The Arrival of Claudius Beef

Claudius Beef was delivered today. He moved quickly to the truck door as it opened, but paused before going down the ramp. He could smell the wet grass and the cattle out there but wasn't going to be tricked again. The bumpy ride in that noisy cage had him rattled.

'Next time they won't load me so easily' he said, in the quiet way of a bull.

He is testy as bulls often are. He steps out quickly, half expecting the shouts of people and the flurry of activity when they try to push him where he doesn't want to go - and he will fight (they don't doubt it).

Down the ramp now and through the narrow race and out into...

Ahh. Merciful spacious pen and the soft turf underfoot. But wait, he can hardly believe it, there is another open gate and beyond it open pasture and the distinctive smell of cows.

He won't rush. It would be unseemly to rush.

He is Claudius Beef, he rushes for no-one. So he saunters, briskly, toward his open gate.

Chemotherapy

"Give him another round of chemo";
the physician peers out the window.
Silent sheets hang from the craggy frame they hide:
Invisible grey flesh,
silent tears of resignation.
A long cold winter
Longer and colder is made.
The physician playing god,
so rarely changes the outcome,
but so easily the weather.

'Feel the dark side Luke'

Two trees in Tamworth, NSW who love Star Wars

Effortful malingering is all this broken soul is capable of.
He is a shadow, a little tissue paper man with empty spaces all through him.
He wonders: who is the keeper of the birds who sends a thousand pecking spears after me;
every day.

a fishing we will go

We're sailing blue
And whistling tunes,
Upon our lips
We float and dip,
The tide is high
Oh me oh my
A fishing we will go

To catch the catch!
Oh what a fish!
I feel it now
I pull and lift,
From the water
a great old Groper
A fishing we will go

And here a school
of silver herring
by and by they slip
and steering
down and up and
side to side
A fishing we will go

Look by the rocks
on sandy floor,
The flat-head waits
for our sweet bait,
And with a snatch
he grabs our line
A fishing we will go

Under sea
beneath the waves
Lurking lowly
in his cave
Lobster hides
his bead black eyes
A fishing we will go

Sleightly hidden
with white sand
A monster with a
gammy hand
Squid! He's
sucking off our bait!
A fishing we will go

And when the dark
has come at last
And sky's gold
twighlight has been cast
And all the fish
come out to feast
A fishing we will go

Until a time
our stomachs' cry
"Cook up these fish
in battered fry
and serve them hot
with beer and fries"
A fishing we will go

Sharing

Pet Therapy

a short story I have written about depression, love, cats and dogs.

Click on Pet Therapy in the links box --->