Magpie colours

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Old technology.

I take such pains to make it right,
Avoiding mundane and the trite,
Seeking hues
Just right to use,
But out it comes in black and white!

PS. All the writers in my family were girls except the electric typewriter which was a Brother.

More writers' blues can be read about at Magpie Tales.

Where does a magpie park?

Standing on a tram ticket, tomorrow a postage stamp.

He made for us, Venus and Mars
The sun and the moon and the stars.
But God made a boo-boo
That haunts me and you too,
With no parking space for our cars.

Chaos for Poetry Jam.

Sifting through the chaos.

Like blind men inspecting the elephant,

Finding the clues that are relevant

Can be tricky, I know

So we need to show

Much more than the subjective element.



Here is the poem Helen referred to in her comment about the six blind men and the elephant.

More slices of Poetry Jam on toast can be found at here.

The Vicar's Duck is now a Magpie.

The Vicar’s Duck
‘I do need my duck to be pure and untouched;
Not one up behind which, the sneaky drake snucked!’
“No way!”, said Wang-Ling.
“This virginal duckling,
Has never been ravished; it's only been plucked!”

More fowl stories at Magpie Tales.

Magpie's Minute Monarch

Size matters.

Attracting both brunettes and blondes,
This minute mon-arch, so rotund,
Has under his suit
A large attribute;
Ten billion in bullion and bonds!

King Cupsize courtesy Crazy Tess at Magpie Tales.

PS. Tiz in dry dock, We are so busy sanding and painting, no time for posts. Photos and stories to come.

Love under the Gooseberry Bush.

"Forbidden Love in the Age of  Chivalry"
Worth a re-run?

The king was in his counting house,
Counting out his money;
The queen was in her parlour,
Eating bread and honey.

The Princess in her pink boudoir
Was trying on her dresses
When in came Brother Ced-er-ic,
Full lips and blonded tresses.

He slipped his clothes off quick-er-ly
And ‘fore she could resist
Her newest lacy bodice was
Adorning Cedric’s chest.

Next, he took her flowing gown
And slipped it o’er his head.
Then her rich embroidered cape.
“It’s just not fair!” He said.

A silver tear escaped his eye,
While slipping on her pumps
“The leather, tin and mail we wear
Reduces us to frumps!”

Next he donned her feathered hat
While gazing at the glass.
And smiled in satisfaction
As he whispered, “You’ve got class!”

Then, turning on his patent heel
He called down for a horse.
“Side saddle, silver stirrups
And it must be grey, of course!”

So off they rode into the sun
The stable boy and he,
Holding hands so tenderly
In love, for all to see.

So over hill and dale they rode
Until Kings Cross they spied
And there they lived in happiness
Until the day they died.

Note: Kings Cross is the Gay Haven of 'Sinney', Australia.

First posted for Jingle, Sept 2010.
FOI: Next week, the adventure starts. The love of my life and I are starting out on our big adventure; living aboard an old yacht and sailing off, two kids in our mid seventies. We intend to document our adventures with photos and tales of cowardice as we rock hop along the coast of Eastern Australia, destination for now, Sydney, to see our kids and grand kids (new one due November) over Christmas and New Year. 

Magpie Tales of airborne pachyderms.

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No matter how much you might try

To launch yourself into the sky.

You share the name ‘Jumbo’

With jets, silly Dumbo;

But they need four engines to fly!

Q: What does one do when an elephant is flying overhead?

A: Raise your umbrella.

Wait! There's more. 

Q: What has twenty-two legs, two wings and eleven arseholes?
A: Arsenal!
And... and... apropos of nothing, but to balance that weak effort,
Q: What has one eye, three legs and half an arsehole.

A: Lobster thermidor.
I will stop now before I offend myself. (Or feel inclined to react to the suggestion of climate change: coal fired power stations and sea level rise and the plight of elephants whose million year history will end because they cannot fly away.)


More classy contributions can be sighted at Magpie Tales.

'Genesis' for Bluebell Books

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First there was the word
And the word was God.
Planets and stars bursting
From His mouth

Coated with saliva,
Alive with microbes.
Destined to evolve
Into Man and beyond.

More bubbles at Bluebell Books.