Parenting, Random poetry, Relationships Add comments


From textfixer


Ripe  Daylight  Hobby  Afraid  Moist  Lick  Airship  Liberation  Guillotine


He was a ripe old age

And the daylight fell

On his hands as he knit

For the unit.


His hobby gave strength

To those parents afraid

That their young ones

Might not last the ev’ning.


Though their faces were moist,

And foul demons did lick

At their courage,

And set it dissolving;

That this old man had gifts

He bestowed so freely

Garnered buoyance

On airship of meaning.


As each cast off drew near,

Liberation began

Of his kindness;

And sweet thoughts of others.


Inside moments of dread

Hope did grace the sweet heads

Of those whose fate

Loomed like the guillotine.


Notebook scribbles

I hope you like this poem 🙂

Hubby and I had another grammatical discussion around ‘knit’ but I am sticking to my old fashioned ways, as described here.



Unfortunately I am having to post and run because our Eldest is really unwell this evening.

It’s his birthday on Friday, too.  I am so sorry for him!

(If you don’t hear from me tomorrow, you’ll know I’ve caught what he has…pray for me, it isn’t pleasant 😛 )


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