tip-toe from the bed
And put my head around the nursery door to say good-bye.
It breaks my heart every single time.
I'm leaving today, I'm leaving today, I'm leaving today.
I would stay if you asked me, so for God's sake don't ask me to stay.
My taxi has arrived. Good-bye sweet simple life, good-bye.
The city's waking up.
Dreams fizzle out like raindrops racing down the glass.
They blur the street-lamps as we pass.
N Hannon