Posts Tagged With: Writing

It’s Raining Today

dark-clouds-valley

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

Beauty – (for dverse)

Beauty

is an

airplane

in raindrops of time

Eyes that bewitch, dreamcatcher eyes with multicoloured stories inside

gina

A flower of a smile reaching deep

A memory of  fish and chips trees wrapped in newspaper leaves 

The curves in the sand dunes

the waves when you bathe

And your coffee on my lips, when you walk away again

For beauty is the sky, the goodbye, the flame in a story we let melt.

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Categories: Verse | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , | 13 Comments

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

The View – Friday Fictioneers

hay-bales-sandra-c

”That’s a nice view you’ve got over the village, Count.”

”Indeed, Inspector. So what was the visit about again?” The Count arched an eyebrow of inquisition as he loomed forward behind him to better hear.

”The missing young village women,” the Inspector said turning sharply at the window to the sudden shadow.

”Ah yes, rather unfortunate affair, has somewhat punctured the village’s image as a location of private repose,” the Count said humbly, as he proffered a plate of dark cakes; ”biscuit?” he added.

”Why thank you, Count,” the Inspector said, ”chocolate?”

”Dried blood, actually,” replied the Count, absentmindedly.

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99 words, pic this week by Sandra Cook  ¤ un grand merci pour Rochelle!

Categories: Flash Fiction | Tags: , , | 23 Comments

Haiku Light

a woman is a lantern
not broom to clean my mind
shine for me, I cannot see

sic18

Categories: Haiku | Tags: , , , , , | 7 Comments

Carpe Diem Haiku Kai – Pilgrim

I wonder what the difference is between pilgrim and refugee. Both seek shelter from the world. It is true that they both might pass each other on the road, dressed in similar clothes, with the similar, hunted look in the eyes, or upon the face. Of course, the pilgrim wants to come back, and the refugee does not. And the pilgrim is rushing to his god, while the refugee is running away from someone else’s god. But aside from these differences, they are both somewhat similar in nature, more or less.

shooting star at night
or floating ember from fire
grasshopper guesses wrong

 

Categories: Carpe Diem Haiku | Tags: , , , | Leave a comment

Haiku from the Wind

Lappland leaf carried by a breeze from Italy – (please click on Semprento’s name above to see poetry by my beautiful, graceful Italian poet who whispers words into the breeze)

the wind speaks
a leaf
falls

by Semprento

 

Categories: Haiku | Tags: , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Friday Fictioneers ~ “Would anyone like a lovely, kind…….?”

“So what is it?”wasp-nest

“Your brain.”

“………………”

<<This story is officially  interrupted to allow the writer to plead with his muse to put his brain back into his head, even in the state it is now in.>>

6

“Feel better?”

“Uuuh..a bit..how was I able to speak whe..?”

“Oh be quiet and finish, you have 50 words left.”

“Um, dearest, nicest, loveliest muse..you wouldn’t like to try another writer would you?  There are plenty to choose from on Friday Fictioneers, they might really appreciate your help!”

“You don’t want me?”

“Oh I do, I do I do I do dearest muse, I just thought maybe…”

“Well, if any ask for me, then of course I would…”

“Dearest loveliest kindest Friday Fictioneer colleagues, would you be interested in……..?”

“What are you writing?……”

Friday Fictioneers – photo by Janet Webb

Previous muse encounter here

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

Trifecta ~ The Ingredients

The min 33/max 333 word story must feature the following word in its 3rd definition:

“I shot the sheriff,” he hummed, walking up the stairs. Blood poured down the stairs and over the stairwell in a solid, sticky and quite sickly stream, if you were not a mosquito or homeless dog: “..but I did not shoot the deputy..uhhh!” he sang, earphones plugged in ears, until the fresh blood splattered onto the pizza box, shuddering it open.

“Oh maaan!” He moaned. Duty made him first give a cursory glance into the pizza box to check if the contents had been compromised, even as the blood streamed in a slowing waterfall next to him. “Oh dude!” he said aloud, to himself, checking his shirt, pulling it forward between thumb and forefinger; “oh dude, dude!”, his blood-splattered white shirt, the word “Pizza” at the top left breast pocket almost obliterated. He looked up the stairwell, completely and totally unsure what his next step should be; programmed to deliver pizza, nothing else. “You ok up there, man?” he tried. The silent reply echoed silently.

Seemed to be more tomato in the pizza than before. He’d never failed a delivery yet. Couldn’t tell you where pizzas come from, or how to make ‘em, but he’d never failed one delivery, and now was stuck. Just did not know what to do. The box dripped with blood, and his shoes gelled to the congealed blood on the stairs as he waited for his mind to come to a decision.

That darn box. That was blood on it. Couldn’t hide that. So he took the pizza out of the box, cupping it with his left hand, then dropping the box. “That was stupid, dude,” he said aloud, upon reflection. “You jis’ cannot deliver a pizza with no box.”

He ate the pizza, in one of those spur of the moment things; stress bringing upon hunger.

Later, in bright red lipstick, polka dotted dress, breasts held firmly in bra, he sat in the court room. “And the defense for the woman’s murder?” Roared the prosecutor; “alchemy, she says!!”

T r i f e c t a 333W exactly

Categories: Opinion | Tags: , , , , | 39 Comments

Friday Fiction ~ A Career Change

Ol’ Pops Dawson had been a cleaner at Brisbane Airport as long as he’d been cleaning, but had never been in a plane. So it seemed natural when he saw the pilot’s hat and jacket behind the desk at the gate that he would just try them on in the walkway.

When he boarded the plane he remembered not to look too joyful, and when he slipped into the pilot’s seat and put headphone on, he happily replied to the control tower:

“Uh…yeah, this is Tango Lima 332 ready for departure.”

He okayed the purser’s request to close all doors and let the copilot fire up engines.

Captain Olson, returning from the bathroom, was somewhat perturbed to see his jet pulling out of the stand.

  _ _ _   ___ ___ ___   _ _ _   ___ ___ ___

FRIDAY FICTIONEERS 100 WORD STORIES

Categories: Flash Fiction | Tags: , , , , , | 94 Comments

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

Friday Fictioneers ~ The Code

copyright-renee-homan-heath

Step by step.

A grand last view, if not grand last words: “Keep movin’ ye rat!” A shove in the back.

As if I’d stumble so easily!

And even shady palm trees. .

Step by step. T’wards my necklace of rope, and my ocean, looking suspiciously calm today.

No more maraudin’ when swingin’ from the gallows. No more saucy wenches, teasin’ me of my gains as I hang…

Ah, but I imagine by now you’ll be thinkin'; “what’s a dead man doing writing?”

Did you forget the pirate’s code, and really think the bushes were free of my crew?

…Tut tut…

~~~~~~~~~~~~

100 Words

Friday Fictioneers – welcome aboard!

Picture Renee Homan Heath

Categories: Flash Fiction | Tags: , , , , , , | 64 Comments

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