Welcome to Northern Wordsmiths

We are a group of fiction writers based in the North East of England. On this blog, we share what we're up to and some of our work.

Life is a gamble, without preamble. 

Till death us do … one and one, make two

You and me, for eternity

Bet your life there’ll be no strife

For richer or poorer, I’d never been surer

A spending spree – notes of Monopoly

In a game of chance, we two were enhanced

A bit of fluttery, like a win on the lottery

Add another one, a super-duper son

We formed a trio, the three musketeers

Winnings slip-slid from slot machines

We were the lucky ones, saying ‘already won’

Together all plush, like a Royal flush

Minted, never stinted, like we’d printed

Wealthy happiness, the riches of bliss

Our band of gold, boldened ‘Pennies from Heaven’

Together, loved and cherished, never shall we perish 

Gold nuggets of moonshine gleam like honeyed wine

Our family, glued and grandly gliding

Well-off with being well. Well-being!

Barefoot, well-heeled, dipping toes in warm seas

Over time, silver threads, golden needles

Son’s young friends, in our family blend

From ‘poorly’ days forward, undaunted 

Confronting surgery, Hell, Purgatory

Home. Flush with rap, dance, hip-hoppery 

All-night celebrations, lots of libation

Singing, bottle-bringing, flinging

All the changes of their ages

Eat, drink, be happy – don’t worry!

Determined strategy. No sign of tragedy 

Together, we all thought, till death us do part

Then out of the blue, we three became two. 

Wandering the universe, life in reverse

Tragic loss – blame damn hydrocephalus

Left behind, a pair of paupers. No-hopers

Damn, blast and drat, Put a tin lid on that 

Mental health in tatters, to the winds scattered 

Naught to profit from this. Scuppered, brassic. 

Heart attack! Hey Doc! Is it panic?

A month in a haze. On a ward, thirty days

Broken heart syndrome. ‘Just go home!’ 

‘Home’ – Really? Was it? I wasn’t positive

We had to make a change, before we were deranged.

‘Should get a couple of cats, eh?’ ‘At what cost, hmm?’ I say.

Finally getting brave, I gracefully cave

Grief can make life hard. Yet, two cats in the yard

Fluffy, feline gentry– can provide us with a-plenty!

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