Posts Tagged With: Literature

Magpie Tales: Suspended

image by Martin Stranka

image by Martin Stranka

like a flapjack bought at a highway store
undressed from plastic on a flat top
and ejected at a reststop
I found freedom to cruise

crushed by second hand truckers on table tops
numbed by the candy I had to suck
leftover from someone’s pockets
I had to choose

barefoot on route 66
if I make it to the west coast
before 5 o’clock
you can have my ass

San Fransisco’s Golden Gate
on the back of a Harley Davidson
or maybe it was all a dream
flushed down a toilet at the rest stop

another coffee at the counter
another evening wasted almost masturbated
in this small town that’s just a dot
on a map at an old egg yoke pitstop

 

___________________

for magpie tales

Categories: Verse | Tags: , , , | 2 Comments

FF 100W FF: A Hand Down Under

“And now ladies and gentlemen, our next item, ‘A vessel,‘ painted by  I. M. Juoekin. Who’ll start at five hundred pounds, anyone?”

copyright_bw_beacham

“That’s a feckin’ shoppin’ cart mate!” the Australian next to me said, his accint almost getting the better of him.

“Are you making a bid, sir?” came the frosty voice back from the podium.

Too feckin right I am, ten pounds, ye pommie baasterd!” the Australian said, loudly.

“If you’d looked carefully, sir,” said Frosty, “you’dve seen a hand with paintbrush sticking up from the sand painting the cart.”

“Hand, whose hand?” sneered Aussie.

“The painter’s, sir.”

“How?”

“Nobody knows. He was never seen again.”

____________________________

For Friday Fictioneers

indomitably run by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – photo B W  Beacham

 

Categories: Flash Fiction | Tags: , , , | 20 Comments

FF 100 Word Stories – The Way We Were…

 

He died in Afghanistan.

I was always the wild one, but you know what they say about opposites attract. He used to read me beautiful poetry. I used to shout slogans for our cause. He bailed me out of jail. I’d told him we deserved a bailing out party.

“Your pompous patriach and his anti feminist flunky are gone for two days!” I told him.

Probably my idea to put toothpaste in the  ice cream too, and then to have the ice cream fight.”That’s the last straw!” his mother had shouted, arriving home. “The military for you, son!” said his father. Wrong war, you bastard. 

melting-wax-renee-heath femenFor FF 100W stories – run admirably by Rochelle  picture by the incomparable  Renee – extra picture of ”narrator” taken of a FEMEN  activist for women’s rights, on location, the only ‘Feminista’ group I wholeheartedly support.

Categories: Flash Fiction | Tags: , , , , | 20 Comments

Carpe Diem Haiku, Photographing

Ye gods, what a difficult prompt, that others will as usual take in their stride! I saw some beautiful haiku in yesterday’s prompt, here (Maniparna), here (Gillena) and here (Celestine). But also here (Ese) and many more…

‘Photographing’ seems tough. What clever imagery could we evoke? Striking the right balance in a haiku is difficult, and I think I’m going to find a vintage Japanese photograph to sprinkle with words.

geisha+hairstyle+portrait+2

photographing
a dream makes me
dream

Categories: Carpe Diem Haiku | Tags: , , , , , , | 6 Comments

Carpe Diem Haiku Special, Soen Nakagawa’s “boundless autumn”

All the haiku by Soen Nakagawa have a strong, deeper, Zen layer and in this one Zen is also clearly in there. The goal of this CD Special is to write a haiku in the same sense, tone and spirit as the one by the featured haiku-poet, seen just below.


endless is my vow
under the azure sky
boundless autumn

Here is my effort.

under a great blue sky
Mongolian grasslands promise freedom
the wolf howls

Categories: Carpe Diem Haiku | Tags: , , , | 1 Comment

Carpe Diem Haiku’s Tan Renga

The challenge – to turn this haiku by Chevrefeuille into a tanka with two lines, hopefully of 7 syllables each.

in the backyard
the rainbow in the birdbath breaks -
a sipping Magpie
glittering reflection sways
on the sunlit garden wall

Categories: Carpe Diem Haiku | Tags: , , , , , | 6 Comments

Carpe Diem Haibun – Raindrop

Everyone remembers rain. I think rugby players have a special affinity for rain, when it is pouring down, and you are losing by 2, or 3 points, with as many minutes left to play. Chests are heaving after a break in play, trying, fighting to get oxygen and energy in, and vapour is rising in steam.

The rain pours, the drops skirting eyelids, sliding on the vaseline smeared there if you are a forward, part of the pack, but not noticed anyway. The captain making a secret signal, ball in hand, ready to take the free kick, the referee about to blow his whistle for the kick to be taken, but checking his watch anyway.

The ball about to be tapped, then thrown like a bullet into my chest, where I must grab it and hold, and be pushed over the line to get those 5 points. Must not fumble that slippery ball, or tumble when my team hit from behind to shove me over the line, as the other team line up, ready.

Then my team mate sees the butterfly in our path. Breaks away, scoops it up carefully, runs to a woman with an umbrella, watching, puts the butterfly on her arm. The referee looks on, bemused, then blows the whistle. The ball slaps into my sodden chest in the pouring rain. We charge, hit, hard.

But the butterfly is safe.

in the monsoon
one raindrop lands
on a butterfly

I learnt something that day. And life goes on.

Categories: Carpe Diem Haiku | Tags: , , | 5 Comments

If Jesus Was a Woman (For Magpie Tales)

el greco feast-in-the-house-of-simon 1610 (1)


Feast in the House of Simon, 1610, El Greco

If Jesus was a woman
and not a lesbian
Would there still be feminism?
Would religion start to make sense to me?
And would she have worn a bra?

Could she possibly have had
better hair?
Along with line in fine lingerie
for those seeking salvation
in the arms of a woman

Would her twelve disciples have been women too?
Would they have cross-dressed
or simply just had more style?
And would she have hung from the cross?

And would Peterina
Upon arrival in Rome
have been hung upside down?

If the Buddha had been all-woman
would she have sat under tree so long?

If Stalin had been a little girl
from somewhere deep in the Urals
would the gulags have functioned so well?

Its only Mick Jagger
that would remain the same
if history could be changed
To be herstory
And of course me
Though then
I would be une Lesbienne
-as I secretly am

magpie tales statue stamp 185

Categories: Verse | Tags: , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Somewhere (for wedrinkbecausewerepoets.com)

there’s a place
in my past
that I passed by
with a smile
when I should have stopped
and taken that turning

perhaps then I would not
have dropped
swatted like a fly
and instead I would have hovered above
like an eagle dressed as dove
pretended to care
for the welfare
of those with too much love

I would have worn fur coats
paid politicians to sit in my pockets
employed slaves
for my factories
and from my big fat car
I would always gaze afar
and learn to ignore
those polluted streets

but as I look back on that place
somewhere in the past
at a crossroads in my life
I’m still glad I chose me
even if they stole my dream, in those years in-between

For I still feel the taste of victory
despite it all
they never destroyed my home
never droned
me, never bombed in shock and awe
and instead just took my health
slowly
bit by bit
those criminal corporatist rich
and their itch
for more of what I do not have

And I’m still
alive

crossroads

wedrinkbecausewe’repoets

Categories: Verse | Tags: , , , , , | 4 Comments

Ligo Haibun Challenge – Word Prompt

…Here’s 3 haibun we particularly liked from last week  and are mentioning here:

After two hours yesterday and nearly an hour today, I still cannot and will not nominate one over the other. The haibun are all so good for both very similar and different reasons.

See what I mean….

The prompts for this week are continued

 

Categories: Haibun | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Friday Fictioneers ~ Igor’s Moment Of Gory Glory

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, my prize, something I designed, a likeness of one of my……previous…guests, here at my castle, by my own hands. Igor! The covering! Unveil it!”

“Uh, Count Dracula, sir, you’ll be wanting some rest, its getting early…”

“Igor! The cloth, pull! Oh I shall do it myself!”

A stunned silence from the Count meets the ripple of applause from selected guests.

“Igor! IGOR! Where is her flowing hair? How has your face been chiselled behind her like that?”

“I thought you might like it, Count, as a memento..me holding her head, ready for you to…”

“Igor! Shut-up, imbecile!”

””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””

Click on the photo to go to Friday Fictioneers – 100 word stories

Thank you to Claire Fuller for the Sculpture and photo

Categories: Flash Fiction | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 53 Comments

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