Berth [sic] Control...

Each and every generation has gaps to navigate, for change is a constant cog that turns and burns endlessly. Yet, change is often overlooked by the status quo, a safe harbour where many drop their anchors. 

 Mrs. Goodman was one of those harbour dwellers. She knew her place and to deviate from it was unheard of. Thus, year after year Mrs. Goodman popped out yet another baby to add to her brood, cooked endless meals from scratch, all the while wearing a 'floury' apron as her only adornment.

  Dr. Walker though, thought differently. He despaired at how the mothers under his care were always tired and care worn.   

"I am haunted by how much our mothers do not know", he would lament to his colleagues. "I propose birth control to be freely available for them." 

  Mrs. Goodman was the very first to weigh anchor...

Melissa, at dverse poets, has prompted us to pen a 144 word prosery. It must contain the line 'I am haunted by how much our mothers do not know.' This line is from the poem 'Love' by Tina Chang.

Here's the link: To Know or Not

A Funny Insight...

There's rumour going round 

that humour can be found

within one's bodily parts;

now, whether this is true,

known only by a few,

I'll look at the medical charts.

Now, I'll bet my money

that there's not any 'funny'

found anywhere near or far,

within the blood network

unless it may lurk,

in the vein called jocular!

Then I take another look

at my anatomy book

and view the skeletal zone,

and much to my alarm

I discover in the arm

we all have a funny bone!

So, the rumour must be true

when the body we view,

even if we cut it in half;

there is humour to be found,

and you'll maybe hear the sound

of a giggle, or a chuckle, or a laugh.

Mish at dverse poets, has asked us pen a poem about laughter. Here's the link: Just for Laughs

Spinning a Yarn...

 'Help! I'm spinning out!'

said the old spider to the bird;

'I have lost my equilibrium

which for me is quite absurd!'

The bird then calmly took the spider

within its' sharpened beak

which stopped this poor arachnid 

to ever spin or speak!

De, at dverse poets, has prompted us to pen a quadrille of exactly 44 words, sans Title. It must contain some form of the word 'spin'. Here's the link to dverse poets: Spin Cycle