Introducing Fern Stone: newest kick-ass poet warrior on the block!

While out for a scroll the other day across the groups and pages where poetry is shared, a post caught my attention.

Someone wrote of previously having dropped a poem directly to the group, only for someone else to . . . Let’s not mince words. The ‘someone’, Fern Stone, is mid-twenties and female; while the critic male and heading the wrong side of middle-aged.


Cringe worthy stereotypes abounded from the latter with unabashed aplomb.


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Songs T Taught Me and the Mystery of Charlie Chaplin

In the early 90s I worked London’s markets; the following is an account of true events (continued from: Horses for Courses):

In Croydon my attempts to give socks away were met with outright resistance:

‘He don’t like the ones with elastic at the top’

‘Too thick; will make his feet sweat’

Replying, ‘how about for another much loved and cared for family member, such as a cherished grandchild?’ did nothing to entice the taking of free socks.

There was nothing for it but the songs T had taught me:

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Horses for Courses

In the early 90s I worked London’s markets; the following is an account of true events:

“What you reckon?”

T looked at me across the table of the ‘workingmen’s café’ he’d chosen to meet in for ‘a bit of breakfast’.

He’d been running up and down Oxford Street selling out of a suitcase; just he hadn’t been running fast enough. A three person operation (seller/fake excited buyer/lookout), T had decided he had enough winning charm not to need the second—granted, I’d give him that—and enough cunning and sly to outwit plod: wrong; numerous times too.

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My Emoji: Thoughts on the Minimal Interaction of 2020 as the Year Does One

Since March I have socialised with four people; and one of those for only three hours (no doubt there are many who’ve had less than me). Interaction over the internet has become more prevalent in all aspects of life. In some respects this makes it easier; no one has to move off their butt to hang out. But lack of real contact and even seeing a face or thinking about what to wear out leaves gaping holes in a complete socialising package.

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