Some of my poems were exhibited at the solo show of the immensely talented Victoria Young-Jamieson at the Daniel Raphael Gallery in London.
‘Sunburnt Mud Begins to Crack’ ran from 13th June - 7th July 2018
Ted is Dead
It was early in the morning of sixteenth November, there was something that Ned forgot - though he could not remember.
"I've left the door shut!!" he awoke with a jolt. He ran to the back door and flicked open the bolt.
The frosty leaves crunching under his bare chilly feet, when he stopped in his tracks and he ran to retreat.
"F R R E E D D D" shouted Ned, with all of his might. "Something awful has happened, in the middle of the night!"
Fred looked over his glasses, and up from his paper. "Ned would you be quiet you will wake every neighbour!"
Ned threw himself down on the end of the bed. "Fred I must tell you, it's Ted, he is dead."
"Ted?" asked Fred "Ted, our fat cat?"
"Yes, Ted!" said Ned "He's dead on the mat!"
Fred let out a sigh, "Oh what a pity..."
"a PITY" shouted Ned
Fred hushed "You'll wake the whole city!"
"How could you tell me to be quiet now..?" But Fred said it all with a single eyebrow.
Fred said: "Ted was a nuisance and exceptionally needy. Not to mention that cat was exceedingly greedy!"
"He ate cheese by the wheel and milk by the litre, my god Ned that cat was as wide as a metre!"
"He took all of your favourite, blue and white socks. And he chewed them and hid them behind that red box!"
"Then! He broke our prized grandfather clock. Now it chimes at seven and eleven o'clock."
"He'd meow until you gave up your favourite red chair. Only for him to not even sit there!"
"He'd wait and he'd pounce in the middle of the night, on your way to the toilet he'd give you a fright!"
Ned thought back to what Fred had said, and answered him back and jumped off the bed.
"He loved the cheese wheels and the litres of milk! It made his fur always feel like pure silk!"
"I gave him my socks to play with each day, though I must admit a few left ones went stray.."
"The chiming of the clock took time to get used to, and I suppose the first week pure chaos did ensue."
"And my lower back, is rather sore from when he meowed at my chair, till I sat on the floor."
"And the frights in the night, no I won't miss those. Nor the scratching at the door, nor that I suppose."
With no naughty cat beckoning their constant attention, Ned got back into bed with little apprehension.
So on the sixteenth of November they read the paper in bed. For Ned did not remember - and now Ted was dead.
L Farley 2016