A Dark Dark Morning

It was a dark, 

dark morning.

The air was still,

and the fog,

fog covered everything.

Creatures,

mystical creatures,

glared angrily through the fog as they sped past.

Their eyes like headlights cut through the gloom.

Large gnarled monsters,

monsters with big round eyes,

seemed to just appear,

appear through the murk as my eyes adjusted.

Their strong twisted arms were raised against a slowly,

slowly forming blood red sky.

Apparently in annoyance they called out at the passing creatures and seemed to chase,

chase along the roadside after them!

Then,

steadily,

gradually,

slowly,

slowly the red sky became blue,

the fog started to lift,

and the terrible,

terrible forms that had been,

started to drift away.

The once monsters became trees,

and the bright,

bright eyed creatures just passing cars,

as the suns golden ray's washed,

washed them all away.

I Like It

What am I saying when I 'like' your social media post?

Maybe it's "I agree with you!"

or, "Yeah; I see what you mean!"

Sometimes it's "I love that image of yours - nice one!"

or "those words have touched something within me - thank you!"

Sometimes it because I want to support you, 

your stance,

your cause,

your angle on life...

or just you.

Sometimes it's because you've made me chuckle!

Sometimes it's because I think it's clever...

But sometimes it's just because... I like it!

(Haiku)

'Scrums' are fragile things

seeing they're made from 16 

steaming, hairy blokes!

(Haiku)

That's three times I've saved

that big spider from the bath. Perhaps it likes it!

Thread

A thread is just a thread.

Just a fine strand of fibres,

spun together to make thicker strands.

Historically made from wool,

or plant fibres such as cotton or silk.

Now threads are made from man made materials such as nylon,

but all are just long thin threads spun into strands.

A thread is just a thread whatever it's made of.

A thread is just thread!

But a simple thread can become so much more.

The clothes which keep you warm,

dry,

comfortable and modest,

are made from threads.

Threads are woven to form cloth.

With the addition of coloured threads arranged in elaborate colourful patterns,

they are decorated.

They are skillfully cut and shaped,

then joined together with yet more thread to form the clothes we wear.

These clothes are made in a variety of different colours, 

styles and materials,

allowing you to display your personality,

your commitments and elegancies.

A thread just a thread?

Spun threads can be woven to form strong thick canvasses.

The intrepid explorers of history filled great sailing ships full of supplies including warm and comfortable clothing.

Catching the wind in sails also made from threads,

woven together to form large strong canvasses,

held aloft on masts,

strong and tall by ropes,

made from layers and layers of twisted threads.

They sailed and on arrival they settled,

no doubt pitching tents, 

made from threads,

strong and waterproof offering protection against the wind, rain and cold. 

A thread is just a thread?

Today we dress our homes in soft furnishings made from threads.

From our comfortable chairs and sofas,

to the soft warm cotton sheets we wrap ourselves in at night.

The term 'thread' has become a figure of speech.

'Threads' run as a theme or a characteristic through a situation.

We 'thread' cotton through needles when sewing,

as a pastime art or craft.

We tailor fine materials into outfits made from threads.

The term 'threads' is used as a slang term for a person's smart; well made outfit.

"Nice threads!" People say.

Thread?

Threads? 

Just fine strands of fibres?

A thread is not just a thread.

A thread can become so much more!

A Decaying Autumn Leaf

A decaying autumn leaf.

Just one of a million; million others,

sat in a rapidly filling puddle,

in the middle of a late autumn downpour. 

As puddles run into puddles,

so does the leaf.

From where it first landed,

it suddenly becomes a lost ship on a swirling sea.

Riding the 'white horses',

battling the storm,

on to a safe harbour,

and solice on it's involuntary journey.

Finally washing up on a curb-stone

as the downpour ceases,

the once 'ship' is left high and dry and so meets it's journey's end.