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JohnnieWalker
Canberra, Australia
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196 of 203  Sat 31st Mar 2018 4:32am  
Member: Joined Jul 2011  Total posts:253

Perhaps a Poem for Easter? The Stuff I was minding my own business down in Hertford Street one night, Just reflecting on the people passing by. There were lovers, arm in arm, and drunkards looking for a fight, And weirdos in the throes of getting high. The big screen kept on showing how the Sky Blues scored a goal, And a tall guy walked ‘round talking to his sleeve. There were girls in skimpy dresses, and two coppers on patrol. The diversity of life’s hard to believe! A young man sat beside me, and he whispered “Got the stuff?”, And I wasn’t really certain what he meant. “I’m desperate for a fix”, he said, “I haven’t got enough!” And continued to regale me with laments! I told him that I didn’t have the stuff he’s looking for, And I offered Easter eggs instead of that! And he greedily accepted and he begged me for some more, Even though I said they make you very fat! He wandered on, and soon a nice young girl sat in his place. “You got some stuff?” - she asked the self-same question. I offered Easter eggs, but she just threw them in my face! “Damned Easter eggs just give me indigestion!” A great big bikie then sat down, with tattoos and a beard, And a little leather bag around his waist. It struck me that his attitude was really rather weird, And his company not really to my taste! But he turned to me and whispered “I’ve got all the stuff you need!” “Just tell me how much cash you’ve got to spend.” I wasn’t sure exactly how I ought to then proceed, But this wasn’t where the story was to end! The tall guy with the talking sleeve then signalled to the cops, And all three of them came rushing to my side. “You’re under arrest” the bikie said, “Our undercover Ops Have caught you – there is nowhere you can hide! The bikie said “We’ve watched you as you’ve plied your deadly trade, Selling Easter eggs to chocoholics here!” No matter how I protested, they never could be swayed, And the courts sent me to prison for a year! For just a while I had them beat, and organised supply, Though contraband in prison is a crime. My Easter eggs were scattered from a drone up in the sky, But the prison staff would nick them all the time! So now I’m contemplating how to get out of this jail. I’m sick of staring at these four blank walls. I guess if there’s a lesson to be learnt from this sad tale - It’s not to share your Easter eggs with anyone at all!
True Blue Coventry Kid

Coventry Poetry
Rob Orland
Historic Coventry
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197 of 203  Sat 31st Mar 2018 10:01am  
Webmaster: Joined Jan 2010  Total posts:1390

Now that, dear friends, is the work of a genius!
Coventry Poetry
Roger Turner
Torksey
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198 of 203  Sat 31st Mar 2018 1:06pm  
Member: Joined Aug 2014  Total posts:566

I think it`s dreadful that these Easter Eggs (aka Chocolate Eggs) previously manufactured in this country should now be manufactured abroad and smuggled into this country. It`s not only the poor pusher in this country that should be in jail, but also those who produce such unhealthy "stuff". Anyway, thanks for such necessary and observant reporting JW Thumbs up
Coventry Poetry
JohnnieWalker
Canberra, Australia
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199 of 203  Sat 31st Mar 2018 8:25pm  
Member: Joined Jul 2011  Total posts:253

On 31st Mar 2018 10:01am, Rob Orland said: Now that, dear friends, is the work of a genius!
I wish! Actually the work of 3am insomnia! I had to get out of bed and write it down before I forgot it all! But thanks anyway, Rob! It's all fiction, of course - especially the bit about the Sky Blues! Sad Sad Sad Sad Edited by member, 31st Mar 2018 9:25 pm
True Blue Coventry Kid

Coventry Poetry
Dreamtime
Perth Western Australia
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200 of 203  Mon 2nd Apr 2018 1:51pm  
Member: Joined Jan 2010  Total posts:3200

What more can be said JW, I am loving it. Wave
Coventry Poetry
3Spires
Leicestershire
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201 of 203  Sun 15th Apr 2018 4:08pm  
Member: Joined Apr 2018  Total posts:19

Three Spires Junction Three spires glimpsed from the box The clang of steel on steel Heat rising from the shiny rail Welcomes the early summers’ day Three spires glimpsed from the box Haze softens already faded outlines Ghostly station even quieter now Forces memories of a noisier past Three spires glimpsed from the box Indentured hopes of boy and man Life’s apprenticeship just begun Rewards with happiness and pain Three spires glimpsed from the box Shadows are banished by the light Metal expands from the warmth Lengthening this longest day Three spires glimpsed from the box Cityscape crowds the ethereal beacons The door stands fully open Yet no cooling breeze is felt Three spires glimpsed from the box Bells ring a coded request Efficiently the response is sent Summoning disturbance of the air Three spires glimpsed from the box Sound decays behind the train The disappearing silhouette shimmers And in the distance thunder beckons
Coventry Poetry
Harrier
Coventry
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202 of 203  Wed 25th Apr 2018 5:31pm  
Member: Joined Apr 2012  Total posts:161

.... and in the beginning ..... Taxes higher Godiva's ire Naked ride Taxes died All inside But Tom spied How unwise Now no eyes!!!! Wink
Coventry Poetry
JohnnieWalker
Canberra, Australia
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203 of 203  Thu 26th Apr 2018 12:24am  
Member: Joined Jul 2011  Total posts:253

Always check your facts Always check your facts, my boy, always check your facts! That’s what the veteran writer said amongst her final acts. She wrote so many thrillers – the Mousetrap was her best, And I was so inspired by her – you could say quite obsessed! I’d dabbled in short stories but I wanted something more. A murder mystery with a twist’s what I was looking for. I looked in vain for many months but then I got a call “A Phantom sighted in the grounds of old Fillongley Hall”. My friend – the caller – found this heading in the local news, And posted me some clippings which I avidly perused. The Hall’s quite near – I knew it well - I had to check it out! And most of all, to see what all this phantom stuff’s about. The papers told of annual sightings down the lanes at night And villagers from all around described their dread and fright. The Phantom glided by while making not a single sound, Save for a weird ticking which set off the local hounds. Encouraged by these press reports, I spent time buying beers, And in the Weavers Arms I found so many volunteers. I only had to buy a round and they would tell their tales. Amazing how our memories improve with good strong ales! The other pubs – the Cottage Inn, the Bulls Head and the Bear – Provided confirmation of events that happened there. The ghostly spectre, ticking sound, and strangely glowing lights, All pointed to Fillongley Hall - the focus of their frights. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, I had to go and see This scary place – Fillongley Hall – if they would talk to me. To my surprise, my phone call then achieved that modest aim. "A novelist, are you? Please do come. Are you a famous name?" The Hall, of stunning limestone, in the neo-classic style, Is accessed by a driveway that extends about a mile. And then you see the portico, Greek columns either side. The home of Baron Norton, which was built with obvious pride. I’m taken through the Entrance Hall, with inlaid timber floor, And massive marble pillars – are they Doric? I’m not sure! And surely that’s a Rembrandt up there hanging on the wall? “I’m Lady Norton – Lizzie please – you’re welcome to our Hall!” “My husband’s out, but won’t be long. A guided tour comes first! A glass of wine? Of course, you will – to slake that writer’s thirst”. She showed me through the dining hall, the snooker room, the rest. As a setting for a murder – well, this surely was the best! I asked about the Phantom, but she smilingly demurred. “My husband knows the truth of it – in spite of what you’ve heard”. So, in due course, Lord Norton came and joined our little chat. “A great place for a murder then? I like the sound of that!” “Has Lizzie shown you ‘round the place, or only the indoors? Well, come with me - you’ve got to see the woodlands and the moors! As the setting for a murder, our home has got the lot. It’s up to you, dear novelist, to come up with the plot!" So as we walked around the grounds, I’m aching to find out The story of the Phantom, and how it came about! My patience was rewarded, and his Lordship gave a smile, “I wondered if you’d heard of that – I’ll show you in a while!” We walked back past the cricket pitch as it was getting dark, Towards a red-brick outhouse, on the edges of the park. “It all goes back to grandad’s days, when I was just a lad. He died – some say was poisoned – leaving everything he had”. “He must have been tormented by the timing of his death, And threatened that he’d haunt us with his very dying breath!” And as he spoke, he turned the key and opened up the door. “Voila!” he said, “Magnificent! This what you’re looking for?” I peered inside and there I saw the Phantom, there’s no doubt! A 1920s Rolls Royce car, the family runabout! “Grandad bought it just before he ‘bought it’ as they say, And he never got to drive it, to his very dying day!” “But what about the apparitions, can they be disproved? The weird lights, the ticking, and the silent way it moved?" “Just take a seat”, the Baron said, "we’ll take it for a drive, And I think you’ll see just how these myths could possibly derive!” He turned the key – the giant headlights gave a ghostly glow. He asked me “tell me what you hear – I think I prob’ly know!” “Don’t hear a thing”, I had to say – still suffering from shock! “Ah yes I do – that ticking noise is coming from the clock!” “That’s quite correct”, the Baron said, "Rolls Royce’s pride and joy. No engine noise at all, but all that ticking can annoy! So what’s left now of your well-thought-out phantom-murder plot?” I nearly killed him there and then but thought I’d better not! So always check your facts, my boy, always check your facts! Don’t put your faith in beer-bribed folk – always check your facts! Dispirited by all of this, I went straight home to bed, And vowed to spend my time in writing travelogues instead! {With apologies to the real occupants of Fillongley Hall} Edited by member, 26th Apr 2018 5:04 am
True Blue Coventry Kid

Coventry Poetry

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