Inspiring words, well timed!
I have a shoe collection
I know that it sounds strange.
Storing every shoe I own,
Across the season’s range.
They come in every color
Though I have a favourite few;
My red sling backs are the best
I’m saving now for blue.
I have high, low, medium
Killer and block
Buckle, lacer, ballet,
Stilletto and shock.
The problem is I have no room
To buy up anymore
I have to stuff the bedroom
From the ceiling to the floor.
My husband thinks it’s madness
You know the story well
But he is very similar,
We live in golf ball hell!
A fast poem by Geraldine Hogan.
Hope it’s enjoyed, I’m sure I’m not on my own with having far too many pairs of shoes!
Keeping up the blogging habit for another month! I’m getting better at it all the time.
Another Year — Another Resolution….
(a fifteen minute thought, by Ger Hogan.)
So here it is — January One
And twenty fifteen has just begun.
We’ve all made promises
Big and small
Resolutions for one and all.
Weather permitting — the roads will be black
with fair weather walkers — out in a hack.
God bless mountain rescue; the coast guard too
They know it’ll be busy, green enthusiasts — all new.
Pubs will be empty; biscuits ignored
chocolate eschewed, cholesterol has soared.
The damage of Christmas and dark months of the year
has to be paid for; with pain and no beer.
The bit I like best is making the goals
Exploring possibilities; extending the roles.
What is it this year? Blogging? Again?
I see your eyes rolling — yep, feeling the pain!
I’ll get to bed early; I won’t take a break
walk about backwards, become a poetry flake.
I’ll work even harder; smarter and fast
I’ll aim, train, game better
Strain the brain last.
So this is it — January One!
Blogging this year will just be for fun.
Have lots to do — so I hope you appreciate
I’m making the time, so the blog won’t depreciate.
Rather than saying ‘I’ll blog every week.’
I’m telling myself, ‘I’ll just try and tweak,
the various outlets, like twitter and peeps,
I’ll always run spell check — no more grammar bleeps.’
In twenty fourteen I fell short on the posts,
But this year I’m determined,
I’m not going to coast!
Like I said, only the fervent would be out in this weather!
Lucky this was last year!
Simply had to lighten up on the old shoe theme…
Hard to explain why you need so many pairs of shoes you only wear occasionally, hope this goes some way….
More procrastination — unfortunately posting this has taken longer than actually writing it, I was hoping to include the most divine image of a pair of summer, red soled shoes….
Ah, well, we can but dream!
By Geraldine Hogan.
The heels are high,
The toes are tight,
The leathers soft,
They look just right.
They talk to me,
From their Prada shelf,
They help me be anyone
– except myself.
And all those noughts are not so much,
When you actually get to touch,
Their Italian leather comfy sole,
It’s like they are made to measure,
Yours to treasure;
And it’s not an awful lot of noughts,
Not when you consider –
It’s such a pretty little slipper,
The price of a flat, a car, a cruise,
All a little more than those new shoes.
I’ll wear them everyday, I promise,
A flash of plastic for a Goddess.
I’ll ring the bank,
Try to explain,
My shoe addiction won out again.
I wrote this in less than eighteen minutes, a bit of a record, even for me and I wasn’t even sitting in a dentists waiting room. Most of my poetry occurs in waiting rooms — you can probably tell! I use the term poetry very loosely, it’s more a brain work out for the other stuff. I know, W.B would turn in his grave, but it’s never going to be something that I’ll do too seriously anyway, so does it count?
I think some things are just for fun. See below, the eighteen minute poem, as a result, ignore the obvious spelling/grammar problems!
Every soul has a story,
Maybe, these old boots have earned their glory,
In sun and sand and wind and flood,
The boots may have been caked in mud.
Their journey soon, it’s end in sight,
For time’s long friend there appears no flight.
Perhaps today they came to pass,
A long awaited rest, lush meadow grass.
And there, three soliders sat to rest,
Left bags, and hats and boots possessed
Of years and miles of service good
To stand close by while in the darkened wood.
While weary travellers took a soak
In cool clement waters beneath the oak.
Their tired bodies, cleaned and rested,
They lay on grass now infested
With soft black slugs and hungry beetles
Nesting in their boots, not leathal.
But sore as hell and slurpy too,
What’s a man to do, but throw off his shoe.
So now you see the boots there drying,
Taking from the water implying
Days and days of long hard work
No, these boot just went beserk.
Creative Writing Ink Prompt May 22nd
Yesterday was a big day for eleven writers who traveled to Dublin to the Writers Center for a prep day before the 2014 Novel Fair. What a lovely bunch and a great thank you to everyone who helped make it such a relaxing and informative session.
More to follow!
McKella Sawyer | Creating Art and Joy
found this through LinkedIn – i’m a seriously busy woman tonight! This is just a nice read!
Botox The Beautiful…
via Botox The Beautiful….
This is light and brill and well worth looking at, far from rocket science, but entertaining all the same!