It was a Tetleys

I reckon one of the Tetley men pushed it up I'm off for a read in the garden shade, new poems are bubbling under too

Enjoy your afternoon in the garden, a little breeze goes a long way.

Duly corrected on page 56.

For the information of any children reading this, the bag floated up because the molecules of the air trapped in it were farther apart than the water's molecules - and I bet Sandy used a teaspoon to force it under the water.

Sandy and Mr Mustard were only joking.........

Have you been watching the cricket?

I did have a teaspoon in the cup

Well I never! I must be psychic.

No Sandy, although it was on in the pub. Sky tends to suck the life out of sport with their coverage for the few who pay. I like Biz's scientific explanation for the teabag's rising. Now for God's sake let's get back to poetry

A Teaspoon

Teaspoon, may I introduce you to sugar,
Hi Sugar, you are sweet
Oh Teaspoon, aren't you sleek
Here comes Milk to top it off
What a stir you have caused Teaspoon

I love it Sandy, bringing the things that make tea to life Think I'll have a cuppa in a while

Thanks

Enjoy

I've been having jellybeans

Great, I love those Sandy! I think Part 4's having a poetry interval, which is no bad thing. Out of all the threads this one's had the best opening in my opinion. A real flying start with some fascinating and diverse material I'm having a bit of a break from writing at the moment, as other things need my attention such as the garden, sorting through a load of stuff in the spare room and....the pub

I have several ideas for new poems but I'll probably tackle those at the weekend

I tried to write a poem, but couldnt think of the starting line,
i tried to think of words ahead, but couldnt make a rhyme.

I thought i should give up, cuz theres just not enough time,
for i have to get back to work and starting making money, which isnt mine.

:P

lame one, my first

It's good for you to have a little break and do other stuff. Inspiration for poetry can come from the most unlikeliest places. I like pubs that have little knick knacks about the place, chronicle amongst the social folks.

Not lame at all Abh - at least you had a go at putting pen to paper and I liked the comment on work


That is so true Sandy, people-watching has given me lots of inspiration. You'd like the Star at Rusper - built in 1486, it has various carpentry tools on display. The bulk of the Avebury poems were written there

Solitude

O solitude you are to me
A shelter from the storm,
Come solitude, my sanctuary
Reveal your silent form.

In younger years I'd seek a glen
Or some remote domain
To give me what I needed when
I could no more remain

In crowded halls where every voice
Seemed brash and loudly called;
The rural fields became my choice
Where only quiet ruled.

To find a tree with cooling shade
Through meadows I would roam,
Regarding how the sparrows played
From my secluded home.

I'd sometimes glimpse a butterfly
That from the world was hid,
With no one there to utter why
Or question what I did.

And as the evening reached its end
And daylight slowly fled
I watched an orange sun descend
Into a sea of red.

My solitude's a lovely cape
Of finest velvet cloth
To wear whenever I escape
Until I take it off.


©

Absolutely fascinating Musty. It's interesting to see another's take on the subject. I think it's easier for men to roam the countryside alone, and although I do think solitude is a balm, I came to appreciate it later in life. When I was young I wanted to be with people.

Brilliant write Musty.

A subject right up my street.

Thanks Biz I wonder if women are reluctant to roam those areas because of the news stories you hear? If so I fully understand. I spent most of my late-teens and twenties alone, more through shyness than choice. That said, I've always enjoyed my own company, it's never been a problem


Thank you Troy Solitude was posted by someone else on a photography site. There it was read by a skilled chap who worked alone in woods, managing tree-growth. He really loved the poem I'm glad to say

I don't remember any stories when I was a girl, but I wouldn't have gone into the park without my friend, even though we met up with a group when we got there.

Good news about your poem.

Rat Chat

As popular as Goebbels
And Jack the Ripper’s saw,
We’ll never match the gerbils
And hamsters you adore.

We live down in the sewer
Where no one keeps a pet,
To nature's connoisseur
Just vermin and a threat.

Is it the hurried scuttle,
Our tails, the air of sleaze?
Or simply how we shuttle
The fleas that spread disease?

This new campaign’s amazing,
So many of us rise
All beady-eyed and gazing
Where stinking garbage lies.

While you don’t stroke or pat us
You still supply the feed
Which fattens up the Rattus
Norvegicus, my breed.

Your world’s on our agenda,
We thrive where it maintains
The stench-infested splendour
And darkness of the drains.


©

A wise head on young shoulders

I wouldn't wish to corner one.


I'm sure there are plenty around today, they're just not newsworthy.

I saw my second rat in town the other day. With endless fast food and take-away shops and the plague of litter, it's hardly surprising You're right about young people Biz, good ones rarely make the headlines. That's the nature of news I guess.