This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’. Which can be found by following the link below..
This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’. Which can be found by following the link below..
This is a poem I wrote several years ago based on a real life Prime Minister of the UK from 1964 to 1970. 1974 and 1976
He sensationally resigned shortly after his 60th birthday. It has been suggested he was in the early stages of Altzheimers disease when he resigned and some recent tests seem to bear this out.
He died in 1995 aged 79 of colon cancer and Altzheimers disease.
He was buried in St Mary’s in the Isles of Scilly.
His wife Mary Wilson was an accomplished published poet.
Mary Wilson’s poem on Harold’s death….
My love you have stumbled slowly
On the quiet way to death
And you lie where the wind blows strongly
With a salty spray on its breath.
For this men of the island bore you
Down paths where the branches meet
And the only sounds were the crunching grind
Of the gravel beneath their feet
And the sighing slide of the ebbing tide
On the beach where the breakers meet
Lady Mary Wilson lived to be 102 passing away on 7th June 2018 in London and her ashes are buried in St Mary’s in the Isle of Scilly.
This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’. Which can be found by following the link below..
When I first saw this prompt l began thinking about the consequences of global warming on the whole of the avian family.
The heating of the atmosphere is such a slow insidious process that the consequences to birds wouldn’t be an instant event.
Obviously this would not be a simple matter for birds as migration is linked to food supply and food supply would have to increase to cater for the birds. If there could ever be a continuous food supply in one area for the birds that didn’t fly South and were able to survive, surely breeding patterns would change and there would certainly be an over-abundance of birds, thus putting more pressure on the food supply. A good subject for a poetic flight of fancy.
This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’. Which can be found by following the link below..
johnandmargaret1607 