Author: Mike Crowl

BLACK thoughts prickle me like
CACTI. Once again the teacher’s thrown the
CHALK – and missed. I ask you, is it
CIVIL to be his daily target? Is there insurance
COVER for a kid so picked upon, abused? The
CYNIC in me sees this happening till the end of term, his
GREEDy target set at a chalk a day; a kind… Continue reading English Lit Class

MAGIC music brought alive the hop-step
POLKA, but here these Poles were violent. A
SPURT of blood startled the dancers: someone
THREW a Szabla at the man who stole his girlfriend.  

BINGO! the would-be
CROOK with greased and
CURLY hair, aims his fist.
DRYLY the captain knows he’s champion in any
FIGHT; this captain of the
FINAL trip for the day on the
FJORD ferry, who stands aloof. The deck being wet, the youth slips and down the
HATCH he goes. The deck was somewhat
MOSSY, the captain admits to himself, smells somewhat
MUSKY, as… Continue reading All sport and no whistle

On the
JETTY they’re selling tubs of
PESTO, deep in its green as a
PRUNE is deep in red and brown, or a
TAWNY lion yellow in its yellowness.  

BRASS doorknobs glimmer; cheap
PASTE jewellery dims; Miss
PIXIE’s homelife narrows as
WIDER becomes her frame.  

The

APRON-GUILT makes PARTY STALE

DEIGN FLUNG at HARDY, SAUCE

BARGE CARGO was (yuk!) MELON-PATTY

BRI BED AUNTI ON (I C NORT) Honeymoon.

A TOLL at the gates of the once-magnificent
MANOR relies on the munificence of those with
MONEY. The sign mentioning the toll makes no
OVERT demands, relying simply on the visitor
RALLYing his or her generosity, not being
REPELled at the thought of digging in their pockets, having
SENSE enough to realise that the building, no longer in its
ZESTY heyday,… Continue reading Impoverished

Me
CADDY has most unobligingly gone orf for his hols to the
CAPE – Cod, that is. Has abandoned me, and has left me throat
DRIER, this month, than I remember being since I was introduced to the
TANGO, my Argentinian wife-to-be, and cocktails, all in one blighted evening.