(260 words) Dangerous baggage, A suitcase of thought. A family judges, But your soul can’t be bought. Lofty siblings, They sit on their thrones. Casting aspersions, Right down to your bones.
(1150 words) Miriam Jesney was a blonde, piquant thing of nineteen summers with no relations but Gilbert, a semi-mythical brother, on the Yukon, who had not found enough gold to send her any. She earned her living – two pounds a week – as a guitarist at the splendid tea parties of the Hotel Bemrose. “Hey, Miriam, honey, what was that thing you were playing tonight?” asked Hank Malone one evening, approaching her while she sat at the hotel bar, nursing a glass of white wine. Miriam smiled. Hank was OK, a lumbering, gentle giant of a man. “Well, which one? I played quite a bit of stuff.” Hank admired Miriam’s skin. It was like pink china, and her eyes, well, those huge green eyes, were like … like crystals! “That last one, a … a rippling type of thing.” “Why, that was a study in arpeggios, just different right-hand fingerings for the same chord progression. By an Italian gentleman named Ferdinando Carulli.” “Arp … arpeggios, what’s that?” Miriam looked into Hank’s open, honest face. “Know what a chord is, Hank?” “Yeah, sure … well, no, not exactly.”
- Horizontally challenged, that was old Stan, But always so cheerful, a stoical man. Said his wife Edna, “He’s an amicable bloke, But with only three inches, well, there ain’t much to stroke!” But Stan had his talents, for his missus to share, He wasn’t huge, true, but she didn’t care. Said Edna, “I … Continue reading A Stoical Man (poem)