From something old
Comes something new
A different shade
More red than blue
From Old Labour
Borrowing
Good favour
And
A following
*
by Gail
Humour
Supermarkets
One day I went to Morrisons
Forgot to take a map
I only wanted beans and buns
And bog roll for a cr*p
Got lost by the ladies things
Forgot my North and South
I didn’t come for flapping wings
Or stuff to wash the mouth
It’s just as bad in Sainsburys
Perhaps it is my age
The fruitless quest for herbal teas
Just puts me in a rage
I’m far too flipping old for these
Daily shopping trials
I’m sweating like a Stilton cheese
Lost in the British aisles
Maybe home delivery?
Should I? Do I dare?
Become a couch potato
Fat arsed, shopping from my chair
I’d miss the talking checkout though
And cheery orange bags
My unexpected items
And my special pricey fags
I’m hard, I can handle it
I’m such a little trooper
And while I’m there I’ll have a sh*t
Markets. Simply Super.
*
by Gail
My Book Of Short Stories
Here is the link to my book of short stories, published today on Amazon for Kindle. You can download a free Kindle app if you do not have a device. Some of you will have read my work but there is some new material here. I hope that you will enjoy this mix of humour, psychology, art, spirituality and local interest. The book is dedicated to my writing friend, Karen North, to Devizes, and to anyone with whom I have ever shared love, humour, understanding or joy. You know who you are. Please share, buy, read, review and recommend. And finally, I love books and Devizes Books, and intend to keep supporting my local bookshop. Thank you for your interest in my work.
Carnalville
Devizes Carnival tonight! Watch out for Roger…!
Roger’s libido had increased significantly in his eighties, in inverse proportion to the decrease in his hearing and cognitive ability. The long suffering Betty had tried, despite her arthritis and utter disinterest in such matters, to accommodate his needs; there had been cringeworthy forays in to swinging, unusual items appearing in the shed and furtive gropings on the bus to Swindon.
“Carnival tonight” said Betty, one September in the late afternoon. She was baking buns for church on Sunday, and a warm waft drifted through the house and in to the garden and the Devizes air.
“Carnalville?” said Roger “What goes on there?”
“Oh you know. Dancing girls. Men in dresses. People standing on street corners. Sounds of pumping and banging. Drinking. Over excitement. Unwanted pregnancies. Rubbing up against strangers. The usual.”
Roger liked the sound of Carnalville very much indeed. An appropriate occasion for the Calvin Kleins perhaps. And an extra Viagra.
It was going to be a very interesting night.
by Gail
Florence’s Pie
Sir Terry Wogan and Mason McQueen take a tasty trip round town…
*
No traffic jam when Terry came
No culinary surprise
He used his loaf and found some cheese
When munching round The Vize
He and his little Mason friend
Had breakfast at The Bear
Sausage, bacon, beans an ting
No revelation there
Terry chewed the fat a bit
And did a bit of walking
A bit of pork, a bit of cake
And pudding (now you’re talking)
The flight of locks left Terry cold
He didn’t eat the quackers
Then things got quite interesting
When John got out his clackers
And hold on there is Florence
Making Olde Vizes Pie
Terry’s buds are tickled now
A stuffed fox winks an eye
*
So cheers for that then, Terry, mate
You put our town on telly
But next time have some lardy
And get rat ars*d in the Pelly
*
by Gail
(For Florence from The Black Swan
and the Unusual John Girvan)
Green Men
On the Green Men who are carved in stone at the church
of St. John the Baptist, Devizes…
Fie Sir, thou art a Troll
(a response to a provocative post)
*
Your voyeuristic anal post
Has got me choking on my toast
I should have better things to do
Than commenting on sex and poo
Whilst everybody likes a joke
‘Tis somewhat niche, the anal poke
Night up the alley, hard to see
For those without a front door key
What people do behind closed doors
With wives or husbands, friends or whores
Is up to them when with consent
I question, sir, your post’s intent
We English hide within our castles
No comment when it comes to assholes
Trolling really gets my goat
Fie, sir, flounder in my moat
I hope your banal gasket’s blown
Write what you know and get your own
*
by Gail
Changing the Soundtrack
(the bells of St.John the Baptist, Devizes, go Pete Tong)
Sunday, summer, church bells chiming
Ringing patterns, sounding light
Ancient forms of echo, rhyming
Complex rhythms, bounded, tight
Resounding voices throng the breeze
As tower captains keep in time
Wise bells with personalities
In sacred music, old, sublime
Last month the bells went out of sync
And changed the soundtrack of the town
No one heard but me, I think, but
‘Twas the Stranglers, “Golden Brown”
(dum, dum, di dumdumdum…)
by Gail
Banksy’s Joke
I want to go to Dismaland!
I’ll thcweem until I’m thick!*
I have blisters on my fingers
From the endless futile click
There’ll be secretaries on it
Pulling non-existent strings
There’ll be rumours of a con
On social media and things
I want to go to Dismaland
And see the horrid stuff!
How come I can’t buy tickets
And my money’s not enough?
In the shadows Banksy chuckles
He’s got the Art World in his hand
He has turned pretention on itself
As planned
by Gail
The phrase marked with * is a quote from Violet Elizabeth Bott, from the Just William stories, who was a very spoilt footstamping little girl with ringlets and a lisp…
The Gift of Eros
Aloft flies Eros; mischief fluttered wings
With silent rustle whisper overhead
By arrows pierced; the hearts of knaves and kings
The chilly grave, the restless lover’s bed
Blue London air, red Piccadilly light
Above the shifting crowd and constant noise
In summer heat, in neon and the night
He aims his slender bow with perfect poise
Aloft flies Eros; underneath his feet
As shadows of the Circus slowly shift
I contemplate my own love, bitter, sweet
The wound that Eros wrought in me, the gift
And as I turn my tears up to the sky
A pigeon drops an arrow in my eye
by Gail
gailfromdevizes 