Antling

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Big brashy demeanour with a head too big for its body,

it’s in charge of everything and you’re just a nobody.
Struts around town in designer gear,

tattooed arms and ring hanging from his ear.
No hellos or how do you do’s,

he will speak to you only when he decides to choose.
If he wants you to do something then you must do it now,

consider yourself a milk maid and also the cow.
Antling is its name so now you know,

if you ever meet him he will probably tell you where to go.

Rotting Soul

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Encapsulated in this rotting flesh,

Spirit subdued, in need of a refresh.

 

Brain unfocused, vague and unrestful,

Unable to consume the wisdom to be accountable.

 

Emotionally inept, heart of stone swings out of time,

Eyes blurred, spattered with slime and grime.

 

Heart shattered, splinters pierce my aging capsule,

A void of darkness, nothing breathes amicable.

 

Movement becoming restricted, no longer flowing,

No future planned, no idea where this is going.

 

Practitioner’s time wasted, this seen by them,

Vicious circle of life, decay of life unable to stem.

 

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© C Webber 2017

A food post on Toast

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Looks like the way forward with blogging is food!

My post titled Poached Eggs which consisted of a poem then my subsequent suggestion on how to cook poached eggs like a pro, smashed my likes and follow records. I thank you.

So here is my next step into culinary mega famous stardom…..enjoy.

 

How to make perfect toast.

*Now before you all start requesting that I write and publish my very own Michelin star rated cookbook, please understand that these are extremely complex and shouldn’t be attempted by the mere amateur cook. As you will see as follows:

 

Take piece of bread from sliced loaf

Place in toaster

When bread pops up remove and smother with butter

Voila!

Enjoy.

‘Peng’ is the word

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Continuing my trip into the realms of uncoolness, today we are looking at the word peng.

 

I discovered this word when my children were having a discussion about youtubers.

Now I’m not far enough into adult old age to not know of the existence of these youtube folk and their roles in today’s society. But what shocked me was the word that was expelled from the mouth of my 15 year old daughter whilst explaining a youtuber…PENG!

I sat there for a couple of seconds to try and stabilize my thoughts as my ears and mind battled in conflict wondering if either had got the wrong word.

 

Now was it pen? But why would someone be described as a writing tool?

The other end was the word Penguin? Shortened to peng because of the person’s cold demeanour or love of black and white suits?

Nothing made sense I just couldn’t decipher the logic behind such a word.

So being the uncool dad that I am I had to ask…

This was met with an exaggerated TUT and roll of the eyes in disgust. No explanation was given, thanks kids.

So as anything in else you require in life these days I reverted to the trusty Google search bar,

After all I can ask it anything without the risk of tuts, huffs or rolling of eyes.

Peng – Good looking person!

Straight away like a flash of revelation I realised why I had not come across this word before…..

Cornicook #fun #character

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I bet you have met one of these creatures before,

perhaps you never noticed, perhaps you never saw.

 

But I’m telling you now with pinky promises made,

they are joke telling folk whose enthusiasm never fades.

 

Now they are not those kinda jokes that make your belly wobble and laugh,

or chuckle until you cry or until you wanna barf!

 

These jokes are so terrible they only laugh at them themselves,

usually got a million bad joke books piled up upon shelves.

 

They can create many disguises but they have a couple that they prefer,

like dads, uncles and grandads is it starting to become clear?

 

So next time you hear a bad joke, make sure you take a close look,

as it could be a comical creature called a Cornicook.

Hundred year old house

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In my hundred year old house with its hundred year old walls,

it’s time for renovation as modernisation calls.

 

Layers of paper hide defects unknown,

paint and filler make a collage of walls with plaster all blown.

 

As we strip each covering away,

I wonder what things it saw and what tales it could say.

 

Stories of love, birth or death,

times of great happiness or someone’s last dying breath.

 

Centuries of change, still standing after two world wars,

people’s daily lives captured, eating food or doing chores.

 

A layer of flowers then stripes and plain paper with scraping revealed,

decades of conversation revealed.

 

I so wish they could speak, as the history of my hundred year old house I seek.