A Walk in the Grounds of Cornwallis Arms

Cracked white paint on a traffic pylon, parading as Queen Elizabeth’s cement filled pock marked face.


Black paint speckled with green mould and a leafless twig coiled around it, like a dead arm clinging to an iron bed-post.


A black shiny duck’s head with freckles of bottle green, like a snooker ball wearing my long-since buried hand-knitted school cardigan.


Green frazzled branches sprouting out of a once, hairless chest. Does this happen to the bodies of dead men buried in recyclable coffins?

Copyright owned by Jay Cool

Image of ‘Mallard’ by Bert de Tilly, licensed for reuse via Creative Commons.


Published by The Silly-Savvy Salopian

Freelance writer and descendant of the cave dweller and outlaw, Humphrey Kynaston. Banished from Shropshire for my eccentricity, I have made my home in Suffolk. I write poetry, short stories, travel journals, comedy gig reviews and non-fiction articles. My wish is to write my way back into the heart of my birth land. All writing commissions (and free holidays in Shropshire!) considered.

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