Picture Prompts with Simon

  Snow?  No! Snow?  Oh no. Please snow, go. Go now snow. It is white. It is light. It is white and light at night. Snow is thick. Snow does stick. Snow does stick on shoes quite thick. Here is Pip. Don’t slip Pip! Pip needs shoes that hold on and grip. Pip has a car. His car is here. Buried deep, oh Pip oh dear! Pip has to dig. He digs the best. Hope he doesn’t have cardiac arrest. Pip digs away. Away snow, away! Pip digs and digs and digs all day. Pip perspired. Pip is wired. Pip is sure to be Canadian Tired. At the end of the day, Pip wants to lay low. Pip lies down and puts on the radio. “Tonight’s forecast – More snow, more snow.” Stay in Saskatoon Pip?  No, time to go!

'Mr Limbkins, I beg your pardon, sir! Oliver Twist has asked for more!'  There was a general start. Horror was depicted on every countenance.  'For MORE!' said Mr Limbkins. 'Compose yourself, Bumble, and answer me distinctly. Do I understand that he asked for more, after he had eaten the supper allotted by the dietary?'  'He did, sir,' replied Bumble. 'That boy will be hung,' said the gentleman in the white waistcoat. 'I know that boy will be hung’. [1] Have you ever wondered what your stomach would say to you if it could talk?  Perhaps I am alone in this odd curiosity except that – in many different ways – my stomach is quite capable of communicating with me and I’m fairly sure that’s not specific to me.  Sometimes it talks almost as a romantic partner, commenting freely on the physical and sensual aspects of the food I present to it.  Other times it is far more critical, reminding me of my responsibilities both personal and societal by co

  While one night with the good book, Over at my partner I sneaked a quick look. Her morals are falling, The sight is appalling, A development I simply can't brook. As I lounged with my girl after dinner The food nice and warm all within her With horror I look At her terrible book Who knew she could be such a sinner?

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky 'Twas night, calm night, the moon was high Brings sharply back something known long before There lieth a wreck on the dismal shore See you, beneath yon cloud so dark Hark! Hark! … The watch dogs bark Oh! hurry thee on - oh! hurry thee on Thou terrible bark! ere the night be gone And now there came both mist and snow And the owlet whoops to the wolf below The ice was here, the ice was there Of cold and pitiless Labrador Water, water, every where, The silent calm of the grave is there And it grew wondrous cold The glorious Sun uprist, Her locks were yellow as gold The harbour-bay was clear as glass The small hushed waves’ repeated fresh collapse Full Fathom Five thy father lies A mortal thing so to immortalize. Extracted from The Rime of the Ancient Mariner (Samuel Taylor Coleridge), To the Sea (Phillip Larkin), The Flying Dutchman (Thomas Moore), Full Fathoms Five – The Tempest (Shakespeare), Amoretti LXXV (Edmund Spens

Creation burns by what the eyes do find, Flames on the canvas, still lives of the mind. The artist’s doors are flung open miles wide, By nanometers. The muses abide. The eyes eat first, ravenous and able, Painting rich textures, the art of the table. But without reflection flavours are dead, Tomatoes quite black not blushing and red. A gift from space, ten billion years old the rainbow entrances our minds to hold. Colours unite, divide and can wreck, Taking a knee and a knee on a neck. Aurelius warned “The soul becomes dyed With the colour of its thoughts”, heartstrings guyed. Shades to kokoro wo ugokasu , The world alive from red to deepest blue.

“You’re meddlesome.  You like to meddle and you know it,” said Sarah Jane.  “You talk a lot of nonsense about the integrity of timelines and paradoxes and whatnot but in the end you don’t care.  You meddle….you can’t help yourself.” The Doctor huffed slightly and looked up from the open flap in the TARDIS console he had been poring over for the last hour.  In a tone that meandered somewhere on the border between exasperation and amusement he said “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” Sarah Jane Smith feigned gasping surprise.  “Really?  You can’t think of a single example?  Everything we do saves a planet, stops an invasion, fixes a hole in time or whatever.  I don’t recall a moment when you thought about the consequences of any of that.” The Doctor straightened, smiled, shook his head slowly and popped a jelly-baby into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.  “I hardly think that’s fair,” he eventually responded, his stentorian tones conveying the authority and experience of a thousand yea