[John Whitworth]

Jayne, I can't help feeling that 'grieving' is wrong. The rest of the poem sounds like the kid talking (though I knw it's the adult) but grieving sees to me to sound a false note. But perhaps I hate the word too much bnecause of 'the grieving process' and suchlike. I've never myself actally USED the word in ordinary life, though it's true I may have in a poem.

[Jayne Osborn]

Hi John,
Thanks; I value your opinion. I've changed "two grieving kids" to "unhappy kids". Does that work?

[John Whitworth]

Yes, Jayne. I think that is better.

[Jerome Betts]

Yes, Pluto’s ga-ga now, poor mutt,
His wits, like Goofy’s, on the roam,
Old Bambi’s past it come the rut
While Snow White’s in a nursing home.

M. Mouse can hardly raise a squeak
And Donald D. is far from spry,
His apoplectic pride and pique
Long lost to Anno Domini.

The years have mounted their campaign
Against which magic can’t defend ;
They shore the kingdom up in vain
For even Disney’s world must end.

[John Whitworth]

Very nice, Jerome. I reckon that has a real chance.

[Jerome Betts]

Thanks, John, generous and heartening, and it tips the balance to submission.

[Susan d.S.]

Jerome, it is very funny, you had me at "squeak," Good luck!

[Jerome Betts]

Many thanks, Susan. Good luck to us all. Actually, despite the noir slant of the piece for competition purposes, I think D.D. and his nephews are wonderful inventions. I once read that there was a Scottish GP. called Donald Duck, who said he didn't mind a bit.

[Roger Slater]

The world won't end
But it might change
In ways that you
Might think are strange.

Though all its parts
Might mix and blend
And chaos rule,
The world won't end.

[Donna English]

Roger, too true. Good one.

It wasn’t dramatic,
the TV’s hissed static,
the cell phones went silent,
and no one got violent.
No screaming or crying,
no moaning or sighing,
we lay there as if drugged,
our conscious’s unplugged,
as everyone woke from
the Matrix, our minds numb.