Before our births, void of choice, we became part of the story,
During our lives, with a choice, we can't escape the story,
After death, abandoned choice, the story continues to seep.
- Andrew Mansell

Category: Moments

poems, quotes, short shorts

Waiting for the Perfect Wave

The day started like any other on summer holiday. Sleep in, late breakfast (brunch for cafe goers), clad in boxer shorts that double as board shorts, followed by a barefoot walk down to the beach. I could see the storm clouds rolling in across the inlet. My eyes fixated on them, my mind telling me to make the most of the brewing surf before heading back to work. It’s exactly then, my day changed. At first, I thought a Bull ant bit me; the sting immeasurable. On closer inspection though, I had stepped on a syringe.

It had to be the syringe. Nothing else revealed itself from the grey sand that had swayed like soft hay just a minute before. I wanted to see a trail of Bull ants, but they were gone, knowing the storm was coming. Inspecting my heel, I noticed a blob of blood form. I’m unsure why, but I ran to the enraged swell and soaked my foot; the salty water stinging for a moment until my foot became comfortably numb. Reality quickly came back and I sort of hopped back to my tent, ripping it down and literally throwing it and everything else into the back of my van. It’s weird, I don’t remember putting my surfboard in, but I did.

So Far Away



I hoped you could hold on
just a little longer
for your generous heart to
again pump stronger
but you passed away
in restless slumber
you know I loved you
but I’ll always wonder
If only to kiss once more
your colourful cheek
to have been there
at least to speak
and throw dirt down
where you lay
how to forgive myself
this saddest day
your curious grand children
ask me why
I bow over your photo
in numbing cry
together one day
we’ll come to you
and place fresh flowers
all over you.

Andrew Mansell, March 2012
In memory of Gennady 1937-2012

Enough Patience

I’ve been ever so patient
waiting for voices unheard
ideas not shared
unsung songs
stories to write.
Patience though, will always be
unable to free a voice
an idea
a song
a story at hand.

Andrew Mansell, April 2012


Grey puddles left over from the rain
driven over til all splashed out
routinely like the economy machine
bigger, deeper, the holes sprout.
Forever drawn towards sunset
reflections of our mortal being
never capturing eternal light
washed occasions for the seeing.

Andrew Mansell, April 2012

Mostly Its


Twitter is for twits,
Britain is for Brits,
Fighting is for fits,
Writing is for wits.
Google is for hits,
Flickr is for pics,
Youtube is for clips,
Texting is the pits.
Apples are for pips,
Pigs are for spits,
Frankfurts are for fritz,
Spam is so skitz.
Family is for tips,
Lover is for lips,
Blogging is for bits,
Forums are for hips.
Scratching is for nits,
Skype is for chits,
Surfing is for slits,
Web is not for quits.
Squeezing is for zits,
Wiki does the splits,
Facebook is for crits,
Ads give me the shits.

Andrew Mansell, March 2012.