‘Twas Ellis Park in eighty six
my mate had done us proud,
four seats, front row, behind the sticks
a seventy thousand crowd.
The Cavaliers against the Boks
their union had affirmed
we were not to call them All Blacks
nor wear the silver fern. Continue reading “My first Haka”
Reflection 5
Quite diff’rent from a turning track
That sends both teams awry,
This wicket suits their quicks it seems
But never ours. Dubai. Bye bye.
Reflection 6
That boy said calmly, turning back,
I know this ‘ere’s a galleon;
But please excuse me if I ask:
“Is our Captain an Italian?”
A civilised cup of tea (Earl Grey) this afternoon at my Aunt and Uncle’s house provided the photo opportunity I needed to enter the current photo competition here on the Chariot. A chance ray of sunshine lit up the water vapour as it streamed up into the air above the teapot spout as each movement in the room changed its shape and momentum – and after the tea was poured more visible clouds chaotically formed and dispersed in the sunshine.
Soutie’s scientific treatise on the universe has driven me to introspective distraction, allowing waves of cosmic energy to stimulate my creative juices (n’ aw that) and producing this: Continue reading “Reflections on that boy – poetry comp Feb”
OK, I did not know it was called that either, but after all I’m just a retired techie (right Janus?)
Except for the original, all the versions I know are “unsuitable for family viewing” as they say here in rural Maryland.
So let us innovate, if you wish you can keep the first line, or if you choose, change it to set the scene elsewhere, but keep the ballad meter and the a-b-a-b rhyming scheme. Short or long is OK, the original is an unending twenty verses of Victorian melodrama.
I’m off! Not a flounce, but I’m off to visit the UK or what may still remain of her on February 22nd. It’s my sister’s seventieth birthday in early March and I promised to take her out to dinner. How she has arrived at such a great age is beyond understanding as I am still a young fella. So judging this one may be a bit complicated, but I will have sufficient electronic hardware with me to manage a smallish space mission so I expect it will be achieved.
Theme? Yes, in keeping with the activity the title is “The Journey” the required words are “androgynous” and “philosophical”.
Fond as I am of the novel form I am restricting this one to a minimum of one thousand and maximum of two thousand words (sorry Ferret).
Closing? Let’s make it midnight (GMT) on the very special day, February 29th 2012 .
Heartfelt thanks to the four brave Charioteers who entered January’s competition. I must confess that I was disappointed not to see a contribution from our Edinburgh lawyer, but that’s the way the haggis crumbles, I guess. Only joshing, JM – I know your time is constrained. Continue reading “Poetry Competition Verdict”
Many thanks for the entries. What a horrendously difficult task this has proved to be! Continue reading “Results of January Creative Writing Competition”
Btw, the other man is President Ouattara of Côte d’Ivoire enjoying dinner at the Élyssée Palace, while his lads did well in the Africa Cup of Nations darn sarf.
… how are there going to be ‘British’ embassies to no longer promote whisky? … (whatever name you come up with for the rest of the Disunited Kingdom).
If Nova Caledonia floats away, Britain will be diminished! Britannia’s rump will be……what? Anglia, including West Anglia?
This problem would never have arisen if Victoria’s desire to rename Scotland ‘North Britain’ had been adopted. Britain would now survive any minor pruning by hysterical apostates.
Please submit name suggestions for un-Jocked Britain – there’ll be prizes of course: 1st prize a week in Stirling, 2nd prize 2 weeks in Stirling.
Boadicea's Chariot 
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