Within his tavern of imaginings, out of body looking further outwards
indulgence his shy waitress serving up a comedy of realities
actualities that would censure his each and every manipulation

Dreamlands purple anecdotes a sometimes painkiller save for
when The Master of Suspense visits unannounced, then all is
a mere twisted and spoiled incidental lecherous laundry list plot
Returning to love’s dawn he turns back the clock, visualises her one last time
sat there as if only yesterday, kicking off her weather fagged sandals
such lovely legs dangling over a ‘crumble in your hands’ chalky cliff edge
so very high above the sea anemones and their tide pool stamping grounds
“Such a long way down, too much time to think if I were to fall” a passing thought
her mood changing with the weather, grumbling grey gout ridden clouds
hailstones and illusions determining that counting one’s losses prior to loss
as a bad habit except for when an outcome is as plain as the nose upon her face
By the time he had left she was ensconced indoors sat knitting a lone spare stocking
beside a dying hearth, enter the slovenly Tom cat and it felt like home once more
Tom cat had been on the missing list for several weeks, puts down her needles and wool
a cup of tea quest overdue, not before a witless dance of petulance for the
watched kettle that never boiled, wonders whether it is life or love that is a foreign thing?
had he been about he would have answered, “Both” she guessed
for she had unremittingly been the bookends keeping safe his word
Were he not away prospecting for golden flakes he may have been of some use
yet his opulent eyes always on the lookout for more, more, forever more
It seemed only proper the ringers tolled a peal of six wedding bells, those bells sat atop
the ‘once a house of worship,’ as of now most secular of crematoriums for posterity’s sake
this being the closest he would ever get to fulfilling a vow made back when the hermaphrodite daffodil flaunted its come hither treasures, blew its own canary yellow trumpet in the company
of a kindred montane pastures indistinguishable ensemble

‘Returning to love’s dawn he turns back the clock’ certain in the knowledge
that within the macrocosms fraternal twin there is no such thing as fiction

Aside from having an ongoing illness, of late I managed to acquire Covid-19. Not good by any means, that’s for sure. Whatever, appetite alludes me, taste no longer exists, the body a human torture chamber, hence I’ve not be able to write for some weeks now. Such is life. This current post, a rave from the grave.

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      1. Oh Mike, i know you will get there. YOu bloody better. Hell I dinna ken about the rest of the world but I do need more grave raves like this xxxxx

      2. Thanks, young Ms S.This Covid thing has a mind of ‘its’ own. Shirl got it first and apart for the horrible barking and a single day not feeling that good she came out the other side OK, whereas my son and I were, still are to some extent, ill for three weeks, maybe more. Shirl claims women are stronger than men…I think she’s correct.

  1. Oh! Sorry to know that Mike, dear friend. I have also had a trip with that virus, but it’s like a catching cold. I hope and wish you a good recovery soon. Please take care and drink a lot, ( I mean water!) My thoughts are with you. ✌️🤞🖖

    1. My thanks, Sir. ‘Tis strange how the virus kicks in. My wife had nominal discomfort whereas my son and I felt like death. I think we are on the recovery. My thanks for your kind words. Regards, Mike

  2. More words! And really intriguing ones. I’ll have to read this one twice. It’s a little mystery.
    I am sad to hear your body is letting you down. I hope you are feeling in the pink soon.
    That is a good cover of a song my mother loved

    1. My thanks for your kind words. I think I’m on the mend. I could be wrong…usually wrong is one of my skills!…but I think the song was the original, direct from the movie. I must check that. Thanks again, Mike

  3. So sorry you are ill. Covid is no fun (I was lucky enough to not lose my sense of smell/taste).
    This was a wonderful blast.
    Get better soon!

    1. My thanks, young Dale. I think I’m close to sanity again. Taste is marking its place in my mind plus I’ve put on some of the weight I’d lost…about a ton, it felt! I managed my first glass of French wine last evening…I thought it a waste of space previous as wine tasted like dish water. My thanks for your kind words, Mike

      1. I am glad to hear you are on the up and up. How tragic for wine to taste like dish water! Hopefully that situation is rectified right quick!

  4. I was intrigued by your “rave from the grave.” Many wonderful allusions, like “prospecting for golden flakes.” Covid can be overwhelming and scary. I was on an anti-viral that may have saved me. Hope you find a resolution to those symptoms soon. Take care, Mike.

  5. A creatively entwined write, TOF. I can agree with the conclusion, “there is no such thing as fiction”.

    Egads, Covid! Hope you feel better soon. I know so many who have caught it in the last 6 weeks. The current strain is the most catchy, yet!

    I grabbed the cover of MAYDAY for the review I’m working on. Much like your writing, my reviewing is unique. It will take me a bit. I’m planning on 2 drawings…. and I’m not sure what else, as it’s just beginning to form.

    1. You’re a kind lass, young Resa. The world needs more of you. On the one side, I’ll beg for mercy; on the other I’m still laughing. Overall I remain a nutter…maybe it helps this vile illness. I look forward to see what you have made of my book…good or bad, doesn’t matter. I shall now ‘look’ at a bottle of the wine I can’t taste…irksome but true. Regards, TOF

      1. You might not be able to taste the wine, but you will feel it! Have fun!
        I’ve got a good start on the review, TOF!
        Sometimes my own mind excites me. xx Get Well!

      2. At long last I can taste again. Only last evening I managed to tell a rotting turnip from a Greek salad as well as French red from tap water…deep joy for sure. Again, my thanks for your kind words, young Resa

    1. My thanks, Liz. I think I’m on the mend at last.This Covid thing has a mind of ‘its’ own. Shirl got it first and apart for the horrible barking and a single day not feeling that good she came out the other side OK, whereas my son and I were, still are to some extent, been ill for three weeks, maybe more. Shirl claims women are stronger than men…I think she’s correct. For the first time since giving up wine as I couldn’t taste it I managed a glass of decent French red last evening and I can report I could taste it. All the best, Mike

  6. A fabulous write Mike. Thank you for reviving it, I don’t recall reading this before. So sorry you caught this incredibly nasty plague Covid. Wishing you a speedy recovery.

    1. My thanks, young Holly. I think…hope…I’m on the mend. Yesterday out of the blue, taste returned overnight. All I need is the return of a tad of sanity. Your kind words are appreciated. Regards Mike aka TOF

  7. I have not had Covid, so you have my sympathies, Mike. I have been ill (probably heatstroke) since the ‘big heat’ last week though, and still have little or no energy. The song took me back to the film ‘The Thomas Crown Affair, where it was used so skilfully during a glider sequence.

    As for the cliff edge, I remember saying the same thing to my first wife as we sat on one. Too far down not to realise we were falling, and having time to think about hitting the rocks.
    Get well soon.
    Best wishes, Pete.

    1. It’s a funny old world, Pete. We get the injections plus the boosters; even now we wear the masks; we don’t mix with others hardly, indeed I’m the only one who goes downtown, yet it was my wife who got the wretched virus first (a visit to the dead and alive library, she thinks) and aside for a single day’s illness and an ugly cough she suffered little. Then there’s me, as much use as a fart in a thunderstorm presently. All I can say to those who stroll about thinking they’re immune is ‘get real, you might get away with a hearty sneeze; you might feel like death for days on end, then again some poor sods die’. I’m not quite the latter (hopefully) although the missus claims women are stronger than us chaps when it comes to illnesses. She’s probably right. Thanks for read. Much appreciated. Regards, Mike

      1. Yes, I always love songs that tell a story since I was a child. Moody Blues, song like Suzanne by Leonard Cohen and Where do you go to my Lovely by Peter Sarstedt

      2. I agree wholeheartedly. Indeed your choice of artists are ‘on my list’. Cohen especially. Famous Blue Raincoat one of his best in terms of storytelling.

  8. Hope you feel much better soon from Covid. It’s closing in on my husband and I as we haven’t had the pleasure yet. A wonderful piece of writing. Hopefully, I will get to read more of your work as I have just worked out my settings.

  9. Oh, Mike I have missed your posts. I hope you get better soon. No one likes an illness on top of an illness. Take care of yourself. I hope your sweet wife has not gotten it, too.

    1. Kind words appreciated, young LuAnne. My wife got it first yet suffered little save for her barking cough. My son and I not so good. I’m getting now…just about. I even wrote a chapter today…at last. The daft thing is that we don’t go down town; we wear marks, got all the injection+. Shirl thinks she got it in the library. We’ve had a horrible 3-4 weeks. That said, my sincere thanks. Regards, Mike

      1. I have been blessed to miss it so far but so many of my friends vaxed and boosted got it any way. It’s a mean, arbitrary virus. Wishing you and your son a speedy recovery and Shirl some respite from all the caregiving I am sure she is offering.

      2. What with us and the mad punny we have called Rosie, poor Shirl is certainly earning a medal. She did make mention that females are stronger than us chaps…I think she’s correct on that one. Regards, Mike

  10. That was incredibly beautiful, Mike. And I hope that you feel better soon. My husband and I both got COVID in May, and it was awful. I have underlying health issues such as asthma, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I had to get a new inhaler and everything. Cheers to you, and I look forward to reading more of your work!

    1. Hells bells you’ve been through a lot, young Miss Greene. I agree wholeheartedly that when one illness is swallowed by Corvid torture is guaranteed. I’m the same, IBS born of stress via Brexit coupled with the dreaded virus is genuine torture. I wish you well, take care and all the very best. Regards, Mike aka The Old Fool aka TOF

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