#“and he took you up in his aeroplane which he flew without any hands” that's making me think of this one passage in Crash where he's like

[howarddevotoeater]

Sometimes it's like. aargh...

[caffebruciato]

I believe that you heard your master sing When I was sick in bed I suppose that he told you everything That I keep locked away in my head Your master took you travelling Well, at least that's what you said And now, do you come back to bring Your prisoner wine and bread?

You met him at some temple Where they take your clothes at the door He was just a numberless man in a chair Just come back from the war And you wrap up his tired face in your hair And he hands you the apple core Then he touches your lips, now so suddenly bare Of all the kisses we put on some time before

And he gave you a German Shepherd to walk With a collar of leather and nails And he never once made you explain or talk About all of the little details Such as who had a word and who had a rock And who had you through the mails Now your love is a secret all over the block And it never stops, not even when your master fails

And he took you up in his aeroplane Which he flew without any hands And you cruised above the ribbons of rain That drove the crowd from the stands Then he killed the lights in a lonely lane And an ape with angel glands Erased the final wisps of pain With the music of rubber bands

And now, I hear your master sing You kneel for him to come His body is a golden string That your body is hanging from His body is a golden string My body has grown numb Oh, now you hear your master sing Your shirt is all undone

And will you kneel beside this bed That we polished so long ago Before your master chose instead To make my bed of snow? Your eyes are wild and your knuckles are red And you're speaking far too low No, I can't make out what your master said Before he made you go

Then I think you're playing far too rough For a lady who's been to the moon I've lain by this window long enough You get used to an empty room And your love is some dust in an old man's cough Who is tapping his foot to a tune And your thighs are a ruin, you want too much Let's say you came back some time too soon

I loved your master perfectly I taught him all that he knew He was starving in some deep mystery Like a man who is sure what is true And I sent you to him with my guarantee I could teach him something new And I taught him how you would long for me No matter what he said, no matter what you'd do

I believe that you heard your master sing While I was sick in bed I'm sure that he told you everything I must keep locked away in my head Your master took you travelling Well, at least that's what you said And now, do you come back to bring Your prisoner wine and bread?

[ukdamo]

Dresden

Ciaran Carson

Horse Boyle was called Horse Boyle because of his brother Mule; Though why Mule was called Mule is anybody's guess. I stayed there once, Or rather, I nearly stayed there once. But that's another story. At any rate they lived in this decrepit caravan, not two miles out of Carrick, Encroached upon by baroque pyramids of empty baked bean tins, rusts And ochres, hints of autumn merging into twilight. Horse believed They were as good as a watchdog, and to tell you the truth You couldn't go near the place without something falling over: A minor avalanche would ensue – more like a shop bell, really, The old-fashioned ones on a string, connected to the latch, I think, And as you entered in, the bell would tinkle in the empty shop, a musk Of soap and turf and sweets would hit you from the gloom. Tobacco. Baling wire. Twine. And, of course, shelves and pyramids of tins. An old woman would appear from the back – there was a sizzling pan in there, Somewhere, a whiff of eggs and bacon – and ask you what you wanted; Or rather, she wouldn't ask; she would talk about the weather. It had rained That day, but it was looking better. They had just put in the spuds. I had only come to pass the time of day, so I bought a token packet of Gold Leaf. All this time the fry was frying away. Maybe she'd a daughter in there Somewhere, though I hadn't heard the neighbours talk of it; if anybody knew, It would be Horse. Horse kept his ears to the ground. And he was a great man for current affairs; he owned the only TV in the place. Come dusk he'd set off on his rounds, to tell the whole townland the latest Situation in the Middle East, a mortar bomb attack in Mullaghbawn – The damn things never worked, of course – and so he'd tell the story How in his young day it was very different. Take young Flynn, for instance, Who was ordered to take this bus and smuggle some sticks of gelignite Across the border, into Derry, when the RUC – or was it the RIC? – Got wind of it. The bus was stopped, the peeler stepped on. Young Flynn Took it like a man, of course: he owned up right away. He opened the bag And produced the bomb, his rank and serial number. For all the world Like a pound of sausages. Of course, the thing was, the peeler's bike Had got a puncture, and he didn't know young Flynn from Adam. All he wanted Was to get home for his tea. Flynn was in for seven years and learned to speak The best of Irish. He had thirteen words for a cow in heat; A word for the third thwart in a boat, the wake of a boat on the ebb tide. He knew the extinct names of insects, flowers, why this place was called Whatever: Carrick, for example, was a rock. He was damn right there – As the man said, When you buy meat you buy bones, when you buy land you buy stones. You'd be hard put to find a square foot in the whole bloody parish That wasn't thick with flints and pebbles. To this day he could hear the grate And scrape as the spade struck home, for it reminded him of broken bones: Digging a graveyard, maybe – or, better still, trying to dig a reclaimed tip Of broken delph and crockery ware – you know that sound that sets your teeth on edge When the chalk squeaks on the blackboard, or you shovel ashes from the stove? Master McGinty – he'd be on about McGinty then, and discipline, the capitals Of South America, Moore's Melodies, the Battle of Clontarf, and Tell me this, an educated man like you: What goes on four legs when it's young, Two legs when it's grown up, and three legs when it's old? I'd pretend I didn't know. McGinty's leather strap would come up then, stuffed With threepenny bits to give it weight and sting. Of course, it never did him Any harm: You could take a horse to water but you couldn't make him drink. He himself was nearly going on to be a priest. And many's the young cub left the school, as wise as when he came. Carrowkeel was where McGinty came from – Narrow Quarter, Flynn explained – Back before the Troubles, a place that was so mean and crabbed, Horse would have it, men were known to eat their dinner from a drawer. Which they'd slide shut the minute

you'd walk in. He'd demonstrate this at the kitchen table, hunched and furtive, squinting Out the window – past the teetering minarets of rust, down the hedge-dark aisle – To where a stranger might appear, a passer-by, or what was maybe worse, Someone he knew. Someone who wanted something. Someone who was hungry. Of course who should come tottering up the lane that instant but his brother Mule. I forgot to mention they were twins. They were as like as two – No, not peas in a pod, for this is not the time nor the place to go into Comparisons, and this is really Horse's story, Horse who – now I'm getting Round to it – flew over Dresden in the war. He'd emigrated first, to Manchester. Something to do with scrap – redundant mill machinery, Giant flywheels, broken looms that would, eventually, be ships, or aeroplanes. He said he wore his fingers to the bone. And so, on impulse, he had joined the RAF. He became a rear gunner. Of all the missions, Dresden broke his heart. It reminded him of china. As he remembered it, long afterwards, he could hear, or almost hear Between the rapid desultory thunderclaps, a thousand tinkling echoes – All across the map of Dresden, store-rooms full of china shivered, teetered And collapsed, an avalanche of porcelain, slushing and cascading: cherubs, Shepherdesses, figurines of Hope and Peace and Victory, delicate bone fragments. He recalled in particular a figure from his childhood, a milkmaid Standing on the mantelpiece. Each night as they knelt down for the rosary, His eyes wold wander up to where she seemed to beckon to him, smiling, Offering him, eternally, her pitcher of milk, her mouth of rose and cream. One day, reaching up to hold her yet again, his fingers stumbled, and she fell. He lifted down a biscuit tin, and opened it. It breathed an antique incense: things like pencils, snuff, tobacco. His war medals. A broken rosary. And there, the milkmaid's creamy hand, the outstretched Pitcher of milk, all that survived. Outside, there was a scraping And a tittering; I knew Mule's step by now, his careful drunken weaving Through the tin-stacks. I might have stayed the night, but there's no time To go back to that now; I could hardly, at any rate, pick up the thread. I wandered out through the steeples of rust, the gate that was a broken bed.

[randaccidents]

Fractured (part one)

So I have fallen into another fandom! @mine-sara-sp‘s shadow people au is just so good though!

A while ago she posted a fic of a vexed Paladin and it got me thinking. This is where that thinking went.

TW: Blood, fighting, panic attacks (somewhat), manipulation

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Epilogue

The morning sun had just risen over the horizon and everything was quiet for once on Hermitcraft. With the recent glow ups in New Hermitville – literally, there was glowstone everywhere now – not even the sound of zombies could be heard, allowing all hermits who thought to find the comfort of their beds to have a peaceful awakening.

At least, for most of the sleeping hermits on the server, this was the case. For Wels, not so much.

The buzzing of his communicator woke Wels from his peaceful sleep. Groaning, Wels rolled over in his bed and blearily groped for the infernal device. Rubbing his eyes, Wels’ eyes flicked over the main chat to the two personal message chats that were blowing up his communicator.

Personal message from GoodTimesWithScar

[Scar] Wels vex alert!

[Scar]   bnghyt67sdzfgtyuopgtfjgkadsfxgchvjbknlm;,;lkjhaghjkl;’

[Scar] sorry Keloid licked my communicator

[Scar] where are you Keloid wants you

[Scar] I think Paladin died again

[Scar] youre sleeping arent you?

[Scar] please wake up

[Scar]Keloid is gonna melt me in lava please wake up

[Scar] wake up

[Scar] wake up

[Scar] wake up

[Scar] wake up

[Scar] wake up

[Scar] wake up

[Scar] pls this jrt is hgh they took my elytea

[Scar] wake up

Personal message from Cubfan135

[Cub] Wels vex alert!

[Cub] Avarice is looking for you

[Cub] ohno your asleep arent you

[Cub] Wels wake up

[Cub] Avarice is destroying my villager center

[Cub] Wels

[Cub] Wels my poor villagers

[Cub] How are you still asleep?

[Cub] If I know Scar, and I know Scar, he is spamming you right now

[Cub] Wels please if not for me then do it for the villagers

[Cub] … Wels I know youre awake answer me where are you

There goes his opportunity to pretend to be asleep. Grumbling, Wels rolled out of bed and began preparing for his day. He wasn't in the mood for anything in particular at the moment. If anything, he wanted to go back to sleep. Grabbing his tool set and weapons, Wels headed for the door. Yawning, he almost forgot to put on his armour before he left his mansion.

Shuddering at the memory of his last round trip flight, he quickly doubled back to grab the most important piece; the helmet. Looking at the rest of his armour set, he shrugged. Where he was going, and especially who he was going to meet, he wouldn't need any armour. Shrugging on his elytra, Wels jumped from the highest window in his mansion, gliding lazily towards the portal tower.

As he flew, Wels opened his communicator and idly flipped through the general chat, trying to pinpoint what needed to face his wrath for waking him up so early (the zombies weren't even burning yet!)

Hermitgang

*Welsknight's shadow fell from a high place

[Zedaph] its vex time boys

[BDubs] CUB SCAR YOU GOT INCOMING

[BDubs] AND TELL THEM TO STOP FLYING OVER NEW NEW HERMITVILLE

[Iskall]  I dont think they heard you

[Impulse] I think their working on Concorp things right now

[Grian] Keloid and Avarice just flew past at mach speed and knocked me out of the sky like some kinda vex aeroplane what did I miss

[Iskall] read up

[Grian] oh

[Grian] well their heading the wrong direction we can still warn them

[Impulse] there is no way this chat hasnt warned them yet

[Zedaph] is that Keloid holding Scar up there on the jet?

[Impulse] ...I stand corrected

[BDubs] GET WELS

[Grian] isnt today his sleep day

[Impulse] what

[Impulse ] aw man he sleeps like a rock!

[Tango] you know what this means?

[BDubs] NO TIME FOR THAT INITIATE OPERATION WAKE WELS

[BDubs] WAKE UP WELS

[Iskall] how do you want to do that man hes unshakable

[Zedaph] ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[Zedaph] WAKE UP WELS

[Tango] ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  WAKE UP WELS

[Impulse] ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ WAKE UP WELS

[Mumbo] Guys stop I cant afk in peace like this

[Tango] WAKE UP WELS

[Grian] Mumbo? Woken from afk? Impossible

[Zedaph] WAKE UP WELS

[Iskall] and here is proof that Wels cannot be woken

[BDubs] DOESNT MEAN WE CANT TRY

[BDubs] WAKE UP WELS

[Iskall] yo bdubs you alright? been using a lot of caps there

[Tango] WAKE UP WELS

[BDubs] I DRANK 5 MONSTER ENERGY AND 7 COFFEE IM GREAT

[Keralis] hes not alright

[Keralis] send help

[Impulse] WAKE UP WELS

[Doc] Alright Im headed over right now dont you run from me

[Zedaph] WAKE UP WELS

[BDubs] NO IM FINE YOU WONT FIND ME ANYWAY

[Keralis] hurry I cant hold him forever

[Tango] WAKE UP WELS

[Doc] I know where everyone is on this server

[Bdubs] CRAP HOW IS HE ALREADY HERE

[Keralis] WE HAVE A RUNNER FOLKS

[Zedaph] WAKE UP WELS

[Mumbo] How did you find my witch farm?

[Mumbo] How did you even get here???

[Cub] Wels I swear I know you're awake answer me where are you

[Impulse] WAKE UP oh

[Grian] ooo busted

[Impulse] I cant believe that did it

[Grian] my work here is done

[BDubs] YOULL NEVER CATCH ME ALIVE HAHAHAHA

[Tango] but you didnt do anything?

[Grian] exactly

[Cub] Wels hurry up Avarice saw the chat it is this close to smashing me

[Zedaph] did I just see grian flip his elytra like a cape while flying and not die

[Doc] GOT HIM

[Mumbo] Please get out of here

[Scar] please

Any other day he would feel guilty for leaving the Concorp with their shadows. But today he was tired and feeling a tad bit petty. Landing before the portal, he shot a quick message into the chat.

[Wels] Tell them to meet me in the sand mesa temple. They know which

Not bothering to wait for a reply, Wels set his communicator on silent and strode into the portal, heading towards the 'meeting place'. Preoccupied as he was, Wels never saw the stray shadow on the floor that detached itself to follow after him.

~~~

Closing the door of the shadow temple, Wels began preparations to resummon Paladin. Reaching into the chest he had left, he pulled out an armour stand and climbed the podium, humming a sea shanty as he went. Placing the armour stand on the podium, he stepped back to make sure Paladin wasn't summoned quite that fast. He was not in the mood to deal with his ego today. Suddenly, he heard the door open and close behind him. That was fast. “Wait just a bit I’ll have your Shiny for you,” he yelled over his shoulder. Stepping forward, he prepared to summon Paladin and-

Wait. Keloid and Avarice don’t just, open and close doors. They smash them. The person behind him was not Keloid or Avarice. He turned-

and something slid across his throat, cutting off his breath.

Choking, Wels stumbled back, falling onto the stairs. Hands scrabbling at his throat, trying to close the wound, to breathe. Tilting his head to the side, he found an angle that let him breathe shallowly.

“Well, that wasn't what I intended, but it works great for my frustrations.”

Gasping, he looked up and met his bright blue eyed ambusher, idly tracing shapes in the air with its sword. Wels knew this shadow. He was so dead. Shakily, he drew his sword from his tool belt. His ambusher looked down at him through his visor and grinned, stalking forward.

“You think you can fight me as you are now? You make me laugh.” A snarl, and Apex was upon him, sword screeching against his own. Wels found himself struggling to push Apex away, to breathe, breath stolen in the face of a predator. “Good thing I need a laugh right now.”

Apex made a quick movement with its hand, sending Wels’ sword skittering up the stairs onto the podium. Wels barely managed to bring his arms up to block the next sword strike, wheezing in pain as it skittered off something hard. Pain ignored in the adrenaline, in the need to stay alive, Wels scrabbled backwards up the steps, forgetting his injuries, forgetting to breathe, anything to grab the precious sword that would give him a chance. Apex was advancing on him, he can't breathe, where is his sword?

His hand reached back, and he grabbed hold of something made of sticks.

His shadow bubbled, rising out of the floor to become 3D. Yellow eyes flickered open.

*Welsknight’s shadow has been summoned

Paladin stretched lazily, unaware of their surroundings. “Wels hey so about that death I...”

Apex stood before them, Wels on the floor at their feet. This was not normal. “What are you doing Apex?”

The shadow grinned at them lazily, sword in a resting position at their hip. “Why, just releasing some pent up frustrations on unsuspecting players. This doesn't concern you at all. Go back to those creatures you call shadows.”

They almost did. They didn't want to keep Keloid and Avarice waiting too long. But then they made the mistake of looking down.

Wels looked horrible. Paladin could see open wounds on his neck and arms, fresh from the fight. Wels’ breathing was shallow, but his eyes were hyper aware, shuddering between Apex and Paladin.

He looked cornered. Paladin took a step towards him, something tugging at the back of their mind. What was this emotion?

Apex snarled at them threateningly. “Are you challenging me little blacksmith? You’re nothing without your guard dogs following you.” Paladin’s shoulders hiked upwards at the nickname and they hissed in the way that Keloid and Avarice would when angry. Apex flinched at the noise, stabbing their sword downwards towards the floor to mask it, Wels’ whimper of pain going unnoticed in the tension. “You can fight me if you want blacksmith. But I’m not afraid of you.” The sword came back up to point at Paladin’s exposed chest. “You are nothing without those vex, and I will end you.”

They couldn't take those insults to his ability. Their ego did not want to allow it. But Paladin had survived this long with fewer deaths than expected because they knew when to quit. This was not a fight they could win, even if the pulsing knot in their chest rebelled. They stepped away from Wels.

Apex grinned, yellow smile flashing through the impossible corners of the temple. “Smart choice.” They moved, and Paladin’s eyes trailed downwards, locking onto Wels’ panicked ones. The knot in their chest grew tighter-

And in one stroke, they had grabbed a sword from the floor and stabbed Apex through the back with it.

Apex snarled in surprise, whirling around to face them. A clashing screech, and they were locked in combat. Paladin could see Wels dragging himself away from the corner of their eye and a strange relief filled them. Giving a threatening hiss-chirp back, blocked Apex’s blows, looking for an opening to exploit as their training with Wels kicked in.

Parry, parry, thrust, parry, parry, thrust

The rhythm kept them in the fight, preventing Apex from advancing while also retaliating. So it came as a surprise when Apex suddenly twisted its wrist and sent their sword flying to the opposite side of the room. Not wasting a beat, Apex leapt at them, sword swinging in a large arc that sliced across their neck. Paladin staggered backwards at the pain, only barely moving their head to the side to avoid a sword in their skull, sending a straight gash of light across their face. They click-snarled at Apex, whose grin only turned more predatory.

The next swing was intercepted by an axe, followed by a pickaxe which sliced across their chest. Apex barely stumbled as they charged forward yet again, pinning Paladin’s off-handed axe to the floor with one hand. Raising a foot, it was brought down with a snap!, breaking the weapon. A pickaxe at its shoulder brought their attention back to Paladin, and the cycle began anew.

Parry, parry, parRY, PARRY, PARRY

Slices on their arms, light and triangular particles spinning away. Paladin could feel panic start to settle deep in their bones as they fought. They had barely managed to keep themselves between Wels and Apex, but they knew this was a losing fight. A pickaxe was never meant to be a strong weapon against a sword, but they were determined. The knot in their chest would be too painful to bear otherwise they knew. They kept swinging and parrying, what choice did they have?

There is one choice for you dark one.

Bells and tinkling laughter. They knew who this was. The world around them paused, glowing a light blue like a badly rendered photo. They closed their eyes.

The sound of wings, of bells and tinkling laughter grew nearer. The intense sensation of being watched crawled beneath their skin, but they stood firm. They were made for the spotlight, it did not scare them one bit. Not even as the Vex arrived to speak to them again.

We can help you dark one. All you need to do is make a deal.

Keloid and Avarice had warned them more than enough for them to know that this was a bad idea. They snarl-growled at the unseeable entity before them. “No. Haven't I said this enough times? Go away.”

Ah, but you need help don’t you? Look at your summoner, so weak and fragile. We know that he won’t last once you go down.

That made Paladin falter slightly. “But he’ll respawn!”

Humming. But what if this time he doesn't? What then dark one, what then?

They were not thinking straight, they knew that, knew it in the shaking of their hands and the rush of adrenaline, the cold in their bones and the knot in their chest- no, the emotions in their chest that they didn't understand, emotions for their summoner; care? worry? They didn't know, everything was going so wrong-

Calm dark one. We can help. All you need to do, is ASK.

Paladin considered, actually thought about what was being offered. They needed help, they knew. They also knew that the Vex were strong and ancient. But the warnings…

“If I ask for your help, I want to know what I’m getting into first. No sneaky dealings of any sort.”

Laughing bells. If you insist. All we want is a chance to make a deal with your summoner. You will be the conduit to bring him to us.

“And if I don’t?”

You both won’t have a choice. One way or another we will find you.

Paladin ducked their head, opening yellow eyes to glance sideways at Wels. The man had pulled himself to a column. His shirt was ripped, used as makeshift bandages. Red. So much red. They made their decision.

“Alright, I’ll take your deal. Help me.”

Shattering music notes. What do you want us to give you, dark one?

There was no hesitation, the words drawn upwards out from him. “Power. I’ve been the damsel for long enough. Give me the power to protect my family.” They would have hesitated more, but that glance at Wels earlier had solidified a fiery resolve. They wanted to protect their family, and that included Wels whether he liked it or not.

Tinkling glass shards mixed with laughter as power stabbed its way into Paladin. Of course. Now, wake and face your opponent dark one, and remember our deal.

The blue fog faded, the staring spotlights died, the glass was swept away. It was as if the Vex were never there. But Paladin could feel the power rising in their chest, competing with guilt and worry and panic. With a roar, they released it into the air.

Apex stumbled backwards, the roar resonating through memories of darkness, birds, blue. Its grin became more of a grimace as they launched itself at Paladin again, only to be stopped by a sword. Where had they-?

Looking around, Apex noticed the glowing blue gauntlets floating in the air around Paladin. The gauntlets moved quickly, each hand grabbing the closest weapon. A blue cloak of the same colour had spawned out of nowhere and draped upon Paladin’s shoulders. Apex’s grimace flipped back into a feral grin. This was what a real challenge looked like.

They sprung into action, hacking away at each weaponed hand. With every hand that fell, another took its place. Every hit that did land bounced off the hard plating of the seemingly cloth-made cloak. But it soon began to tire, invisible strings softening its blows. No one else on the server had kept up with it this long, not even Killjoy. But shadows didn't tire, someone must be helping Paladin. Looking up, Apex met Paladin’s angered glare. But that didn't faze them at all.

What did faze them was the softly glowing blue streaks where they had sliced Paladin earlier. Apex hissed. Vex. That's where the blacksmith’s help had come from. They shuddered as the invisible threads cut deeper. Now that it knew what to look for, they could feel the Vex on its shoulders, weighing it down. It was time to cut their losses.

Apex faked a lunge at Paladin, taking the split second of Paladin being off-balance to make a run for the door. Turning back inside the doorframe, Apex took in the scene they had left. Red on the floor, pillars sliced into, Paladin running towards them.

And Wels was finally open. Apex grinned. Mechanically, they raised their arm, bringing out Biffa’s spare iron sword and threw it, slamming the door behind them.

Paladin howled, jumping to grab the sword. They knew they were too far away, but something carried their momentum forward and they grabbed the sword out of the air, tumbling onto the steps of the podium. They could feel the cloak folding behind them as it smoothed back out from whatever form it took. In that moment, all Paladin could do was breathe.

“Pal-adi-n?” The halting gasp of their name brought them back to the source of their current problem. Prying themselves off the floor, they hurried to Wels’ side, checking on his wounds. Wels was more concerned about other things, physically recoiling at the sight of the blue scars.

“Wha- di-you do?” The question came out gurgled, but understandable. Paladin could only helplessly reach for their summoner, voice pleading for understanding.

“I made a mistake so I could save you.”

Wels seemed to understand, allowing Paladin close to check on him even as fear swam in his eyes. “Vex” he hissed, before coughing painfully into Paladin’s chest. Paladin chirped soothingly as Avarice always did for them, even as the now known panic rose up yet again. Wels was in no condition to move right now. They could look for help, but what if Apex came back? They could try Wels’ communicator, but they had no idea which temple this was. They could be anywhere! What to do what to do what to do

A pricking in their arm brought them back to reality, grounding them. They cooed at Wels in confusion; they could sense no danger here.

Until they saw the lone Vex mob, sitting on the centre podium where shadows were summoned. It cocked its head at the bloodied knights below them, grin permanently stretched wide.

We told you we would find you. Tinkling bells, shattering laughter, a hundred gazes combined as one.

It's time to fulfill your end of the deal.

Blue particles, broken bells, the room bathed in a blue-purple glow as the knights held tight to each other; one protectively and one in fear. The bell tolled.

Not minutes later, Keloid and Avarice burst down the door to find the temple empty, clean of all signs of struggle and missing two fractured knights.

[thebrotherscupheadandmugman]

Aviary Action! With Wally Warbles!

Before you read: This is a rewriting of the main game Cuphead. Characters, certain dialogue, music, and locations obviously do not belong to me. This is best read with the OST playing over it. 

Before you start reading, I now have a Patreon you can donate to as well if you should want to support where I wish to take this project! Patrons have unique opportunities to help bring this story to life, so please check it out or become a patron if you feel so inclined! Too young or unable to give financial support? That’s perfectly fine! You can also support this project, and my future ones by reblogging these episodes for free! Oh, and here’s a link to all published episodes. Enjoy! 

                                                                                                                                 The brothers flew around, over the mountain and trees in their Aeroplanes, looking for the next debtor. “You sure he's gonna be up here?” Cuphead asked, looking over to his older brother. “That's what Floyd said.” Mugman quickly glanced down at his watch, then back at the skyline. “Just keep your eyes peeled.” “What are we even looking for?!” “Floyd didn't say.” “Swell,” Cuphead grumbled sarcastically.

Suddenly, a loud cuckoo clock chime echoed across the park, causing both the boys to jump and the milk in their heads to spill just a bit. Cuphead and Mugman looked around to find the source, before Cuphead finally pointed to the center of the second isle. A large, red birdhouse with blue wings circled about, above the balloon tree to gather the patrons' attention as it rang. Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo! “Think that's the guy?” Cuphead asked.

“Well, they're the only other one up here.” Once the clock was finished announcing the time, it started to fly back towards the side of the mountain, where a few bird nests and a large wooden perch were. “Got the scroll, Mug?” Mugman dug into his pocket and pulled out the list of debtors. The sooner the birdhouse saw it and realized they weren't messing around, the sooner they could get this over with.

As the birdhouse flew back to its perch, it quickly caught sight of our heroes before it could land on it. The door of the clock flew open, and a wooden bird on its own, smaller perch was pushed out. The bird then flew out and landed on the blue Aeroplane, right between the pilot and the propeller. “This here's a restricted area. You two lookin' fer trouble?” “Not...intentionally.” “Hey, I will have you know that we are like a magnet for trouble!” “Cuphead, that's not something to be proud of!” “Keep it down!” The wooden bird snapped before flying atop Mugman's nose in order to look down and read the paper he had. “Statechure business!” “We're here with the Devil's office.” Mugman started, a guilty look plastered to his face. “We've, uh, come for Wally Warbles' Soul Contract.” The wooden bird's eyes suddenly widened, and it flew back into the door of the cuckoo clock, pulling the perch back in and shutting the door behind it.

Not long after that, the door sprang back open. “Cuckoo! No!” The door shut once more, only to spring back open moments later. “Cuckoo! No!” Once again the door shut, only to reopen. “Cuckoo! I don't want to!” The door closed, then opened once more. “Cuckoo! No!!” As the door slammed shut one last time, the orange pendulum stopped swinging, and something stretched out from the face of the clock. The pendulum separated into two legs of a bird, and an orange beak tore out from the clock, freeing the head of a red and blue feathered bird. “Bacaaaaaaaawwww!!” He screeched, glaring at the two, young pilots. “If yer thinkin' I'm goin' down quietly, y'got another thing comin'!!” “Open fire, Mugs!” The brothers promptly began shooting at Wally, although their bullets didn't seem to be doing much.

Something seemed to travel up Wally's throat and after a short while, he closed his eyes and spat out a white egg with blue, green, and red spots. “Hueaeaeahhh!” “Ahh!” The brothers both screamed and scrambled to dodge. “What's th'matter? Don't like my scrambled shots? Hueaeaeahhh!” Wally spat out another egg, “hueaeaeahhh!” Then another. “Cuphead, break!!” Mugman cautioned, maneuvering his Aeroplane out of harm's way. “Why is it every time we get in these planes you want me to break?! I said I was sorry!” The three eggs smashed against the edge of the screen behind the brothers, breaking off into three shells each. “Cuphead, six-o-clock!!” “Ya can't fool me, Mugs! He just chimed for three-ow!!” One of the eggshells hit Cuphead's undercarriage as he spoke, leaving a white cross-shaped mark on the aircraft. “Well, ya can certainly tell which one a ya's th'smart one.” Wally taunted. The cuckoo figured that if the red bogey didn't know aviation terminology, that'd certainly make this easier for him. “Hey!!” Before Cuphead could say anything else, Wally's head morphed to form a giant, white-gloved hand with the thumb pressed over the pinky finger, and the other three fingers pointed at Cuphead and Mugman. “What?” “Get ready to br- dodge!” With the flick of the neck-wrist, the hand fired out three large bullets, one from each finger, and the brothers just barely managed to squeeze through the space between the shots. “Gosh, talk about trigger fingers.” “Nail Birds! Engage blue and red bogeys! Send 'em back to th'taxpayers!”

Four small birds with nails taped to their backs flew onto the scene and headed straight for Cuphead. “Ack! Incoming birdies!” “Focus on Wally! I'll cover you!” Mugman flew in front of Cuphead and began firing at the yellow and pink birds. Upon being hit, each little bird made a squeaky cheep and exploded in a puff of smoke and feathers. “Aauugh, why'd they have to make such a cute noise?! Now I feel bad!” “Ya didn't feel bad before?” Asked Cuphead. “Well, I feel even worse now!!” “Hueaeaeahhh!” Wally spat up another egg towards Cuphead, forcing the child to fly downwards to avoid getting hit. “Engage padlocked bogeys!” Wally commanded once more, four more birds flying towards Mugman. “Mugs, our fire ain't doin' anything!” “Get up close, use your new weapon!” Mug strategized, “I'll give you cover fire, you just watch out for his breakfast!” “Get close, don't get puked on. Got it.” Cuphead gave Mugman a thumbs up, then flew in closer to the feathered debtor. Mugman shifted his focus back onto the incoming birds. “Alright, time to hit the nail on the head!”

With Mugman's cover fire, Cuphead was able to inch in closer to Wally's head, soaring over and under any eggs the cuckoo clock spat out, up until the boy managed to hide right over the top of Wally's head, just outside his field of view. “No joy! I've lost visual, Red Casablanca!” Cuphead switched his weapon, and dropped a mini-bomb right over Wally's noggin. “Yeowch!!”

Inside the birdhouse, a small figure stirred. “Shh, go back to sleep, little one.” The voice of the wooden bird tried. “There's nothing to--” A muffled explosion from outside caused the whole house to tilt and shift, startling the small figure.

Cuphead dropped yet another mini-bomb, hitting Wally right on the beak with it, which caused a few of his teeth to fly out. Then Cuphead dropped another mini-bomb right onto his neck, earning a loud yelp of pain from Wally. “Son of a-” Wally's head morphed into a red factory steam whistle as he cursed. “Twooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!” Out of frustration, Wally began to gobble and flail his wings about, launching out the blue feathers from his body. “Wuh-oh!!” Cuphead saw the incoming feathery bullets and pulled back, trying to fly through the small openings he could find, all while keeping his fire locked onto Wally. However, it didn't take long for Cuphead to become overwhelmed, and a feather scraped against his left wing, causing the Aeroplane to tilt down further than he intended, which resulted in another feather scraping his undercarriage. That was what pushed him up in such a way that allowed for two more feathers to hit his wings, which ultimately pushed him back to the edge of the screen, smashing the young cup between the aircraft and the bordering. “Yeesh. Guess we really ruffled his feathers, huh?” Mugman commented. “Oww!” Cuphead whined as his blue spirit began to drift up towards the clouds. “Hey! Don't you dare leave me here to fight this guy on my own!!” Mugman cried, pulling his straw out from his head. A hand formed at the end of the blue straw to grab Cuphead's pink heart, and Mugman yanked his brother's ghost back down into his body. “'M okay...” The child mumbled woozily. “Shake it off, bro. Just keep a consistent fire, but focus on dodging, don't worry about landing your shots. Okay?” “Yeah?” Cuphead answered after he shook his head rapidly to regain his focus.

It wasn't easy, but the brothers managed to dodge Wally's feathers up until he suddenly stopped to breathe. The bird panted as he caught his breath, and Mugman saw an opening. He released the built-up magical energy from his body, and morphed into a smiling Super Bomb that sailed right for Wally. “Oh nooo!” Wally took in one last deep breath and began flailing about again, launching feathers everywhere. Without so much as an animation for it, the Super Bomb's smile turned into a panicked, anxious frown, Mugman did his best to navigate through the barrage of feather bullets, but he was hit just inches away from Wally, detonating before he intended to. “Son of a gu-- ow!!” A feather grazed Mugman's right shoulder, cuing the preteen to pull back towards his brother. “Well, that didn't go as planned.” “Ya probably....still...” Cuphead trailed off, focusing on dodging whatever was coming his way. Although, Mugman still got the message his brother was trying to get across and started firing again. Cuphead was right. With an explosion that large, Wally still probably got hurt from that.

Once again, Wally found himself needing to stop to take a breather. “Dad? What's goin' on?” A young, sleepy voice asked. Before Wally could answer, Mugman managed to fill enough of his Super Meter to attack with an Ex Move. “Now, Cuphead!” Both the brothers pulled themselves into an aileron roll and fired off one Chomper Missile each, right at Wally. Both the Chomper Missiles smacked Wally square in the chest, causing an explosion of blue and red feathers. The now bald bird gasped in pain before falling out of the birdhouse limply. “Dad, no!!” “Wait, did you hear that?” Mugman asked.

After a few moments, the house fell apart, and a small chick in a nest with four, flapping, wing-like leaves attached to the bottom flew out. “He has a son?!” Mugman shouted. The chick glared at the older cups. “You came fer my dad, huh?! Well, you can't take 'im! He's mine!!” “Calm down, kid! We ain't here ta fightchya!” “R-right! We don't want to hurt you, alright? We just need Wally Warbles.” “Well guess what? My name's Wally Warbles Jr.! So if ya wanna take Dad away, ya gotta go trew me!!” “More like Weirdo Warbles,” Cuphead mumbled to his brother. Junior tried to whistle, but he couldn't do it, so he just shrieked instead. “Ommulon Orbiters! Activate!” Suddenly, five spiked eggs circled out from behind his back, surrounding the chick defensively. “Do yer worst!!” “Look, kid, we don't wanna hurt ya! Now scram before-” “Ya misunderstand. My dad's the brawn and I'm all brains! Together, we bring the pain. Hee hee hee hee!” Junior cackled. “Are you serious?! We have to fight a little kid?!” “He ain't givin' us much of a choice, Mugsy.”

Junior flew towards Mugman and watched in amusement as his invention expanded in a perfect, circular formation, which would surely corner those ugly mugs! “Cuphead, watch out!!” Cuphead flew over one of the eggs, finding himself between it and Wally Jr. Although it might have been a perfect opportunity to strike Cuphead, Junior had already cornered Mugman between the bottom left corner of the screen, and one of the spiked eggs. The young chick grinned maniacally and watched as his attack continued to expand outwards towards the blue Aeroplane. “Oh no!!” Mugman had literally backed himself into a corner, with little to no room to escape. “Mugman!!” The mug tensed up, bracing for impact when he suddenly felt himself shrink down. Suddenly, there was a small opening for Mugs to fly through, and the teeny pilot was quick to squeeze through the gap between an egg and the bottom of the screen. “Curses!!” Junior scowled. However, now that Mugman's form was smaller, he happened to be  more aerodynamic and moved much faster than he expected, so he crashed into a second egg before him. Mugman gasped in pain from the force of the impact and in a puff of smoke, the child grew back to normal size, just as the eggs started contracting towards the ceramic duo. “Ahh! Not good!” “I'll show ya fer hurtin' my brother like that!!” As Mugman scrambled to dodge, Cuphead began firing, not realizing the spiked eggs were drawing ever-closer to his plane. “Ouch! Stop dat! Meanies!!” Junior whined. “Cuphead, get outta there!!” “Huh?!” The cup looked back towards Mugman and finally noticed the eggs slowly surrounding him. “How do ya shrink?!” “I-I dunno, just move!!” Cuphead pulled his Aeroplane into a nose-dive as he spun into a sort of corkscrew, just narrowly avoiding a crushing disaster. “Whew!” Cuphead pulled up beside his brother, and firmly pressed the button down on the plane's stick, firing at the fledgling. “Mug, just shoot!!” “R-right!” Mugman followed suit, trying to quickly come up with some sort of plan to take this little fella down without actually hurting him.

“I betchyoo two think yer so smart, eh? Well, guess what? I'm smartah!” Junior pulled out some sort of raygun from inside his small nest and wasted no time in taking his aim and firing with a small giggle. Cuphead was quick to react and flew up and over Junior's shield of spiky eggs, finding himself past the chick. “Ah!!” Mugman did his best to dodge as Cuphead had, but when pulling up, he'd accidentally tilted his right wing up first, rather than pulling the whole plane up at once, and a pink electrical bullet severely damaged the lower wing, bending and tearing the metal in the sky. “No no no no!!” “Gotchya right where I wantchya!” Junior drew closer to Mugman, expanding the eggs out to try and hit him while he was weak. “Mugman, no!!” Cuphead quickly sped around and angled himself between Junior and his older brother, shooting the chick relentlessly to try and protect Mugman. “Ow! Stop it! Ouch!!” Junior whined, the bullets pushing him back just a little with each hit. Mugman grabbed some tape and stood up in his cockpit, after straightening out his aircraft. “Keep him busy! I'll make some repairs!” “Got it!!” Cuphead nodded. “Hey, bird brain!! Where'djya get that toy?! The dump?!” “Yes! And I'll have you know that I made it from broken radio parts and a toaster!! And a buncha other smart thingies an imbecile like you would never understand!!” “Hah! Joke's on you! I don't even know what that means!” “My point exactly!!”

Mugman tied some rope around his waist for safety and then wrapped some tape around his straw and the control stick, leaving quite a bit of room for leeway. He slowly and carefully inched out across the wing of his Aeroplane, until he was close enough to the damaged area. Mugman got on his knees and pushed the bent metal down back to its original place. He taped the two pieces together and pressed the line of tape across the damaged crack before letting go of the roll, watching it fly across the rest of the wing. The tape swung down across the underside of the wing, until Mugman caught it in his left hand, then raveled several more layers of tape across his wing by repeating this process. “Mugman, incoming!!” Cuphead's voice warned, just as Mug tore off the tape from the roll, Mugman looked up to see yet another pink bullet soaring right towards him. Mugman quickly dropped the tape roll and held on to the wing as tight as he possibly could as he pulled his straw out from his head, and yanked. The tension he created in the line was enough to pull his plane to the right, and just out of harm's way.

As his Aeroplane stabilized, Mugman heaved a sigh of relief before quickly crawling back to the cockpit, and removing the tape from his straw and steering. “Thanks, Cup!” “No, no, no!! This isn't fair!!” The child threw a temper-tantrum and pulled out his raygun once again, but before he could fire it, Mugman skillfully shot the pistol right out of the chick's hand, causing him to drop it out of the sky, and breaking the invention upon impact to the ground. “My invention!!” Cuphead began to relentlessly shoot at Junior once more, until the youngster threw down his arms and began wailing, creating raindrops of tears. “Waaaaaaaaaaaaahh!! Waaaaaaaahh! Daaaddyyy, these kids are meeeaaaann!!”

The boys looked at each other. “What good's zat gonna do 'im?” Cuphead asked. “We already knocked Wally out.” Mugman glanced at the ground below. “Now we just gotta find him and get his contract.” Cuphead then noticed something, and his eyes widened in surprise as three drops of milk splashed from his head. “Uh, Mug?!” Mugman looked back in front of them, only to catch sight of Wally on a stretcher being carried up by two, blue, medic birds. Wally was bald, his wounds had been wrapped up in white gauze, he had two black eyes, one of which was swollen shut completely, and he was noticeably missing a tooth. “Wwwwwwwwwwwwwwhaaat?!” Mugman yelped in surprise. “Mister, stop! Yer gonna hurt yerself even more!!” “After ya made m'son cry?! No way!!” Wally growled. “I've worked hard t'keep m'family in tact after th'mistakes I've made! I won't let ya dirty dishes take it all away from me! I won't letchya take it all away from Junior!” “L-look, Mr. Warbles! W-we're sorry, b-but we have no choice!” “Please, just give us yer contract! It ain't like ya got any feathers left ta lose!” The brothers pleaded. “Even without my feathers, you're in for stormy weather!” The feather father, or rather the featherless father, growled, then looked to the only medic he could. “Lefty! Righty! Engage!” Wally hissed out a groan of pain under his breath, and the medic bird at Wally's feet regurgitated a blue and yellow pill capsule into the air. “Does the fighting ever end?!” Mugman brought his plane up to get a better angle to hit Wally with, but just before he could start firing again, the capsule broke apart, and the yellow cap suddenly shot right towards Mug. “Woah!!” Mugman barely managed to pull his Aeroplane down just a tad to gain enough speed in time to dodge the pill. Before the older mug could get the chance to heave a sigh of relief however, Wally suddenly kicked his legs into his own chest. “Pihoo!!” Wally's beak forced itself open as his pupils turned into black X-es and something traveled from his chest, and up his throat. A large red heart pushed its way past Wally's tongue, and out his beak, grinning slyly at the dish pilots as it rose to the air. Cuphead didn't at all hesitate to take his aim at the heart, and start firing. “Mugman, snap outta it!!” Mug shook his head at that. “Right!” Mugman started to fire at Wally, but it didn't seem to be doing anything at all! The red heart suddenly spat out three black bullets at Cuphead and Mugman, then slowly floated back down into Wally's mouth, where Wally immediately swallowed his organ. Mugman was forced to pull his plane back to avoid one of the bullets, as he watched Cuphead steer his red Aeroplane between two of the shots. “Righty! I said engage! Now!!” The blue bird by Wally's head spat out a pill, just as his partner had, and once again, the capsule broke apart and soared towards Cuphead, who pulled into a large barrel roll to dodge. Mugman suddenly got an idea. If one of those medics go down, they'd drop Wally too! Mugman sped his aircraft above Wally's head and switched his weapon. “Here! Have a taste of your own medicine!” Mugman tried to drop a mini-bomb onto Righty, but he had just barely missed, and the bomb dropped to the left of him. Mugman found himself flooded with relief, as he had realized a fall from this height would potentially kill Wally. “Ya think you little cheap chinaware children can just come inta my sky and beat up my boy?! You two got another thin' comin', you puny, tiny, pale little--” Wally's head suddenly morphed into a trashcan as he spoke, sending a pink boot flying towards Mugman. “Ah!!” Mug quickly pulled back, just as the boot soared high in the sky, and Wally spat out rotting fish-bones that rocketed just as high. As gravity pulled the boot down, it just so happened to land onto Mugman's propeller, spinning around and around until it launched into the air for a second time, right as Wally spat out a black boot, and an apple core. Mugman was forced to pull back into a Split S maneuver, twisting and looping his aircraft behind Cuphead to avoid getting hit. As high as the garbage was launched, it seemed to fall just short of hitting the brothers. “You stink!!” Cuphead taunted. “That's the garbage, Cuphead.” Mugman informed, pinching his nose at the smell. “Move closer!!” Wally commanded, and the medics flew his stretcher closer to Cuphead and Mugman. Cuphead switched over to the mini-bombs and began dropping as many as he could onto Wally. The father began to spit out more trash again as he edged closer to the two. Mugman soon realized that he'd collide into Lefty if he didn't move, so he let his plane drop down, only to realize what a mistake that was.

As Mugman tried to move his Aeroplane back to get above Wally, he tapped the edge of the screen, leaving him trapped in the bottom corner. “Huh?! What?! Wait! Th-this isn't fair, I can't move! There's nowhere to go, the projector screen ends!!” The trash quickly began its descent, right towards Mugman. “Just keep shooting at him!” “I literally can't! There's nowhere for me to shoot!” “Shoot his butt!” Mugman sighed but switched his weapon. “Classy. Ah!!” Mugman moved his plane horizontally, one way, then the other, trying to dodge the rainfall of boots, apple cores, and fish-bones, but once there was a break in the garbage, he began firing once again. “Back away from my brother!” Cuphead threatened, dropping more and more bombs onto Wally. “I'd rather have a heart attack and die!!” Cuphead noticed how Wally shifted his legs and zoomed over to his beak just as he kicked his chest once more. Just as his heart was about to ascend from his mouth, Cuphead dropped one last mini-bomb that conked the heart right on the top, stretching the two curves apart and causing it to fall back down into Wally's mouth, just as the bomb detonated.

Wally's head fell limply to the side as his eyes rolled around and around dizzily, moaning just a bit as his whole world rotated ceaselessly. Lefty and Righty grinned and licked their beaks as they ripped off their medic hats, revealing chef hats underneath. They each grabbed the stretcher with their feet and pulled out a salt and pepper shaker, seasoning Wally. “Finally, we got him!” Lefty smirked, licking his beak again. “Huh?!” “We've been after this juicy slice of poultry for years! He'll sell for a fortune once we prepare him!” Righty explained. “Couldn't have done it without ya kiddos!” “Here!” Righty reached into Wally's beak and pulled out his Soul Contract, before wadding it up into a paper ball, and throwing it at Cuphead, hitting him right in the face. “Ack!” “That's what you were after, right?” Cuphead unraveled the wad and checked over the contract to see if it had been forged or not. “Mm-hmm?” He nodded upon confirming the legitimacy. “Take it. Consider it as thanks fer helpin' us find the dinner of the century!” Lefty thanked. “Let's go, we should prepare the oven!” The two birds quickly flew away, landing near the rainbow bridge, freeing Mugman. “They're gonna cook him?!” Mugman gasped in fear. “I think?!” “Wait, stop!!” Mugman rushed to the ground below and frantically landed his Aeroplane, Cuphead following suit.

The brothers chased after the two birds as they attempted to drag the large bird away somewhere. “Stop, don't! What are you doing?!” Mugman cried. “He has a son he's gotta look after!” “What's any of that matter to you?” Lefty asked, tilting his head. “Yeah, ya got his Soul Contract already. What difference does it make if he lives or dies now?” “Yeah!” “And just what do you mean by that?!” Mugman inquired, equal parts worried and insulted. “Yer workin' with the Devil's Office, right?” Righty asked. “Well once you give the Devil his contract, he's as good as dead. His soul will be dragged down to Hell regardless. What difference does it make if he's already dead when that happens?” “Yeah! He's already as good as dead! What's it matter if he dies now or later? At least this way someone will get some sort of benefit from 'im!” “That doesn't matter!!” Mugman shook his head. “All life is precious! It should be protected!” “He's already lived a good life kid.” “So?! All life is precious nonetheless! Age and race doesn't matter!!” “Look, fink!” Righty snapped, “the guy sold his soul to the Devil himself! And that's just what we know about! Who knows what other crimes were committed before any of that! He may be a good father, but that don't mean he was a good person! He sealed his fate ages ago!” “That! Doesn't! Matter!!” Mugman spat back. “All life is precious!” “Just because he made some bad decisions, or maybe did some bad things, doesn't mean he deserves to die for them!!” “Yeah!” “How do ya figure?” Righty asked. “Because! How could he ever change for the better if you end his life?! How could he ever become a good person if you never give him that chance?!” “Well, it doesn't matter now, brats!” Lefty yelled. “He's going to die anyway! What's it matter if it's by your hand, or by ours?!” That seemed to make Mugs lose his nerve. “W-we're not...” “Yes, you are! You're the ones giving his Soul Contract to the Devil himself! You are the ones responsible for that much!” “He...He at least deserves to say goodbye to his loved ones!” Cuphead tried. “Too bad for him! We've been after his hide for years, and we ain't going ta let this golden opportunity slip by!” Righty grinned. “Now then, let's go, partner!” Just as the birds began crossing the bridge, a pink boot whistled as it fell from the sky. Mugman was about to chase after the birds, but Cuphead quickly noticed the whistling, and grabbed his brother's right shoulder to stop him. The boot suddenly clocked Righty right in the head, causing the bird to lose balance and stumble off the rainbow bridge, and right into the shallow waters of Sweetheart's Stream with a shocked yelp. “Woah, woah, hold up, don't panic, I'll getchya out!!” Lefty quickly flew off the bridge and above the stream to help his partner.

The brothers didn't hesitate to rush to both sides of the stretcher, and pull Wally back to the tree by the wooden perch, only to be met with a crying Junior. “D-Dad?!” As soon as the chick caught sight of his father, he pushed his tiny legs through the bottom of his nest and ran over. “Y-yer alive, I-I thought they took you!!” “They tried to.” Mugman informed setting the bird down by the tree trunk. “We just got lucky.” “Y-you saved him!” “He looks bad, Mug.” “I know.” Mugman bit his lip, then turned to Junior. “Do you have a telephone?” Junior stared Mugman right in the eyes and pulled a telephone out from his nest. “Tell the operator you need to take him to the hospital, and give them your address. Okay?” Mugman instructed. Junior nodded and picked up the phone. The mug turned to face Cuphead. “We need to go.” “What? Mugs, shouldn't we stay with--” “Under normal circumstances, we would, but right now, we can't afford to.” Cuphead nodded somberly and joined his brother as the two began walking away. “W-wait, where are you going now?!” Mugman turned his head slightly to look back at the fledgling. “We're going to collect the Soul Contract of Grim Matchstick.” Junior's eyes widened at that. “Grim's a debtor?” His attention was suddenly taken by the phone against his ear. “Ah, y-yes, operator?!” Mugman sighed as Junior talked on the phone. He truly felt bad about leaving this kid all by himself when those two were still so close by. The most they could do is provide a distraction of some sort for Junior, to lead them away, but that was about it. As the brothers started to walk away once again, Junior stopped them. “Hey, w-wait.” Cuphead and Mugman turned around. “U-um, I-I know I p-probably shouldn't do this, b-but you saved Dad, s-so...” Junior felt bad for doing this, but he had to do something for them in return, right? “G-Grim is the security dragon.” “D-dragon?!” Mugman jumped at that. “Yeah. You'll find him in the security castle. Butchya gotta cross both the rainbow bridges to get to it, and the sprinklers fer the second one tend to not work right.” “Okay.” Cuphead nodded. “Thanks, pal.” “You stay with your dad until help arrives. Okay?” “Right.” Junior nodded, hugging his dad's neck as the cup kids ran off.

As the brothers ran past the two birds again, it was evident that Lefty had fished Righty out of the stream, and would probably start searching for Wally soon. Mugman continued to run across the rainbow as he suddenly fired at Righty, causing Lefty to drop the soaked bird back into the water with a splash. “Mug, what are ya doin'?” Cuphead whispered, stopping. “Sh. Just follow my lead,” Mugman whispered back. “Hey! Over here, you two twitty birds!” He taunted. “Catch us if ya can, bird brains!” “Pbthphfhpfhphbphfbpbpt!” With that, the boys ran off once again. “Why you little--!!” Lefty quickly fished Righty back out again, set him on the bridge, then began his pursuit of the brothers.

As the two birds flew past the Mausoleum, our heroes hid inside, knowing that they had successfully tricked the two. “Whew.” Mugman breathed. “Think the coast is clear?” Asked Cuphead. “Not sure.” Mugman shook. “Let's wait a few--” Something behind them suddenly collapsed forward, causing Mugman to jump and nearly run out of the building in fear, but Cuphead outstretched his arm to stop him. “Mugman, relax! Somethin' just got knocked over! Besides, if you go out there, they might spot you!” “R-r-right.” Mugman nodded, horribly shaking as he glanced behind himself to try and find out what fell, but since he hadn't known what the area behind them looked like, that wasn't quite possible. “Relax, we're not goin' in any farther than this.” Cuphead tried, holding his brother's arms to try and comfort him. Cuphead looked his brother right in the eyes until something behind Mugman caught his attention. Something that Cuphead really hoped that his brother wouldn't notice. “R-r-right. Y-you're right.” Mugman nodded, oblivious to the large spider behind him. “W-we'll just w-wait a few minutes, th-then we'll be on our way.” Cuphead wasn't at all listening to what his brother was saying, he was too busy watching the spider slowly creep down towards Mugman. He knew he had to calmly lead Mugs away before he noticed since Mugman had always been terrified of spiders. Cuphead gently pulled Mugman closer to him, and away from the wall, hoping his brother wouldn't notice, but unfortunately, Cup's facial expression alone was enough to tip his brother off. “C-Cups? What's wrong?” Mugman started to turn his head. “D-don't look!” Cuphead stopped. “U-uhh, there's nothing there, I swear! Uh, uhhh, I-I'm just messin' with ya! Hah hah hah hah hah!” He laughed nervously. “You're actin' strange. C-cut that out, it's already creepy enough in here!” Cuphead suddenly noticed that the large spider wasn't alone. Another spider, about the size of a small coin, descended from its web above, hovering all too close to Mugman's left shoulder. There was nothing Cuphead could have said to try and hide it without risking Mugman taking a glance, and he knew it. “Okay, fine...Just whatever you do, don't look to yer left.” Cuphead warned, still trying to pull Mugman away as he crept closer to try and knock the spider away. Of course, Mugman began to sweat at his brother's words. “W-w-w-w-why?” His body began to clink as he shook, slowly turning his head to see what his brother was talking about. Cuphead immediately realized it would have been better to keep his mouth shut.

The second Mug saw the arachnid, the child screeched, and scrambled to get away, but as he turned to make his escape, he caught sight of the larger one that had been less than inches away from his head. Mugman let out a shrill shriek in fear and tried to flee out the Mausoleum's entrance, but three more spiders suddenly dropped down to block him in. Mugman skidded to a stop, falling back on his rear end before frantically climbing to his feet and running deeper into the tomb. “Mugs! Mugman, wait!” Cuphead called, but it was no use. Mugman was in a blind panic now.

After fleeing for what felt like hours to Mugman, he eventually stopped to catch his breath, resting a hand on the wall. The boy looked back behind him, only now realizing he'd left Cuphead behind.  “C-C-Cuphead?” He called, one of his fingers finding something to move. He looked back only to find he'd accidentally pushed a skull and reeled back in fear. “C-C-C-Cuphead, w-w-w-where are you?!” He really messed up this time. “Help!” A voice called. It wasn't Cuphead's, but the voice sure sounded familiar. It was a woman's voice, and it sounded like the cries had been coming from below the staircase around the corner. Against his better judgment, Mugman cautiously took a step closer towards the sound of the voice, until he suddenly found himself at the bottom of the steps. Light from the stain-glassed windows filtered in over a stone urn set on an altar. “S-someone please, save me!” “M-Ms. Chalice?!” Mugman recognized. “Oh! Goodness, me, Mugman, is that you?! Oh, please help! I've been trapped again, open the urn, quickly!” Mugman nodded, and rushed over, jumping atop the altar to try and pry the urn open before the ghosts came out, but it was too late.

Organs filled the air, and ghosts began to moan and groan.  “Ladies and gentlemugs! Get yourselves ready for yet another spooktacular performance from the Specter Syndicate! Boo ha ha ha ha!” Mugman tried to yank the lid off, but it seemed it hadn't planned on budging. Mugman knew there was no way to pull it off before another specter would reach Ms. Chalice. Despite his fear, Mugman lunged forward at a pink ghost with a blue hat, the end of his straw closed up to form a white-gloved hand, and he parried the spook away. Mugman turned around to try and take another crack at opening the urn, but he spotted another spirit from above, going 'woooo' as he glided towards the altar. The mug rushed over and quickly parried that ghost as well, catching sight of yet another hat-wearing specter just below him, and just barely managed to parry-slap him. Mugman soon caught sight of yet another spirit that looked certainly disgruntled and attempted to block his path by spreading out his arms. “N-now just wait a minute! What exactly are you trying to do? W-what will this accomplish?!” The ghost grunted in annoyance, and passed right through Mugman's body. “Ah!” The preteen gasped, turning around and jumping up to parry the spook once again. If this kept up, there was no way Mugman would ever get an opportunity to free Ms. Chalice! “C-Cuphead! W-where are you?! Ah!!” The mug quickly ran up, jumped on top of the altar once more, then jumped across the room as he tried to parry two more spooks, only to miss one. “No, no, no!!” Mugman quickly stood and rushed over to parry the grumpy ghost he missed, heaving a sigh of relief as it disappeared. That was far too close. “Cuphead, i-if you can hear me, p-please hurry!” Mugman quickly tried to parry-slap another specter, but once again, he missed the first time. “I-I need help! I-I need your backup r-right now!” Mugman gasped, rushing to the other end of the room in order to parry another hat-wearing ghost. The boy knew he couldn't keep this up for much longer, but as long as he kept calling for help, Cuphead would eventually find him. “Cuphead! I-if you can hear me, f-follow my voice!!” Mugman heard something behind him, and quickly turned around to find yet another specter reaching out for the stone urn. “No! Stay away from that!!” Mugman lunged at the other, just barely managing to parry the spook away. “Wheeeeee!! Wheeeeeeeeee!! Hee hee hee hee!” The voice of a little girl giggled. Mugman's head followed the spiral patterns the ghost with a bow was making as she danced and twirled about. Mugman jumped at her, but missed the slap, so he waited for his second chance only to miss that as well. As the spook spiraled around and around, and ever-closer to the urn, Mugman grew more and more panicked, especially upon noticing another spirit trying to sneak past him. If he missed her again, she'd reach Ms. Chalice. “Cuphead, please hurry!!” Mugman rushed over to the dancing spook, and successfully managed to parry-slap her, then jumped over to the other ghost and slapped him.

The mug tried to take a moment to catch his breath, but it would seem the Specter Syndicate wouldn't let him have that. Another hat-wearing ghost shimmied down from the top left corner of the room and edged closer to the altar. “Cuphead, please hurry. I can't take much more of this.” Mugs tried to shout, running up to the spirit and slapping him with his straw. Mugman fell to his knees, still somewhat tired from running earlier. Mugman absolutely needed to catch his breath, but he could still hear two other ghosts moving behind him. The child forced himself to get up, and jump over to slap the first one, only to miss the second, and fall to the ground. “No!” Mugman got back to his feet again, but he knew he couldn't make  it to the altar in time. Ms. Chalice was a goner! “Hyiat!” From seemingly nowhere, Cuphead parry-slapped the grumpy ghost, just inches away from the stone vase. “Cuphead!” “I'll get this thing open, you keep 'em off me!!” “Got it!” Mugman nodded, feeling more than ready now that his brother was here.

Two more female specters danced and twirled around the room, and while Mugman got the first one, Cuphead was able to parry the other that he missed. Mugman saw another disgruntled-looking spook above him, and jumped up to successfully parry-slap him as well. Meanwhile, Cuphead tugged, yanked, and pulled on the lid, but with very little progress to show for it. Mugman quickly ran across the room to parry another ghost wearing a hat, only to catch two more female specters on opposite sides of the room. “Cuphead, get that one!!” Cuphead looked up to see the two spooks circling around the altar, and just as Mugman slapped one, he parried the other. “Mugs, I've almost got it, just a little more!!” Mugman nodded, then rushed over to the other end of the room to take out another spirit. Cuphead yanked until his grip slipped. Two more ghosts appeared and Mugman jumped, consecutively parrying them both. “Woah, I-I did it!” “Don't celebrate too soon!” Cuphead gave several more harsh tugs on the lid, just as another female spook twirled around the room, and the second she was close enough to Mugman, he parry-slapped her, just as the lid finally came flying off.

“Victory!!” Ms. Chalice cried, floating out from her stone prison as a twinkling spectral orb, before taking her normal form as a ghostly grail. “Not to mention I managed to find it!” “Ms. Chalice, what are you doing in another mausoleum again?” Mugman asked. “Oh, well, ehehehe.” The benevolent soul scratched the back of her metal head nervously, rather embarrassed by her mistake. “I knew if I rooted around here I could find something special for you! But I didn't know I'd get trapped again!” “Ah, we all make mistakes.” Cuphead waved. “Thanks for saving me a second time. Here!” Ms. Chalice flicked two coins at the brothers, both of which appeared to be exactly the same as the first two coins the Legendary Chalice gave them, only slightly more or less eroded than the other, and with an 'II,' which Mugman realized must have been the Roman Numeral two. “Take this magical Super Art and I'll see if I can find you another!” “Golly! Another? What does this one do?” Cuphead asked eagerly. “This one enhances the connection between the body and soul, allowing you to cross the astral plane to become invulnerable for a short time.” “Good golly gosh!!” The brothers breathed. “Invincibility! That's so incredibly useful! It's sure to come in handy!” Mugman beamed. “Thank you, Ms. Chalice!!” “Consider this a token of appreciation for saving me again! And may we meet again.” Ms. Chalice bowed, before fading away.

“Golly, that worked out better than we thought!” Cuphead smiled. “Speaking of, we should probably shake a leg, those birds are probably gone now.” “Oh, right!” Suddenly, a mischievous spook poked his head out from the wall, and pushed three skulls onto the ground, the sound alone enough to force another shriek out from Mugman. “Eek!! L-let's get outta here!!” Mugman cried, latching onto his brother's wrist as he fled out from the door on the right.

                                                                                                                               Missed the past episodes? Want to check for the next one? Here’s a link to the list of episodes currently published!

[margri3t]

Ereri Valentines Event

So seeing as it’s now the 13th here in Europe, I’m posting my vday drabble.

So my buddy is the lovely @then-it-went-boom ! I’m gonna be honest I had no clue what to write, which means I have like 5 different drabbles written out in my google docs. But in the end I went with this one. I apologize, it’s fairly short :/. But nonetheless I hope you enjoy!!!

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Monday morning English class was the only lesson I could actually handle having so early in the week for two reasons. Reason 1: the teacher, Mr Pixis, was always asleep so as long as we didn't make any noise we could get away with pretty much anything. Reason 2: Eren Jäger. He has these forest green eyes, tan skin and hair that even if it was formed like an actual birds nest it would still look good. I was absolutely gone™️ for Eren. So imagine my surprise when one Monday morning in February, I received a paper aeroplane to the back of my head with the words ‘For Levi’ written neatly on the wing.

Frowning slightly, I carefully unfolded the paper to see the words written inside.

Did it hurt when you fell from the vending machine? Because you look like a snack.

-Eren

I let out a small gasp, Eren was flirting. Albeit in an awful manner. How was I supposed to respond to that? There was a large chance he was joking around so I didn't want to give myself away just yet. Of course there was only one valid way: fight fire with fire. I would go along with his jokes and see if he actually meant it. Quickly I tore a piece of paper from my notebook.

I’ll gladly be a snack if it means I can put my tongue in your mouth.

-Levi

Okay so maybe that was a bit more forward than I wanted to be, but it's Eren, I couldn't help myself. I folded the paper and sent it back towards the green eyed boy. He looked at me and I winked, acting far more confident than I felt. After a few minutes another plane flew my way.

Well then I hope you taste as good as you look.

-Eren

Damn he was quick. I still couldn't believe my luck, just maybe he was actually being serious. I noted that I should probably place any bets that day because it was definitely my lucky day. But as much as I just wanted to go over there and kiss him, I decided to continue with the aeroplanes. It was actually a really adorable idea.

Have you always been this cute, or did you have to work at it?

-Levi

Once again I sent the plane flying.

I must admit I practiced for you.

Where was the pick up line? Well alright, at least that meant I wouldn't have to think of more.

And what exactly do you mean by that, Jäger?

I was looking to get a more serious answer out of him now. To see if he was actually interested, or just fucking with me. It could just be that that horse faced ass put him up to it and he was about to laugh in my face. As much as that sounded great, you could imagine I didn't really want that. I was actually interested and didn't really see humiliation as a fun school activity.

Well I was hoping you'd be my valentine.

With that I turned around in my chair to face him, looking Eren dead in the eyes for any signs that he wasn't absolutely serious. He just met my stare dead on, I thought I could see a hint of nerves but I wasn't sure. After about a minute of staring, yes a minute is excessive but those eyes, I turned around and wrote my answer on another piece of paper before folding it with neurotic precision. I turned and sent it up into the air.

Unfortunately for me the day wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. None other that Jean Kirschtein intercepted my plane and unfolded it. After reading it he walked over to me and whispered: “So what's this supposed to mean?” I read my own message once again.

Sure.

So Eren really was just fucking with me, just my luck. I tried to think of something quickly.

“Eren was asking for a favour.” It wasn't technically a lie but Jean was eyeing me suspiciously. “Look, can you just give it back to me?” He stared at me for another minute before placing the paper on my table and walking away. I decided I wouldn't send the paper to Eren again. However just as I was going to crumple it up Eren walked up to me and took the paper from my hands. He read it, looked at me, then back at the paper, then back at me again. All I could do was scratch the back of my head nonchalantly and scream internally.

What seemed to be a look of realization crept into Eren’s face and he beamed with a brightness comparable to the sun. Without warning I was engulfed by his arms.

So maybe he did like me after all.

[spnskinnyballs]

Mr Stranger

Summary- It was purely by coincidence that you were paired up with this particular mystery man in a random chat roulette site on a Thursday evening. (Not one of your finer moments) Charming his way into your little life as Mr Stranger how long can you two really keep the anonymity between you?

Word Count - 1,817

Warnings - Just fluff and happiness

A/N - I’m so sad that this is the final part 😭 I just wanted to say such a big thank you to every single person who encouraged me to write this series. It’s one of the first things I’ve ever written and your support has helped give me so much confidence in my writing as well as making me fall even more in love with this story than I already was. I love and appreciate you all 💕

P.s I’ve had a few people ask about a sequel for this and all I’m saying is, never say never 😘

Part Nine - Final

Series Masterlist / My Masterlist

Cold air invaded the cabin of the aeroplane but it did absolutely nothing to cool you down. Your heart was racing a mile a minute, leg bouncing up and down as you tried to calm your breathing.

You were a mess, completely and utterly, but god, if it wasn’t the best kind of mess. Only 20 minutes or so and then you would be landing on the tarmac. Leaving the airport to travel to the same hotel where you would finally meet the man you had thought about continuously since the first night you ‘met’.

A smile grew on your face as you closed your eyes and thought of green ones looking back at you. Potential conversations played through your head as you rehearsed your words over and over again. An extra surge of excitement burst through you at the thought of going to a con for the first ever time. As you waited to board only a few hours earlier you searched through YouTube for Supernatural con videos trying to get a sense of what to expect. All you found was laughter and jokes shared between actors and fans in a way you never would have imagined. It all felt so wholesome and relaxed as though it was just excited friends getting together with a few individuals taking Center stage, and you were going to be a part of all of it.

Your eyes were brought open and emotions filled within as the ping to return to your seats filled your ears. This was it. You were so close.

With a deep steadying breath you found your feet and made your way to exit the plane. Your feet carried you faster than normal as you filed through the airport, weekend bag hauled over your shoulder, eyes searching for a woman holding your name.

Only 20 minutes or so after your conversation with Jensen earlier that day your phone rang again, a soft melodic voice through the speaker giving you details. She had booked you on a flight and would pick you up from the airport to take you to your hotel.

The same hotel where Jensen and the rest of the cast were staying, as if that wasn’t enough to send the butterflies inside into a tornado.

Her description of being a short girl with a messy blonde bun rang through your mind as you scanned the crowd, scared that if you stopped moving you’d forget completely how to all of a sudden. Spotting a blonde updo you made your way over smiling wide as the surreality of seeing your name on a celebrities assistance board sunk in. “Melissa?”

Her eyes found yours immediately, a genuine smile taking over half her face as she took you in. “Y/N! Oh hi it’s so good to meet you! Come on, the cars out front.”

Her friendly demeanour immediately helped calm some of the anxiety within as you clambered into the car and left for the hotel.

“So Jensen and some of the others are doing interviews for the next hour or so in one of the conference rooms but after that he’s free as a bird until tomorrow!” She spoke with a smile on her face, hands rummaging through her handbag until she pulled out a small plastic bag handing it over to you. “And that’s all your passes and information for the weekend. You can basically sit in on anything with those, and there’s the concert tomorrow night too which is always great, but I’m sure that Jensen will tell you all about that!”

You simply laughed at her comment, cheeks flushing pink. What exactly had Jensen been telling people about the two of you? Despite everything that you had already been through this was the first official time that you two were meeting, it was essentially your first date.

Without voicing the questions you really wanted to ask the rest of the journey flowed easily, turns out that Melissa was just the distraction you needed to keep your nerves at bay.

As the car pulled up to the front of the hotel Melissa bounced out not wanting to waste a moment. With a hesitant breath you reached out until your fingers clasped on the door handle, opening it out until you were standing at the front doors that held your mystery man inside.

You were really going to meet him.

With a smile your feet carried you through the hallway until you reached the elevator, pressing the button with a little more force than necessary. You were barely paying attention to the girl beside you handing you a key card and apologising that she had to leave. You said your thank yous with sincerity and fell into the elevator pulling out your phone.

‘Jay, I’m here! I’m just going to find my room now, hurry your ass up!’

You laughed to yourself popping the phone back in your pocket as the doors opened before you. As the jingle of the elevator filled your ears you practically skipped out of the doors, wandering the corridors until you came face to face with what you were searching for. Opening the door up you jumped in, smiling as you took in the room before you.

It all felt like a dream.

Throwing your bag onto a nearby chair you found your phone again and sat on the bed unsure of what to do now. It felt like you had been racing for this moment ever since you made this decision first thing that very morning and now it was just so close but you couldn’t quite grasp it.

Shaking your head you lifted your leg underneath you to stop the bouncing and opened up your phone, praying for a distraction. It wouldn’t be long until you finally got what you had been dreaming of for weeks to come.

The warmth in your chest had completely overtaken the uncertainty of the situation. There was no room for anything else as all doubt dissolved in your mind. This was the right decision, not a single fibre of your being could argue against that as you sat in the hotel room hours from your home waiting to finally hold your man. This was the best decision you had ever made.

A fast knock at the door drew you out of your thoughts immediately.

Looking down at your phone screen you studied the time, Jensen wasn’t supposed to be finished yet but who else would be knocking on your door?

Another knock, even faster than the last one bounded against the door and you lept to your feet. Racing to the sound you didn’t even think to look through the peephole, your fingers just clumsily fiddled with the lock until the door was swinging back on its hinges.

You couldn’t even breathe.

You were frozen on the image before you. Your eyes raked quickly up his body until you came face to face with your mr stranger.

You were both frozen, neither knowing what to say, just taking in each other. Your eyes took in his parted pink lips, the stubble on his cheeks, the most beautiful shade of green and the freckles that you would happily explore for the rest of your life.

Jensen was doing the exact same thing to you. His eyes gazed into yours, dancing over every single feature, committing it to memory.

Smiles tugged at your lips in sync with one another as a hundred emotions flew between the two of you. His mouth opened and shut as words failed him, instead a crooked smile grew on his face that made the green of his eyes twinkle just that little bit brighter.

When words wouldn’t come his hand reached up hesitantly as though he was scared this was all a dream. A breath left his throat as his thumb scraped against your jawline, fingers intertwining with your hair. Without even a thought your breath shuddered in your throat as your eyes closed taking in the feeling and the warmth of Jensen Ackles hand wrapped so affectionately in your hair.

As your eyes opened they were greeted with the softest smile you’d ever seen. Your heart was fluttering in your chest as his grip tightened ever so slightly, his whole body leaning towards yours until his lips delicately grazed against yours.

Smiling into the kiss you sunk your toes into the carpet, leaning up so that you could wrap both of your arms around his neck pulling him flush to you. You would never get enough of this feeling.

His kisses deepened as he hummed into your lips and it sent sparks through your entire body.

Jensen’s free hand found your back wrapping you impossibly closer as though he never wanted to let you go, his lips grew soft and gentle against yours as you melted in his arms.

You were completely oblivious to the world, nothing else mattered in that moment in time except for the man in front of you.

Whistles and applause echoed through your ears dragging you back down to reality as Jensen pulled away ever so slightly. Only his lips left yours, his body still flush against you, hands still clinging to you as though he was afraid to let you go.

Hesitantly you both turned to the noise finding just down the corridor Jared, Rob, Rich and Misha all with grins across their faces, laughter flowing free as they mockingly clapped. Your eyes went impossibly wide and you squeaked at the sight before you, one finger leaving Jensen’s forearm to point to them, an unspoken question on your lips.

Seeing Jensen was one thing, but being dropped into a world full of celebrities left you completely starstruck.

He simply rolled his eyes and dropped his head until you could feel his stubble graze against your cheekbone as he whispered into your ear. “I’ll introduce you later.”

His hands gripped tighter around you as he walked you backwards into the room refusing to give you any space. You simply laughed at his actions as your fingers carded through the short hair on the back of his head allowing yourself to be guided. You could make out moans and ‘oh come on man’ through the door as Jensen kicked it shut behind him.

Instead of diving back in for another kiss that you wanted so desperately his hands simply moved until they both cupped your face. Rough fingers stroking so delicately against the soft skin on your face. Your hands found his forearms, holding him tightly to you as you simply smiled at one another, the soft gravel of his voice floated through the room.

“Y/N, I can’t believe you’re here sweetheart.”

All you could do was smile back at him as his lips found yours once more, speaking every unspoken word between the two of you, nothing but complete and utter love and devotion.

Taglist are closed for this specific series!

[de-boeldieu]

My Aviation Films List

I know some of you might be wondering why I did this to myself, and the answer is simple; I’m bored and I like movies, and I stumbled across so many films that I felt it was my duty to watch some regardless of quality. Oh boy did this prove to be a challenge.

There were a total of 22 movies on the list. Two films I was unable to watch Journey Together ( 1945 ) (anything on the film seemed to be lost, unfortunately), and a 30 minute Hitchcock French propaganda short called Bon Voyage ( 1944 ) (version I watched was slightly screwed up, and some of the English subtitles were translated incorrectly).

However, I was able to watch every other film on the list! Granted, completing this took a LOT longer than I anticipated.

I’m not quite sure how I should go about writing, but I suppose I will rank each film to my own personal opinions of what they were like, with a brief summary, and any small notes I had whilst watching. If you’d like a more in depth summary or any additional details I had while watching the film, ask me, or look the name up if it interests you.

Also I’d just like to say THANK YOU SO MUCH to anyone who takes the time to read some of these. You’re ace.

In order, from my favorite to least favorite:

1. La Grande Illusion ( 1937 )

Oooh my god you guys, this film made me cry so hard. Trust me, the dramatic music on the title card is there for a reason. A French film set in WWI, where French pilots get captured and sent to German POW camps where they make attempts to escape. It also has low key socialist sentiments. Some parts are a little cheesy because it’s a 30s film, but still amazing.

The only thing I was not terribly fond of was the last half hour or so, just really wasn’t my thing. But overall? Absolutely brilliant.

2. Dark Blue World ( 2001 )

A Czech film about two WWII Czech RAF pilots and their friendship, both loving the same woman. This one will also make you cry. Really beautiful film.

I was super worried that the romance in it was just sort of going to be thrust in there, but it certainly was not. Drama was great and all the characters were super memorable and had their own personalities. Highly recommend this one.

3. Riders In The Sky ( 1968 )

Another Czech film about WWII Czech RAF pilots. About the dynamic between a bomber crew and how they cope with the war, and the Battle of Britain. It’s adorable and I highly recommend this one too.

4. Into The White ( 2010 )

A Norwegian movie based on the story of how an RAF bomber crew and a Luftwaffe bomber crew both get shot down in the middle of Norway, and then had to learn to get along and work together to survive. What a wonderful film. Some parts can be predictable, but as a whole good. An interesting character study. Also it gets bonus points from me because it has a ginger, Scottish RAF Air gunner.

5. Wings ( 1927 )

A VERY long silent film. Takes place during WWI, two American fighter pilots, both in love with the same girl, and another girl is in love (requited) with one of them. About their rivalry and friendship, and how they deal with training and the war. The training scenes were delightful. I was worried I was going to get bored, but it was actually super excellent (and sad too). The camera work was brilliant and the musical score was amazing. It also has the first ever on-screen same-sex kiss. A really great film, even if silent films aren’t your thing, there’s SO much drama in this one. If you already love silent films, you will adore this movie, but I’d recommend it to most anyone.

6. The Dawn Patrol ( 1930 ) & ( 1938 )

About an RFC commander during WWI, who is distraught over casualties, an RFC captain, and his friend. The captain lashes out at the commander over the casualties as well after the death of a friend. Eventually the captain replaces the commander and starts to understand the stress of the job the previous major had, as his friend begins to lash out at him.

I thought it was an interesting take on both the pilots and the authorities in the RFC during the war. Both provided interesting perspectives.

I can tell you right now, unless you’re dedicated like I am, the 1938 version of The Dawn Patrol is MUCH better than the 1930 one. I’d recommend watching that version, if this movie interests you.

7. The One That Got Away ( 1957 )

About the only Luftwaffe pilot to ever escape from British POW camps. Usually I’m very wary of films that have WWII German characters, but this was very well written and remained predominantly neutral through the whole thing. Lots of clever escapes. If you like Luftwaffe pilots, escape films, and / or old movies, you will adore this film.

8. The Dam Busters ( 1955 )

A damn fine film. About the invention of the RAF “bouncing bomb” used to destroy German dams in WWII, and the RAF Squadron that flew the Lancasters to drop them. The writer of the movie was R.C. Sheriff, the original author of the play Journey’s End. Really enjoyed every aspect of the movie, my only complaint is that it was dreadfully long. Overall, a good movie, if this sort of thing interests you.

9. One Of Our Aircraft Is Missing ( 1942 )

Hands down the most intense opening scenes I had watched in any of these movies. About an RAF bomber getting shot down over Nazi occupied Holland, and they have to escape to England without being caught.

I remember being really engaged in this movie and I quite enjoyed the witty British banter. A good movie, if you like old ones.

10. La Grande Vadrouille ( 1966 )

A French WWII war comedy film about two Frenchmen who help a British bomber crew who crashed in France escape to Britain. Very strange? But also funny? But also a little dated but also incredibly hilarious? I was just really intrigued by it honestly. Reminded me of a few Monty Python sketches, despite this film being made years prior. You will either really enjoy it or not at all, but if it interests you, I’d recommend giving it a watch.

11. The Eagle And The Hawk ( 1933 )

Takes place in WWI and is about two American pilots, and various other ones, and how the war affects them, some more than others. I remember this movie surprising me quite a lot, which I think is good for a war film dealing with the sudden deaths of your comrades. Good movie, although not as well executed as The Dawn Patrol.

12. Reach For The Sky ( 1956 )

This one is LONG. About Douglas Bader, pretty much. A cute film though. You will like it if Bader or famous World War aces are your cup of tea.

13. Aces High ( 1976 )

So this movie was based off Journey’s End, except with aeroplanes. It also draws from Sagittarius Rising by Cecil Lewis (a book I’ve been meaning to find and read). If you know the plot of that play (and now more recently a movie), you will know the plot of this movie, except the names are changed. It’s a character study of three RFC pilots during WWI and the life expectancy of “Green pilots” AKA newly trained pilots.

Was a cute movie, not as good as the Journey’s End film from this year however. A lot of awkward silences and I really didn’t understand why? There was also a L’Armée de L’Air Officer who was having NONE of the British banter.

But if you liked Journey’s End and wished there were more pilots then you will enjoy it. The movie might be an interesting watch for those of you who are fans of the original play and / or movie as well.

14. The First Of The Few ( 1942 ), also titled The Spitfire

About the invention of the Spitfire fighter plane. Good if you’re really into aviation. Really liked the witty banter, however.

15. Johnny In The Clouds ( 1945 ), also titled The Way To The Stars

A romance drama. Takes place during WWII in Britain. Initially about two RAF pilots, one married and the other one with a girlfriend that he goes through a serious of hardships with. Then the 8th USAAF come, then it’s about two USAAF pilots and one RAF one, and the widowed wife. One of the USAAF pilots looks and acts like a Tarantino character. Really boring until the Americans come. I’d recommend this to people who like period romances and dramas, but the cultural stuff between the Brits and Americans was pretty good. An alright movie that takes a little bit to get into.

16. Memphis Belle ( 1990 )

REALLY CHEESY. About 8th USAAF in Britain, the bomber crew of the B-17, Memphis Belle. Except it’s not actually the crew, it’s just characters based on them. I remember the dialogue being cheesy, but still somehow better than Flyboys. Also felt pretty entertained the entire thing. A nice detail I liked was that all the bomber crew had their own individually painted A-2 jackets. Characteristic of mostly American bomber crews, and I thought that was a unique touch.

If you like cheesy, feel-good, American WWII movies, you will really like this film.

17. The Red Baron ( 2008 )

About Manfred von Richthofen. Not super accurate, but a decent amount of research done. I remember it being boring, but some of the camera shots were beautiful, looked like paintings. Boring though.

18. Angels One Five ( 1952 )

About an RAF Squadron during the Battle of Britain, except it’s more about the superior officers in that Squadron rather than the pilots. Boring, but the camera work was super high quality for a 50s film? There’s a scene where a Hurricane crashes into a base home. But mostly just officers talking and ordering folks around.

19. Twelve O’Clock High ( 1949 )

Incredibly dull and boring. Nothing but USAAF generals talking, then a bomber scene that was also boring. Flat, bland, and uninspired camerawork. Would not recommend.

20. Flyboys ( 2005 )

I’m sure many of you lads have seen my rant on this film. It’s an ugly, awful, waste of film. I can’t describe the plot of the movie, because there really isn’t one, except that a group of American volunteer pilots, called the Lafayette Escadrille, go to war. That’s it.

I found myself either laughing or yelling at the absolute ridiculousness of this film. It’s dreadful, but depending on your sense of humor, it’s VERY entertaining.

Would recommend watching it drunk, for an even more enhanced experience. I’d also suggest it if bad, horribly inaccurate, and ridiculously American action movies are your thing, you’ll have an absolute blast.

Thank you so much if you took any time to read even just one of these. I super appreciate it, this list was loads of fun and a rollercoaster of emotions. Thank you to those of you who enjoyed hearing my ranting about these bloody things.

[med-man77-blog]

#FalklandsWar 1982 Operation Mikado... By Neil Tweedie and Thomas Harding Five in the morning, May 21 1982, seven weeks into the Falklands conflict. The Argentine radar operator at Rio Grande airbase, on the island of Tierra del Fuego, is looking forward to his bed. Outside, rain is blowing across the deserted airfield. The blip appears out of nowhere, 25 miles out to sea, coming in fast and low. Suddenly alert, the operator calls over his duty officer, but the blip has already faded. Out over the South Atlantic, two C130 Hercules transports of 47 Squadron Royal Air Force battle through the night. Buffeted by strong headwinds, they skim the waves at 50 feet to evade detection. The co-pilots peer through night‑vision goggles, guiding the pilots towards the coast, one lapse enough to cause disaster. Night vision is in its infancy, the devices a secret gift from the Americans. Tension mounts as landfall over Argentina approaches, the conclusion of a 13‑hour flight from Ascension Island involving two mid-air rendezvous with Victor tankers. Behind the crews, in the cavernous holds of the Hercules, some 60 men of B Squadron, 22nd SAS Regiment, ready their weapons and vehicles, Land Rovers bristling with machine guns. This is a one‑way mission, the best outcomes being escape to neutral Chile, or capture. The worst outcome is all too obvious. Minutes later, the C130s slam down on the runway at Rio Grande. The rear doors are already open, the lowered ramps scraping the ground. In an instant, the Land Rovers are charging straight for the apron where four French-built Super Etendard fighters of the Argentine navy stand. Some of the SAS fling charges into the engine intakes while others search for the Etendard pilots, who are to be shot on sight. Another group search for the weapon that above all others threatens Britain with defeat in the South Atlantic: the Exocet. Moments later, the first charges explode. Gunfire erupts. The world dissolves into chaos. Had it happened, Operation Mikado would have been the most dramatic raid staged by Britain since the Second World War, a desperate coup de main intended to remove the Exocet threat to the Royal Navy task force seeking to retake the Falklands. With the approach of the 30th anniversary of the war, some of those involved have cast fresh light on an operation that can be seen either as an audacious assault in the finest traditions of the SAS, or a hubristic suicide mission. “In my own mind I saw it as a one-way ticket,” says Tom Rounds, navigator in one of two Hercules crews trained for Mikado. “In my final letter to my wife I said as much. We all had our bags packed. If we didn’t come back, they just had to put them on the next plane back to the UK and hand my stuff to the missus.” The SAS, known as “hooligans” to the RAF crews, began planning assaults on Argentine airfields within days of the invasion of the Falklands on April 2, and a month before Exocet, a French-built sea‑skimming anti-ship missile, burst on to the world stage. “The planners had decided that fighter bases were acceptable targets,” says Rounds. “We reckoned it would take 20 to 30 minutes. The vehicles would rush out full of hooligans to reap mayhem. We would seal the aircraft up and take off in a minute – real Second World War stuff.” Training was intense, involving simulated nocturnal attacks on RAF airfields from Kinloss in Scotland to Binbrook in Lincolnshire. The rule book was torn up as the Hercules roared low over Britain, trying to get into airfields without being spotted by ground radar. “The station commanders were told that we might arrive at any time and would not call the control tower,” says Rounds. “We came in as low as 50 to 100 feet.” Rounds’ pilot was Jim Norfolk. “It was huge fun,” he says. “So exciting, so bloody dangerous as well. There was no night vision, there were no runway lights. One time, the rear aeroplane ended up in front. We passed each other in the descent and never knew a thing about it.” On April 19, Argentina deployed four of its five Super Etendards to Rio Grande. Only five air-launched Exocets were available. On May 4, two of the fighters, each carrying one Exocet, went in search of prey. They found it in the shape of HMS Sheffield, alone on radar picket duty. She had three minutes to react before one missile scythed through her hull, killing 20 men. Shock at the loss of a modern destroyer to a single guided weapon was profound, but solutions to the threat posed by the remaining missiles were few. Argentina’s Patagonian airfields were 4,000 miles from Ascension, Britain’s nearest airfield, making a sustained RAF bombing campaign impossible. A Sea Harrier strike would involve exposing the task force’s two irreplaceable aircraft carriers, Hermes and Invincible, to attack. Enter Brigadier Peter de la Billière, director of the SAS and a favourite of Margaret Thatcher since the Iranian embassy siege in London in 1980. He now championed the Mikado assault to the War Cabinet. There was a problem, however. Some RAF ground controllers claimed to have spotted the Hercules approaching their airfields. Surprise was the essence of Mikado, and early detection would be fatal. “There was a degree of professional pride,” says Rounds. “Air traffic control was saying, 'We spotted you way out.’ I thought, 'No, you didn’t.’ Also, they were forewarned about our coming – the Argentines wouldn’t be. Nevertheless, it created negativity that was picked up by some of the SAS.” Major John Moss, commander of the SAS’s B Squadron, became steadily less convinced about the operation’s viability, matters coming to a head as his unit prepared to leave Hereford for Ascension. The Argentines were believed to be taking steps to thwart such an attack, garrisoning airbases and dispersing aircraft. A major setback occurred on May 17, when a covert mission to insert an SAS team to observe Rio Grande was aborted. The helicopter involved flew on to Chile, where the crew and SAS team gave themselves up. Chile was a secret ally of Britain throughout the war, allowing an RAF Hercules to be based first on Easter Island in the Pacific and later on the mainland. The aircraft markings were painted out and the crew disguised with American-style flying suits. Moss’s objections earned him summary dismissal. In his autobiography, de la Billière states: “I was dismayed to find that the attitude of this unit [B Squadron] remained lukewarm. The trouble, I found, lay in the squadron commander, who himself did not believe in the proposed operation.” A more gung-ho CO was appointed and B Squadron shipped out for Ascension. Despite the failure of the covert reconnaissance mission, Mikado proceeded. It came nearest to taking place between May 19 and 23 when one, not two, Hercules was prepared for the attack. “I had a hearty all-day breakfast,” says Rounds. “Jim [Norfolk] was pacing around smoking, going, 'Rounds, how can you eat at a time like this?’ “It’s not bravery, it’s just backing yourself. If you’re worried about death, you’re in the wrong business. Get out and become a bloody accountant. It’s war. You are trained to fight and die, if need be. It didn’t matter if we couldn’t get out, but we had to get in. There was always a good chance of that. If the aircraft got shot up on the runway it didn’t matter, as long as the hooligans destroyed the fighters. Coming home was a bonus.” “You knew you weren’t coming back because there was no tanker plan for the return leg,” says Norfolk. “The plan was for us to sit on the runway waiting for the hooligans to do their stuff and come back, but they had no intention of doing that. They were going to bog off on foot to Chile, and I was going to take the aircraft and do the same.” Would it have worked? “The SAS were bloody good. If they could get off the aircraft they would have destroyed everything in sight. There would have been a lot of revenge, though, which probably would have been directed at the Hercules. “The Mikado raid? I thought it was bloody stupid, actually. Too bloody far. We didn’t go because it wasn’t authorised. Hereford had run wild with this idea. Luckily, our flight commander was down on Ascension, keeping us on the sensible side of hooliganism. With half an hour to go, he told us no order had been received. It came down to Margaret Thatcher, I suppose. It would have been too much of an escalation.” “We were geared up to go,” says Rounds, “a hair’s breadth away from the trigger being pulled. It was a huge anticlimax. The intensity of the training was immense.” John Moss has remained silent on Mikado for 30 years, but now allows himself a modicum of self-defence. In a pointed reference to de la Billière, he says: “Only four people knew what was happening, I was one of them. One person, who has written a book, didn’t actually know everything as he wasn’t at the training. Afterwards we all shook hands and decided we would never say anything about it, but one person decided to do otherwise. “I put my point of view across at the time, which I felt was the right one. After leaving the Army I went down to Argentina to look at things in a bit more detail. I’m happy with the decision I made. It was the correct one and I couldn’t care less what other people have done.” Argentina’s remaining air-launched Exocets were to claim one more victim, the container ship Atlantic Conveyor, sunk by a single hit on May 25, Argentina’s national day. With her went Chinook and Wessex helicopters intended for the British assault on Port Stanley. “Moss articulated what a lot of his men felt, and took the flak,” says Rounds. “Personally, I regret we didn’t do it. I really wanted to be tested. But we would have been lucky to get out.”

[redqueenmusings]

This year’s main holiday was to Vietnam. We flew from TFS to LGW, spent the night at the Bloc, then the next morning travelled to Heathrow. We could have flown direct but the flights from Gatwick at least those used by Wendy Wu didn’t offer Premium whereas Heathrow did and with such a long flight we decided it was worth the change of airport especially as the upgraded seats were free.

Vietnam Airways was comfortable and they looked after us well, we breakfasted on eggs Benedict, lunched on smoked salmon and prosecco, spicy chicken and fresh fruit and throughout the journey were served, cookies, cucumber sandwiches (no crusts) and as much drink as anyone wanted. After arriving in Hanoi at 4.00 a.m. we took the 7.00 a.m. domestic flight to Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon) and that was ‘cattle class’ even so, if anyone wanted they did serve breakfast but as the flight was only one hour thirty we didn’t bother.

After threading our way between 14 million people and 10 million motorbikes for 45 minutes we arrived at our hotel, the Artisto Siagon. It was tourist class but we were spoilt as along with free water, dressing gowns, and slippers there was fresh fruit in the room and it was in a great location being close to several tourist sites as well as cafes for local food.

Saigon is Vietnam’s largest city a mix of the modern world and a treasure trove of local culture. During the 1960s and 1970s, it was the Pearl of the Orient, these days it is called the land of the ‘rising dragon’ without a doubt one of the most and fascinating countries in Asia. The sort of place where the old mixes seamlessly with the new as incense-infused temples sit next to skyscraper shopping malls. We began to soak up the culture.

The first thing that hits you is it’s more French than Asian, the colonial architecture, evidence of a bygone age, lent a dilapidated elegance to the city. Tall thin houses painted faded yellow, terracotta, blue and green. Porches sagged, trash-strewn everywhere and commerce present, on every street corner as the Vietnamese ladies wearing conical hats sell yams and ginger and others carried heavy poles over their shoulders with baskets of fruit at each end. The smell of limes lingered in the air, mingled with exhaust fumes from relatively few cars but millions of motorbikes.  Ho Chi Minh City is a clamorous, chaotic sensory feast. Motorbikes honk in a tidal wave across clogged intersections, locals crouch on street corners slurping steaming hot bowls of Pho; and the sultry air is thick and humid.

After a decent nights sleep the next morning, we contemplated the horrors of guerrilla warfare at the Cu Chi Tunnels. The tunnels were used by the Viet Cong soldiers to hide from and attack the American soldiers during the Vietnam war. Our guide Anh gave us a brief history which was complicated but helpful.

The cramped tunnels run for miles deep underground and consist of several levels with areas for hospitals and living quarters for numerous Vietnamese fighters. There were some ingenious and pretty gruesome traps with bamboo spikes and hiding holes where the guerrilla soldiers could emerge, shoot and disappear again. The tunnels are very small and dark and must have been terrifying. There was the chance to crawl through part of one which had been enlarged for tourists but they are still cramped and very scary as you were on hands and knees in total darkness.

Afterwards, they gave us baked tapioca to eat, which is what they ate during the war, and showed us how they hid the smoke from the kitchen fires which came up through holes in the ground to all intents looking like mist rising from the land. After the fall of Saigon in 1975, the Vietnamese government preserved the Cu Chi tunnels as a network of war memorial parks around the country.

Anyone of a certain age will remember the most iconic image of the War: a girl running naked down a road, screaming in pain after a napalm attack, she lived in the area where our visit took place.

Lunch was in a scruffy little cafe which ordinarily we would have passed by but we learnt it was where Bill Clinton, just like us, tried his first Pho Bo. It was tasty once you added some sweet chilli sauce, a good squeeze of lime and a few herbs, but like everything we had to eat it was only luke-warm. If I am having hot food I like it HOT. After eating with the locals, we hopped on the coach to explore some more.

By the time it came to the Reunification Palace, the home of the President of South Vietnam during the Vietnam War most of the group were starting to flag. It was here on 30th April 1975 that a North Vietnamese Army tank crashed through its gates and signalled the Fall of Saigon, but today there is little to see except a couple of tanks and a model aeroplane in the grounds and inside even Jim found it boring as a lot was just boardrooms and reception halls which, to be honest, could have been any civic building.

He did though enjoy the War Remnants Museum displaying military equipment, photographs and artefacts relating to the conflict. We were told this would be harrowing and it was, as the effects of Agent Orange are still being seen in Vietnamese today. What I found surprising is the current generation of Vietnamese seem to appreciate the relationship between Vietnam and America and see them as allies who are helping develop a better country.

We returned to the hotel, for want of a better word, totally knackered and after a hot soak in a super large bath got ready to go to dinner. This was an interesting affair – for my taste the food looking far better than it tasted, however, the fish (with its little fisherman) was delicious.

Check Queenie’s Daily Snippets for Tenerife news & events

Vietnam – Pearl of the Orient This year’s main holiday was to Vietnam. We flew from TFS to LGW, spent the night at the Bloc, then the next morning travelled to Heathrow.

[buzzedbabe]

Before I Dive... Chapter 2

So here is chapter 2. Song used is “Dive” by Ed Sheeran. Part 3 is coming soon because it takes place the next day. I wrote it as 1 but I thought I should break it up length wise. Enjoy!

Amy opened the door to her flat, smiling when she saw Richard, who smiled back at her. She took a moment to notice his plain black t-shirt, jeans, and flip-flops, and was mildly disappointed about the sunglasses hiding his eyes.

“Just let me grab my purse,” she said, disappearing back inside.

Richard watched her curvy figure retreat, distressed jeans cuffed around her ankles, silver Birkenstocks, and white shirt with small silver sunglasses printed on it covering her upper body. She returned with purse in hand.

“I still think I’m going to get a complex with you looking at me like that,” she laughed as she stepped out and turned to lock the door.

“How can you tell how I’m looking at you? I’ve got on sunglasses,” he said.

“I can just tell. Like I’m edible or something,” she said, making him laugh.

She punched him in the arm lightly as he worked to control his laughter. He pulled her to him, draping his arm around her shoulders as he led her to waiting taxi. After they got in and were on their way, she felt him lean closer to her, his beard tickling her ear.

“I think I should be the one to decide if you’re edible,” he whispered. He smiled as she instantly turned bright red. She ducked her head and pushed a curl behind her ear. “Are we a bit innocent?”

“Not completely,” she croaked, clearing her throat. “Which apparently you are not.”

“Never said I was.”

He loved the things that came out of her mouth before she’d had time to think them through. Not only because it amused him to no end, but because he knew it was what she truly thought.

“So where are we going for dinner?” she asked, glancing at the passing scenery.

“We are going to a very fancy place, four stars. They probably won’t let us in because of how we’re dressed, but I’ll name drop and use my star power to get us a table anyway.” Richard glanced over to see her eyes wide. He squeezed her hand so she would turn and look at him. “We’re having dinner at my place,” he laughed. “I thought a night in sounded nice. Show off my cooking skills.”

“I honestly don’t know which makes me more nervous,” she giggled.

It was Richard’s turn to lightly punch Amy in the arm.

“Hey! I don’t know if you can cook!” she defended herself.

“I can, and you’ll like it,” he laughed. “I thought we might watch a movie too.”

“It sounds lovely,” she said as the taxi came to a stop.

He pulled his keys out of his pocket as she stepped out of the taxi. He led her up to the street door, unlocking it and holding it open for her. She slowly climbed the stairs, allowing Richard to pass her so he could unlock the door to his flat. He opened that door and motioned for her to enter.

Amy stepped into a small hallway that opened into the flat. She set her purse on a table near the door and slipped off her sandals before starting in.

Richard stood back to watch as Amy looked around. Her fingers brushed his white granite counters as she took in the white cabinets, professional cooktop, and modern design of his kitchen before she turned to the living area. He moved to lean against the counter as she explored the space, glancing out his balcony door, hands gently testing his couch cushions as she passed.

Amy stopped at the large built-ins, perusing his library. She hesitated when she reached for a particular title, then changed her mind, clasping her hands in front of her. She turned to see him watching her with great interest. He’d set his sunglasses on the counter and she could see the smile in his eyes.

“Bedroom’s through the door there, though I forget now if I made the bed” he said nodding his head to a door just past the built-ins.

With the mention of the bedroom, Amy suddenly felt extremely nervous. She tucked her bangs behind her ear. Richard smiled, amused as she became intent on memorizing the grain in the hardwood floors.

“Um...and the bathroom?” she whispered.

“The other door there to the left,” he chuckled.

“I’ll just be a minute.”

He couldn’t help laughing out loud as she darted into the bathroom. He straightened up, opening the refrigerator to pull out the ingredients he needed for dinner.

Amy stood clutching the sink a moment before looking up at herself in the mirror.

“You are being ridiculous,” she told herself. “There are only so many rooms in this flat and you get all anxious when he mentions the bedroom. Bedrooms are generally included in flats. Unless they’re studios. Studios don’t have any rooms. They’re just one big…”

“Would you like some wine?” she heard Richard call through the door.

“Wine would be great,” she answered.

She flushed the toilet to make it seem like she really used the bathroom, then washed her hands quickly. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and went back out to join Richard.

“Vicious cycle,” she said coming over to sit at the counter.

“What’s that?” Richard asked as he sliced an onion.

“Drinking water. You drink water, you have to pee. You pee, you need to drink water.”

Richard laughed keeping his eyes focused on his prep work. “And here I thought I made you nervous when I mentioned the bedroom.”

Amy blushed as she took a sip from the glass of wine in front of her. She reached out to grab a red pepper from a pile Richard had already sliced.

“So you have a bedroom,” she said, trying to project some confidence.

“Aye. A bed too,” he said, finishing the onion. “Complete with those absolutely useless little square pillows my mum insisted I had to have.”

Amy smiled as Richard grabbed a container out of the refrigerator. When he turned, she could see a steak covered in marinade. He stopped a moment and looked over at her.

“Nope. Not a vegetarian,” she answered before he could ask.

“Are you a mind reader?” he asked, taking the meat and vegetables over to the stove, setting them on the counter before pulling out a pan. He swirled some olive oil around the pan and set it on the cooktop before turning on the burner.

“No, I don’t have ESPN,” she laughed, taking a long drink of wine.

Richard glanced over his shoulder at her, eyebrow cocked.

“Bad joke. Never mind,” she said.

Amy took another sip of wine, noticing the comfort Richard had in his kitchen. When the oil was hot, he placed the steak in the pan. Her eyes glanced over his back, the reddish brown curls brushing the neck of his t-shirt, which was just tight enough to hint at the muscles beneath. The shirt ended just at the waistband of his jeans. Her eyes lingered on his butt, the way the fabric clung to his body.

“Should I hop in the pan with the steak?” Richard asked. “Because I’m feeling a bit like a piece of meat.”

Amy looked up to see him watching her over his shoulder. She turned red, trying to hide her face by taking another drink.

“Just admiring,” she whispered. “And imagining.”

“You mean in the 2 months we’ve known each other, you haven’t searched for all my work? I’ve been naked in quite a few things,” he teased, pulling out a plate from a cabinet after he flipped the steak.

“Why spoil what I might actually see in real life?”

Amy couldn’t believe the ease with which that statement flew out of her mouth, chalking it up to the wine.

“Touche,” he said. “How about some music? Siri, play Ed mix.”

Amy smiled as Ed Sheeran’s voice filled the flat. Richard smiled at her over his shoulder before turning back to cooking. He took the steak out of the pan, putting on the plate to rest before scooping the vegetables up and dumping them in the pan.

“I have tortillas warming in the oven. Can you come pull them out?” he asked her.

Amy set down her wine, standing and coming over to stand by him. She grabbed the white towel that hung on the handle of the oven, then bumped his hip with hers so she could open the door. She pulled out the sheet tray with tortillas, setting on the empty burners. She then made her way to the refrigerator, opening the door. He turned when she laughed.

“OCD much?” she giggled.

“Organized,” he replied. “Easier because of how much I travel.”

“OCD. Your condiments are alphabetized,” she said as she leaned closer to inspect things. She looked over to see him blushing. “About time I managed to get you to blush. Cheese?”

“Left hand drawer,” he said without turning.

“Sour cream?”

“Second shelf.”

“Salsa?”

“Behind the sour cream.”

“Limes?”

“Right drawer,” he laughed.

“Am I missing anything?”

“I think you got everything.”

She took the packages and brought them over to the counter, sitting down again. He turned off the burner, pouring the vegetables on the plate next to the steak. He stopped a moment before walking over to Amy and offering her his hand.

“Dance with me?” he asked.

Maybe I came on too strong

Maybe I waited too long

Maybe I played my cards wrong

Oh, just a little bit wrong

Baby I apologize for it

Amy smiled, taking his hand and standing from her seat. He smiled, taking her in his arms.

I could fall, or I could fly

Here in your aeroplane

And I could live, I could die

Hanging on the words you say

And I’ve been known to give my all

And jumping in harder than

Ten thousand rocks on the lake

Her arms snaked up to rest on his shoulders. They gently swayed together, looking into each other’s eyes.

So don’t call me baby

Unless you mean it

Don’t tell me you need me

If you don’t believe it

So let me know the truth

Before I dive right into you

Amy blushed slightly as Richard’s gaze became intense, ducking her head. She joined her hands behind his neck and leaning her head on his chest.

You’re a mystery

I have travelled the world, there’s no other girl like you

No one, what’s your history?

Do you have a tendency to lead some people on?

'Cause I heard you do, mm

“Your heart is beating so fast,” she whispered.

“You might not be the only one who’s nervous,” he said, resting his cheek on her head.

I could fall, or I could fly

Here in your aeroplane

And I could live, I could die

Hanging on the words you say

And I’ve been known to give my all

And lie awake, everyday don't know how much I can take

“Do I make you nervous?” she asked, feeling him nod. “Why?”

“I don’t want to screw this up.”

So don’t call me baby

Unless you mean it

And don’t tell me you need me

If you don’t believe it

So let me know the truth

Before I dive right into you

She looked back up at him, staring into his eyes. “I think you’re doing great so far,” she said, smiling.

“Then why do I make you so nervous?” he asked, pushing her hair behind her ear.

I could fall, or I could fly

Here in your aeroplane

And I could live, I could die

Hanging on the words you say

And I’ve been known to give my all

Sitting back, looking at every mess that I made

She blushed, ducking her head. He lifted her chin, bending down to look in her eyes.

“Because I’ve never met anyone like you, that makes me feel…” she trailed off. “I don’t want to screw this up either.”

So don’t call me baby

Unless you mean it

And don’t tell me you need me

If you don’t believe it

So let me know the truth

Before I dive right into you

He gave her a kiss. “I’ll let you know if you’re anywhere close.”

She smiled. “Same here.”

Before I dive right into you

Before I dive right into you

They stood in each other’s embrace a bit longer after the song ended. They laughed when Amy’s stomach growled.

“Some more wine?” Richard asked.

“Please,” Amy laughed, sitting back down. 

[old-levied-blog]

The Reel

The Reel (Lifelines amended) Peter J Scott

©  

All the characters in this book do not exist but in the imagination of the author, and have no relation in any way to anyone bearing the same name or names. Furthermore they are not inspired by anyone the author has, does know, or is unknown to the author, and all the incidents herein are pure invention. The text of this book or any part thereof may not be reproduced by any means, or transmitted in any form be it electronically, or mechanically, including photocopying, recording, storage in a retrieval system, or otherwise without the written permission of the author. This book is sold subject to the condition that it may not be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise distributed without the prior consent of the author in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without similar condition, including this condition being imposed upon the purchaser.

Copyright  Peter J Scott 1962 All rights reserved.

Because of Floss:

I feel the need to write again, It’s not important what I pen, But to rewind a tangled mind Onto a reel…

Poetry written from 1960 until Jan 2017

Too Many People

Too many people walking all at once, Pushing-by each other, Too many people walking all at once, Another and another.

Jerusalem

The place is where a requisitioned ass Passed by olives weeping, And seeping sand fell down In cruel heaps, Positioned in short reverence. And I am here, Walking among the debris, Not wishing to be disturbed, As the camera in my mind Clicks on.

Printing

Tracing a slate-strewn skyline, Outlining a soot-soiled shape, Black industrial ugliness, Where a dreamer dreams of escape.

Trapped in a failing factory, As whitewashed as its walls. The hissing of printing-platens, Like metallic waterfalls.

Cracked tiles and charred chimneys, Dominate dirt-streets below, Where I squat on the summer-pavement, Until the hard hooter’s blow.

Making a monotonous living, Mind occupied elsewhere, Germanic machines pulsating, Wiping the window to stare.

Observation

I witnessed an old man Wave at a passing crowd, But they ignored his wave, And I felt rather sad.

He glanced down - embarrassed, I could see that he felt bad. Growing older as I watched him Walk away - head bowed.

Is it Christmas Yet?

Hey! A dead rabbit’s in the road, Squashed, And the road with rabbit’s blood Is awash. No one bothered, Or upset, Except me… Is it Christmas yet?

Hippie

Bled Blood red, My cut head. Factually Dripping drops of verse. I was a bleeding dream’ist, Who preyed on sleeping rhymes. I was an extremist, With a vampire’s curse.                       Actually,                     Mad, not fad.                 Too bad                   Lad.                        

Kind, But blind.                                 Misaligned. Consistently My spectacles did rust. I thought I was a socialist, But I got bluer every day!             A cycling vocalist, Whose bike got bust. Persistently, Poetry, Let me See.

Cup and Ring

This pub where I sit searching thoughts, Typically English, Belongs to the working-classes …and my spirit flinches.

Coarse language saying - ‘Look at me!’ Vowels littering the floor, Red lights gloating on empty heads That I cannot deplore.

Am I as ‘Them’ and nothing more? The fact is I am worse! Under a spell of ignorance, I cannot break the curse.

Woodbine smoke from callused hands, A glass stained with her lips, Wrinkled eyes, with sallow skin, Old woman sits and sips.

Skylark

One silver skylark, Sings beneath the sun, Sings beneath the sun, In solitude and sunshine, As sky-bound sunbeams run.

Clouds brush his burnt feathers, Then float away, Then float away.

He’s

Singing in suspension, With everything to say.

Glen Stream

Glen gorge-winder      Swiftly grows,            With peat-platted ribbons                  Weaving by.

Speaking quickly   Dark stream flows,         Murmuring over rocks               Where dippers fly.

A shallow foaming coldness,     A twisting tousled timeless place.          I contemplate beside you…               Gone to the glen to hide my face.

DTs

I think ‘T’ knew That his proud pen Played with words to spite his eye. He, Dai, Blew Bubbled blood… When he could. He, Dai, Made the breeze blow wet and dry. On inky fen, He breathed black dew.

A soulful sight Down by the sea, Writing “Milkwood” by the shore. Now no more. Right, to leave behind Legacy mind. Shite? Now no more Mad gnawing at his core. Alcohol Put out his light!

Simon - age two

My Son Held a rose in his hand, And I Called his name.

Then I Glimpsed his innocence, And yet I called again!

Walking in the garden Of infancy, Embracing time As a friend.

Speaking without Wisdom, Unwise Do we end?

Simon - age eleven

My Son tends to lounge on the floor! No matter what I say, He ends up prostate… His feet up the flue. What can I do? (It’s one of my traits).

Simon - age thirteen

We make aeroplanes, And talk of B.M.X’s, My Son and I. Thirteen and growing, And laughter showing; He loves me.      

We share our thoughts, And make rude jokes, My Son and I. Thirteen and growing, And me not knowing My father.                                  

Snow

The snow that fell in April Took us by surprise, And though it dulled the morning’s breath, It lit my children’s eyes.

Snowdrifts set in by evening, Traffic moved no more, Dead echoes filled a starless night, Stillness stood at the door.

Boots lay on steps, abandoned, Wet clothes deserted lay. I watched fun-footprints disappear, That snow-spring child-chilled day.

Grey Day

Morning sleeps Slush painted grey.

Blankets of ice, Bedeck his thighs.

Sheets of sleet, Sedate his day.

Longed for spring Seems

Long away.            

Gwithian

Across a cliff-clung field a purple shawl Extends under a ruby sun. Here upon these Cornish cliffs The twilight has begun To blur the cobalt seas slow rise and fall. Seagulls mock me, Glued to ground, Mobbing and milling above my head. Red sky is pierced, Its blood is earthward shed, As sun and shore infuse with sound, ‘Till, tide-bound, Echoes drift to ebb-away at sea, As day stops striving for a while, With dusk melting each milk-mist mile, And sky-ghosts tire of teasing me, Cape-captive, One alone that stands Above this granite gyve, This sun-bleached sand.

Return

For old time’s sake we returned To where our memories burned… And found it strange?

Sweet stream runs bitter now, Walls broken down, and how                  Cruelly      Arranged!

We walked a remembered lane, Things were not the same again, Had we changed?

Insomnia

The night is hot and in my room, I range across a crumpled bed. Windows wide in airless eve, Street sounds simmer in my head.

Sleep disturbed by daunting dreams, Confused by what is real - it seems I’m angry with myself - but why? I twist upon my bed and sigh.

My wristwatch whimpers –‘It’s not day’, I rise to glare into the street, But nightmares will not trot away, They rear and snort, so I retreat...

To turn my pillow once again, And feel cool linen on my face, Until seared senses softly scream… Ignite into another dream.

SOS

Wrecks lie submerged, Surfacing in dreams, Sunk in adolescence.

I sleep unaware, Fitfully it seems, Then run aground.

Trying to swim, Drowning midst beams, Soul ship-wrecked.

Fears dredged deep, As rip-tide deems, Mind water-logged.

Sheets have formed seas, With seaweed seams. Launch the lifeboat!

Jowett Pond

Beneath the surface of the pond Childhood memories stirred. Bulrushes silken-sepia stood, This place burnt-boys preferred.

I dipped my hand to chase a fish That swam toward my feet, But it escaped beyond my grasp… And yet that move was sweet!

For once again escaped to child I played within a pond. Caught in a whirl of waterweed, Within a childhood bond.

Bolton Abbey

Scents of autumn soak the air As river sweeps through stepping-stones. A wooden bridge beckons us where A heron cracks cold crayfish bones.

Such stillness born on shortened days Finds wishes wished on copper strands Falling as jewels from midst the grey, Pursued in flight by infant hands.

Detached

My sea rolls ever slow today, The sky hangs overcast and grey,          And evenings called too soon.

My senses are somewhere afloat, They’re drifting in an oar-less boat,          That rides a rising sea.

Salve-sunbeams have all dived and died, This ocean stretches ever wide,          Life gently bobs passed me.

My sea rolls ever slow today, The night enfolds a castaway,          And suffocates the moon.

Departure

Solace was found in solitude, In the wind, In the spring, In the green. Where a plough sows sky With seagulls,

I

Alone was seen, With a curlew’s Convivial company, And only Soft sky In-between.

Temple Newsam

Autumn has arrived again, And as before He put his foot Inside the door of summer. Broken branches hurled up high, Where chestnuts cling Midst mist and sky, And other signs... That signal I am older now, That whisper when The rooks’ allow A word in edgeways.            

Detached

Gentle evening edges out, The willow rests, His branches bowed, Weary of the sapping sun And I, the noisy crowd.

Rawdon Billing

Loneliness pursued the child, Who wondered where the flowers grew wild.

He played in fields where plovers flew, And where the whispering grasses grew.

Among the ferns he hid his face, As swallows skimmed his hiding place.

He watched the diving-beetle swim, Wild-water would envelop him.

But loneliness pursued the child, And taunted when he sometimes smiled.

Mr Babble the Insurance Man

He spewed out stress from deep within, Contaminating everything, Sweating, shouting, exploding eyes, Gesturing, exuding sighs.

Then calmness would somehow prevail, As bluster became blocked from sail. Until some strain stretched out a nerve, And pulled off course his sense would swerve...

...to strew the alphabet around; A spluttering strangulated sound. Swearing, slighting, angry, annoyed, A pale perplexed, pained, paranoid.

Fog

Fog had erased the Street’s blackboard, Swept of lamp-light by God’s broom, But I lit up the road with my ‘Miller’, Full beaming into the gloom.

I road on unfettered by worries, I biked like a cyclist insane, I followed tyre-tracks back to childhood, And polished the saddle again.

Cutter Grinding

Dodging hot dust for a living, Pretending to be an engineer, Sharpening cutters on the night-shift, Sparks showering my right ear.

Coarse coat stained with hot lubricant, Clean cuts covering soiled hands, A Thermos filled with cool coffee, Gratifies this grinder’s demands.

Across the Works yard to the washroom, I stand in the new night air, Sharpening a seconds silence, Moments that matter are rare!

The canteen is almost deserted, I lie on a table to sleep. Soon a buzzer brings scowling to Solo, Flock back to the Tool room we sheep.

Shrill shouts as a rheumatic finger, Is sliced off to a profane appeal, A splinter of bone is adhering, To a gruesomely grist grinding-wheel.

A dustsheet shrouds the dead ‘Shutte’, Until the Inspector appears, We night-shift grind on in caution, (My father is sharpening his shears).

Mormonism

Words droned on, Members nodded, Service plodded, Heavy heads, Vacant faces, Empty places, On we sat, Bottoms flat, No point in that!

Miscarriage Bingo

8:00pm chimed disappointment And a shock, Birth-time was stranded, One number off a cuckoo-clock!

Tears narrated bitterness, And a shock, One second landed One number off a cuckoo-clock!

Pained proof was too incredulous, And a shock, Sent two minds reeling, One number off a cuckoo-clock!

Lost months unacceptable, And a shock, Three numbed of feeling, One number off a cuckoo-clock!

Grandad

My granddad has a bulbous nose, That’s stuffed with money! Funny? No! And I’ll tell you why it’s not, It’s pitiful pensioner’s snot!

He stuffs it with bread because he’s rich, Cut-sliced brown bread up his snitch, Good grief! Huh! I wish he’d blow his golden nose, Into my spotted handkerchief!

Promotion Prospects

Successes scent has disappeared, Whilst I was chasing in despair, Over the hill.

His footsteps seemed so close, And then, He raced off with some other men.

I thought I sensed him slackening, I reached to somehow grab his coat, But then felt ill.

He flung some worries at my feet, I stopped, Breathless in Stressful Street.

Successes scent has disappeared, I’ll rest and hope he’ll reappear, Perhaps he will.

When I feel fitter and less afraid, I’ll catch him Sleeping in the shade.

Three Sisters’

Above the moor one plane-tree stands, Diseased with dead rheumatic hands. Two sisters died beside her throne, Naked, now she reigns alone.

Stately they ruled that star-crowned hill, Betters of bracken, gorse, And those lower than guardians of the air, Small boys like me, who dwarfed, did stare.

Poetry written in Western Germany:

Deutch TV Documentary

I watch the harrowing scenes of pain, Surviving Jews, their suffering faces, Returning respectfully to places, Where they were tortured and transported.

Was it here where forests fly their golden flags? That corpses lay unnoticed in the street, And mass graves welcomed the unwanted, Whilst evil echoed marching feet?

Was it here where deer dash and lizards lie? That fear was free to be inhuman, And sewers were shelters underground, Whilst gas stilled souls without a sound?

I watch the harrowing scenes of pain, Men lingering where their families fell, Pondering the terrorised truth, Unthinkable, unspeakable, Hell!”

Hydenweg 10

From Russia marched a charcoal sky, It grilled the forest, burning black, As angry angels came to crack Silvered-steel whips.

The grumbling Giant overhead, Trod with such a sombre tread, That all the tears in heaven were shed, In single sobs.

Then he somehow strode away, As blackbirds sang in sniffing sky, And angels dried each glistening eye, With rainbow.

Homesick

I miss the nearness of the sea, To stroll upon its saline shore, To shout as broken breakers roar, Over sand.

I miss the freedom of the moor, To wonder where my spirit wills, To walk the paths and gentle hills, Of England.

Buchenwald

This place is not at peace, Its beauty has been bruised, Withering winter memories, Still fused in every bird-less tree, Moving endlessly.

Snow touches tall pines, As in silvered-days before, But now, sadly it’s falling, As if it’s recalling, How it clung to those being killed, As their suffering was stilled.

Hessich Oldendorf

Forests flush a hundred hills, Where helicopters hurry, Blittering’ where buzzards blow, Blattering’ descending low, Mid blossoms of white cherry.

Hameln

False facades hedge Hameln’s steeple, A town refaced, But not its people.

BFPO 29

They dilute their lives in lager-beer, Loves drowned out here, Among these wire-wooded hills.

Dreams dissipate in tax-free gin, Wives have their fling, Where the Wesser winds around.

Driving

Driving to work Mindlessly, When over the hill, Suddenly! Sun underscores the heavens, Beautifully.

Clouds form damson plums, Endlessly. I glance in the mirror Automatically, Driving to work, Restlessly.

1663

Black-lashed poppies - clumped and crimson, Flames amid the whitening wheat, Burning where sharp shrapnel-showers, Burst from midst the searching heat.

In these fields where cannon clattered, Thousands fell on Hessich hill, Black-lashed poppies clumped and crimson, Black-lashed poppies standing, still.

Wealthy

We have a marble Staircase, Six bedrooms, Parquet floor, But I don’t smile, Like I used to do before.

Minden Road

Night heron, Black-bat like, Flew up from the wet road, Legs trailing.

I drove on, No confidence, To sell insurance Car tailing.

I envied, His nocturnal flight, Somewhere sane, Unfailing.

Return home:

Hospital

I see my fragile father ill, So small, And still refusing help.

He looks so hopeless holding on, All his manly-moments gone, Forever.

I try to touch his tortured mind, But the wretched years unwind, Tangling us.

Stroke

Summoned by love my heart was led, To find her in a sterile bed, Slurred-speech from midst a spittle face, So unaware, with matted hair.

A Stroke her dignity’s defiled, Her mind is battered back to child, She cannot tell why she lies there, I kissed her brow - smiles crooked now.

Tired

I grow weary, Weary of the whir of words, Sing me a lullaby of silence, Let me rest.

Rock me in a cushioned cradle, In some secret sheltered place, Where the World wants for admittance, And smiling down - a mother’s face.

Dad Dream

I saw him from his hospice bed, Slow rises and shuffle to the phone. His gaunt frame clothed in yellow skin, Tightly binding up his bones.

His crooked fingers found the dial, But whilst his hands obeyed his will, His brain could not fulfil his need And all the while real time stood still.

I watched him struggling with that phone, My father, soulful, seeking aid, He did not see me at his side, Nor sensed the gulf was not so wide.

Then we were lifted from that ward, To a familiar woodland-walk, Where deadened was his dragging pain, And I found I was a boy again.

We strolled among the Sunday-trees, Where he expressed his love for me, Something I’d never heard him say, Last words I knew would fade away.

I felt a boy, but was a man, So much I did not understand, And as we walked towards the day, I held on childlike to his hand.

We stopped - I gazed upon his shell, Amazed to see him young and well, I knew I’d waken soon and so, I kissed his face - then let him go.

Rich Man

When he is loved no man is poor, His wealth cannot be measured, Nor his worth be weighed against All the riches of the earth. For love cannot be bought, Grow old, or be caught in nets Woven with threads of purest gold. True love endures when we have gone, Goes on, and on, and on, and on…

Day

Today is a waiting-day, Why? I cannot tell!

So subdued by stars I’ll sit and wait, My head within my shell.

Debt

It seems that we may lose this house, For debt has called to take away What we hold dear.

The cats’ fight for the fireside rug, And music shakes the worm-worn stair, As wolves draw near.

We take each day for what it is, Another step towards the edge, I cannot look.

Somewhere, someone, decides our fate, A dreaded summons come to bring, Me to the Book.

I’ve done all I can think to do, I feel so helpless and afraid, And so ashamed.

The clock ticks on and will not stop, Night laughs at my pathetic rest, My heart is drained.

My faith still breathes, but shallow now, I humbly take what I can get, Or somehow, do without.

Leaving

One of our birds has flown away, He took some love to line his nest, To help him through the winter storms, When warmth shall flee His chosen tree, To set a Survival, Test.

Soon another chick will wing her way, For growth dictates it shall be so, When as their full flight-feathers form, We brood no more, But watch them soar, Keeping hold, By letting Go.

Douglas Dakota C47

From distant hills would drift the sound, A radial-rhythm in the sky, At once I’d know a 47, Was growling down to earth from heaven.

Dakota, dawdling into view, ‘Silver City’, or ‘BKS’, Blue, or red, ‘Air Lingus’ green, Hot-house jolting, joy machine.

I’d watch its strutted wheels come down, Round yellow eyes, full-beam ahead, I’d trace it banking round to where Its flaps would stab into the air.

Rooted beneath the landing-lights, Wide eyed, I’d drink its deep descent, Until it’s shadow swiftly fell free, And rooftop roaring gently shook me.

Then swirl of air... a second’s silence. A skid, a squeal, a rattling rumble. A rev’ of engines, a number jotted. A routine landing, a boy besotted!

Nidd Flier

Iridescent, but blue, I saw him at last! The kingfisher raced by, And screamed as he passed. Down the river he streaked, A colourful crier. Small wonder he shrieked: His rump flamed with fire!

Floss Tired

She rises early, And to her tasks She creeps. Compelled to Work for those She loves, Until the day Is dead, When she Leans her weary Head upon her hand, And sleeps.

To be read at my funeral

How will the gentle-judge judge me? When tentative, I stand afraid, As memories dredge my moat-ringed mind, To float bright-boats of foolish years, When wide horizons filled my thought, And I slayed dragons, fearing naught.

What shame hung out for all to see? What filth? What guilt? What angry shout Will be sung-out to trouble me When deaths sunk opportunity.

Can I but hope that when I’m dead? In mitigation will be read A list of souls whom I did love ...and one containing (hard to see), A few, who, unconditionally, Loved me.

Two am

Why do I still labour With One-thirties ink and paper, Whilst my wife slumbers upstairs? ...who else cares but Floss?

As the World knows not, Then what is the point Of my solitude, And sleeplessness?

Maybe at 2:00am I’ll meet a lone man, And write with him.

Yours faithfully, Peter.

Storm

The Storm has drained his soul today, Stilled and spent he’s blown away, To leave us here in this tall house, Safe from his unsettling cries, To dream of days of setting suns, Where we can rest, spirits to mend, A place to start - a place to end!

Good-bye

If I fade first A vestige of my words I’ll leave, To whisper when you feel alone. I realise that we both shall grieve ...has Hades got a telephone?

Floss

The golden star around her neck, Can never shine as bright as she, Nor fulsome words tarnish the truth, Of Hebrew femininity.

CCU

Warm water in a plastic jug, Feet cold. Wires tugging at the heart of me, Connected to eternity, And a bold, ‘Bleep, bleep’, Keeps me awake.

White-watchers wander In and out, With dedication (and some without!).

A taste of tea soon tinkled up. My curtains have corn (and a buttercup!)…

Apart

When I’m asleep my spirit flies Across the separating skies, With her to stay.

It lingers by her lonely bed, Cradling soft her sleeping head, Until the day.

Then before she starts to rise, It kisses both her lips and eyes, And slips away.

Vanished Vicar

In the Church there’s still singing, But the bells have stopped ringing, For the sake of his shame, And his tarnished name.

For our priest’s disappointed, Defiled whilst anointed, And in this tiny place, It’s a far fall from grace!

My Daughters’

Now they’re loved by other men As well as I, And well I love them still! But why despondent pine? Because my love’s stepped by, And from further down the line Observes the spot That once was mine!

New Nana

She nurses Beth when she’s needed, And tries not to love her too much, Because it’s hard to mother a baby, When a heart can look but not touch.

So she cradles Beth for her mother, The child of her child, born with pain, And I watch my Woman giving birth, Again and again and again.

Beth - age one

She shouts a lot This little tot, And points, and grins Six pain-cut teeth. And ‘though the gods’ Translate her speech, In truth I can’t discern A word, And so I stow Each Jibber-jab, And kiss her head. Just thankful that She talks to me, Before she Goes to bed.

Jaque a Mate

My friend is black! Try as he may, He cannot Put the game away.

I cannot change His coloured cast. Promote his pawn, Or re-play his Detroit past.

My friend is black! All moves for him Are indigo ...and white-men win.

Beth age one - and a bit!

An angel made an entrance ...appearing suddenly! She simply stood Beside my bed: Fair hair, fair skin, Halo crowned head, And beamed a smile at me!

I bathed in her bright beauty, Hypnotised, sleep fled. She smiled again, Her eyes alight, Then her first words Fogged fast my sight: “Gran-dan, Gran-dan,” she said.

A Song for Floss

When my hopes are as flotsam And drift on the tide, You walk at high-water And gather my pride. And I’ll love you as long as The surf runs to sand. Life only has reason When you understand.

Chorus Time cannot harm you, It stands in disgrace. The shadows flee quickly, The stars light your face. For angels stand round you When darkness draws near. Let dawn find you dreaming There’s nothing to fear.

You fight when surrender Is what I would do. Then pretend to believe it When you know it’s not true. And I’ll love you forever Until dreams have all died, That’s never my darling With you by my side.

You stay when luck wonders, To chance it with me. You weep when I’m wounded, And watch tenderly. And I’ll love you forever, My wife and my friend. For life is eternal, And love has no end.

When Petals Fall

When petals fall   And land   Wasted upon the ground, No hand     Can be found   To make anew What once so forceful grew.

No words can recall A single released spear,   Or restore one tear And make again all right.

When petals fall We grieve   For what can bloom no-more, And leave   As sure is sure, With sad regret, The flowers we can’t forget.

Dark-eyed Girl

I dreamt that when the world was wide, Arms folded, on the wild moor-side, There stood a girl with raven hair, Who denim-dressed, seemed full of care.

Her gaze was fixed somewhere afar, Her beauty, like her hair, unbound, I wondered what engaged her so, As anxiously she held her ground.

Her face was pallid, eyes were dark, She seemed pre-occupied in thought, Then suddenly she looked behind, As if a distant fear was caught.

Set free by hope she turned once more, Searching skyline for a sign Of someone longed for, meeting there, A dark-eyed girl with raven hair.

‘PC’

Now it appears (a girl tells me), She’s not a ‘Houseman’ Anymore, But something called An ‘H and O’.

And so tradition’s Had to go, Because some shit Said all must be, Politically, Bloody C!

Trumpton!

I’m here once more ...in pain, chest tight. Scribbling lines at half-past three (not wanting all this fuss for me) And in the gloom Across the room, Some mindless Mick from Donegal, Is lyrically farting at the wall!

Another Miscarriage

What once lived, And nevermore can be, Brought tears to Adele, My son, The one I love, ...and me.

This Christmas

May we know joy, As bells ring out. Let all men shout Glad-tidings from afar. May hearts be still, And worries wait. Let thoughts migrate To loved-ones and a star. May we have hope, As tears are shed. Let love be led, To salve each sinful scar. May doubt stand still, As faith is shod, Let’s thank our god For breaking prison-bars. May we find peace, And fools forgive, Let’s learn to live Together as we are.

Now

‘Now’ is the time to do that ‘Thing’, To learn that song you’ve meant to sing A thousand times - but would forget, Or remembering, say: “Not yet - not yet.”

‘Now’ is the time to act that ‘Play’, To speak those lines you’ve meant to say With confidence - but would stay hushed, Or entering, say: “I’m rushed - I’m rushed.”

‘Now’ is a word, when understood, Will do more than ten Dreamers could With best intent - but they sleep on, Or in waking, say: “The moments gone...”

Simon - aged twenty-five

Hey! Our Son’s twenty-five, And to his shocked surprise, (we’re glad to say!) He’s still alive And kicking!

           Child’s Pond

There is a Pond in the garden, It’s small, And not at all Ostentatious.

There are some fish in the water. They swim About within, Surprisingly!

There is a wall to lean upon And stare, When time is there To watch the fun.

There are those who when looking in, Grin at The pond, while fish Act capriciously.

There are some that point at a fish And say: “Hey! Look at the Size of that one!”

There is a man who tends the fish, It’s me! And I too like the pond, Not so amazingly.

My Valentine

A bright spring morn: Thy face to see. An autumn night: Thy mystery.

A winter fire: Thy soft warm smile. Enchanted stars: Thine eyes, beguile.

My heart I give For thee to keep. What need I more? Let seasons sleep!

Eternal is My summertime. For thee I love, My valentine.

Once Upon A Time

There was a time when ‘Things’ was good, When ‘They’ acted as ‘They’ should, But now ‘They’ acts just as ‘They’ would, Before the rain, before the flood.

There was an age when ‘Time’ moved slow. When ‘Progress’ knew which way to go, But ‘Now’ with ‘They’, rush to-and-fro, Confused by ‘What’? ‘They’ does not know!

There was a day when ‘What’ was ‘What’, ‘We’ thought of ‘How’ - but ‘Then’ forgot. By ‘Now’, ‘We’ should have learned a lot, “We have,” say ‘Some’ - well, ‘I’ think not!

The One Who Walked the Pathway

The one who walked the pathway stopped, The wind that moved the twilight dropped, So silent in the way.

The one who walked the pathway saw, The valley that he’d trod before, Was waking with new day.

The one who walked the pathway knelt, The grass beneath his feet he felt Was withering away.

The one who walked the pathway knew, The laws of nature would ensue He could no longer stay.

The one who walked the pathway stood, He saw beyond, a child - his blood, Mesmerised in play.

The one who walked the pathway blushed, He knew new growth could not be crushed, And went upon his way.

Willow herb

The August flowers of willow herb Have died beneath the head. Magenta spears, Will summer’s tears So soon be likewise shed?

Be shed, yet rise when autumn’s call Is wind-born by the weir. When silvered threads, From willow beds, Fly faster every year.

Simon’s Travail

He was very angry, And afraid. I could see within his eyes, The rage at hard circumstance, He’d made. I allowed his rage to turn Its savage flame on me, Then watched it die away, And quietly let him be.

Back in control He left to give support, To she whom all his love, Once upon a time, had caught. Who, in protracted childbirth, Needed what faith he had, When he, in his frustration, Needed to bite his dad!

Old Eyes

We are older now (our grandchildren are reminders), Will they weep again the wasted tears Sad-shed we’ve put behind us?

Will they stand upright  the quicker, If left crying after falling? Or have all content can need If envy’s ignored calling?

Will their musing souls know better Than think evil of an other? That some smiles are far more valuable Than gold-digging might discover?

Will they consider wrong is right And like some fools forget That hatred is a savage dog But affection they can pet?

Will they become as atheists when They’ve rationalised their minds. Or in a street of ruined faith, A house of heaven find?

Perhaps in time they’ll know as I When night is creeping nearer, That even though the light is dim Their eyes can see much clearer!

20-03-96

Simon – ageless

He butts the wall And like me, once, He acts as if He doesn’t care at all.

He rants and raves, His love upon the shelf. Yet who is he, But a foe unto himself.

He cannot lie, Reacting as a bull, But who’s to say what Price his honesty must pay.

She watches lost, And with his son, afraid, What cost a tune, a lyric, Midnight made.

She runs away, He too escapes the hour, Then they return, To gather up the flower.

When petals fall, And lay wasted on’ the ground, What fool can say: Mad music has no sound.

Dead D J

They rise to flutter in the sun, To astonish everyone. Dodging dragons in the sky. Seeking pollen, Seen on high As stained glass windows passing by.

With friends around the lawn they dance, Upon a breeze of circumstance. Then settle soft with open wings. Absorbing heat, Reflecting light, Until comes coolness of the night.

Tis then they contemplate alone, The emptiness of garden grown, With dreams dreamt worthless. Without wind. Then as we cry, Away they fly...

04-05-96

“Darrrrrd!”

In fear They rely on me, To be near And I Must respond.

Yet if they knew My fright, They might, Stop, And think Again.

24-05-96

Mister Mclaughton

After apologising for his row He continued with it Anyhow: A repetitive sound, A shake of his bed, A PERSON! A PERSON! With a crab in his head.

The man in great pain, The oxygen mask. Again, And again, And again He did ask, For someone to come, For someone to come, For someone to come, And be kind. Anyone…

4-07-96

Little Big Man

Little Big Man’s come to play, And the cloudy sky has gone away. These blessings bright: Liam, Bob, and Beth. Those, That when I’m close to death And morphine is no use to me, I picture, In my agony.

‘B’ My Fairy!

She rides astride a unicorn, With silver hooves, And golden horn, Gliding through the magic glade, Among the rays of dawn.

Upon a toadstool in the wood, She sits - as any fairy should, And smiles at pixies as they play, Shooing every elf away, They say...

I see her, with enchanted eyes, Transfix a goblin in surprise, Then off with air-born seed she flies, Chasing purple dragonflies Across the lawn.

Perhaps, one day you’ll see her too, Maybe, she’ll blow her dust at you, And laugh, at every ‘atish-oo! ’, Before she flutters into blue, And flies away...

Ever

There is no dawn without you, No light to find my way, No sun to warm my wintry heart               And melt the frost away.

Pointless, the hours pass slowly, And would, my heart explain, That it cannot begin to beat Until we kiss again.

I love you senseless, And so deep, Should ‘ever’ be a lie! My love will build a place for us, Where time will pass us by.

13-09-96

Lot 50

At times I feel a stranger here, An odd detachment From this mad sale-room of mankind. I hear a distant Melancholy memory Tapping soft upon my mind.

A faithful face watches me From far outside my head. Now forgotten, a once familiar friend, Reminding me today, As I take up my makeshift bed, Where tomorrow I must end.

When my heart is beating strong, Faith is hushed, and taps unsure, But my strength faltering, Remembrance does not wait too long Before penetrating perception, And with insistence, halters my rushed existence.

They say some call-answering souls, Shown all, return changed! Speaking of angels, Passages of light, And of meeting friends, dressed In dazzling white garments!

But mostly, I forget faiths small bid, Until like thunder comes Ghostly tapping upon the wall, Reminding me, but clay, That sold to faith’s my lot today.

24-10-96

The Kids

A few crumbs on the carpet, A small price to pay, For such a Wondrous blessing, As they.

04-11-96

As if?

Don’t worry if one tearful day You have to travel far away, For time will stop, And you will find, Dark fears that haunt Your troubled mind, Will vanish in the evening sky, And in the twinkling of an eye, We’ll be together, You and I.

In Search of Flowers

Sometimes I seek with tear-torn eyes What sight cannot reveal, Or senses recognise! Hearing blooms, That sing to me whilst sleeping! Sad sounds in moonlit madness, Vermilion vehement gladness, Or cruel clambering commotion. Open oysters that glisten! Causing me to wander, And oft times - My gaze somewhere afar, To marvel at sharp stars, and listen! Sometimes, enveloped by my emotion, I step carelessly, Falling upon feathers: Plucked plumes, that so flightless lay My stuttering lips could never say What scent would rise from rose-winged words? Or my muse-mind begin to realise what beauty, What fragrant birds so sweet Lie crushed beneath my clumsy feet. Then, stumbling higher up the hill, To a cloud-caught morning, still, A certain sleeping-sickness met, Makes my perception, time, forget. Sometimes, far distant I perceive A fond face softly smiling, That in the half-light empties hours, When I’m lost among the fractured flowers, Comes reconciling fear with faith. Searching till she finds me safe, As I wander out of sight. Who finds me on the haunted hill, Lost far beyond the daffodil, And to her heart takes me again, Where poets need no path explain. Forsaken Floss, left to atone, Whilst I step sleepless, and alone! 4-12-96

The Whale’s Song

The whale’s song is a shoal song, Well known to fishes free. The whale’s song is a sound song, When he dives beneath the sea.

The whale’s song is a surf song, And swells within the tide. The whale’s song is a still song, Where the red seahorses’ ride.

The whale’s song is a sweet song, Off cape, in coral bay. The whale’s song is a sleep song, That haunts the dying day.

The whale’s song is a sad song, When lonely he does roam. The whale’s song is a star song, And guides the herd less home.

The whale’s song is a soul song, And never must be said: The whale’s song is a sung song, When hunted, all are dead!

Shared Computer

She sits upon my knee, And joy-jiggles, Squashing my soft places. She sits upon my knee, And mouse-squiggles, Sketching silly faces. She sits upon my knee, And glee-giggles, Trashing treasured filing. She sits upon my knee, And worm-wriggles, Scented sweet, and smiling, She sits upon my knee, And Miss Tiggles, Babbles between breathing. She sits upon my knee, And it niggles ‘Gangan’, when Beth’s leaving!

Gritter

A gritter growls at 4:00am, Along the sleep set street. Its progress prompts reality, My dreaming incomplete.

I try to keep my senses hushed, But one thinks otherwise! And as another truck toils by, Sight whispers to my eyes.

Long still I lie, lest she should wake, Err darkness dares to dress. Sleep deep my love, Sleep deep and rest, The night grows less and less...

Childless Christmas

X Mass, And The   Star That stood Upon nativity; Having shone itself away, Christmas dawned without starlight, And no seraphs sprang from silvered sleep to Play. No angels pounced On piled-up Present places, Or cherubs flew about the room with fire-flushed Excited faces, Tearing tissue in their half-dressed giddy glee. Kids grown and gone away with theirs! No bashed batteries bested, Or red wrapping wrested beneath the tumbling Tree. Christmas dawned simply silently, And nothing moved much at all. Or fanned the fires dim ember ring to warm We two: My love and I, who sat quietly. No fruit was wasted. No mess, Or half a chocolate tasted. Just she And me, Remembering.

29-12-96

January

Monochrome, the moor’s set bright, A magpie flies drift buttressed wall, Feathers seasonal in flight, All black and white, All black and white.

Above - the sun peeps from pearl home, Below - six crows to silence call, Hopping high on something dead, All brown and red, All brown and red.

The ridge road sinks to lower roam, Beyond the snow-drift sculptured hall, As sky sets into different hues, All pinks and blues, All pinks and blues.

The earth a bowl, the sky a dome, Within, we on our homeward haul, And sunset seeps, as sunset should, All bronze and blood, All bronze and blood.

04-01-97

Jackdaws

It pleases me to see January Jackdaws

Paired with such an Admirable adhesion.

Right now - across the way, Two bonded birds sit still,

Contentment shared, Looking southward,

For some particular reason. Soul-mate silhouettes

Against a glacial grey, Perching peaceably.

09-01-97

My Heart

I thought my heart was soft, But they said ‘No!’ Mine neither begs, nor bleeds, But tough and tight it regulates my pink. And when I think I have a heavy heart, It’s naught but gloom in soulful guise. Those rational and wise, They told me so!

I thought my heart was glad, But they said ‘No!’ Mine neither leaps, nor loves, But shoves corpuscles to my mind. And what I find to be a joyful heart, Is naught but rapture wrapped in words. Those rational and wise, They let me know!

I thought my heart was full, But they said ‘No!’ Mine neither brims, nor bursts, But beats away without a will, And what I bill as hurt or broken heart, Is naught but muscle crying out. Those rational and wise, Say that - no doubt.

12-01-97

Beth’s Tree

Beth’s tree sports sizeable stickers. Secretly she’s stuck them there To make me laugh! They do! And each time I see the tree I smile wistfully, And try not to dwell upon the thought, Beth would not be she, Lest for my anguished kiss of fear, And the sudden gasp she caught In her heart-stopping history.

16-01-97

Peter on Parade

On parade at Pirbright, Supposed to be making the grade. No time - no sleep - no pity, Where rows of red robots are made.

Hands blistered, belt blancoed, boots bloodied, Shrill shouts of: “TWO THREE ONE!” A beating for nothing, then lights-out, When a dancing day is done.

So stupid are we conscripts, So clever every toff. Where urine hits pristine porcelain, Boots pickling in the trough.

Reduced by threat and trauma, Programmed to jump when called, I stop my spirit breaking, By keeping my mind installed.

“So you want to leave the Army!” “Can’t take it!?” said, the CC, Enigmatic, I smiled at the android, He knew that I was still me...

27-03-97

Valentine 97

There is a chain between our hearts That time has proved with tears. Each golden link of happiness Not stressed by painful years. And though some souls are pulled apart And dulled, no longer shine. My love remains untarnished, Forever, Valentine.

14-02-97

Faith Fairies

Faith fairies fill a fire-side spot, That heaven did perhaps allot. And by the flame of ingle-nook, They sit, they stand, they pose, they look, With wings that glitter in the light. Small maidens made of magic clay, Who, when the night grows dark and still, Begin to wake and fly about, Until morning brings an end to play, And we can say - We think we’re sure?! These angels in another guise, Have strayed from where they stood before!

19-03-97

Lapwing

Lapwing, Lapwing, Tumbling, turning, Swooping, sailing, The bracken burning.

Diving, twisting, Swept back wings. Displaying, dashing, The stunt-bird flings.

Dropping down, Then speeding high, Climbing, stalling, In wind-wild sky.

Inverted dart, A flip, it falls! At once to rise With ‘pew-it’ calls!

19-03-97

Box

When I am gone will my words die? And lie unread, my voice a memory, My farrago features incomplete, Some pieces worn away, By rain that fell Since yesterday?

Or shall some soul in delving thought, By chance unearth this dusty tome, And fit, in some dead reading-room These puzzle words, And picture me, And thus ensure my tiny place In jigsaw history.

26-04-1997

Freedom

God had been good! We were free! Free from our debts. And no one To face us Or chase us With threats.

26-04-1997

Whitby

We went to Whitby, In the cold. The harbour was mud, And yet was gold! Beyond jet stones, So black, so old, Brown waves soap-sudded, And bubbling bold!

26-04-1997

Sanctuary

Because across the curtained way someone was breathing blood, she came amid verbose commotion, spoke my first name, and fussed with my sad sheets - the hunchback nurse, pushing her sunken head at me as I lay close to sleep and feeling better. She, whom with straight grace shouldered her curse beneath a smiling face.

Other staff busied best to save, best as any mortals could, Expressions grey, some gowns a faded ghostly green, Sharp needles, absurd paper-hats, tissue perforation, Hurried ‘do-this, do-that’s’ in dire desperation, And in-between big words, small looks of loss, Young dogs, old fears, bravely understood!

Soon it grew still. Practised hands stopped ministering with haste. Beneath the white-windowsill the brow-battering beeping must have quit – but I never noticed it! Now, no one rushed. Not much sound – lost fox gone to ground! Noses earthbound, all but two young pups wondered away some place to rest.

A nervous laugh! Hot water. Disinfectant. Nothing drastic. A soft call! Plastic gloves, plastic aprons. A request. More elastic efficiency!

Later, awakening upon my cot-like bed, behind my dream-soaked head I heard passing wheels and rattling coffin tin, and remembered the hunchback’s soft, yet smothering smile.

A child! I’d been taken-in! Tricked by a magic motherly action. Diverted by a dedicated death-distraction.

05-04-1997

Tea

Tea, Like beer, Should be supped, Not sipped. Is that clear!

14-05-97

Fissure

A deep depression Slits my soul Now we must be apart, A canyon deep! Where here below An eagle eats my heart. And deeper still From off the hunters nook, My angry wound Drips rapid red, To foul   Eroded brook. A sink of sorrow. Blood-loss to wend. Cliffs sheer, too steep For me, or any man Wept-weak, Alone ascend. So, down, I gaze above, Through haze Of parted-pain, Watchful for my Longed-for love, To make me whole again.

20-05-97

Phantom

Gone stiff, He lay placed on a wall, As if the blood on his face Was a little disgrace. Put high above Like a toy, Or lost glove, One of some worth, Fallen to earth.

Poor Phantom Was dead! A cat Of loved fame, Killed by a car Whilst out in The dark Being true to His name.

12-06-97

Painful Poetry:

1

Since the biopsy result   I struggle to write, To think, And I want to fight Whoever offends me.

For Floss’s sake I try to be strong, But my courage is a thief, And in secret robs my Soul of sobs.

She, harassed in the street, Finds some are sympathetic, Others sweet, Embarrassed, Kind, or curiously cruel.

The word ‘cancer’ She rarely mentions, But it stands poised upon her lips, Occasionally leaping out To terrify.

Such deep anxiety, Each day multiplying, And I deafened by a dreadful fear, Whispering, that my lovely girl May be already dying.

23-07-96

2

They ask me How she is, I say: “courageous”, But she is more Than brave.

One breast is gone, All that is to be seen Is a grave wound, A tube of blood, And a dressing.

What is depressing Is that she still smiles At life with love, Her beautiful crown Cropped.

Tonight I stopped Beside the road And wept again, How can I explain How I feel?

I realise life does not Conspire to chance, Yet at times it seems So unfair for such as She to suffer.

I want to go And make it right, But how can I? With no-one to fight But circumstance.

3

The mastectomy over, Now there’s nothing We can do But wait to discover If the cancer Has further spread.

During her hospital stay Floss was heroic, Each day Confounding Those who expected A slow recovery.

Up and active, Attractive, As only She can be. Her chest draining, Never complaining.

At home the ‘phone Brings both comfort, And stress: Some talk, Some listen, Others digress.

Me? I still find Myself getting riled, Impotent, Unable to change a thing. My lovely girl Defiled.

4

Periodically Her tissue fills with fluid. A blank mound appears, A mock breast, To wrest at Her wound. A needle is inserted, Her tissue aspirated, And without complaint She sits calm... Whilst others who watch Feel faint.

5

Tears welled up From her heart, Were drained At her lips, Then leaked away In heavy drips.

She sobbed all night, Kept saying ‘I’m sorry’. I said that it was Alright, Alright to cry, And put her to bed.

Yet all was wrong, Tears could not dry, Knowing tomorrow She would remain In sorrow… ...and so would I.

1-11-96

6

Making love was easy. We worried about it Needlessly. So rare To share desire Beside the fire. Me the clumsy Being careful lover, Whose gentle caress Did uncover One problem less, And some tenderness.

8-11-96

7

I write by candlelight, A power-cut at night, Not long after Floss rang around The awful news: ‘Twenty percent!’ A Spanish Registrar’s Survival views.

This doctor took her judgement out, And read as if Floss Was already dead. ‘No doubt Meaning well. I lied to Floss, later, A sudden Spaniard hater.

We requested the main-man come. He rushed to placate, To communicate In our distress. To mop up The bloody thoughtless mess She’d made of it.

14-11-96

8

Trying to paint fingernails, Holding her trembling hand, Attempting to get it right.

Then I began weeping. What a fool! I couldn’t see clearly.

My sight dulled by tears. Nearly made a mess of it! Pink varnish like glue.

What a time to start crying, My grief in the red, Emotion askew.

Taking forever, My fat fingers shaking, My self-control breaking.

11-11-96

9

One day at a time, Because that’s the best way, Let’s laugh at tomorrow, Smile still for today!

One day at a time, Together we’ll share it, Where hope has been hid, Our love will declare it.

One day at a time, Shut out your concern, You’re safe in the present, The past can’t return.

One day at a time, No worries, no fear, Soon we will discover, Another good year!

10

She knows the truth, Yet like Ruth, Continues to glean some hope, Rather than mope About the wheat field Looking glum, And depressing everyone.

11

We got drunk! A good idea - at first, But soon we were both Worse for wear, And crashed out.

I woke up cold. Floss was well gone, To anyone! 1:00am! Best in bed.

I tried to put my head together, And get organised. I should have realised That I was too Bloody leg-less.

Somehow I got Floss upstairs, And we both fell to the bedroom floor. Poor girl, what was I doing Allowing this To happen?

Well stupid, I couldn’t lift her To her feet, And in drunken frustration We both began to cry.

I pleaded with her to stand, She did, Swaying, And I kept saying: ‘Sorry’.

We climbed among the silly sheets, And hugged each other, uncontrollably. Well pissed past midnight, Sobbing off to sleep, She and me.

12

She shortened her style And in bald anticipation! Whilst wearing An NHS wig, Prepared to face the world, Saying all the while that she Didn’t give a fig. What a lie!

Then, later, Her brain Splitting, Bare headed, She anxiously Faced me. I said that she looked Eighteen - which she did!

What a Woman, What a Lovely girl. Never quitting, Making the best of An irregular fitting, And getting on with it.

13

The nurse seemed nice, But somewhat syrupy. Cheerfully Offering advice, Platitudes, Attitudes, And a session Of painful Chemotherapy.

Floss sat patiently, Merrily chatting away, As if this was Just another day.

So now Floss is Full of chemicals. Some pink, Some red, Some saucier, And some greenish gear, To try and Prevent The Nausea.

20-11-96

14

And I made a meal, Because we Hadn’t eaten. It was not much, But such as it was, It was warm.

Floss ate well! I was pleased About that, And she could tell By the way I kept smiling.

Then she was Suddenly ill, Sick in the sink, And tried to hide Her shame Behind her hand.

I said: ‘don’t hide, It’s okay!’ But her dismay Turned to tears, And took some time to Drain away.

27-11-96

15

At 3:00am the bed-side phone Reminded us we weren’t alone: Abigail had gotten sick, And I was needed, quick, quick, quick!

Returning to a kept-warm bed, Beside my love I put my head. All I had done was re-assure, Sponging, to lower temperature.

Floss was pleased that all was fine, She lit a cig’ - a pipe was mine. We fogged the room, and laughed a lot, The hour - the C - a while forgot.

Then Floss said, that she had a yen! For bacon, egg - not soon - but then! We had run-out - but soup seemed right, So off I bummed, into the night.

Soon soup was hot, and I’d gone cold, But I cared not, behold, behold! The soup was right! - receding fast! My love was eating - at last, at last!

30-11-96

16

A gritter growls at 4:00am Along the sleep-set street’ Its progress prompts reality, My dreaming incomplete.

I try to keep my senses hushed, But one thinks otherwise, And as another truck toils by, Sight whispers to my eyes.

Long still I lie, lest she should wake, Err darkness dares to dress. Sleep deep my love, sleep deep And rest - the night grows less and less...

11-12-96

17

Whilst chatting I shaved off her hair, What remained of it! Yet both were aware, That my articulate action, Was but a doubtful distraction, For our silent despair.

22-12-96

18

I found her unwell, Soul-sick in the evening hours. Not self-pitying, Or swamped by her surging swell of sorrow, But haemorrhaging tears of depression. Stuck with this thing, And in the gathering gloom, Realising.

07-01-97

19

She picked a fight! In time, I thought she might.

Testing me, To see If I l loved her still.

Trying to make it easy For me to walk away, Should one-day I find her gone.

Such a sad deception, My temper almost shredding, Before I cottoned on.

31-01-97

20

She sleeps now, And I allow myself some selfish tears, Just for a while!

A pointless act, Done in secret.

No-one hears, Or can see my melancholy madness.

Pondering my painful, My lonely, My stupid, my hopeless sadness.

19-03-97

21

And so she’s decided To be not so lop-sided, But to lose her last breast. For the best, For the best!

22

And I said ‘no pain’, But there is! And I promised alone That she would never be, Yet met by much necessity I now realise That I cannot always Remain close by.

Such clean sentiments, Soon soiled with black reality, And upon their Washing-day Clothes-line practicality, High hanging around In the rain, Refusing to dry.

23

Now She has shingles, And from a small white jar I spread Pink calamine cream Around her Raw magenta wound!

Then, In short respite she sleeps, Lost in drugged dreams, Tablet tranquillised, Slumbering so still That I sometimes rise in fear And stare at her face.

She, Escaped to sleep, At rest across the room, Yet wondering far away, Distant in her dream dismay, Too remote for my searching sighs To bring her back to me.

She, Who knows too well, when waking, That cruel reality, Like I, Will ever be nearby, Still watching, Still waiting.

19-06-97

24

The bruised sight Of her suffering And pain, Offends me, Again, and again, When with shoulders Racked round, She waits Vainly to mend, Whilst I stare At the ground, Feeling useless. Some friend! ! 27-06-97

25

And so we were told Why the wound had not healed, What plucked flesh revealed. She, shaking with fear, Me, my hope insincere. The cancer was strong, The day had moved on, Bright dreams were all swept, Black darkness had crept.

Floss left the sad room, I stayed to talk on, My tears hit bare floor, And I left insecure, To prepare our hearts parting, Prognosis pain smarting: ‘A few months, or so”. But who is to know When love will let go?

14-07-97

26

Emaciated, she wakes. Confused, In pain, And sore, Her limbs jerking for more morphine. Convinced that today She must attend a funeral, But whose she does not know. I try not to let it show that I perceive, And hide my grief behind A patronising smile, While struggling upright, She perspires, And strokes her weeping wound, Her eyes pleading for some sanity, Her damp hair dishevelled, In this dishonest, Partite, Profanity.

18-07-97

27

Thistles stand tall, And all the grasses too. A path between lets me walk with care, To where flat river, Black, Sets me wandering back, To hide my tears, And care for her, Who, One more time Smiles in her pain, Then drifts to sleep, As once again I weep.

20-07-97

28

And now she’s gone, And I must go on, Alone! All about, late summer, Dry. Another autumn nears, And I must put each foot behind the last.

All is memory, All is in the past. What dreams Might lie ahead I neither see, Or without her smile, Might wish to come to be.

The earth below, Beneath Beth’s tree, Where waters watch, And flowers hang heavily, Holds ashes sweet, And besides my lovely girl, The greater part of me!

16-08-97

The Follower

Loneliness lies long, And sleeps within my bed. She wakes chilled, Beside my haunted head.

Loneliness she waits, And sits beside my feet, With eyes black, Upon a pallid sheet.

Loneliness she walks, And follows at my heel, Should I try to rest, Her silent stare I feel.

Loneliness is dumb, Nor hears what I might say, But watches me, And will not go away…

27-08-97

*

Gone temporarily insane:

Spider

Black Spider Sits                         upon White                                               wall, Passing         moments           by. Look      at     the   thing! Big or WHAT! Let us note the very spot, Lest it should trot Our way!

Black Spider Seems            about To            crawl, Waiting       for     a     fly.            Shall we squash it With a SWAT? No, perhaps we’d better not, Lest a big blot Should stay!

29-08-97

Assignation 1

A journey new! One that’s meant to be! Come, take my hand and run with me Along a better way. For all has changed, Time taps and cannot stay, Nor fear allay what must be done. Nor dawning sun stand still within the sky. The crossroad lies somewhere behind. So, for a while You’ll find this pathway strange, And fast the pace, But when at last We stop to take our place Where fate would have us be, I’ll reach and touch your face, And make you smile! Then safe within my heart, You’ll rest, And give your love to me!

Lenor

Let me swim within your eyes, Mesmerised to drowning. Let me gaze across the gulf of knowing, To where your wildest waves begin, With tempest passion, No shallow frowning, Or sorrow showing.

Let me hold your olive eyes, As softly you are smiling. Let me show what depths I feel, In far fathoms of my seeing, As tide turns, And love – real, Rushes into being.

J B’s Island

Fuelled full by fate,      Sent forth by love,       My carpet,                                     Magic, above confusion.

She sees it stay,    In disbelief,        My carpet.                         A brief Illusion.

Floats!

Then down it drifts,  In gentle glide,   My carpet.                           Magic, hers to ride.

      One foot she fains        Upon its pile.               My carpet,                   Magic

Floats awhile.

 Land?             Never…                 Magic,                     Real?

                               Not ever…

Pain Insane

I’m escaping grief in freedom! Running around unbound. No wreath, No fence of memories to restrain me. Mute pain, Is all I have to explain my foolish actions. My head full of songs silly, And other daft distractions. Unable to look up, down, or back. Enduring a serious, Fate fatal, Fast forward, Fool foray, Nutty, Heart attack.

Hat

Her hat sits in the window of a Charity shop. I had to stop and stand there, Remembering how she made it, Imagining its funny fit, And the winsome way she looked, Whilst wearing it.

This and that:

IRA

Without a shout about the drought, Dead swallows fill the sky, Because they cross across the floss, Whilst angels ask them, why?

1971

Gulf

The drummer beats, And to his steady drumming, A vanquished army breaks the battlefield, Full-fallen, face – mortification. Rug-ragged - man - so unaware, A victory that once so sweetly sampled, Turned bitter In the burning acrid air. Obscured in blaze of billowing badness, The sun above burns in a clean blue day, Below in mire and money madness, Long lines of men, who captured, have to pay. The drummer beats and to his steady drumming, Stars glitter, somewhere out of reach, Tides rise, and swift, send oceans running, A child is walking on the beach...

Tree I know a tired tree, Ready to be rooted out without ceremony. Once, it grew tall and true, Looking for the light, A sapling, Green, and new, And right. Now hushed in yellow hue, It bears no fine-fruit, Or blossom, Blushed and blue, Made mute, Stripped of its shield of bark, Watching for the woodsman’s axe, Naked in the park.

Cole Porter’s Gone Sick, Song! Intro: Lies can be white as winter, Or soiled as sooty night. Deception sewn in selfishness, Lies said to make things right. But the blush that came upon your Cheek when last you spoke my name, Made me realise you’d been lying, So let your heart explain, And I’ll listen once again… . We’re cooling conversation, Saying silly things, When upon our lips the warmest words, Are grounded without wings. Repeating stupid phrases, Saying, nothing real, Stating what is obvious, Not saying how we feel. You say to me, you’re happy, I nod, and don’t believe it. You smile at me, but deep within, Your sad eyes don’t reveal it. We’re cooling conversation, As if our words make sense, Cutting into silence, With every sinew tense. Me asking, “How is everything?” You saying, “All is fine”, Then blinking as you look at me Another lying line! You understand I love you, And you, your love is mine, Let’s be honest with each other, Stop being asinine. We’re cooling conversation, Every time we meet, A distance kept between us,  Half strangers in the street, But cold and tired of chatter, Time will not stand for long, Be truthful in the morning , Let evening find us gone.

3-09 Lock       There is a key                               That fits the lock Eternity, And when we kiss, You will be free! You will see, You will see.

Extraordinary doggerel! Strange word ‘Strange’, Often said in a strange way. “Strange?” We say in dismay, Then we walk away, Strangely puzzled, Scratching the head. A locution to thoughtless mutter, That tastes like marge, Not butter upon dry bread! ‘Odd’, ‘unusual’, ‘bizarre’, Or even, ‘funny-peculiar’ They spread much better! As a rule-ier. Wouldn’t you say? If only mutt ‘strange’ was muzzled, And put in its proper mad slot, Or chased away by a cat! But that would be, ‘Outside reason’. ‘Wondrous’, And perhaps maybe, ‘foreign’, But it’s never, never, not! Strange that, What?

. Crazy I lost my head, But I didn’t realise that it was missing! I think I misplaced it Whilst Floss was leaving! Where had it been? What had it seen? Before Nadine caught it rolling along Deep in thought and grieving. When I asked my head to explain, All it said was: “Hello, Pete, I’m back again!

” Poetry written in Greece:

KOS Warm raisin air, And everywhere is heat! Brainy-bugs that stare, Moped buzzing In bar-street. Tiles cooling skin, Cicada,’ ticking-off hot trees. Stillness, set moon, one star, Then sand, white sun, And breeze. Retsina, dance music, And Ouzo into dawn. Stiff sheets, wall sounds, Brown man watering Brush lawn. Palm trees, Black olives, Dry hens, cows, And trumpet flowers Of fragrant flaming red. Green frog, Pool, blue. In path-side tree, suspended, A rotting goat, Hangs accidently dead!

Eclipse in Greece Mad moon shines upside down tonight, Ellipse eclipsed, Not bright. Compressed in pewter-grey, Dark-dressed with smoky-brown, And soft it’s turned about. A candle-lit balloon, High-held aloft, But without string. Only half reflective. A wild-mushroom, New, buttoning the sky. A doughnut thing, Absorbing every hue. In 3D perspective!

Lardy Birds Lard-larks Are learning how to sing, Each trill incomplete, But sweet! The swallows show A varied wing, Each a crescent dart, Apart. Quick crows wear vests Of graphite-grey, Each sounds alike Today. Same sparrows drink The pool and play, And me? I fly away!

Mountain Mount flint-flake fills Horizon haze. Sand-set pumice, Bite-peaks, bare, Jagged, slashing into sky, Above dark Cyprus trees, And dry. Reed-field, Citrus, Peppers, Dust, Blunt-bees, Hypocrites, A silver sun, And everyone asleep!

Legs I’m fitted with the wrong legs! A pair of peculiar pegs. That’s why I trip, And slip, And stumble. It’s no use for me to grumble, Or to lie upon the ground And mumble That I don’t look neat. I must get up, And stand upon These two Odd feet!

Her Name I could not speak her name, Nor look upon her face. I drew a line under death, A place in the past, Or so thought I! Why let her image live? Let it die, So that I might survive, With a shadow of my love enduring. I could not speak her name, Then sleep gave sound to grief, I glimpsed her born anew, Beauty restored, Her gentle smile, A smile like first I saw when, long awhile, Our gaze first met. That day when love birthed bright as now, But yesterday. I could not speak her name, All words were mine, but one! I ran to be with her, To touch her cheek, To stroke her hair, But swift, she turned away, And was not there to stem my bitter loss, Awake I called her back: “My Floss. My Floss…”

Odds and ends:

Age My tissue tells its tale of years: Flesh, hair, teeth, and skin, all speak of ‘time’, All rhyme decay, But here within is RAGE at yesterday! A mind yet youthful, A mind more truthful than Anything that is writ Upon age’s putrid pages. A fact-face that IS the mass named ME! Without a trace of days That passed behind in infamy. But man will ever be perceived as grass, By what the eye perceives as dead, However large it lives inside The confines of an angry head.

Perhaps Perhaps you think your flame has died? Not so! Perhaps you think my reason lied? Not so! For although, chilled, the day stands still, Chance sits patient, And waits, Until a loving-look fans fates Bright glow!

Sleepwalking Lenor came, lost, So lost was she, Escaping from hard history, That what she took as road ahead, Began to take her back, instead! Lenor came, lost, Yet brought her smile, One that blossomed for a while, Then faded when she grew forlorn, Confused by muddled-maps she’d drawn. Lenor came, lost, Met by a ghost, Beneath a bright, but blank signpost. He closed her eyes, led her away, Into a land where drank dismay. Lenor came, lost, But spectre, glad! Dreamt, now, highway ahead she had, Yet haunting hearts, was wandered low, Her beauty, used, her footsteps slow. Lenor came, lost, When in that place Her soul beheld a knowing face, And understood from evening-eyes, Of hills that reached the morning skies. Lenor came, lost, Asleep, did doubt The prompting of her heart – her scout! And as she snapped the strangers gaze, Was lead below to Midnight-maze. Lenor came, lost, Her love still waits! The way he knows, the paths, the gates, But blinded by her ghostly guide, Lenor, in darkness, sets her stride. Lenor came, lost, Walks on, walks on, Around, around, direction gone. Still wake? She could, to see high hills, Run yet, among dawn’s daffodils!

Assignation 2 An avenue! One that’s meant to be! Come, take my hand and follow me Along a wooded way. For trees have changed, Time trips, leaves cannot stay, Autumn says what must be done. Can watery sun stand still Within a saddening sky? Soul signpost lies somewhere behind, And for a while you’ll find This Season strange, And pushed the pace, But when, at last, We stop to take our place Where he would have us be, I’ll reach and touch your face, And make you smile! Then safe among the hills, You’ll rest, With me.

Spent Impoverished in later life, Floss died! An ironic end, Her purse stuffed with money, No time for her to spend. 04-10-97

Elena PanayiDou (perhaps) Never had I seen such eyes, Such beauty so subdued. Never had I seen such eyes, Nor heard such silent soulful sighs, Never viewed such scars of grief, Wrapping red, Old wounds beneath. She held my fascinated gaze, And willed me to her side, Sad smiled, Yet never changed her stare, Sad smiled, And held me hostage there, Pain, was all I could perceive. Small common language did we share, Yet, alone, For days talked we, In English, Russian, Greek, and Deutsche, Elena’s eyes enchanting me To her dark past mind mystery, Until I saw too much! I drew her in to taste her skin, Words pierced her neck, Running so red Blood stained my reason, “unreal”, I said, This vision begging me to heal, To prick her pulsing vein of fear, To drown her dreams, of yesteryear. So deep I drank her suffering down, Her father’s death, Without a breath, I bled her soul. My crimson lips did gore explain, Why she must die with him again, And drunk with warm advice, Melt free from a cell of scarlet ice. At dawn, transformed, was she again, A vampire cured, Glorious in Greece. She thanked me with her sharp smile sure, Her anguish, ashen, now no more. So changed was she, whom did confide, No thirst could I detect inside, but peace!

Going I fear you’re going, Knowing I must remain, But the chain that links our hearts will stay, And whilst you are away, I will think of you, I will picture you, I will love you more each day. 15-10-97

And… And Lenor wakes, And sees the way, And kisses day, And fashions fate, And sees the hills, And still she waits, And still she waits. And is afraid Love is a dream, And will not last, And pictures past, And what was once, But now is gone, And feels she Cannot hurry on, And must Retrace her Slowest steps, And but accepts A silver smile, And to the breeze of Skagerrak, Shall wander back, And talk with he, Who she loves still, Yet deeper Loves she, daffodil, And sad will find No hearts made new, And all will be As left, was true, Then gold, Shall quickly Dawn that day, And she will Turn her head away, And see, beyond, High English hills, And fly to where’re Her heartbeat wills, And one day walk With me And one day walk, With me.

Snow-balling Love, From warm heart, Once ventured out, To offer all he could impart. Then left alone, His gifts, still wrapped, Love stood out in the cold day, Trapped. Long time he tarried, In deep snow, Scorned by she, Who’d bid him come, Who, once her scheming was undone, Did fly away a distant place, To wear another side to face. So after waiting without sign, Love shrugged his shoulders (Wide, like mine), Laid down his gifts, Looked up at grey, Smiled to himself, And strode away!

Colleen Eyes that hide in kisses, Where comfort, warmth, and bliss is. Lips that give of passion, Time spent unloved, did fashion. And more to give than knowing, With starlight, hidden, showing. So sweet, Colleen, close moving, ‘Till leaked lights disapproving. When loathe to leave, and dressing, Her soul she starts suppressing. No time for dreams to tarry, Then gone, her heart to carry… 19-10-97

Smudges Smudges upon the window panes, Explain. Hand- prints, infant made. Those who once played, Then disappeared. An oily trace remaining In various places, Bringing to mind their Food-filled smiling faces. My brood Who call no more to make a fuss, Although small smears still remain For me to find, But never wash away. So, will sobbing scrub My daughter’s pain away? Or tears cleanse mine? Or will hurt cloud view, And tomorrow, Sorrow Still fog the grief-glazed glass Placed in-between us. How should I know? 08-12-97

Death There is no pain like grief, Above, or beneath the earth. No gulf as wide as that Which does divide two souls Who love made one And death did separate. A suffering so great That naught can compensate For loss. No happy day forsake, Or contented week consort With yesteryear; To spans Deaths dark divide And dull the dreadful ache, My Floss… 27-12-1997

Church Bells “This is how to fight!” Her restless spirit said, As angry, I prayed for her to die, And for my sake, Surrender on her cancer killing bed. For at the end, Floss did not go gentle, But did rage,   Rage against the dying of her light. Thrashing her limbs, Into each morphine nightmare night. “This, is how to die!” Her fearless spirit taught, Then waited for her kids to hurry near, To cry goodbye, Her last breaths slowing, Knowing that the battle was fought. 24-02-98

Sorry I am sorry. Sorry for being so cruel, So selfish, and unfair. Torturing you, As I stare, haughty, Yet secretly ashamed That you remain To love me, Ne’er we know That I deserve to loose Your darling devotion. Callously watching you Turn on your side, and choose To sob without sound. Emotion absorbed Into your suffering soul. I am sorry. Sorry for my feeble fears, My stupid steely ways, The thick-skinned things I say. Please allow your Telling tears To fall free. I promise that They will not go dumb Into the ground, And lie lost, As in wordless days before, But assimilated By my heart, they will Sound as stars, Lighting the dark in me.

The Game Love came disguised, And put the past away. Then held my heart, And exorcised dismay. What, once upon a time, Was nothing but to her a game, Became, for me, So real. That’s still the way I feel! And so the wheel has turned, And the finger having wrote, Moves on. The past has said goodbye, And drying tears, has gone. All is as new, and so (revealed as love) My Sweet, are you!

A Big Poem! Tiny, little, Very small. Not so very big At all!

There is a Place There is a place in England, Where roads wind free, and farms sit small, Where skylarks sing where streamlets fall, And meadows lay. There is a place in England, Where Abbey sits, and time is caught, Where arches stand without support, And years hold sway. There is a place in England, Where sheep do run, and farm dogs’ dash, Where pheasants golden feathers flash, And chilled is day. There is a place in England, Where soft hills rise and roll with green, Where rabbits graze, and blown trees lean, And spring lambs play. There is a place in England, Where moorland spreads further than sight, Where limestone walls cling to the height, And red deer stray. There is a place in England, Where river runs in valley sweet, Where houses form a narrow street, And clouds inlay. There is a place in England, Where many men will never tread, Where blessed I lay my weary head, And where I’ll stay.

Hospital Poem Grasping at sleep as it passes me by, Catching its tail now and then. Letting it go as the night hours sigh, Turning my head in my pen. Thinking too hard for my thoughts to soft lie, Running a reel in my mind. Pictures of past on a screen move on high, To rewind, and rewind, and rewind…

Bempton Gold crowned gannets soar, The czars’ of ocean. Each sovereign gliding graciously Around high cliffs of chalk. Black-tipped wings outstretched in majesty. Low simple song, Almost lost among the common Kittiwakes’ commotion.

Walking Fluttering between tall firs, Moth-like bat with rubber wings, As sunset to the heaven sings, And owls in silhouetted trees, Screech to the stupefying stars. , While we below, who walk at night, On hill, in dale, by river bank, Do find our way by bright moonlight, And marvel at each silvered sight.

Sorry, Scott Holland ‘T’s nothing long, Not much ado’, said she, ‘I slip into a room nearby. I am I, and you, are you. Whatever we were to each, Are still - not dead. Call me yet thy lovely girl. Speak to me in ways easy, as ever. Never alter tone, or solemn be. Remember to laugh as we did so, Don’t let a sad silence grow, But let my name be spoken free, Play and pray for me, And let me exist not as a ghost, But alive. Joy maintains Life’s purest meaning, So let tears be of themselves demeaning. Love continues here as there, Why put me out of mind Because I step next door, I am still me, Just as the moment fast gone before. Nothing is past, or lost, No final curtain drawn, Truth will tell, One brief moment And night will bring the early dawn. Death sleeps short, my Love, And all is well.’

Strikes Wood In the wood there is a quiet place, Where peat-stained waters rushing race, From crags on high to shamrock glade, A place that beauty made, And few souls see, But we.

Supposing Do not suppose because I weep, Whilst reading letters of my love, That you are somehow lower than The memories that remain above. Believe, that though my soul bleeds yet, With thoughts of she I shan’t forget, That you are loved with all my heart, With all that loving can impart, And nothing less than I can give, Is yours, as long as love shall live.

Sparrow

Once - a boy, I shot a sparrow, Chirping upon high. An accident! I shot to scare, With rifle – air. Least - that’s what I said when it was dead. Two extra pellets sticking from its head, And a fluttered suffered mess upon the flagstones. I watched it die, Because of I. It was wrong. No other song! That’s why, now, I cannot put the bloody boot in, But love birds, And despise those Who enjoy senseless, stupid, shooting. 15-06-99

Sure Love Once I was sure, Sure that love came once, Or not at all. Once to share, But once to call. For how could chance Make love-lost men Dance right again, When deformed so Horribly by death. Yet I was wrong, As wrong as any, For love is not lone, Nor lame, But linked by many.

Black Dress Upon opening my eyes I saw her sitting there, Repairing a black dress, With black thread, In the darkening room. She could have easily Reached to her side And switched on the table lamp, But for some reason She did not. Pretending to be yet sleeping I kept still, And in the gathering gloom Watched her patiently sewing. She was beautiful! Gradually, her engrossed expression, And her lowered head, With its cascade of inky tresses, Was soft blotted Into one indistinct shape. Then, masked by the strengthening Silhouette of the armchair, Her fuzzy outline slowly slipped from sight, And yet somehow, in the near night, She sewed on.

Trials If we didn’t have some adversity Then we wouldn’t have any pleasure, Which we seem to get, In an equal measure! 01-06-2012

A Puddy Cat “I need a hug”, she quickly said, I hold her close against my chest, To put her troubled heart to rest, To hide her hurt, her acting face, Away from life, away from time, Just for a moment, Holding still. 23-02-2013

Bird Table Whilst the young birds fly, The old dove stays. He has no cause to care, Dovecot to share, But waits to die, Tormented by a younger breed, Alone and ill. Stock still, and starved, Among the wild birdseed, His fears long flown away, Gone is his cautious mind, As cold exposure ends his day. A fate that seems to us unkind, ‘But it’s natural’, they say, And comes to many Whom have known the summer sky, That having fast flown, Must slowly wait to die. 05-01-14

Escape Again I’m locked inside my head, Where it’s dark, and so cold. No one sees that I am trapped, Confined, solitary sad, Going insane, Feeling so old… Through prison bars I see the summer sun. Once, beneath, I felt so young, Thrilled to paint, perform, and write, To warm my creative senses. Now I’m pale, chilled, And out of sight... Sometimes I pound upon the padded cell, But in this hell-hole Who can hear my pleading? They assume I’m doing fine, Yet like the sinking sun, Slowly, I am bleeding… Beneath my pillow lies a potion, Something to help me sleep. But would it be a selfish act If tired of insomnia, I took it? Perhaps one day I may just say… ‘F… it’… 29-03-2015 Seventy I’ve got to be honest, Which, when writing poetry I always try to be. This year I reach seventy, And I have become afraid. I look around and miss the missing, Such as my old friend John. The next rhyme is obviously ‘Gone’, but he is… And so are many that I have loved. But spared death for now ‘I’ soldier on… It’s not that I fear dying, My bags are packed beneath the bed, And perhaps if I had used my head more, There are many things I might have done, And have not, but so what? I have done my best not to leave a mess, And having mended many hearts, Only one thing I confess is left undone, One thing that I regret I could not fix, No matter how I tried, And that remains my broken son. My life has been a bumpy ride, With wonderful scenery passing by, Destinations in the darkest depths, And others in the summer sky. In dying I’ll have but few laments, My fearful hovering patient friend, Please realise that in the endless end, When tired and sleeping gone have I, I’ll not be looking down on high From some amorphous cloud to see, The World remaining as it always was, And not as I wanted it to be… 03-02-16

Willow I’ve been had, My little girl’s, Little girl, Has had a little girl! How can that be? An old hippy getting a new hip… The years have overtaken me, Great grandad. 18 – 06 - 16

The Magnolia and the Maple tree. I won’t let the two trees touch, In case they cast two much shade And stunt the summer flowers. So I prune them back When it comes cold, And feel guilty That they can’t hold hands Whilst together Growing old.

19 – 08 - 16

Our Flooded House

From the B&B I can see The saddened house Staring back at me. It stands alone, Stone cold and damaged, With dust filled rooms, Powerless and ill. It waits for we three to return: We three? The confused cat, Bruised Norma, And grumpy me. To return and watch the fish, String washing below the tall fir tree, Set flowers upon the windowsill, And most of all, Just be…

30-03-2011

Painful Poetry Part Two:

Alzheimer’s

This is the beginning of another end, When I, In time, Will lose a second love. A Wife, A friend.

I am old now, And perhaps I will not be there To witness her eventual demise. But who can tell When a forgetful spirit flies.

I will watch life’s movie play out, With endless buffering. Until I leave behind Our unjust, Our fated, Our sorrowful Stupid suffering.

14/12/2016

Information

Who to tell? Or to explain that she forgot. Or said it twice, Or thrice. Who not to make aware? Who to tell of her trials Who’ll care?

15/12/2016

Separation

There’s a certain loneliness that comes with this, This separation of our minds. Me, unable to stop her going. Planning how to cope with someone else Who, in time, I won’t be knowing.

She, unable to recall what just transpired. So pointless some reminders. I must not forget who she once was Because, I do love her, And must try not to miss her too soon.

29/12.2016

Ghetto

He dwells in the ghetto of his mind, In a slum, In a room, Full of tired and tortured thoughts, Squinting through closed shutters in his head, At those that pass by his place of dread. Imprisoned by choice, Knowing that he will, Eventually, Be discovered lying in the gutter, With his last thoughts Scattered all around him, Too dead to utter.

29/01/2017

Poetry written from 1960 until May 2015: 7 Too Many People 8 Jerusalem 9 Printing 10 Observation 11 Is it Christmas Yet? 12 Hippie 13 Cup and Ring 14 Skylark 15 Glen Stream 16 DTs 17 Simon - age two 18 Simon - age eleven 19 Simon - age thirteen 20 Snow 21 Grey Day 22 Gwithian 23 Return 24 Insomnia 25 SOS 26 Jowett Pond 27 Bolton Abbey 28 Detached 29 Departure 30 Temple Newsam 31 Detached 32 Rawdon Billing 33 Mr Babble the Insurance Man 34 Fog 35 Cutter Grinding 36 Mormonism 37 Miscarriage Bingo 38 Grandad 39 Promotion Prospects

40 Three Sisters’

Poetry written in Western Germany: 42 Deutch TV Documentary 43 Hydenweg 10 44 Homesick 45 Buchenwald 46 Hessich Oldendorf 47 Hameln 48 BFPO 29 49 Driving 50 1663 51 Wealthy 52 Minden Road

Return home: 54 Hospital 55 Stroke 56 Tired 57 Dad Dream 58 Rich Man 59 Day 60 Debt 61 Leaving 62 Douglas Dakota C47 63 Nidd Flier 64 Floss Tired 65 To be read at my funeral 66 Two am 67 Storm 68 Good-bye 69 Floss 70 CCU 71 Apart 72 Vanished Vicar

73 My Daughters’ 74 New Nana 75 Beth - age one 76 Jaque a Mate 77 Beth age one - and a bit! 78 A Song for Floss 79 When Petals Fall 80 Dark-eyed Girl 81 ‘PC’ 82 Trumpton! 83 Another Miscarriage 84 This Christmas 85 Now 86 Simon - aged twenty-five 87 Child’s Pond 88 My Valentine 89 Once Upon A Time 90 The One Who Walked the Pathway 91 Willow herb 92 Simon’s Travail 93 Old Eyes 94 Simon – ageless 95 Dead D J 96 “Darrrrrd!” 97 Mister Mclaughton 98 Little Big Man 99 ‘B’ My Fairy! 100 Ever 101 Lot 50 102 The Kids 103 As if? 104 In Search of Flowers 105 The Whale’s Song 106 Shared Computer 107 Gritter

108 Childless Christmas 109 January 110 Jackdaws 111 My Heart 112 Beth’s Tree 113 Peter on Parade 114 Valentine 97 115 Faith Fairies 116 Lapwing 117 Box 118 Freedom 119 Whitby 120 Sanctuary 121 Room 122 Tea 123 Fissure 124 Phantom

Painful Poetry: 126 – 154.  Poems numbered 1 to 28 155 The Follower

Gone temporarily insane: 157 Spider 158 Assignation 1 159 Lenor 160 J B’s Island 161 Pain Insane 162 Hat

This and that: 164 IRA 165 Gulf 166 Tree 167 Cole Porter’s Gone Sick, Song!

169 Lock 170 Extraordinary doggerel! 171 Crazy

Poetry written in Greece: 173 KOS 174 Eclipse in Greece 175 Lardy Birds 176 Mountain 177 Legs 178 Her Name

Odds and ends: 180 Age 181 Perhaps 182 Sleepwalking 183 Assignation 2 185 Spent 186 Elena PanayiDou (perhaps) 188 Going 189 And… 191 Snow-balling 192 Colleen 193 Smudges 194 Death 195 Church Bells 196 Sorry 197 The Game 198 A Big Poem! 199 There is a Place 200 Hospital Poem 201 Bempton 202 Walking 203 Sorry, Scott Holland 204 Strikes Wood

205 Supposing 206 Sparrow 207 Sure Love 208 Black Dress 209 Trials 210 A Puddy Cat 211 Bird Table 212 Escape 213 Seventy 214 Willow 216 The Magnolia and the Maple tree 217 Our flooded House

Painful Poetry Part Two 218 Alzheimer’s 219 Information 220 Separation 221 Ghetto

Peter J Scott writes an eclectic mix of novels and books, some very different from this one. Go to: https://sites.google.com/site/peterjscottwriter/homehome - to discover more.