Tag: home

Flies, by Neil Windsor


By Robert Garnham 
Flies

There's a fly in my living room, in fact recently there's been quite a few
Where on earth do they come from? Last week there were only two
Impervious to spray, they've been buzzing round for days
They help themselves to jam on the worktop, and lick the congealed fat off my oven trays
They feast on last week's chow mein remains in it's foil container
Then there's the spicy orange kebab juice on the kitchen drainer

And the crumpled weekend empties stacked at the side of the bin
In the sink they flit in and out of the budget brand baked bean tin
They graze on the empty humous tub next to the two dead spider plants
And the mysterious sticky stuff on the Sky remote that's attracted a colony of ants
They're getting on my nerves now, these flies ants and other crawly pests
I don't know what I've done to deserve this influx of unwanted multi legged guests

I'm going to lose it big style soon, they're messing with my head
I've tried catching the flies in empty crisp packets, there's a few at the side of the bed
I've thrown socks at them and tried swatting them with slices of furry bread, but it's not working, I need a radical plan to get rid of this six legged horde
Perhaps my domestic hygiene regime is marginally flawed
Maybe I should empty the bin and take the bulging leaking black sacks outside
Scrape the gunk off the carpet and consider insect genocide

Anyway, more importantly on another front, I'm fed up with being single, I think I need an urgent speed dating cupid love match
I really fail to understand why I'm still not spoken for, as a modern bloke I'm a totally domesticated homeloving hunk of a catch.
I need to entice a young lady into my web, like the spider and the fly, and invite her into my home
Thinking about it, perhaps a coat of paint and some lampshades wouldn't go amiss to help set the tone
Charm her with my small talk, followed by a game of Twister....and then who knows?
Excuse me a sec but I've just spotted some maggots wriggling in the salad crisper. If I want to be lucky in love I should probably get rid of those.

Neil Windsor is a Writer of children’s short stories, Artist and Poet from Leeds who produces and performs all his work with an absolute passion and a slightly slanted off – kilter view of life.
He also plays extremely bad left handed blues guitar.#neilwindsorart

 

Lockdown Adventurers, by Heather Wastie


By Robert Garnham 
Lockdown adventurers

8 people over ninety
falling from playground equipment 
60 encounters
with venomous spiders

5,600 amateur builders 
coming into contact
with electric hand tools 
2,700 with hammer or saw

349 tussling
with lawnmowers 
2,243 with hot drinks, 
food, fats, cooking oils

Though many found comfort 
adopting pets,
7,386 bitten, or struck,
by dogs

Ninety-year-old woman 
bitten, or struck,
by crocodile
or alligator

Despite more time at home, 
number struck by lightning 
up
from 3 to 18

Adventurers
The tip of the iceberg

Found poem, written January 2021 using words from article: Covid: Thousands needed hospital treatment after lockdown DIY https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-59854919

Former Worcestershire Poet Laureate Heather Wastie was born in Cradley Heath and now lives near Kidderminster. She has performed extensively across the UK and published eight poetry collections. On Twitter and Instagram she is @heatherwastie. Her Facebook group is Wastie’s Space, and her websitewww.WastiesSpace.co.uk is embarrassingly out of date.



 

					


		
	




			
				


		

		

			
Wishing You Were There by Sarah L Dixon

							

					
 By admin				

					


		

			
We know where all the bins are

and the window keys

and how to operate the washing machine.


We know the quirks of the toilet,

the floorboard that creaks,

the pipes and tubes that are liable to leak.


We know where the dust gathers,

the knack to broken gates,

that the clock in the kitchen runs five minutes late.


We know our local A+E,

the nearest doctor,

that strange night-noise is the Police helicopter.


We know hours of pubs and shops,

takeouts we can trust

and which cupboard holds spray to treat the rust.


We know what the TIVO holds for us,

our spots on the settee,

my bed is memory-foamed the shape of me.


We know grubby cook-books well,

our stash of herbs and spices,

and where we store treats to feed our sugar vices.


Sarah L Dixon tours as The Quiet Compere.  She has been published in Ink, Sweat and Tears and The Interpreter’s House among others. Sarah’s inspiration comes from being by water and adventures with her five-year old, Frank.  She is still attempting to write better poetry than Frank did aged 4!


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