Funny Of The Week

Whenever I see this sign in the future, I’ll now take extra care…

Laughing Along With A Limerick

Here’s your Monday smile – it’s limerick time. Send in your own or here’s a prompt for you –

SPORT

Here are a few limericks to make you smile this Monday. The prompt last week was GIFT.

Keith Channing:

A friendship that’s suffered a rift

Can sometimes be healed by a gift.

An ill thought-out token

Can leave one heartbroken;

And you may end up getting short shrift!

Tales from the mind of Kristian:

The other day, I received a gift,

I thought would give me a much-needed lift,

But when opened, I saw

It was actually for next door,

And Boy! was I really Miffed.

Kim Smyth:

We all like to get a cool gift

Yet at times can cause a real rift

“Hers is better!”

Thought the setter

So the terrier was really miffed!

Christine Mallaband-Brown:

Today I got a big gift

Which gave my spirits a lift

It’s an LP, (long player)

But I have no record player!

Through junk shops I will have to sift!

Trent’s World:

Esther, without a fuss

Gives great micro challenges to us

A gift to a writer

Makes our days much brighter

Writing words on Monday without a cuss.

Paul Mastaglio:

I had a gift

But I left it in the lift

I don’t know if it went up or down

I fret and frown

I’m missing my gift.

The Hidden Edge:

My Nephew, Alec, who loves his cricket,

Is a bowler with a golden ticket,

If you catch my drift,

Tis a splendid gift,

To yell HowZat! When taking a wicket.

Lance Greenfield:

Private Frederick Hitch – a true hero

There was a proud soldier called Hitch,

Won V.C. for brave act at Rorke’s Drift.

His medal though lost,

Was bought back at a cost

And displayed at museum: a gift.

---

And the moral of the story is . . .

I once had a gift-horse called Dennis,

Who refused to visit the dentist.

His teeth were so hairy

That his mouth was quite scary,

And worse, he had bad halitosis.

Linking People2013:

Opened a bag of birthday gift,

A present given as a thrift!

Pussy cat was her birthday gift!

Slept with pussy cat in kist!

She has a gift of gab to list!

Sarian Lady:

I’m a sleek young horse named Gift,

Like lightning I really am swift.

You’ll be in the money.

Your days will be sunny.

Don’t look in my mouth. Get my drift?

And here are two from Joy Smith that I forgot to post last week! The prompt was ‘suit’. Huge apologies, Joy.

The man in the lavendar suit

Always gave the good girls a hoot

One day at the wheel

He did have a feel

And then they gave him the boot!

---

Carmen Miranda with her hat full of fruit

Would never be seen dead in a suit

All bananas or melon

Or a whole row of lemon

Wins the jackpot, and oodles of loot!

***

A Poem For Friday

I would like to welcome back Kevin Morris to my blog this week. I hope you enjoy his poem as much as I did. Here is a little bit about him:

Kevin Morris was born in the city of Liverpool on 6 January 1969.

Having obtained a BA in history and politics and an MA in political
theory from the University College of Swansea, Kevin moved to London
where he now lives and works.

Being visually impaired, Kevin uses screen reading software called Job
Access with Speech or JAWS, which converts text into speech and
braille enabling him to use a Windows laptop.

Barely a Bird I Heard

By

Kevin Morris

Barely a bird I heard.

The wind blew,

And a fallen tree

Spoke to me

In words most true,

Of the progress of humanity.

–

Kevin has recently published his Further Selected poems, which is
available from Amazon, https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B08XPMGD3F/

***

Can You Tell A Story In…

It’s Thursday and your new five-word challenge is here. This week, your prompt is THING. So can you tell a story in five words, using the word THING in it somewhere?

Here are your BATH stories from last week:

Ritu:

Bubble baths – my favourite treat.

How do you say ‘bath’?

Christine Mallaband-Brown:

Bath, town down near Bristol

A bath of silver thiosulphate,

(a bath for developing photos)

She had a bath yesterday

My bath was too cold.

Bath bombs- fizzy, smells nice!

Bath of asses milk – yummy?

The cat fell into bath!

Doughnut bathed in caster sugar…

Kim Smyth:

Showers are quicker than baths.

Baths soak that pain away!

Bath melts are very moisturizing.

My sister makes bath melts.

Eva Hnizdo:

After skiing, bath. Heavenly.

Lance Greenfield:

Bishop of Bath and Wells.

Tin bath warms by fireside.

Skinny dippers bathe in waves.

Archimedes leaps from bath. Eureka!

Bath: narrow streets, steep hills.

Bath: grocery delivery driver’s nightmare.

Bath together: economical and fun.

Sauna – ice bath – aromatherapy massage.

Writers think in their baths.

Muddy runner needs a bath.

Romans bathe in Bath baths.

Cleopatra likes a roomy bathroom.

Always undress before your bath.

Soapy suds or bath oil?

Flushed baby with bathwater.

Took a bath without me?

Icy bath hardens my nipples.

Smell bad? Bath. Smell good!

No plastic duck? No bath!

Green lizards like sand baths.

Hot sex in warm bath.

Eating juicy fruit in bath.

Hot bath is perfect cure.

Sarian Lady:

Memories of Jane Austin in Bath.

Warm bath, candles, wine, bliss.

Joy Smith:

Christmas Carols from Bath Abbey.

Discover Jane Austen’s Bath haunts.

Aromatherapy bath brought on labour.

Epsom bath, salts and downs.

Georgian bath release sulphuric fumes.

Bath the dog, waggy fun.

Acid bath hides the evidence.

Rendezvous in Bath. Now married.

Kitchen sink as baby’s bath.

Jane’s footsteps echo around Bath.

Acid bath, extreme exfoliation system.

EDC Writing:

Last bath, he slipped in.

Darlene:

Splosh, splash, having a bath!

Threw baby out with bath.

Meet me in the bath.

Linking People 2003:

Immersing in warm bath container!

Bathtub must have grooved mat!

Hip bath can keep clean!

Sitz bath is hip bath!

Whirlpool bath in seas dangerous!

Hot steam filled room bath!

Steam bath relaxes and refreshes!

Turkish bath is steam bath!

Steam bath in sauna room!

Victorian slipper bath in public!

Towel wrapped during slipper bath!

Public slipper bath for cleanliness!

Douche requires spraying with water!

Rectal flush wash during bath!

Laving face and hip bath!

Jacuzzi bath has underwater waterjets!

Greece and Rome used thermae!

Soap and scrub for bath!

Val Fish:

Visited Bath once, got soaked.

Baby’s bath time; precious moments.

Mum’s bath time; pure escapism.

***

Fairies Part One

She’s seeing things again. My dear, sweet, Eleanor. I watch her and yearn to reach out my hand and stroke her long, brown hair, to tuck it back behind her ears. The tiny girl turns. She knows I am watching. Such sadness in those glorious eyes. My fingers are edging nearer. I stop. I can’t touch her. I mustn’t. My dear, sweet, Eleanor, only seven years old.

She turns back and sobs, clutching her teddy. Dear teddy, so old and worn from constant hugs and tears trapped beneath the fading fur.

Her sobbing slows. She stops. Her head leans on one side and her fringe falls forward, hiding her face. She flings back her head and the smile twitches at the corner of her mouth. She listens and a light illuminates her. Her eyes dance, alive once more and her thin fingers tap teddy to a tune only she can hear. They’re here. Oh, Eleanor, the fairies have come again.

Her smile slowly spreads as mine vanishes. Her tears have dried and mine replace them. Why, Eleanor? Oh, why?

Her hands reach out and open up as if to catch a ball. She pulls back. She has one in her grasp. Yellow, pink, purple; only she knows the colour of the wings, the hue of the dress, the feel of hair and feet flitting over flesh. She turns to me and holds out her hand. I can’t see them. I can’t see them, Eleanor.

I turn away. I can bear no more. But I have to look back. Eleanor is dancing now, with her arms raised above her head and her eyes glancing gleefully in all directions. They’re everywhere, aren’t they, Eleanor? She won’t look at me now. She doesn’t need me any more, not when they’re here. This is the only time she smiles, the only time she feels anything. Why, Eleanor? What terrible thing made you create such a wondrous world? Is the real word so terrible, so bad?

***

Funny Of The Week

So, as long as you’re quiet, it’s okay…

Laughing Along With A Limerick

Here’s your Monday smile – it’s limerick time. Send in your own or here’s a prompt for you –

GIFT

Here are a few limericks to make you smile this Monday. The prompt last week was BOSS.

Keith Channing:

If your company runs at a loss

The person to blame is the boss.

You have to work wonders

Whilst he commits blunders

And lives in the world of Pangloss.

Kim Smyth:

I once had a wonderful boss

Whose charms on me weren’t a loss

“Your secrets,” she said

“Never give up until dead!”

So out the window with them I did toss!

Christine Mallaband-Brown:

There once was a cowboy called Hoss

Who fell out, big time, with his boss.

He jumped on his mount

With a big angry pout

And shouted, I’m off. And it’s your loss!

lyncrain:

Is that man actually our boss

The one chewing strands of dental floss

I’ve heard of diet fads

But he’s really sad

Soon will be six feet under the moss.

–

Is that man actually our boss

The one chewing strands of dental floss

I’ve heard of diet fads

But it’s really sad

He’s missing out on the applesauce.

Trent’s World:

Bob was a boss who was mean

The nastiest guy ever seen

One poor clerk

Was fired by the jerk

But took revenge on the fiend.

–

Julie was a boss who was nice

I’d surely work for her twice!

She praised everyone

For the work they had done

And always gave great advice.

Barbara Owen:

His lordship thinks he’s the boss

The rest of us don’t give a toss

Yes dear! No dear!

Three bags full dear

We all know the dog is the boss!

The Hidden Edge:

Our business chief is called Joss,

She makes a pretty good boss,

She’s fair with our pay,

Oft gives praise away,

And ‘hardly’ ever gets cross!

Lance Greenfield:

Daktari’s lion was called Clarence,

Boss-eyed and strange in appearance.

Although mild he appeared,

When poachers came near,

His roars saw them off in the distance.

Linking People2013:

Boss always right grants survival but a leader is not boss,

Boss doesn’t lead team, commands with a gloss!

Leaders work with the team unlike boss sitting in armchair,

Upon retirement boss is like any other to compare!

Leaders never retire unlike boss!

***

A Poem For Friday

Many of you will know my guest poet this week. It’s the talented Geoff Le Pard. Before you read his powerful poem, here’s a bit about him:

Geoff Le Pard started writing to entertain in 2006. He hasn’t left his keyboard since. When he’s not churning out novels he writes some maudlin self-indulgent poetry, short fiction and blogs at geofflepard.com. He walks the dog for mutual inspiration and most of his best ideas come out of these strolls. He also cooks with passion if not precision.

On Loss

By

Geoff Le Pard

I wrote this after I listened to actress, Ruthie Henschell describing being allowed to visit and hold her mother one year after lockdown started and how her mother is now speechless and incapable of walking, all lost during her enforced isolation; a cruel death-in-life.

I’ve lost you to Covid.

In March we held hands. Shared memories and chocolates.

They closed the doors and the sun shone on the empty windows.

Your smile faded, like a slow sunset

Angry reds and bruised purples.

Others died and we maintained our unsocial distance.

Summer arrived, bringing hope and a new window,

The only rain battering it our tears as it stayed shut.

We locked gazes but we saw reflections of ourselves,

Just absences.

Our words drifted against the glass, familiar phrases beating that pane,

Deadened, turning you wordless.

Autumn’s bronzes set hard,

You sculpted yourself in your familiar seat

So still, breathing your silent despair.

Untouched.

We left winter’s bleak void for another hope:

A vaccine.

A new opening. A new promise.

Test, temperature and there you were.

I held you, those so familiar bony shoulders, tangy scent, that little scar.

But you’d gone, you’d left the building of your body.

A living breathing husk,

Mummyfied.

Saved by science, killed by kindness.

We shared treats but only I have the memories

And no one to share them with.

***

If you want to read more of Geoff’s poetry, he has a collection available from Amazon:

Famous poets reimagined, sonnets of all kinds, this poerty selection has something for all tastes, from the funny, to the poignant to the thought-provoking and always written with love and passion.

Amazon.co.uk

Amazon.com

Can You Tell AStory In…

It’s Thursday and your new five-word challenge is here. This week, your prompt is BATH. So can you tell a story in five words, using the word BATH in it somewhere?

Here are your NIGHT stories from last week:

Keith Channing:

Now In Green – Holly Trees.

Now It’s Gone – Hateful Tonsillitis.

Now I’ll Get High Tea.

Northern Ireland Grand Hotel Trip!

Near Iceland Getting Hot Tonight.

Now I’m Gonna Hear Tinnitus.

Ritu:

Tonight, I’m going OUT out!

I’m not a night owl.

Christine Mallaband-Brown:

At night the frogs sing.

The moon shone bright tonight.

I’m collecting toadstools around midnight!

The witch flew at night.

Night comes and I sleep?

Cheers! And good night all!

Sorry my night was awful.

I never sleep at night!

Kim Smyth:

Tonight is thankfully “date” night!

Eva Hnizdo:

Waiting. Evening, now night. Alone.

Lance Greenfield:

Tonight brings my first BEDGASM!

Overnight success takes a lifetime.

Days without sunshine are nights.

Nightshirt worn outside birthday suit.

Join me for a nightcap?

Nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.

Vincent painted The Starry Night.

Twenty-twenty was a global nightmare.

Lancelot was Arthur’s favourite knight.

Brightest dawns follow darkest nights.

Black knights in white satin.

Silky nightdress arouses amorous desires.

Night of the long knives.

‘Allo ‘allo. Nighthawk calling London.

Hello! Are you Deadly Nightshade?

Write to Inspire: Night Writer.

Just one secretive night together?

Nightstick: an American officer’s truncheon.

Night-sight lights up sniper’s target.

Cricket team needs a nightwatchman.

Luminous night frogs taste horrible!

Bump in the night. Scary!

Pyjama party includes midnight fast.

Summer nights, driftin’ away. Oh-oh!

Gladys Knight had the pip.

Trent’s World:

Five word stories with “night”?

They only waken at night…

Sarian Lady:

Stars, night, a wonderful sight.

Joy Smith:

I run marathons at night.

Night-time creativity. Best sellers.

Sweaty night – menopause or TB?

Full moon night, werewolves howl.

Starry starry night. Hear that?

Menopausal sleepless night, sheets drenched.

Night duty – peace – no visitors.

Night shift over. Porridge, sleep.

Dark night settles, aromatherapy rules.

Night sedation lingers, sleepy days.

Night time conversations with Australasia.

Tennis watching nights, Aussie Open.

Night night. Sleep tight. Bitten!

EDC Writing:

Last night? Gone by morning.

Paul Mastaglio:

The night slowly draws in.

Night wraps itself around you.

Sighing, you embrace the night.

Roberta Writes:

It comes out at night.

Nightfall brings him fresh game.

Zelda Rene:

Night belongs to Muse, adored.

Linking People 2003:

Nightly episodes healthy with exercise!

Keira Knightley nominated at twenty!

Night for anabolism; day, catabolism!

Sleep must for body’s repair!

Ramadan – day autophagy, night eating!

Evil spirits rise at night!

Burning midnight oil helps achieve!

Reproductive activity more at night!

Neena:

As night melts dawn awakens!

Jusstwords:

All night the tornado rages.

Pitter patter all night? Stop!

Death visited them that night.

Dark Night was the song.

A darker night, never seen.

***

The Fairy At The Bottom Of The Garden Part Three

For part one, click here

For part two, click here

“Well, I was a dab hand at making models when I was a lad and remember when times were hard and I crafted all those toys for Colin? I’m sure I can handle a fairy,” Peter said, rubbing his hands together.

…

“She’s beautiful, absolutely beautiful,” Annie exclaimed, wiping a tear away a little later.

Peter hugged Annie to him. “She’s not bad if I say so myself. But as I said, times have changed. Children aren’t so easily convinced these days.”

Annie nodded. “At least your fairy stands a better chance of convincing her than mine.”

Peter laughed. “I have to agree. I’ll hang her up in one of the trees tomorrow morning and then we’ll just have to wait and see.”

…

Grace’s mouth gaped open as she pointed up to Peter’s fairy. Grandmother and granddaughter looked back to the house, faces beaming. Peter waved to them from the lounge window and gave a thumbs up, then disappeared, probably back to his paper.  

“Grandma?”

“What’s wrong, Grace?” Annie asked, as Grace’s lip started to quiver.

 “She isn’t a real fairy.”

Annie gulped. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

“I can see a bit of peg poking out. I thought she was real, but… but she’s not.”

Annie chewed her lip. What had she done? She’d made things worse than ever.

“Do you think Grandad made her? He’s very, very good at making things and she is very, very pretty, like a real fairy.”

Annie drew in a breath. “I rather think he did make her, Grace. I think he wanted you to have your fairy at the bottom of the garden.”

“But I will, Grandma. When Daddy was tucking me up in bed last night, he told me that if I believe hard enough, one day I’ll see a real fairy,” Grace said, tucking her hand into Annie’s. “So I’m going to believe and believe and believe. Then I’ll see a real fairy.”

Annie hugged Grace tightly and kissed the top of her head. A warmth suddenly spread through her and for a moment, she felt as if her mother was there with them. She smiled. “Perhaps one day, Grace, you just might.”

The End

***