Sunday, 30 April 2017

Pale white Gull


Pale white Gull


Rare and welcome, to our shores a welcome
Pale and delicate like a dove.
Graceful in the air, graceful as she swoops
Blanched plumage fits like a glove.
An Iceland Gull, winters in Iceland
But clean and white strolls the strand.
Against white cliffs, her gentle white gleams
A ghostly shade, gull made from moonbeams.
A laughing note, notes long and staccato
She calls out a name to another albino.
A sighting just off Portland Bill, an Iceland bill so cool
An apparition on the wing, or just an April Fool?
The Iceland Gull, lands on icy land alone
Camouflaged, the colour of bleached limestone.
She waves to the lighthouse, beyond the waves she ascends
And she gone, a glimpse, in Cumulus as she blends.

By Linda Prince

Saturday, 29 April 2017

The World's most comfortable Chair


The World's most comfortable Chair


Designed in 1962, a symbol of its time
With wings enclosing whispered secrets in your ears.
The ultimate in comfort, ahead of its time
Buttoned down but free thinking, it withstood the years.
Bloefeld and the white cat gave Bond a hard time
Rock and swivel, like a supervillain, the keeper of your fears.
Iconic, ironic, renamed simply the Sixty-Two
Retro, metro, acclaimed and strictly brand-new.

By Linda Prince

Friday, 28 April 2017

Test your Survival Skills Here


Test your Survival Skills Here


What unspoken words do you whisper in my ear?
Why are you calling me loud and clear?
Why do you draw me in to your summit
For that one brief moment when I call you mine?
What ancient magic delights to goad me on?
Why risk my life, Everest high or jungle Amazon?
What brave new world do I seek to conquer
For one solitary instant I can say I have won.

I have considered the rules of three: air, water, food and shelter.
I have frozen crossing the ice or migrating over dunes did swelter.
Foraging for food and wilderness navigation,
Lost, mind paying tricks, high temperature and starvation.
Panic? No - prioritise. I need to beat the elements.
A debris hut or nature’s cave, before mind game developments.

What unspoken words do you whisper in my ear?
Why are you calling me loud and clear?
Why do you draw me in to your summons
For that one brief moment when I call you mine?

By Linda Prince