The rabbit’s body is stiff and heavy in my hand. I wrap it in its funeral trappings, a plastic cloak as light and airy as its existence. It’s family lies in burrows deep below, the farmer’s poison dried within withered veins. I place it within its casket, a waste bin its solemn ferry to whereContinue reading “A Rabbit Passes. A prose poem.”
Today, I tore my calf muscle. For those of you not familiar with the calf muscles, they are not part of a cow, but located on the back of your lower leg. They are important for balance, walking, running and generally being human. When you tear your calf muscle it normally happens high up on the back ofContinue reading “Not Without My Calf! A true story of cows, muscle fibres and underinflated ego.”
I’ve been walking my friend’s dog, after house sitting there for a week. It’s to everyone’s benefit, as I can’t own a dog where I live and they don’t always have the time to walk her.
Here’s a poem about walking the dog. 🙂
I’m looking after a friend’s house in the city for the next seven days, and I’ve decided to record a number of songs I’ve written during the past year. After walking the dog this morning, my laptop (the one I use for recording which runs a normally very stable version of Windows XP) decided toContinue reading “House Sitter #2 – the 2nd song. Sort of…”
A dog’s nose smells every blade of grass Painting a picture in scent of everything that’s passed Counting the stops on every sandstone brick Smelling the reminders on the tires of, oh so expensive cars Rolling in the grass of innumerable companions past No time for harbour views or human history A dog’s nose isContinue reading “A Dog’s Nose. A poem.”
Another poetic experiment. Each line is a single word. This poem is metaphorical, in case you couldn’t guess.
This story is the prequel to a poem I wrote on my blog a while back. You can find it here.
I wrote this brief story for Uni. Now that the course is over I can post it.
This poem is the sequel to a short story I wrote for uni.
That little dog was originally acquired as my ex-wife wanted to walk more to lose weight. From the very first day (as I suspected), I became the one who walked Black Doggo, looked after him, took him everywhere. Because he was little (about twice as big as a Chihuahua), he conveniently fit nicely in my small car (my version of a handbag, I suppose). I would take him on long drives on weekends, walking along the beach, visiting parents and friends (a convenient substitute for my ex-wife).