Hand Washing

 

By Shelley Miller

I often wondered if I might be a little too keen on handwashing... my husband would say I am. Since the untimely visit to our shores ( right on top of Brexit) of Coronavirus, my hand washing has hit a new all time high.

The Morrisons shop assistant meets me in the carpark now before I've even put the hand brake on to present me with my weekly fix of simple soap and Zaflora.

It's fair to say that my husband has become long-suffering since C19. When he arrives home from work I greet him at the front door not with a welcoming kiss but orders to "DROP EVERYTHING!!!" and "STAY RIGHT THERE!!!" Lest he contaminates our home. I'm nothing if not polite and good-humoured about it so I'm rewarded with compliance. He wasn't smiling the other day when I insisted he scrubs his hands with a bit more TCP, especially around the cuticles. "Are you about to lose your patience?" I asked him apologetically. He fixed me with his 'for Goodness sake' look, but his lips were too tightly pursed for words to escape. "I'll listen to a lecture about the perils of going over board" I went on,” but not before you've washed your hands!"

After all the faffing about we sit in the front room to have dinner with another episode of Corona Virus aka BBC news.
I love the predictability of routine, there's something very reassuring about it.

Copyright SCMiller. 

 

I post this anecdote with my most humble apologies to Shelley!  It’s been sitting in my Archived box since 16^th April 2020; I have no idea how it got there.  But it’s still relevant today (two years later).  

Len 

Little Robin

by Shelley Miller

Two Limericks

Two Limericks

By Shelley Miller

There once was a pig with 5 trotters
Who used them all up as fly swatters,
The flies drove him mad
So the pig wasn't sad
To be shot of the lot of the rotters.

 

There was an old man from Peru
Who had only one foot per shoe,
In each shoe, a foot
The old man would put
`Till one day, a third foot he grew.

Copyright Shelley Miller

These Thoughts

These Thoughts

by Shelley Miller

Copyright Shelley Miller

My Brother Killed A Bird

My Brother Killed A Bird

By Shelley Miller

You had to stop
And look to see,
Before he flew on by,
So free,
Towards that dense
And bushy tree,
Away from view,
From you and me.
You had to be
So very still,
Without a care,
Prepare to kill,
With just one shot
You plot to fill
The bird with lead
Until it bled.
One less bird
Is heard on high,
An empty place
In space, just sky.
And now I watch
You watch me cry.
My brother killed a bird,
It sounds absurd
But now I want to bury him.

Copyright Shelley Miller

Kitchen Godless.

Kitchen Godless.

by Shelley Miller

🥘I'm regarded as retarded
`Cause my IQ is below
A number all the clever ones
Consider to be low.

🥘But I can bake a flaky flan
And spoil a spud or two,
And I can spin a smoothy
Full of berries, red and blue.

🥘I'm a ninny in a pinny
`Cause I cannot count to 3
As the clever ones move up
A notch, and grimace down at me.

🥘But they'll never cook a curry
Quite the same as what I do,
The kind that makes you scurry
In a hurry to the loo.

🥘Or make a gloopy soup of pea
And ham to wash it down,
To traumatise your taste buds
In shades of green and brown.

🥘I'm regarded as retarded
That's a cheeky pack of lies,
But at least I have a kitchen
Long deserted by the flies.

🥘Cuisine that makes you queasy,
Makes your tummy somersault,
Is a skill that I've been done for,
Never mind...just pass the salt.

© Copyright S.C.Miller.

Sensory Garden

Sensory Garden

by Shelley Miller

Silence is your chosen music,
only then can lovers be sure
to feel the song within their hearts,
each gentle beat and nothing more.

Birdsong is your chosen music,
a chorus at the break of dawn.
Melodious voices in spring,
spreading sweetness around the lawn.

Rainfall is your chosen music,
Replenishing the soil from where
mother nature's gifts can flourish,
as fragrant blossoms fill the air.

Laughter is your chosen music,
warming the soul from inside out.
Feeding hearts in need of lifting,
banishing sadness, fear and doubt.

Stillness is your chosen music,
a calm and soothing garden space.
Every shade of green to greet you,
make life a pleasure to embrace.

Copyright Shelley Miller

The Wall

The Wall

by Shelley Miller

That notorious wall
That people drink against,
And do their drugs against,
And sometimes lean against
To catch their breath.
Where lovers cry against,
And say goodbye against,
And contemplate against
Mere life and death.
That notorious wall
That people kick against,
Fall to their knees against,
And carve their names against
Just to be known.
Where shadows frown against,
And rain beats down against,
And where no blade of grass,

has ever grown.
That notorious wall
They break their hearts against,
And fall apart against,
And no one stays against
For very long.
Where some debate against
And wait for fate against,
And hope for better things
To come along.

Copyright Shelley Miller

Open Mike By The Sea

Open Mike By The Sea

by Shelley Miller

Whelky Brooks was down in Leigh
Belting out her hits,
Will I Clam sneaked in for free,
Just to see her t***

Bon Anchovy joined him there,
They sat beside Ed Herring,
He laughed and toppled off his chair
Soon, everyone was staring.

Tuna Turner came in next,
Cod Stewart by her side,
He said "I'll send my wife a text"
So Tuna sat and cried.

They bumped into the great Skate Bush,
She looked just like a star.
She said "it's impolite to push,
Who do you think you are?"

She grabbed her coat and said "I'm off,
This joint is run of the mill"
Someone said "she's had enough,
She's running up that hill"

Catfish Stevens said "let's dance"
And jumped up on the stage,
But Whelky shouted, "not a chance!"
And locked him in a cage.

Barry Whitebait found the key
And promptly let him out,
"Well done!" said Count Sea Bassie,
"That's what I'm talking about."

The night was young and Eely Dan
Asked Whelky for the Mike,
She said "I'm singing, Mister Man,
And you can take a hike!"

Pikel Jackson shook his head
And screamed "I'm going to thrill-er,
Ice- creams are on me," he said
"Chocolate or vanilla?

Squid Vicious starting jumping,
He was feeling wild and free.
Nancy said "I'll thump him,
If he makes a fool of me."


Nat King Sole said "come on Nanc,
Don't be such a prawn,
I'm all alone, let's fancy pants
Until the break of dawn."

Bob Marley and the Whalers
Said, "the world's a concrete jungle"
They legged it from their jailers,
Zippy, George and Bungle.

Everybody joined the fun
But no one got on stage,
They tried but Whelky drew her gun
And flew into a rage.

Robert Crayfish had a go,
He said "Whelky's just a thug,"
Codley said to Creme "I know,
Let's call in young Hake Bugg."

Bugg arrived and grabbed the Mike
But Whelky beat him down,
She shouted "Bugg, get on your bike
And cycle out of town!"

Eelton John turned up just then
And offered her a can,
He said "I'm only here 'till ten
'cause I'm the rocket Man."

When Whelky finished drinking
She fainted on the spot,
Everyone was thinking
It must be 'cause she's hot.

Will I Clam was not amused
"that drink was spiked, I bet!"
Then Whelky said "my ego's bruised
But the diva's not dead yet!"

Copyright Shelley Miller

Oh Yes

Oh Yes

By Shelley Miller

Oh yes, that man is all I want,
I told him that already.
I wore a dress from Mary Quant
And said "undress me Freddie"

He said I was a trendy beaut,
Too stylish for his liking,
So I showed up in me old tracksuit
And off we went hitchhiking.

Oh yes, that man, he makes me swoon,
He has a way about him.
Me mum said " not too much too soon,
If he tries his luck, just clout him".

He said he had a way with words
And his heart was full of love.
He said he used to chase the birds
Now he's settled for a Dove.

Oh yes, that man is very fit,
He doesn't own a car.
He bought me a banana split
And said we could go far.

We walked six miles, me bunion throbbed,
Me knees had had enough.
I said "hold on, me corn's been cobbed
And I think I'm up the duff"

Oh yes, that man is all I need,
He took it on the chin,
We found a pub in record speed
And he downed a triple gin.

Me mum said "now I told you Jean,
He won't be round for long".
But I said "I do" in Gretna Green,
This time, mum got it wrong.

Copyright Shelley Miller

A Kiss

A Kiss

By Shelley Miller

Why oh why must she persist
In pouting lips that charm a kiss

from him?
It only makes her hunger

for his roaming hands to wander

limb to limb.

Why oh why will she not see
The joys of love are ephemeral and he knows,
His touch is in her mind and when

it's open wide she blossoms like a rose.

It's beautiful, it has no end,
His kiss will keep on leading her astray,
But his smile is so inviting and he knows
She'll stay with him another day.

Copyright By Shelley Miller

Quickly Quickly Butterfly

Designed by Shelley

Copyright Shelley Miller

Salad for tea.

Salad for tea.

by Shelley Miller

I wouldn't describe my husband as fat, nor would I describe him as fit. Put politely, he has a bit of a veranda over the toy shop like a lot of men his age, which bothers him but not me. "For health reasons, I'd say yes," I answer tentatively in response to his regular threat of, "l must lose half a stone and exercise more."

I wouldn't say he looked well-fed, just content.
So on average about 3 times a year he decides to put his dinner on a smaller plate thus making it look as if he has a generous portion. One time I couldn't help noticing that his dinner, dished by himself, sat half a foot high on his smaller sized plate and slid off the edge leaving a circle of mashed potatoes, peas and gravy on the tray.

At another time he would say "I might have a salad for dinner," So I prepare a healthy salad. By the time we sit down to eat he has added his own version of a 'healthy salad' to the smaller sized plate. Bread and butter, salad cream, mayonnaise, cheese, potatoes, olives and extra creamy coleslaw.

"I don't understand it, the only thing I eat is what I have here at home," he says, stepping despondently off the bathroom scales and sliding it back in place distractedly. “I have my porridge for breakfast, a sandwich for lunch and whatever you cook for dinner yet I've put on a pound!" He exclaims.

“It’s baffling," I offer by way of consolation.

I recall many a phone call from my husband from the Tesco Metro around the corner from his workplace. "I'm in Tesco's, do you need anything?" He would ask.
Once every 5 weeks, for 1 week, my husband uses my car for work. He is a tidy man by nature so has created a plastic bag bin in the front footwell. I'm sure you can guess of its contents.

I've often said it's the face that attracts you to a person but it's their heart and mind that you grow to love.

Copyright Shelley Miller

Two stories in Flash Fiction

A Question on Gardening

By Shelley Miller

I don't know if I look like I know what I'm doing, but I don't.
I know that some weeds look pretty but for all I don't know, they could be much-desired perennials. I'm a city girl come good; from a London flat to a seaside bungalow. I say ‘good’ because it feels good, pottering around in my humble garden.

The garden winces each time I approach with my hand shovel and matching fork and the evergreens cower as the jaws of my trusted sack-of-tears gape open.

A neighbour stopped to say hello once...in the good old days, as I threatened to tend to the flower bed on the front-drive. She asked me if I knew when the best time to dead-head the geraniums was. “I have to be honest," I said, "I don't know, I've never seen one before."  

"Oh", she replied, unenlightened, "you're standing in front of them."
I love nature, springs new growth all around for all to see, every shade of green, my favourite colour.

I'll get on with some weeding. I hope I don't look like I know what I'm doing because then the neighbours won't ask me any questions.

© Copyright S.C. Miller.

Midnight Concert.

By Shelley Miller

My husband likes 3 or 4 ales on a Friday night and occasionally I push the boat out and have 3 units of Stones Ginger Wine, just to keep him company. I noticed that on such nights as we lay down to sleep, my right ear gets a real treat. A midnight concert of what can only be described as sounding like a Punch and Judy show with a kazoo stuck firmly up my hubby’s nostril.

I never complain, normally, but last night I nudged him ever so deliberately, he jolted violently upright and asked where the fire was. "What fire?" I asked innocently. He settled back quickly enough and said no more. The concert ended when I fell asleep and the following morning nothing was mentioned. So you can imagine my surprise when he accused me of waking him up, not with a deliberate nudge in his side but with my snoring which he described as sounding like the Titanic's distress signal going off rapidly.

"Really!" I said "was that before or after the concert?"

I love an early morning breakfast with my husband, listening to the birds chirping happily in the small garden. It's always a real treat.

© Copyright S.C. Miller

The Rarely Spotted Wren

The Rarely Spotted Wren

By Shelley Miller

Very rarely, now and then

I spot the rarely spotted wren.

Rarer than the speckled hen,

smaller than the diddy men.

More than two but less than ten,

the number of times I've seen the wren.

The briefest sighting now and then

and by the time I count to 10,

the rarely spotted's gone again.

© Copyright S C Miller.

 

poem Stuck in a home

Stuck In A Home.

By Shelley Miller

You're finding it hard to be kind,
There's more interesting things on your mind,
Why look at me when there's nothing to see,
I'm not graceful, appealing, refined.

I mean nothing so why should you care,
I'm a saggy old heap in a chair,
Once I was sprightly, coveted nightly,
You don't know, you weren't there.

I mean little to you and it shows,
I'm fragile, an old wilting rose,
Once, I was happy, now sat in a nappy,
That's soaked and offending your nose.

It's pot luck, a roll of the dice,
A carer who cares to be nice,
A smile at the ready, hands that are steady,
Who speaks to you, not once but twice.

You glance at the clock on the wall,
Hometime, no longer on call,
You proffer a smile in a nonchalant style,
And believe that you gave it your all.

© Copyright Shelley Miller