A Little bit of fluff

 

A little bit of fluff makes

You want me

Pretties up my head like

A girl’s curls.

Yet I am a dog through and through

And my real appeal is

In what I can do.

Take me hunting

And I will retrieve

Find me a female

And she will receive.

But this little bit of fluff

On my head

Shows my breeding

Off to a tee.

 

This is a working dog owned by a local man who uses him in his land management and who also offers him for breeding. He has a wonderful temperament and is very obedient – a hit with all the clients.

Photo and poem copyright by Englepip©

 

 

via Daily Prompt: Fluff

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Daily Prompt: Old versus New

I used to prefer the old to the new

Classics over modernists

St Paul’s to the Shard.

I used to believe

Things should stay as they were

We should never move on

That change should be barred.

But then now became past

And your love slipped away

I  knew that you’d changed

And that I could not stay.

So now I look at the world

Through different eyes

New is the preference

I tend to prioritise.

For the world’s ever changing

What’s gone can’t return

A new future is beckoning

From the past I have learned.

 

Photo of the South Bank of the River Thames, London, showing the modern architecture, including the Thames. Poem and photo Copyright Englepip ©

 

via Daily Prompt: Prefer

Daily Prompt: Surreal dolls

Lopsided, faltering raggedy dolls

Stumbling forward with feeling

As though risen from the earth

After death.

~

Ironic that the  rag dolls of slave children

Toiled over and sweated from scraps

Reflecting the roles of their bondslave parents

Should now be held up by pristine props

In a glass cabinet in an English mansion

Precious items for all to marvel at:

Valuable antiques belying the heritage

Of poverty and sometimes cruelty

From whence they came.

A surreal experience to see them

In this manner.

 

I recently visited The American Museum in Bath, Somerset, where period rooms from America have been lovingly recreated piece by piece to amplify different eras in the design and art of the American nation. It is well worth a visit. I was struck by these rag dolls and the way they hung lopsided within the cabinet. Strange they should end up as valuable items in a glass case here in England. Definitely a surreal experience.

Poem and photo copyright Englepip ©

 

 

 

via Daily Prompt: Surreal

Daily Prompt: The Big Band

 

They said there’d be music

They said there’d be dance

When I looked at the band

I did not think grand.

 

Tried to make my excuses

To leave the room then

But my hosts stood before me

Said to just wait and see.

 

As the audience assembled

They started to tune

The cacophony piercing,

Pervading the room

 

I took a large gulp

Of the drink I was proffered

Tried to settle my nerves

For the sounds to be offered

 

But when they got started

I was tapping my foot

To the lilt of the music

Pure harmony they put.

 

Then “New York New York”

Sang out round the room

It wasn’t Old Blue Eyes

But he sang with aplomb.

 

Another old number

And I was “In the Mood”

As though with Glenn Miller

And now  I was glued.

 

From loud shrill and brassy

To romantic and soft

The band never faltered

I should not have scoffed.

 

 

And I loved all the evening

With these keen amateurs

And I learned to applaud

Not to offer censure.

 

So if you are invited

To a local venue

Give support open-minded,

Could be the best thing you do!

 

 

Amateur music can be just as fine as that of professionals given enthusiasm and talent moulded by a good conductor. I went to a Big Band evening and was really impressed with the band, which performs locally to raise money for charity. This poem and photo seek to express that. I hope you enjoy it and that you too will support local talent rather than just rely on the ‘professionals’ – remember everybody starts somewhere.

Copyright Englepip ©

 

via Daily Prompt: Cacophony

Crepuscular enlightenment

 

 

As the day draws to a close

On a day full of stresses

And frustrations,

My mind is in turmoil.

Hard to end the day with such negativity.

But I look through the window

To the darkening sky

And crepuscular rays

Enlighten the darkness

And lead me to know

That there is enlightenment

And tomorrow can be different.

 

Photo and poem copyright to Englepip ©

via Daily Prompt: Enlighten

Chuffing

Waiting at the station for the 9.15

And there’s a hustle and a bustle

And a whistle from afar.

Unawares,  I turn behind

And  I see the black express

Huffing and  a puffing

As it pushes down the line.

A mystery of noises

A character immense

Belting through the station

At enormous speed.

A little bit of history

A huge amount of steam

Heavy locomotive

Fired up like a dream.

And in a flash it’s passing

Carriages astern

The Bournemouth Belle

Has chugged on through

And left us in a whirl.

 

When this train came through I was totally unprepared, obviously from the number of other people with their cameras at the ready – they weren’t –  but what lovely start to a summer day it was.

 

via Daily Prompt: Express

Photo Challenge:Out of the cold

It’s cold

And the winter darkness draws in

As snow threatens from low hanging clouds.

There is an iciness in the air

Seeping into your very bones

And although you rub your hands together

And stamp your feet,

Your breath hangs like cloud in the air.

Nothing can make you warm

The whole world seems frozen.

 

And then you reach your doorstep

And the lights are on:

 

The door opens and the heat hits

Bringing an ache of warmth

As you remove fingers one by one

From your gloves.

The rich smell of cinnamon bake wafts

From the kitchen

And there’s a welcome voice and a bear hug

to greet you.

And then a little hand creeps

Into your big hand

And pulls you giggling and unresisting

Towards the glowing embers of

A log fire.

And you melt into what is

Home.

 

Photo and words copyright by Englepip©

 

via Photo Challenge: Glow

Daily Prompt: Loyal to the last

 

 

 

A friend, a father, an uncle, a son

Each loyal to the last.

Each believing they could stop

An enemy

Who each believed they could stop

an enemy

By following orders

Going over the top

Towards enemy gunfire

Which slugged into bodies,

Tearing and burning flesh

Til blood seeped unstoppable into

The quagmires of a foreign field.

Yet loyal to the last, to the cause of

The politicians who sent them.

Each poppy, each death

On either side,

A memory of

A life, a love;

Forever a grief.

 

Photos and poem copyright to Englepip ©

 

via Daily Prompt: Loyal

Cloaked in darkness

We drew up the boats at the water’s edge as the sun plummeted towards the horizon. Just in time for a campfire; and facing west, a chance to watch the setting sun turn the whole of the western reaches burnt orange and golden. Drink in hand, we watched in awe as darkness descended and a chill grew across the water.  Listening intently as the noises of the day dropped one by one, the intensity of the night-time sounds grew greater; grunts and barks of wildlife echoed and there was the occasional screeching of a female tawny owl. And then we heard it, the plop and plunge of paddles slicing the calm waters as two canoes swished past, rippling through the water in the dying light; making their way homeward, secretively, cloaked of darkness.

Photo copyright Englepip ©

via Daily Prompt: Cloaked

Daily Prompt: You would think there were giant skulls

Photo by Englepip©

You would think there were giant skulls

Awkwardly rising from the grassy edges of the field,

Combatants of Saxon times,

Reawakened by the late summer sun,

Reviving  to drink  afresh the air

Of  evening on the chalk Downland and

To  march again along the dusty ancient droves

To battle.

But if they are skulls, they are marred,

By scars cut deep into flesh and bone

Sores of ancient battle

As  warrior hacked warrior to the death.

But reality is equal to imagination

Both Exceptional

And the Giant Puffballs are a marvel of nature

Huge and resounding to the thrumming

Of your hand, like ancient drums

Yet also so delicious and nutritious  that

Even the snails have eaten through the flesh

and the deer  nibbled to the innards

Of this exceptional, gigantic, gastronomic delight.

 

via Daily Prompt: Exceptional