Poems are the theme this week.
Hello everyone, I do hope you are well in such difficult times. But remember - live - laugh - love goes a long way. Take care now. THE LAST IN LINE by Rick Haynes Things ain’t what they used to be, for the worlds gone mad, you see. So many people now stuck indoors, washing dishes and constantly bored. The roads are empty, no cars around. Can you hear the birds, the only sound? I hear a van it’s coming near, but no groceries for me, I fear. I may be old and on my last legs, bu
WUHAN - THE GREAT COVER UP? - YOU DECIDE
WUHAN - THE GREAT COVER UP? - YOU DECIDE From Messrs PENDLEBURY and NASH On the 19th of April 2020, the Daily Mail launched a major new series uncovering China’s role in fuelling the corona virus pandemic. In part one, drawing on expert testimony, their writers investigated claims that the new strain of corona virus had escaped from a lab in Wuhan, the city from where it emerged. Today, they document the audacious cover-up that allowed the virus to spread, with deadly consequ
STAYING ALIVE by Rick Haynes The speed at which the Coronavirus has spread is truly frightening. And with the number of dead, and those infected rising every day, the future is bleak for all humans on our beautiful blue planet. Even the advances in medical science have proved of little value so far. A cure? Who knows. Mankind is facing a massive challenge yet the fatuity of some is boundless. Thus, with the NHS under so much pressure, I make no excuses for this post. Life is
This is Poetry Week
Needs Must by Rick Haynes (with apologies to all poets) I entered the store We needed much more And I was a fool For breaking the rule My heart was thumping My feet were jumping From shelf to shelf All by myself Made way to the food Stood, waited and queued I filled up the trolley Bumped and said sorry Time now to go The tills are so slow Paid out the cash And now to dash The car is nearby And I must fly I sat and I cried I hope I’ll survive Now for the white mask It’s such a
Timeless by Rick Haynes The innkeeper poured more ale. The man with the scarred face picked up the tankard, downed it in one go, burped and made his way up the creaking stairs to see if the local whore was available. All but one of the thirsty customers took any notice. Dressed in woollen trews, a faded black jacket and heavily soiled leather boots he watched and waited. As the last of the customers were thrown out, he rose from his seat, tossed a silver coin to the innkeeper