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From textfixer

I looked at the words today, and couldn’t think of anything nice to write about! 

I think I’ve watched too many crime scene programs, because ‘bandsaw’ never bodes well in my imagination…




Binding  Hive  Honeypot  Houseguest  Star  Village  Bandsaw  Closing  Emergency


As he was binding

Her legs to the chair

She closed her eyes and prayed:

That soon his talk of her role as

The queen bee of his hive

Would stop.


The ropes were strong,

And he was grunting;

And still, that droning voice

(As her finger broke)

He spoke

Of her honeypot.


This houseguest

Turned attacker

Was at pains to be the star

Of something foul –

And he chuckled as he thought of

The village gossip.


He held up the bandsaw…

And out of nowhere

Came a cry!

His fate was closing in

As a small boy knocked him down,

And brought help running.


Thankful was she,

As she cradled her son,

That she’d taught him the three nines

Emergency dial.


Lurid scribbles

I think the pronouns are a bit too prominent in this one, and the attacker and the son get a bit confused at the end?  I would have figured that out a bit better, but I had no time left! 

It really didn’t help that our youngest burst into the bedroom and decided that he just had to plant a cute little kiss on my left elbow and tickle me under the chin a bit in the middle of me writing this poem…coupled with our eldest streaking and hollering at the bedroom door after his bath, minutes later. 

Lunacy runs in the family and, sometimes, it does it naked.


I can’t help thinking that the family in my poem will need lots of counselling to get over their ordeal.  I wonder how the young boy will process the event while growing up.

Will he be scared to leave his mum alone, or fearful that the nasty man will come to the house again?

What about the mum?  Will she be able to relax at home any more after that traumatic experience?


What do you think?



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