Thanks Scottie The thread delivers yet another coincidence! Photographs don't really do justice to Castlerigg, which has a truly magnificent location.

Great write again Scottie I love the eerie images, especially the 'bone white table and chairs'. I like how some poetry gets interpreted differently by readers. I'm currently watching the box set of Twin Peaks and your description of red curtains really made that spring to mind. In fact the whole poem feels a bit David Lynch

Aaaahhh! It's long time since I made a daisy chain.

I'd like to make a comment on Deep Red but it's a bit too close to the torment in the world that I'm trying hard to ignore...........I'll concentrate on daisy chains and fluffy white clouds. Night all.

Bad, isn't it Biz? But it sounds like America might not bomb Syria now

Orange Light and Shadows

Footsteps echoed mystery,
Passers-by and others
Pierced my bedroom sanctuary
As I clutched the covers.

Some walked slowly through the night,
Some walked rather quicker,
While on walls in orange light
Shadows used to flicker.

With my undeveloped lens
Into tales I’d blunder,
Funny how a young mind pens
Storylines of wonder.

Different silhouettes and shapes,
Leaves in my road swaying
Showed the evil ogre traipse
Or the fairies playing.

Now I'm older walls are bare,
Fewer are the choices,
Yet when I recall the glare
This grown-up rejoices.


©

Your room

The room in the roof
so full of you,
the hesitant voice,
the whirly-click of the projector,
the hollow sound of your footsteps
as you skip down the stairs,
the collection of Mr. Men books,
the ten year’s worth of magazines
ordered in plastic boxes,
the piles and shelves of videos
arranged alphabetically within genre,
posters of Hitchcock, Lynch, Argento,
the other day’s clothes dropped by the unmade bed,
your Fungus tin for slimy things,
some small change left on your desk,
the empty pen by the open book.

Yes, it's certainly a relief to be grown up.

Memories, memories.

Great poem Scottie You can't escape the collections in this house - I have well over a thousand items in all. Books, films and over 500 CDs. Your room rang a lot of bells

I recently had a short holiday with Twass, Mrs Teapot and the Queen of Sheba, all DS members. Mrs T was kind enough to write me a poem, which she gave to me on my arrival. With a few changes by me, it's posted below

Welcome Musty

Welcome to our debut meet,
A long-awaited DS treat
With Twassy in her country home
Where I the Teapot love to roam.

The Queen of Sheba’s present too
So let’s get back and have a brew
And later in the pub tonight
You’ll find the Gents is on the right.

Pints of lager, bags of crisps,
We’ll tuck you up if you get p*ssed,
Not only will there be good times,
By ‘eck this poem even rhymes.

That's a lovely gesture

Wasn't it Sandy Where have you been, I've missed you!

I've been about, here, there and everywhere Musty


hugs Musty ()

((((((((Sandy))))))))

We'll get back to poetry soon

Here's a little poem.


Through The Wonderland


We walk through the wonderland
with all that we see
with all who we meet
with all what we say
with all where we stay
with love, care, reach every day

I just did

Lovely Sandy - your poems are always so positive

Thanks Musty.

Thank you Musty, it' was rough around the edges but had only taken me minutes to write, we had a good time though didn't we

We should have written of Musty's burps
And how he topped up drinks with turps

*legs it*

It was a brilliant week Mrs T

\o/ \o/ \o/ \o/ Hurray! Lovely to see everyone - it gets too quiet in here and I think I've used up all my words...........though of course Musty never does.