The moon petals the sea. Rose petals the sea. Stone sea. Stone petals. Rose petals of stone. Stone rising before me. Sea moves. How moves...
It all depends, you see, how you go about it. And that I cannot tell you, for that will be dictated by you and by you knowing your friends...
extract from the poem Koi by John Burnside All afternoon we've wandered from the pool to alpine beds and roses ...
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Wednesday, 30 November 2011
The Red Sofa
The above image represents this weeks prompt from Magpie Tales
He still ere then, us old sofa!
I knowed ee would be. Told yer so...
Jim's idea - ee under bridge,
well out of any rain, he thought.
Us bin up the riots, aint we?
Comes across ee in they posh shop.
Languishing in broken winder -
well, gotta say, arf in, arf out.
Us take ee inter custody...
Well, that's Jim, that is. That's Jim all
over. Gotta laugh. Things bad then,
and all the people I knows needs
a giggle. So us gives em one.
How? Well, Jim sez: Us'll takes ee up
the trains and dumps ee on the tracks!
So I thinks abaht this and then sez
Owz us gonna do that, then Jim?
An ee sez, Eezy, through the gate -
that old gate where they lets the people
out, with no one there on dooty,
not at night there aint. Then us tips
ee over the embankment, see?.
(I tells yer this ter show as how
us aint thieves, us aint. Not robbers.
Don think us robbed no one, us use
the stuff, not rob it. Us jist trans-
fering it to other dooties.)
So us goes ter do what Jim sez,
but fuck the gate it's locked, innit?
So us dumps ee like Jim says and
scarpers coz we seez the blue lights
iz a comin dahn us way it seems.