Thrills & Spills
December 2011
#035
The Thrills And Spills Of Life
Life is full of thrills and spills
The crazy rushes and then the stills
The build up to Christmas is a time of rush
Followed by a short time of in between hush
Then things pick up again to celebrate New Year
A time for celebrating with family and peers
I enjoy the peaceful times, a time to reflect
But the hurried times are exciting too, what to expect
Without the thrills my life would just be boring
No time for adventure with my spirit soaring
For without the spills I would have nothing to discover
But without the spills, no time for myself to recover
I think its important to have a balance of both
A time for cheetahs, a time to be a sloth
After all they say that variety is the spice of life
A little time of peace a little of strife
Some people call it the calm before the storm
Challenges are coming, this peace to deform
My moto is to always enjoy life whether thrills or spills
Make the most of things that’s how to fulfill
After all Life is full of thrills and spills
Liz Jury
GROW
Rollercoaster Ride
Clickety clack clickety clack
Scared yet so excited
No chance of looking back
Our carriage slowly ascended
Bodies began to weaken and slack
Tiny world beneath feet trembled
Clickety clack clickety clack
Scared yet so excited
Descending down the metallic track
We joltily twisted and turned
Adrenaline rush, stomachs turned
Hearts in mouths out knee strength did lack
Clickety clack clickety clack
Scared yet so excited
Mark Crittenden
GROW
Thrill Seekers
Thrill seekers come and see,
What amazing things you can do to be,
Moved to the edge of reason,
Sometimes waiting for certain seasons.
Thrill seekers, some jump out of plane,
Many think to do that is insane,
They climb the highest peak,
What is it that they seek,
Thrill seekers, some dive into the depths,
Or traverse huge gaps, high with no nets,
They jump from various things,
Their screams of pleasure sings.
Thrill seekers, jumping from heights,
Sometimes with chutes or bungie cord that bites,
When they arrest their falls,
Sometimes filling their smalls.
Thrill seekers, find fast rides,
Or try to beat against the tides,
In deserts they scramble, tires biting,
Always for life they are fighting.
Fair rides and parks are another source of fun,
Up down, any direction is fine, bar none,
Most of the time this all comes with a fee,
All they needed to do was join the Military
Chris Duncan
Reaching For The Sky
Above me I see a challenge,
I am ready to try, to reach for the sky
I have all I need, this habit I must feed,
One foot in front of the other,
Taught to me long ago by my mother.
With a Calming breath I step up,
Place my shoe upon the stone,
Instantly I feel that I have found my home,
On my second step, I am rising,
My enjoyment always surprising.
My friend is below, paying out as I go,
In these adventures, for me there is always two,
Ask about soloists and they say who?
The gear is heavy, glinting in the morning light,
Without it I am certain a slip, would end in flight,
I make progress, climbing high,
I rise steadily from sleep and the night,
My grip each time firm, gear placed tight,
With each step I can see much more,
As I look out, take a breath my heart can soar.
The moves are done methodically,
I place everything always with care,
My feet, hands, gear, here or there,
But there is always time,
To stop and stare, while on a climb.
The beauty of the mountains and cliffs,
All around me while I struggle up,
Makes all my emotions Erupt,
The views are beautiful, so calming,
Many natural wonders, and a bit of farming.
It has a profound effect on me,
Everything troubling, Worries and fears,
Nightmares, problems, things that bring tears,
Fall away, dropping like stones,
Strength builds back in my weary bones.
I keep progressing, reaching,
Half way from the top,
I make another stop,
With knots, Karabiners and gear,
I anchor so my friend can climb here.
When he reaches me we pause,
As we always do to swap gear,
And to take a breath, swallowing fear,
Fear is natural and right,
Any that say they have none won't see the night.
Then he is moving off, reaching above,
I pay out rope to aid his progress,
But always ready if he falls, to arrest.
To stop the flow of rope,
In the quality of his gear placement we both hope.Many times we swap, before we reach the top,
On the last leg it is up to me,
To get us both up safely,
I am now at peace, feeling quietly calm,
This great rock seems to guard us from harm.
When at last the end I can see,
I step up over the edge and walk back,
Reaching for some gear I arrange my tack,
Happy we are both safe, I signal to him, come up,
He starts up, at the top we greet and drink from a cup.
With a smile plastered on each face,
We start to get ready for the walk down,
As we walk back I have a moments frown,
I wonder when my next chance will be to try,
To climb cold rock, reaching for the sky.
Chris Duncan
Arrival
The waters break, they cause a spill
Before the thrill you get from birth.
No longer carried, borne in pain
But born to claim a place on earth
And have the thrills and spills of life
From that first cry until you die.
Andrew Diamond
Goodmayes Writers
Spills And Thrills
A new sports car
he presented to me
Shining, sparkling
for all to see
Come said he
let's see how she goes
So soon we sped
disappearing hedgerows.
The thrill of the chase
the wind in the hair
The hump in the road
was our despair
The spill was dramatic
you would not believe
The tree was majestic
it did not relieve.
Jackie Primett
Stevenage Survivors
The Biker
Masturbate your motorbike
Sitting at the traffic lights
And revving up your engine
Just to give us all a fright.
Flashy helmet, wrapped in leather;
Looking tough in any weather.
Lights turn green and you weave through
The slowly moving traffic queue.
Pick up speed. Away you go.
Overtaking just for show.
You’re intent on having fun;
Eighty, ninety, now a ton.
Cameras flashing everywhere,
Cops about, but you don’t care.
Speed away! I only pray
That you will stay alive today.
Andrew Diamond
Goodmayes Writers
The Broker
The price goes up, the price goes down.
It is all the same to me;
I make money either way.
The market is a game I play;
Buying, selling when I can.
I am just the middle man
And when the owner gives permission
I do a trade and earn commission.
In the world of stocks and shares
Some are bulls and some are bears.
Make a profit, make a loss;
I really couldn’t give a toss.
Folk will ask me to suggest
Ways in which they can invest
In hedge funds or in unit trusts
Or pension schemes that can’t go bust.
As finance firms create their plans
To get your money in their hands
With packages that take the piss,
My derivative from this
Is that I’ll always be all right;
A broker and a parasite.
Andrew Diamond
Goodmayes Writers
Just A Thought
Look at a tree.
Now close your eyes;
Imagine it bare.
Which seems more real,
The tree you could see
Or the one that’s not there?
Using your mind
Fly in the sky.
Circle the earth.
Experience life
In millions of ways,
Enriching your days
With sights and with sounds
And with tastes that abound
In the world all around.
Move throughout time,
Go back and forth;
The future, the past,
The bad and the good.
Then change things, at last
To be as they should.
Travel in space.
Be one with the sun.
See every place
In the vast universe
But then ensure
That your flight’s not a curse.
For although it is sad
You must come back to earth
Or you’ll drive yourself mad.
Andrew Diamond
Goodmayes Writers
Lost Weekend In Baku
I woke in a cloud of lavender oil & liniment.
A business card with one recognisable word
GAZPROM, and a circled phone number
was propped on the bedside table. A roll
of gaffa tape & a blindfold lay next to it.
Evidence? A slow motion chain of associations,
a stroll with Kipling’s 6 Honest Serving Men.
If this was a thriller or police procedural,
which page was I, which book or TV show?
A local franchise of CSI or The Shield?
Go figure; I might not be James Bond but
being British must count for something.
A torch with a stain on one end, a sachet
of shower gel, a box of matches, a case
of Windsor & Newton watercolours, a rope;
What am I missing? If I was Sherlock
Holmes, Hercule Poirot or Philip Marlowe,
I could reconstruct last night’s events,
but I am none of the above, and if I could
vote for myself as Nun of the Above,
I might not believe in my own innocence.
I was in a bar, heard some very bad jazz,
drank the local tractor fuel, went to another
bar, drank some Turkish beer, recited Yeats
& Auden, then the rest is a perfect blank.
If I cannot find my clothes, money or credit
card, it won’t be the first time a naked man
has marched down to this hotel’s Reception
wielding a strategically placed copy of
The Wordless Travel Book, open at p.13.
Brian Docherty
Word for Word Writers Group
Get Out Of Denver, Baby
Not the friendliest 6 am phone call;
who calls before breakfast with good news?
Ok, let’s bundle & go, skip breakfast,
leave our lives behind. Just drive.
Pick a town, pick a state.
By the time I get to Phoenix . . .
What’s goin’ on in Phoenix?
Dunno, let’s go find out.
So, who was the Masked Announcer?
If I knew that, I’d be President.
Who do you want to be today?
I dunno, who was I yesterday?
You know the story, guy leaves Vegas
with 100 large, arrived with a mil?
Don’t tell me you pissed off the Mob?
No, I came with nothing, I’ll leave with nothing.
What’s your name anyway, pardner?
Dunno, I haven’t read the script.
Ok, let’s stick to roles -
I’m Driver, you’re Mechanic,
there’s always a Girl, Another Driver,
always another race, another motel.
Let’s roll, our mystery caller is due
anytime, we’ll get coffee on the road.
Brian Docherty
Word for Word Writers Group
I Did
I smile through my veil
A curtain of stars
Forms a sparkling trail
That brightens the pale
Of my face
I hold out my hand
To conceal the scars
A solid gold band
United we stand
Tears and lace
We sign on the page
Your vow is a farce
My opening stage
Is your gilded cage
To escape
And now I'm alone
Promises don't last
Your weapon - the phone
Your words hit like stones
Dead embrace
I sign once again
Your tense is now past
Like birthing I strain
An end to my pain
The last trace
Ashley Jordan
GROW
Phantoms Of The Forest Mist
In the woods, dead of night
Snapping twigs give you a fright
Fog drifts in through leaves and trees
You start to fill ill at ease
Creeping slowly up behind
Tel yourself, they're in your mind
Hurry, hurry, faster go
They're getting closer still you know
The wood's edge is now in sight
Start to run with all your might
Trip and stumble, then fall down
So you crawl across the ground
Branches hold you back it seems
This is a nightmare not a dream
Frantic now, you try to wake
But this time there is no escape
Within your chest your heart a-pounds
Silently, the fog surrounds
Eerily they writhe and twist
The phantoms of the forest mist.
Ashley Jordan
GROW
Mount Horntye
We had a mountain in our house
One we climbed with care
To sit triumphant at the top
And all around us stare
The mountain was with perils fraught
Which we overcame
The risk and danger seemed to be
The best part of the game
Tatty teddies often fell
To their dreadful doom
In sorrow, we buried them
In their toy-box tomb
When at last we went to bed
We would cry all night
With our beloved friends not there
Sleep did not seem quite right
Our woe-filled hearts were broken
Like our teddy bears
So mum fetched thread and needle
To mend the tears and tears
Ashley Jordan
GROW
No Tomorrow
The promise of the coming spring
Was never quite fulfilled
And the summer I had dreamed of
Was yet more cruelly stilled
Autumn rained upon my sadness
My heart was icy chilled
Winter starkly trampled over
Everything I'd willed
And thus the seasons ebb and flow
Marking milestones in my sorrow
Passing moons that leave me hollow
Please, let there be no tomorrow
Ashley Jordan
GROW
Toxic Revenge
I'm very pleased to welcome
Our special guest tonight
Let's show our appreciation
For the lovely winter's bride
Through trials and tribulations
She's come a long, long way
Past self-destructive love
To be with us today
She is here to tell us
How every woman can
Learn to find true happiness
Without their let-down man
Dressed in sparkling black
How fabulous she looked
With shining hair and painted lips
The gloss of Hollywood
And when she softly spoke
How the audience thrilled
At the graphic details of
The lover she had killed
They hung upon her every word
Eyes fixed upon her face
As she revealed the poisons
That wouldn't leave a trace
Scribbling toxic recipes
And gasping with surprise
They tutted disapproval
That didn't reach their eyes
And now we are just waiting
To read the news headlines
Of all the faithless partners
Who find they're out of time
We're sure that this new tactic
Will break the modern trend
Of husbands, boyfriends, fathers
Who'd rather be 'just men'
Ashley Jordan
GROW
Street Love On A Budget
I roll a fag, he rolls his eyes
I lay back, he grips my thighs
I think of home, he gasps and sighs
This is street love on a budget
He pays in cash, I count the notes
He takes his shoes, I pass his coat
He drives away, I hit the road
This is street love on a budget
Ashley Jordan
GROW
It's Christmas Eve!
Twitchetty - tock, Twitchetty – tock
When is it Christmas?
When is time?
When are we going to go?
I’m Twitchett the fidget
And I’m all flibbertigibbet
To bound around in the snow
Twitchetty – tock, Twitchetty – tock
When is it Christmas?
When is time?
When are we going to go?
Cos’ I’m twitchily, itchilly
Dying to fly, high
In the glittery sky
Twitchetty – tock, Twitchetty – tock
When is Christmas?
When is time?
When are we going to go?
I’m all jingly, dingily,
Zingily and tingily
To shake my bells and bow
It’s Christmas Eve!
It’s Christmas time!
And Santa’s ready to go!
Look at the snow!
Look at it glow!
Let’s go on with the show!
Footnote: Twitchett is very impatient and over excitable reindeer!!!
Jan Hedger
GROW