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I had a dream about my wife the other night. There was a gentle breeze, the scent of Gardenias and she was there. She was not dressed in a flowing white gown. 1,607 more words


04-24 Friday Fun Tim-e

Tim does not,

sit on a couch when it’s


although the smell of

lumber is


the weary born labor

of youth under his Dad’s plodding… 60 more words


Marjorie Parkinson

Eirojram (ee-roje-er-am) Nosnikrap (nose-knee-crap) is what my dad would call her.

Simply put, it’s the backward spelling of my late grandmother.

Stronger and smarter than most; Marge could finish a crossword before the coffee was done. 182 more words


A Clerihew

My Dad, has trophies, for growing flowers
Superhero, with Dahlia powers
Charming the sweet pea to hypnotically weave
Training stem, petal, pollen till perfection achieved…
8 more words


New Babby

  NaPoWriMo day twenty five. Poem number twenty five is a Black Country/ Brummie version of poem number 24, it’s called New Babby. For my readers and followers outside of the UK, a Brummie is someone who comes from Birmingham and the Black Country is an area to the North West of Birmingham so called because it was once very heavily industrialised. 109 more words

My Poetry

The Hard Truth About Dementia

In my family, the hardest truth about my father’s dementia is that he doesn’t understand it while we do. He literally can’t understand it because of the way the disease hit him. 657 more words