Flash 55

Sulking’s such a silly game -
But folks will play it. What a shame!
I'd rather hear a stamp and shout
from one who chooses to opt out,
than see them pull inside their shell,
like a snail. I know full well
they'll have to poke their fat heads out
once they stop their sulking bout!

 Mr Knowitall will have more 55's for you to read this Friday...

In Tandem #4

This image of Jinksy's made my thoughts turn to the garden, and this was the eventual result...

Intermingled

A honeysuckle twines

and plaits its way

through jasmine,

smoke bush,

lavender,

hibiscus.

Foliage and flowers

flourish here,

with scant respect

for others boundaries.

They Intermingle,

managing to grow

with minimum of fuss.

No fight for food,

for space,

for light,

appears to stunt their growth.

The flower kingdom

lives its days in peace,

with only nature's laws

to shape its fate.

Open Link Night #3

The Play's The Thing

Dream shadows stalk the paths of night
like trespassers. They infiltrate our minds
and tell us stories we would wish to leave
unheard. Our free will bows to honour sleep,
and sleep is quick to gather in the reigns,
driving us towards its chosen goal.
There, we act a part we have not learned,
have not rehearsed, yet we deliver lines
because we find ourselves at centre stage.
We have no script as guide, but improvise
as best we can in every nightmare play.

Written for d'verse  in the wee small hours of the morning.

The Eyes Have It!

Blue eyes look like water, or possibly the sky,
but brown eyes look like chestnuts -
do you ever wonder why?

Sometimes other colours - smokey grey or green -
may alter them to hazel,
and they become 'betwix-between.'

This pair were staring at me from Margaret's painting on In Tandem!

Sirius

As soon as I saw the Magpie prompt this week, I came over all poetic. Not about bicycles- too often Ada tells me "On yer bike!"- but about the dog star. Wiki will tell you all about it HERE. But then it made me think of the moon of my delight, and I wrote her these lines...

My dearest, you are
the brightest star in my sky;
No dog days allowed.

Thank you once again to Tess for the inspiration, and let's hope that Alicia will accept this as a roundabout lead in to her Maffick Monday!

Times Is Gettin' Hard, Boys!

An Englishman's home is his castle,
or so the old adage goes,
but how in these times can he buy one?
'Tis a problem which (everyone knows)
depends on the state of the country,
and the pennies in his piggy bank.
More often than not it's too empty...
like his car with a petrol-less tank.

His castle, perforce, remains up in the air...
Good Luck to anyone living up there!
The foundation's dodgy on cloud number nine,
best live in a sty with the rest of the swine!

Blame  JINKSY for tempting me again this week! And Ive just discovered the same subject fits ALICIA's Maffick Monday - who cares if it's Thursday?!

A Leg Pull!

graphic by jinksy

I've entered myself on a Link List that I spotted on Alias Jinksy's blog, but now feel like a fraud as I've not written anything for this picture. Being a man of very few words, I have the solution ... this is my contribution...

"It's Corny!"

 No reflection on the artist intended...

Stop Press!

Lost is found! Ada had gone walk-about in the snow, which explains the silence. 

Now I've done my St Bernard Dog impression with the brandy flask, I hope she will soon be back to her old self (a warm hearted harridan whom I love!)

Will I Never Learn?

Apparently not. In forty years I've not found the right way to gauge whether a gentle leg pulling will send Ada ballistic or not... She is greeting me with stony silence, leaving me in no doubt that I have met with her displeasure. This makes me sad...

And contemplating the subject of sadness, I sat here in my lonely corner this afternoon and wrote the following lines...

From A Sad Cad

Bojour, tristesse! If you translate the phrase
into English, its poetry is lost. I defy
anyone to find two more perfect words
with which to express the same emotion,
implying, as these do, that happiness has fled.
A door has been opened to a vista devoid of joy.
Colours dim, sensations of mind and body
are dulled, and the world grinds to a halt.
Where is the key which will wind it's spring, start
cogs and wheels whirring, and rebuild
those foundations on which content depends?
Could it be no more than communication?
Another step towards understanding
the workings of imperfect human minds?

Cor, Look!

Rinkly Rimes had a picture prompt from Monday's Child today - it caught my attention, and gave me a perfect opportunity to speak of a subject which, over the years, has caused me not a little anguish. The clue will be in the last line...

Dire Warning - er - Warbling...

Beware the Queen of the night!
She flies when bats are winging,
and could give us a fright -
especially if she's singing!...

Bit like Ada in the shower, then?

Skating On Thin Ice

That's what my Beloved is doing! She is publicly maligning me again! Insinuating that I'm still playing a saxophone (badly), when she knows full well, I GAVE IT AWAY* to keep the peace (not to mention the quiet!) and have taken up the gentler art of comb-an'-paper serenading.

But Ada's poetic offering of a Skater's Waltz sing-along-song*, in reply to Willow's prompt*, reminded me I once did a similar thing, when trying to serenade Beloved, HERE*, using a tune from the Old Crow Medicine Show.                                                                                      

(*Click these links to see for yourself. )

But, back to the present.  Being contemplative by nature, I gave the photo a colour wash to add mood. before writing the following lines.

Unanswered Questions

Frozen in time, the three prim and proper
ladies posed for the photographer.
Was his camera atop a tripod, black
cloth draped, while he counted seconds?
Or had the photographic art progressed
to the stage where a simple box
of tricks, held in the hand, was enough
to record their sortie into the snow?
Did a professional lurk beside the ice
hoping to amaze his subjects? Did he
charge a fee? Or was the occasion informal,
history recorded by some unknown
family member proud to be the owner
of a new acquisition - a camera?

Microfiction Monday #66

Mighty Warrior doubted his twin's masculinity, the day he tried to fight with a sunshade, instead of a sword.

Thank you Stony River for the prompt!



N.B. It now appears that Ada was peeking over my shoulder and purloined my idea somewhat- I may need to claim a forfeit in recompense for her plagiarism... Any suggestions, Blogpals?

Sorry Pardon!

Stony River produced a delightful photo for her Microfiction Monday #65 prompt, but one of her followers, Madeleine, provided another view of things which I have purloined. I hope both parties forgive my temerity in mixing and matching their ideas here!

 






Every picture tells a story -
this one's pretty clear -
Every shiny sculpture
also has a rear!

What Do You See?

Willow gave us a Magpie Prompt open to any interpretation this week. As I've been cogitating on one or two fights on the home front in recent weeks, I make no apologies for going soft on a global scale, and writing this as my contribution today.

Plea To Humanity

Build a human tower,
give it strength to live
and learn to work together,
to pardon and forgive
the petty altercations
that block the way to peace,
until a world emerges
in which all warrings cease.