The cross is a kiss
For every blocked nought you play.
Let’s count it a draw!
New memo to self:
Turn a house into a home:
How many different words can you think of for house or home or living accommodation? If you were asked to draw a house, what would it look like? Would it look like a square with four evenly spaced windows and a door set centrally?
If you were thinking of buying or renting are you drawn to the actual name of the address or the house name? My uncle used to live in a bungalow called Cobwebs and its front door had a stained glass image of a spider’s web, while my father-in-law named his house ‘Hardgraft’ because he bought the biggest house he could and then worked many hours to pay for it!
Here’s a list I’ve come up with and each carries a different story (it may prompt you into some poetry writing!)…
Can you think of any more?
Here is my daisy poem
On the banks of the Seine
Daisies dance and squabble
Swaying in the breeze;
Praying for some sun.
Prim faces cloaked up at night:
Several sun bleached white-creased clothes
Interlocked one by one
Unfold as rays shine down
So bees and butterflies can perch
And rest, singing their summer song.
To make one yourself:
Cut out nine equal sized squares
Testimony to the typewriter:
You remember the click-clack
Postponing silence until the final key –
Every one an aggressive thump but …
Will you go wrong?
Rush for the Tippex
Irritated now by carbon-copy errors
Touch-typed, over typed, plain faded text
Erased as unfit for purpose:
Remember… be professional!
Two flew the nest
to taste the world
Trekking…expanding their circles.
Each footprint: history in the making.
Dust; confetti from the roads
peppering converses and jeans
between lectures and halls.
A hubbub of new knowledge
down telephone lines and Skype
where chatter explodes. Bitesize
jargon: a foreign tongue to mum.
Three stayed at home; one too young –
waiting to follow fresh footprints.
Two perched on the edge of their seats
waiting for the others to come home.