Tag Archives: What Pegman Saw

Four Funerals and a Wedding

Posted on March 18, 2019 by crispina kemp

What a week. Four funerals attended, done nothing but rain. But come Saturday week I don’t care if the sun does hide. For then strong-limbed  young Bridget becomes my flame-headed Bride. Oops, not Rams Island, not even Northern Ireland. My … Continue reading →

Posted in Mostly Micro | Tagged , | 17 Comments

Exiled Son of an Exile

Posted on March 11, 2019 by crispina kemp

Honourless banishment for the father Honourless exile for father’s child too Three years in exile, this son of an exile Remembered always, Erik Thorvaldsson Written for What Pegman Saw

Posted in History, Mostly Micro | Tagged , , | 4 Comments

What Pegman Saw: At Portmeirion

Posted on March 4, 2019 by crispina kemp

The elves came out of the woods, came into the open. ‘Where shall we build our new homes?’ asked the headman, Alvyn. ‘I know,’ said Damh the Bard, ‘let’s build of stone at Portmeirion.’ Written for What Pegman Saw Who’s … Continue reading →

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What Pegman Saw: O Gaia

Posted on February 25, 2019 by crispina kemp

O Gaia, O Goddess, Giant amongst Titans, Mother of gods whose very height frightens Forgive us. Forgive our trespass upon your flanks; Forgive our rubbish left at our camps Forgive our bodies, dead in their quest; Forgive the spikes driven … Continue reading →

Posted in Poems (Some Silly) | Tagged , | 12 Comments

What Pegman Saw: Them

Posted on February 18, 2019 by crispina kemp

I turned the corner and there she was, sat on the bench outside the inn. Alone. By the way she dressed, I thought her a man. But closer, I saw her breasts, unbound. I swept a look round, fearful a … Continue reading →

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Rest in Peace, Papa G.

Posted on February 11, 2019 by crispina kemp

Mama was such a pretty thing. Born Dorothy (of the Stones of Bath), but Papa G. always called her Dolly. The perfect wife, he often said: a willing bed-mate—she gave him seventeen of us little-uns; Peter’s the eldest, I’m the … Continue reading →

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His Bitch

Posted on February 4, 2019 by crispina kemp

Robert stood back, his job for this morning done, and watched as a doorman materialised to hold open the door. Anxious now … Tessa was new to the business, would she stumble? Embarrassed, would she look to him? Come on, … Continue reading →

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What Pegman Saw: Homeward Bound

Posted on January 28, 2019 by crispina kemp

At last at the ferry and the ship leaves soon. But, Ma, haven’t we time for an ice-cream cone? If you’re quick, and you get me a frozen drink on a stick. Yikes, now that’s the klaxon sound! Catch those … Continue reading →

Posted in Mostly Micro, Poems (Some Silly) | Tagged , | 14 Comments

Red Car, White Car, Brown Car, Green.

Posted on January 21, 2019 by crispina kemp

Jamie looked at the road: endlessly long, featureless, boring. Like her life. She looked down at the river. Turbid. Like her head since her mother died. She patted her jeans back-pocket; heard the crackle of the blister pack. She patted her … Continue reading →

Posted in Mostly Micro | Tagged , | 36 Comments

Surya’s Golden Castle

Posted on January 14, 2019 by crispina kemp

Surya stood back to admire his work. ‘Imagine it gilded, roof and wall.’ A residence suited to Yama and Yami. He cast a glance at the other sand castles. Nah, none equalled his. Written for What Pegman Saw. Mumbai, India.  

Posted in Mostly Micro | Tagged | 16 Comments