Of Quicklime and Mercury

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I am feeling better than I was, as I took some paracetamol about 2pm today, and did not die on the last legs of the schoolrun, but I had to concede that I was not feeling too brilliant this morning, and asked one of my lovely mummy friends to pick our wee one up from nursery for me.

This took 3 miles out of my daily walking total, while giving me time to eat a bit and get my poem done for today.

From jimpix.co.uk.


did go outside of my self-imposed rules a bit, I am sorry to admit, dear reader!  My brain was not working at anywhere near full speed, so I took the pressure off a bit and looked up the two words I didn’t recognise BEFORE I started my 15 minute timer. I hope you forgive me!

The poem was actually written before the timer went off, and my research only took about 7 mins as I was already sure what theme I was wanting to go for after reading ‘Raven’ and ‘kill’!!  So about 20 minutes all in, today?  Not bad for a sludge-filled noggin, I reckon.



Quicklime   Laugh   Craig   Auction   Raven   Kill  Mercury   Foul   Roscoe

“…and I would never use quicklime!”

He finished, with a laugh.

Craig was always so morbid,

Which kind of fitted the mood

As we sat through all those bids

At an auction of dead people’s stuff.


He kept himself neat

So unassuming, affable, but

His favourite topic would barrel

Into anyone who would listen.

He was all “quoth the Raven”

Expounding on horror and spook.


Upon his guidance, I could kill

Numerous people and not get caught.

Mercury filled thermometers,

A whole gambit of foul play.


And sometimes, together,

Gill and Roscoe’s bodacious horror podcast.


Because the dark can enlighten…



More candy floss writing

I did the best I could through the fog, and I think it turned out ok?

I saw ‘Craig’ as a guy who wears Pringle jumpers and decent glasses.  I think the speaker is a female student who is studying English and has mid-length tie-dyed hair. They may have met through mutual friends at Uni.  He’s probably taking Film and Media Studies.

(My subconscious doesn’t just go away if I ignore it, apparently.  It still rumbles on regardless of how yucky I feel).

Who would Craig have been in your piece? Or would ‘he’ have been part of a place name?

As always, expound in the comments please!




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