The quick fix had worked so
She slipped the needle away,
Her little liquid friend that helped
Through each long working day.
A toot of the horn told her
He’s out there with her lift
For her to work the punters
From the pub leaving shift.
Only a whore they said
When the body was found,
A battered shop mannequin
Lying on waste ground.
With their numbers cut the
Police couldn’t do much more
And, as the papers had said,
She was only a whore.
Somebody said there
Was a child somewhere
Quietly and efficiently
Taken into care.
Three girls at the funeral
Hardly a significant memoriam
Then she was ushered off
To the local crematorium.
A cup of tea in a cafe
In memory of a working mate
Quickly slurped down as
The afternoon was getting late,
The girls went back to work:
With their habits to feed
Any fear they may have felt
Overcome by addiction’s need.
Not high class call girls
With upper class clientele
Just a poor exploited women
With only one thing to sell.
So, Austerity still rules,
Unfair decisions are made,
And poor women are still driven
To the rough end of the trade.
Oh but to rest this mad toiling mind!
Sleep? Nay, to sleep perchance to dream
Dreams. Ay, there lay the problem
How, then, to find solace
Can it be achieved...
true peace of mind?
Not in life
but in
death
Simple question was asked but they fumble;
What are you going to do with your life?
Most of them babble, to speak they struggle;
Appears they don't know how to handle strife.
Don't have idea for their future day
lost their direction that shows confusion.
Answer to question is simple if they
apply their minds, there can't be illusion.
It's to find what makes them happy, see what
interests them most, what helps them to let
their creativity flourish; Don't shut
once known, go ahead, take next step, heart set.
But, don't be afraid to believe self, trust
it'll bring happiness; in HIM now entrust.
ELIZABETHAN LOVE PASTICHE
I will pluck Parmenter from your orchard bower
And taste it’s Ambrose and the scented flower
There we shall pass a brief but blessed hour
While I sup your essence sweet piquant and sour
Lest passing time should look on us to glower
And curse us so no more we may have power
To circumvent the fates and they devour
Our consecrated rapture that they scour
16 July 2019
Linen ruffs and lacy cuffs
And farthingales and tassels;
Petticoats and hose and cloaks
Like those once worn in castles.
Fastenings of hooks and eyes
And buttons, strings and laces
Used instead of zippers to
Keep closed important places.
Milliners and stocking knitters,
Shoemakers and such
Pushed for authenticity
In looks and wear and touch.
Seeing Shakespeare on the stage
The way that he intended
Must have had a top-notch team
Who cut and sewed and mended.
“Twelfe Night” was magnificent.
The all-male cast impressed;
But kudos, too, to all the folk
Who got those actors dressed!
I would return to Shakespeare’s time and see
Him live upon the stage; to hear him say
The lines he wrote would mean the world to me.
His theatre, with the acts performed at day,
The place he’d muse,’ To be or not to be.’
(And ALL would call him author of the play).
I’d stand amongst the crowd and shout, ‘Encore,’
‘Bravo’ - and clap until my hands were sore.
Jack Horne for Nette’s Moment in Another Time contest
by Elizabethan poetic verse in life's race
of biblical grace God hath surely dispersed…
assuring all that will… of heavenly grace
=========================
“Behold, all things become new.” As carnal minds are
also renewed. (II Corinthians 5:17)
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