brum

Thanks brash - I like the topic. It reminds me of a story I once heard about a man's love for his ex-wife expressed through his obsession with Spaghetti Vongole. But that's another story...!

Here's another.......

Credit crunch forces major sponsors to withdraw from 2012 Olympics.....

Luv the reminder, LP. Must have cost you the earth to do that...

*Bob* Wrote: ------------------------------------------------------- > Another puerile offering.. > > ...surely you meant penile..?

Surprise Wrote: ------------------------------------------------------- > wait a minute, someone described her as being tall > and someone else said she was only 5'3... > > ...is there more than one? My guess is that the person who said she was tall is under 5' and the one who said she's small is over 6'.

PeckhamRose Wrote: ------------------------------------------------------- > Modelled on someone I know. > He has a tattoo on his: it says > supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. I bet in cold weather it just says sclxos.

Yes it was a nice afternoon thanks to all who made me feel very welcome. Hic!

But i'm a bit brown and curly (not all over... curly I mean, oh god VBC shut up). ...I shouldn't have a problem then! I look like either Rick Stein or Kevin Spacey - depending on how much you've drunk.

Thanks Sean - very helpful, I think! I'll listen out for those familiar dulcit brummie tones!

If I come, how will I recognise anyone? Haven't a clue what you all look like. Or should I worry.... you'll all be covered in snow anyway!

I'm enjoying this thread. Hope it continues for a while longer. Here's my next offering, having dashed back to London from up 'north before the snow comes... Snot and Spit At 13 months Liz can't say many words So she expresses her feelings by actions. Imagine then, my delight when Today as I lay down in the park, She threw herself across my chest Her arms wide and embracing as she Pushed her face onto mine and with a Smile in her eye ran her slobbering wet mouth From my chin up to my forehead. It was, for her, a kiss for her dad. It was for me a moment where nothing else mattered, Just that shimmering trail of Snot and Spit across my face.

Thanks for offering the glimmer of hope PR although I'm not sure if they would have produced other editions because the book was the outcome of a poetry competion and as I understood it all the poems selected were published in the one book. I may try and contact the publishers and check though....

I have to say I'm no big fan of cats - this view was compounded a couple of years back when I lived with someone who owned one. One morning I went into the kitchen in only my dressing gown and promptly stood on something that went crack like I'd just crushed a sea shell. I looked down to find it was the head of a mouse.

News of the World - The Jam

Poetry brings out the darker side in me too...it seems more suited somehow. I certainly feel more inclined to write during the low points. I haven't written much lately but with this recession all about us that may well change! I'm going away for a couple of days so I'll post another poem when I return. Actually this one will be quite uplifting, in spite of its title - Spit and Snot..!!

Bravo TL. It makes me want to move out of town!

I've been inspired by other members of the forum to start this thread, which is open to anyone who wants to contribute their own poetry. So, here goes! End of Season The summer run is over, finally. The stage has been swept And the props are packed. I climb the steps to the open-top deck And watch as the theatre fades behind me And with it my life, as I know it. Inevitably, the bus turns a corner And I have to look forward. Staring ahead the space seems infinite. Through the mist, echoes of my last scene Still resonate, familiar sounds calling me back. But the bus doesn't stop.

Thanks Jeremy that was definitely a compliment. Actually I was a big fan of The Jam so maybe I was subliminally influenced - I used to play the Tube Station at Midnight track constantly.

Incidentally, on the subject matter of my poem, to avoid feeling guilty after such encounters I contribute a small amount monthly to St Mungos, the homeless charity and have done for years. I prefer that option rather than giving out cash in the street.

Thanks everyone - I'm really glad I decided to vent my disappointment now! I like the idea of starting up a Poets Corner with contributions from anyone - nice one Mick. I'm not a prolific writer of poetry by any means but I'm happy to kick it off tomorrow night with something.

Gosh. Thanks Tony!

Rush Hour Dusk in the City Centre Cars queue, engines running Anticipating. Soon to be home. I walk beside them Head down, avoiding the glaring headlights And the bitter-sweet taste of their fumes. Soon to join them. My car Awaits, alarmed, secure on Level One. A figure approaches me, shuffling against the flow. Thick heavy coat, threadbare scarf Hangs loosely under grey-stubbled chin. A withered palm - outstretched and empty. I look up. He speaks softly whilst Hardened eyes examine, evaluate my own. Got 50p for a cup of tea? I shake my head briskly I look away. Must walk on. Though he is still, his eyes still Follow me. I feel ashamed. Excuses rush through my mind. I'm in a hurry - another time maybe - Why Me? Never mind, soon to forget.... I'll be in my car, in my queue, Just like all the others. Guilty...

Thanks folks I appreciate your empathy. I like Keef's idea to turn this experience into something positive - I may just do that. So shall I 'publish' Rush hour in this thread as boosboss suggests? Well I expect it will be a bit of an anti-climax after the story, but why not. I'll fetch my suitcase and dig it out....

I need to share this with you. Back in 1995 I entered a poetry competition for the first and only time and my poem, called 'Rush Hour', was one selected to be published in a book called 'Island Moods and Reflections'. I got the letter from the publishers with the proof of how it would look on the page and I was very excited, understandably. Unfortunately at that time I was very broke and at ?30 I couldn't afford to buy the book, though I felt content enough knowing that somewhere, someone may be reading my poem. Fast forward 14 years to the present day. I discovered the original paperwork in my old suitcase and decided to track down the book and pay for my own copy - something to show the grandkids, I thought. Sure enough, on Amazon I found a used copy, for sale at ?20. Being flush (relatively speaking) I paid the money and waited for the book to arrive. It did, but I missed the postie so had to go to the sorting office to collect it, which just added to my anticipation. Back at home I opened the parcel and sure enough there was a pristine copy of the book - hard back and beautifully bound. I read a few poems at the front then went to the index page to find my own poem. Well, can you believe it - it wasn't there!! I searched the pages thinking maybe the index page was wrong. It wasn't. I felt duped and utterly deceived - a deceipt that has lasted some 14 years. So there it is. Hope you didn't mind me sharing this with you.