the crone

opening the door to ideas

I used to think that the clouds went to bed at night When I saw them softly wandering towards the horizon at sunset I imagined they gathered together In a heap On the horizon Resting Bedded down  Until morning came When it was time to stretch and pull away For another day wandering the open …

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This ad has made me a bit angry today. Not just the fact that it shows the arrogance of a company (person?) who doesn’t care enough about the written word to check spellings. But because somewhere, some place, some poor uncertain, shy writer may actually PAY THIS PERSON TO REVIEW THEIR WORK. And that is very sad. …

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Been sharing some lovely unintentional Ivor Cutler poems. These make me smile. “Slippers For Feet” “Five Cakes. Eight Cakes. Served With A Jug of Cream.”   If you have never heard any Ivor Cutler poetry, and you love words and absurdity, you might like to discover more. Life in A Scottish Living Room Squeeze Bees Hello! How are …

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There was a zombie woman on my early morning train. Her face was a skeleton. Smooth tea-coloured skin stretched over dry bones. Milky blank eyes of faint cataract blue. Colourless dry wisps of hair stuck to the dome of her skull. Her maw was opened. Dark. Like a tunnel. The dry lips strained. Mouthing. She stared forward. Focusing …

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