Poem - Looking for Crackpot

A couple of clowns went looking for Crackpot.

‘I’ve been down it before, I know where it is.’

So spoke Bill who forgot to say

It was 32 years ago, not yesterday!

We parked the car and started to walk.

‘It’s near that clump of trees over there.’

It didn’t look too far so I followed along,

But the path was narrow and muddy, and long!

Some scrambling biker had abused the path,

It made me feel angry as I hugged the wall

Trying to manoeuvre a slippery slope,

Wondering how the Hell the biker had coped!

He must have been close to Olympic standard

And even though I admired his skill,

Riding a dangerously narrow and slippery path,

The inconsiderate B** still filled me with wrath!

The muddy tyre marks took our attention

And we barley gave notice to the angle iron posts

That marked a steep route down to the cave.

Later we contemplated the miles we could have saved!

Onwards and downwards and into the valley

Slipping on the muddy route

Grabbing rocks and getting spiked by thorns

Trying not to fall and getting trousers torn!

‘Oh look! The entrance is up there.’ Bill said,

And sure enough I could see it well,

High above a pile of moss covered boulders

So we had to climb, I shrugged my shoulders!

We scrambled up and made the entrance,

Only to find it had collapsed and was blocked

By fallen rocks and a resting owl who took flight

So close to Bill’s head it gave him a fright!

A few yards to the left we found another small entrance

Still accessible though looking like a crawl.

Bill said, ‘This is one we could do.

A nice easy cave for a shorthouse like you!

So it’s on the list for a return visit.

To brave the steep path marked by iron posts,

In our wellies, and jump suits, helmets and all

And kneepads of course for the Kneewrecker crawl!

Susan Osborne.

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