"Last Verse Thoughts" (Entry 555)

What are these words I write?

Is it for a solitary read, 

or do others truly take heed?

Considered true poetry of Parnassians find? 

No, just rambling verse of no particular kind.

I know the truth behind these scribbled letters. 

They are all emotions outlet, 

inked, release and then forget. 

Others are there as rememberings.

The joy, the heartache, the little things. 

There's also waffle within what's weaved. 

Of nonsense, fun and rhyming prances. 

From distant space onto page and dances. 

Whatever explodes from these words I write. 

I hope occasionally they delight. 

I hope it means something to someone, even so slight. 

With that I write, farewell. Good night. 

**********

So we're here! Entry 555 completed!

Task accomplished!

When I began this blog in July 2012, part of me trembled with the thought if pushing myself in writing this amount on a daily basis. There was times of hiccups, times of computer or internet failure, times of illness, but I've made it...

And a massive thanks to you for sticking with me on this quest. Your support has been invaluable. 

Even though this blog is now finished, I have new updated plans for my poor, forgotten main site: http://thecraftyscribe.blogspot.co.uk more information to follow soon. 

I hope you'll join me there and on Twitter: @thecraftyscribe

Thank you again, see you on the other site!

"flood forecast" (Entry 554)

never ending rain:

deluge over many days

more to come, pour on

*************

Almost there! Just one more day... See you tomorrow...

"Jim's Tale" (Entry 553)

This is the tattered tale of a cat called Jim. 

He was ragged and scared and painfully thin. 

It started when his owners bought a kitten that year. 

Soon Jim was forgotten, unwanted, thrown out on torn ear. 

Spent his time, touring bins, but they offer a little picking. 

If seen by the humans, he cowered away from a kicking. 

Shaken and frozen, famished day and night. 

Poor moggy Jim lived out his plight. 

Then one fateful eve, when this destitute kitty was near his end. 

He limped to a warm spot for this time to spend. 

Upon a warm grate, he curled up his scrawny lot,

And drifted into dreams right there on the spot. 

He dreamt of smiling faces and cuddles and bowls of fish,

He dreamt of strokes, a fully warm belly, and his own milk dish. 

He dreamt of being lifted and floating in the air,

He dreamt of loud music, coloured lights and an red armchair. 

On and on, as he slept, the perfect dream persisted,

Then Jim realised he was awake, this wondrous place existed!

For he had found rest beside the stage door,

The theatre caretaker taking him in as rain began to pour. 

Slowly, he nursed Jim back to life,

Fed him, cleaned him, no more strife. 

"It's good to see you alert, ma old fella,

It was touch and go there, I'll tells ya!"

"This is your home now. You'll be safe, warm and fed." Frank the caretaker told him. 

"Anyone who finds their way to our door, will never be out on a limb."

"But you'll need to earn yourself a wage. 

By greeting people, and keeping rats from the stage."

Frank smiled and stroked the furry face. "What you think on that?"

Jim blinked and purred. A whole new start. He was now a Theatre Cat! 

"Disprin Times" (Entry 552)

A cold! A cold...

Or if I might be so bold -

The Flu!

What to do?

Disprin times coughs forth

Dispersible measures. 

Lozenges and tinctures,

Medicated treasures. 

Don't call for a doctor,

Croak out for Vick. 

He'll give you the vapours,

That'll do the trick!

Lots of water,

Plus moisturise with lotions.

Hot lemon toddy,

Along with the potions. 

Assortment of remedies 

To tackle this cold - errr, flu!

Then there's the hankies...

Hang on... just a second... Ah... Ah- Atishoo! 

Remember to rest and vitamin C. 

Under the quilt, best place to be. 

(Need to sleep now - I'm afraid I'll drop off. 

So that's the lot. With that I'll... Cough! Cough!)

"Tranquil after the Tempest" (Entry 551)

Tranquil after the tempest.  

Clear and distant. 

World in focus.

Crows call and crowd on cobbled beach. 

Pebbles tumbled like peanuts in a forlorn drunk's bar bowl. 

Ducks fly in haphazard formation,

To smack onto mucky water.

Squadron permission to land - dive into arrival, flap, slap, splash then rest. 

Starlings flit, too many to count

Are they really there?

As they skim sea's surface,

Playing havoc with the eyes,

Dark specks above white wave flecks,

Seeming to exist in numerous realms. 

Spectral dots in spacial dimension. 

Lone seagull fights for territory 

On surf and turf. He can hold his own. 

Calm after the storm?

No fear!

Life goes on, even here. 

"A New Present" (Entry 550)

A present for the new. 

Given to you. 

Abundance in all you need. 

Goodwill in every deed. 

Health and power through your life. 

Freedom to be beyond all strife. 

Happiness for every day. 

Hope to enjoy, laugh and pray. 

Love to you, and pass it on. 

May peace be with you, all year long. 

*********

Happy New Year, everyone!

550 poems written, only 5 poems to go!