ADAM'S NIB

It wasn't a woman tempted me
into my fall, into my fall,
just some paper and a pen -
the imperfection of it all.

   < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < - > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >

A HAMPER FROM LANDRAKE

In the creel of a slate-skied Cornish winter
we caught a scraping sound outside;
a huge mass landing, heavy as the weight
my father prayed would be lifted from
his jobless shoulders scraped and bowed -

cold wind shot through the hallway, lo!
we beheld a hamper packed with tins
and vegetables - no Christians,
just a scribbled note blown on the lino
saying from the Parish - my father scowled,
now he was obliged to let them Save him.

   < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < - > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >

THE COIN FORAGERS

During days of testing means
we'd find distraction in playing games;
one comprised four players,
rules always the same:
each foraged for mouldy copper tokens
hidden about the scrimping room,
collecting as many as they could find.

Some stuffed in the crumbs
under the settee's cushions; some
stashed in the clutter of the kitchen dresser.

The winner: first to disinfect their treasure.