Missed me? Don’t answer that! Some things are best left undisturbed. Such as my latest project, which, on the off-chance you haven’t heard about it (and, to be honest, it’s a very big ‘off-chance’) can be found at my new home http://laurapendleburyadventures.wordpress.com/.
Crank your speakers up folks, otherwise none of it will make any sense. (Not that it makes a lot of sense anyway, but it’d make even less if you couldn’t hear it.)
And for anybody daft enough, there’s the Laura Pendlebury Adventures Fan Club over at Facebook. (I know…it’s Facebook…but even the devil has some uses sometimes.)
That is all,
Brian Hughes (Author of the Laura Pendlebury Adventures)
Now strangers flock in feathered rows
Of mourning black, like stiffened crows.
The usher and the vicar meet.
They’ve dragged the cold in from the street
For eulogies that can’t be heard,
Assembled from generic words.
The hymnal wraiths in shades of brown,
Just serve to weigh the hour down.
Tomorrow, when they’ve laid the ghost,
The emptiness will echo most.
She walked, one foot before the other, balancing with feline grace,
And moved like willows in a zephyr, summer pale on her face,
Then threw her hair aside, and dark-eyed, humbly bit her bottom lip.
Unspoken, all communication written through her fingertips
In calligraphic empty air.
The hour stopped.
The summer drained.
And in the silent emptiness
She lifted up her head and trained
Her eyes on mine. It wasn’t good.
I heard my heartbeat’s heavy thud.
Eternity stretched out and died
As, lost in thought, she walked on by.
And the man in the specs and the lopsided grin,
Wearing Jimmy Dean’s face just below his own skin,
Held his coffee mug tightly and watched through the steam
The girl who was, long ago, Carnival Queen.
Time had taken her looks and replaced them with clay,
And the echoes of laughter had faded to grey.
Now she sat on the opposite side of the room,
Where she couldn’t see much through her layers of gloom,
So absorbed in herself she had not realised
She was Carnival Queen in his misted old eyes.
There’s a racist and his girlfriend have moved in across the road,
And his first words when we met him in the street
Were: “It’s nice and quiet here. Not at all like my last house.”
And the rest of it I simply won’t repeat.
You see, I’ve never understood their vile self-important gusts
Of windy bigotry that crack their empty sails.
“They should send ’em all back home again!” he added with a sneer
Of contempt. I wouldn’t mind, but he’s from Wales!