Thursday, January 20, 2011

Writer's island - Courage.

When I think of courage, I usually think of big things.  I think I'd like to later rework this though, the idea is interesting.

To that bug.

Who is that bug?
That he should dare
To climb upon the windowsill
rappel down towards a chair
and leap onto the rug.

How does he pause?
Not in fear but planning,
Then starts one foot after the other, and another, another and another.
Towards the vacuum, leaning
By the far hall door.

With no fear, nor timidly
But bold he strides, bold as a mouse
at the midnight hour with a discarded crust.
If only I, to clean the house
had such courage as he!

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Not at all like it sounds.

I mixed up one of the words with last week's words, but thought I'd post it up for my own sake before I slipped into complete blog-mortis.
I went for a country (hick?) stereotypical sound, as imitating Robert Burns was beyond me.  Admittedly I don't know how well this really worked.
The words were Plausible (which I mixed with Evade), Taint, Willingly. 

             Weeding the Potato crop.

Weeding potatoes, under the sun o,
Fat hen or thistle, out they all go o,
Some break, some resist, some come willingly
But we pulls them all out o, we calls them all weeds.
Weeds make no good food, can’t be harvested through
(Neither can pots’ out of line; we pulls them out too)
And the earwigs and spiders scuttle about
“O’ there go our homes-es, you’re pulling them out!”

Whilst they scamper ‘n evade, we go on
While the weeds ‘r still tainting we shuffle along
And the mud rubs our knees till they’re no shade
Of white but clay brown, then ol’ sun bakes them dry.
O’ but worth it, it is; a job too hard for ‘ spade