One Liner Wednesday: Dancing in my head

You will not lose that curvature and  your figure will never be the same and I am sorry to say, dear, you need to get used to that pain. Looking out the window I heard the words they said  but I was miles away by then dancing in my head .

Me  back in 2010

This is part of one liner Wednesday at http://lindaghill.com/2015/06/24/one-liner-wednesday-quite-right/

Anyone who would like to try it out, feel free to use the “One-Liner Wednesday” title in your post, and if you do, you can ping back here to help your blog get more exposure. To execute a ping back, just copy the URL in the address bar Linda’s post   on Wednesday and paste it somewhere in the body of your post. Your link will show up in the comments below. Please ensure that the One-Liner Wednesday you’re pinging back to the  currant week! Otherwise, no one will likely see it but Linda.

Fearsome Friday!

 

It’s Immie.

NaBloPoMo : Death’s Book is Lost

Death  was exhausted  with the hunt , he needed coffee he needed a break!

War  was playing  cards with some no hoppers in a pub. Enjoying a pint of beer

Plague was at A&E sampling  the best of care  21hrs  wait, no sign of help there , he was enjoying the break.

Famine was visiting  MacDonald’s stuffing  himself with burgers and chips, coke and shakes…. his stomach showed no fear!

Where is the  book,   where is the book ……………….  We’ve  scoured  the earth  and still no luck

Stop moaning, ordered war, have a drink  and cut loose  join us in a game of poker

Plague was still in the emergency room hanging outside with the smokers.

Death  watched him , the stress of the loss making him feel bad, something snapped  and he shoved plague under a truck!

Plague  got up  and swore at Death , “At what game do you think you are playing”

Being an immortal  he survived ,Death strode  down the street smiting innocent bystanders at will

They fell , they then got back up ! Death shouted “Bloody Hell” Famine , a mouth full of chips  wondered what  Death was saying.

War  was ready for a fight  he told his companions they were cheating , he was spitting fire  ready for the kill.

Things were getting ugly , this was not fun .

Where was the missing apprentice ? that angel of death needed to see what he had done.

Suddenly all was silent , no bird even sung, suddenly it was black as night, …………

God was on the block and with him the errant angel who was not having any fun!

TO BE CONTINUED 

sorry it is a few minutes late for the 11th November .

THE LAST OF THE STAND

I am floating high above the plain , my body suddenly light and free from pain.

I see the torn flesh and sinew, white bone hanging out of gaping holes I can’t believe it’s true.

I see the filthy hounds of hell fighting over my body they rip me limb from limb.

Unbelieving I watch what they are doing to my corpse..it is sickening.

My eyes are drawn towards the ridge a wondrous sight I see.

Hoards of smoking Dragons led by Lady Pen and Fyrespike  advancing to rescue me.

What a wonderful sight to behold, a sky of Dragons all breathing fire making the night burn  gold.

Lady Pen and her Dragons…… and, what warriors akin to me? ..these men who deserted me

they had seen the hounds of hell and they like cowardly bastards turned to flee!

Oh! Lady Pen I thank you with all the love in my soul.

Drive these filthy hell hounds from my lands and full fill my goal!

Save my body Pen, save me from hell’s foul Gate . Get these foul and filthy dogs off of my corpse before they seal my fate.

Tears fall from my eyes as I watch the men return, I need to forgive them or my soul in hell will burn.

As I wonder how to forgive these men who left me to my death. I feel a loving hand touch me then I see a face, that took what was left of my breath.

My Mother , the one who bore me and then died. My beautiful mother over who my father cried.

She told me I must forgive them or I would loose my soul and the dogs would have my body .

Warmth and love began to fill me and started I  to feel at peace I agreed I should forgive my kin and immediately all my panic and anger ceased.

So serenely with my mother I watched the battle rage. The Dragons lead by Lady Pen and Fyrespike the Gallant Dragon Lord

flew bravely into battle with fire and claws of steel, they with the help of my kin  brought down the hell hound horde.

For days and nights the battle raged the skies were black with smoke at times it looked like the humans would fall, for they could not breath through all the smoke.

Finally the hounds lay dead and scattered all around and so the humans gathered them up and threw them into a lime pit underground.

With Fyrespike’s blessing Lady Pen brought the baby dragons in, to search for every part of my body , she bade them lovingly to gather me in.

Find every part, lock of hair , each eye and lash and lips the scraps of cloth and the sturdy sword, the belt that hung around my hips.

The Dragons and their young found every part of me , I with my mother waited and watched and prayed I’d soon be free.

So now at last the deed is done the fight is at an end. My kin can restart their lives and I can be set free, thanks to Lady Pen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So now the tale is ended and I can at last take my rest in Heaven with soul intact.

To be reunited with my parents as was our holy pact.

As to Lady Pen my dearest friend she really did me proud she and her beloved Dragons

found me a fine ship and with my mortal remains they set a funeral pyre

and set me sailing into the sun as the cleansing flames grew higher.

NOT AN END BUT A BEGINNING.

 

The Stand 3

His fangs sank deep in to my neck as I fell I heard something crack. I couldn’t breath with the weight of that filthy hound on my back. My hair was red with blood the dog knocked me down with a thud!

He ran his paw along my spine I stabbed him hard with my knife. I took pleasure in hearing him whine. I felt his blood gush out of the wound, it fair made me heave. I swear I felt his evil soul crawl across my bleeding body as he took his leave.

I threw his filthy carcass off and and tried to make a stand. I pushed my hands in to the sludge but to rise was harder then I’d planned.

At once another hound was on my back. I was so very tired I cursed the help I lack. This one is toying with me I feel him push my face in to the maggots and demons on the ground. They  claw my eyes and scratch my face. I tried to scream blood fills my mouth I cannot make a sound.

Up on the hill I see a flash or is it a trick of the light. Is this help can I dare hope. Could that be the Lady Pen……. is that  a dragon’s smoke.

The pain is growing too much for me to bare, I feel I must give in now that my true allies are here. I feel the life draining from me I can no longer see. My spirit floats above me  the battle to  oversee.

TO BE FINISHED……………………..

THE STAND 2

They had left me, they had gone. I alone stood to face the foe from hell.

The slime and shit that crawled up my spine shrank back as they got the smell.

Unmistakable the stench of below where fungus festers and brimstone flows.

The Dogs were coming at me now , I raised my sword and drew my knife

I could smell their breath and feel their heat upon my skin, I loved life

but I feared that mine had run it length. I dug deep within to find my strength.

The hounds drew near acid from their mouths burned my toes, the stench of their breath got right up my nose. Their teeth began to tear at  my legs loosing the demons off my back the shit the dregs . I was glad their grip was gone they had been draining my strength for far too long.

I swung my sword and slashed with my knife,

I made them bleed and I gave them strife.

They bit my shoulder and ripped my arm, how I bled

I screamed and kicked and hacked at last one of the dogs was dead.

The others angry at their brothers demise roared and rolled their demon eyes.

I was certain all was lost all bridges burnt all mountains crossed!

I raised  my head up to the sky as a dog leaped at my throat and screamed OH! God,Don’t Let Me Die!

TO BE CONTINUED………..

Journal For Poetry Challenge#7 26/02/2012

                       Henry-Allingham-in-2008-001.jpg

The Poem is nothing to do with HENRY ALLINGHAM  but he was the oldest survivor of the 1st world war. He died 18th July 2009 age 113yrs. As the oldest man in the world. His legacy will be the memories he shared of a lost generation

BACK

by WILFRED GIBSON

THEY ask me where I’ve been, And what I’ve done and seen. But what can I reply Who know it wasn’t I, But someone just like me, Who went across the sea And with my head and hands Killed men in foreign lands . . . Though I must bear the blame Because he bore my name.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wilfred Gibso

Wilfred Wilson Gibson (1878-1962), a close friend of Rupert Brooke and a protégé of Edward Marsh, was born in Hexham, England in 1878.

Gibson worked for a time as a social worker in London’s East End. He published his first verse in 1902, Mountain Lovers. He had several poems included in various Georgian poetry collections prior to the war. He also wrote a play, Daily Bread, which was produced in 1910.

After the outbreak of war, Gibson served as a private in the infantry on the Western Front. It was therefore from the perspective of the ordinary soldier that Gibson wrote his war poetry.

His active service was brief, but his poetry belies his lack of experience, Breakfast being a prime example of ironic war verse written during the very early stages of the conflict.

Following the armistice, Gibson continued writing poetry and plays. His work was particularly concerned with the poverty of industrial workers and village labourers. Collected Poems: 1905-1925 was published in 1926, The Island Stag in 1927, and Within Four Walls in 1950.

Wilfred Wilson Gibson died in 1962.   http://iwvpa.net/gibsonww/index.php

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I honestly think that is one of the most honest  poems I have ever read. It is straight from the heart and I believe many, many men who returned from the war would of dealt with memories by saying this to themselves…it was not me  it was just someone with my name.

The poem is as true today as it was then, men and women returning from Afghanistan and Iraq  could easily say the same. War and what men and women have to do in it’s name is as I have said before evil.

There is not much more I can say about the poem as the author says it all so very well. This poem touch my heart and made me cry.

Getty Images

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This the Poem I should of published last Sunday, hence the discrepancy in the dates

Poetry Challenge #7 is to create a journal of links and your reactions to poems by established (living or dead poets.) Details are here.  Example response is here. Mr. Linky for Challenge #7 is directly below:

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