A Strangers Hands – A Short Paragraph Story

Waiting on the bed in an unfamiliar room, clothes draped on the chair, I thought again about the decision that had brought me here.  It was so unlike me (or the me of recent years) to do this, had I made a mistake?  Did I give in too easily to the suggestion?  Perhaps I should have waited longer, tried to find another way to ease the hurt.  Could a strangers hands really give me release from this pain I carried with me?  Well, I had paid for an hour, no sense in wasting the money without sampling the goods.  Their touch is part pleasure, part pain, but I endure it because sometimes you just have to resort to a remedial massage to fix your neck!

Emotography Showcase – Week 44/2016

Week 44 brought this post in the Emotography Participation Event

Effy at from head to heart with Surprised

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To discover what the Emotography Participation Event (EPE) is all about please follow the link. If you already know what it is about and you (still) would like to participate next week, simply create your post (tag it Emotography) and leave a link to it as a comment (alternatively you can leave a pingback) under my weekly entry which is published on a Friday (Australian Time).

Emotography Showcase – Week 43/2016

Week 43 brought these posts in the Emotography Participation Event

Effy at from head to heart with Relaxed

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To discover what the Emotography Participation Event (EPE) is all about please follow the link. If you already know what it is about and you (still) would like to participate next week, simply create your post (tag it Emotography) and leave a link to it as a comment (alternatively you can leave a pingback) under my weekly entry which is published on a Friday (Australian Time).

A little bit of silliness

The thought “I feel despondent” popped into my head when I was driving to work one morning earlier this week, (and yes, I do think strange things sometimes, although the constant need to leave your place of comfort and go to work for someone else can tend to do that to a person) and of course, being as I was driving, I could not write it down.  I tried to remember it later, but alas, it transmogrified itself by the time I got around to typing it.  It’s not “right”, it’s not sensible, it’s a bit forced, but it made me smile a wry little smile.

 I’ve dented my spond,
despondent am I,
life was going to fly,
but instead I just sigh,
’cause my feet are still on the ground.

So I figured I’d be more proactive,
and bash out the dent that I found,
then I polished my spond,
till it shone like the sun,
and nearly burnt out my eye!

Well, my spond had a good laugh at that,
then it fell over backwards, and splat,
when I looked around,
it was down on the ground,
dented and sporting a scratch.

I’ve given up trying to fix it,
live and let live, I now say,
and I’ll be ok,
even if, on some days,
my spond is sporting a dent.

© ceenoa