Starlight Express?

 Or Weaver's Poetry Bus for the week? For a ticket, passengers were asked to take the word 'STAR' for their inspiration. I'm cheating. Many years ago, I was walking home after a long drawn out, quartet singing session at a neighbour's house, and the following lines were the result, so my ticket is well thumbed already!


2 a.m.

Clear night sky;
frost filled moonlight
cutting cold across the land.

Sounds are honed
to a knife-sharp fineness
by the icy, silent air. Stars,
bright as polished steel,
blaze white hot
through light year distances,
linking Earth to Infinity.

The sudden, brilliant arc
of a falling meteorite
underlines their beauty
and marks a point of no return.

Magpie Tales # 45

Celebration

Evening dark enfolds the waiting city.
Children dream, perhaps of Santa Claus,
while juke-box music churns its tuneless ditties
into the streets where nobody gives pause
to think of Christmas.

The midnight hour solemnly approaches;
a small group congregates in vacant pews,
their measured footsteps rhythmically encroaching
upon a silence echoing with the news
of that first Christmas.

Around the crib the candlelight is flickering,
but muted organ notes cannot compete
with raucous sound of angry voices bickering
from drunken revellers outside in the street.
Can this be Christmas?

Expectant landscape waits for welcome silence,
as moon and stars continue on their way
around a world beset with wars and violence
which needs the gift of Peace as much today
as that first Christmas.

Wilow's prompt for Magpie Tales this week reminded me of these verses I wrote way back. I have posted them before on Napple Notes, but they remain as pertinent as at their first appearance, and it will do no harm to give them another airing, as visiting commenters vary each year...

Heavens!

The Poetry Bus , being driven  by Titus, is now on the road. I've thumbed a lift after watching the very clever video which made me think I'd never be able to buy a legitimate ticket if I used the first set of words that filled my mind - they were too surreal! Instead, I've written the following ones on the thumb with which I hope to flag down the bus!

Cosmic

Your fingers caress the black and white keys;
rhythms of life cradled between your hands
fill the universe with stars. They light candles
in my mind as Earth and Sky and Sea
all merge within the music of your love.


Blue waters of awareness circle round
and oceans create life from out its depths.
The heavens spin with stars and melody
which nourishes the universal song,
until its spark ignites a wonder in us all.

Microfiction Moday # 61

A washboard, a tub and a girl (called Dolly?) washing doll's clothes?
What ever happened to Women's Lib and washing machines?



Thanks once more go to Stony River for prompting a typical Jinksy reply to this week's Microfiction Monday challenge of writing a little something in less than 150 characters. Feel free to count them if you must, but I assure you they're well within the guidelines!

One More For Big Kids

Ernest Aris 1947

Hopping Mad?

Six rabbits in search of a burrow
hopped all the way up to Harrow
but when they got there,
they cried out in despair -
the only one left was too narrow!

Thanks to BKM for this week's prompt over at Monday's Child. Okay, so it's Wednesday, but who's counting?

Seeing Is Believing?

In such a white out,
above snow covered country
the pilot was lost.

Another Ticket For The Poetry Bus

This week it is driven by Kat, who is expecting Pub related offerings, and here is my little tail ...er...tale of a tail, I mean...

The Red Lion

Some lion cubs frolicked 

and chased their own tails

but suddenly one of them 

loosed a great wail.

"Ouch!" I've been bitten! 

My tail has turned red!

And he ran in a circle, 

"Look how it has bled!"

The lion pride laughed 

and one smart arse cub

said "Cor! Now you're 

just like the name of the Pub!"

Microfiction Monday # 60

The latest fad for having matching 'His n' Hers' sets can be un peu de trop, when taken to extremes.



Thanks to Susan at Stony River for this gruesome but fun MFM!

"Weird"

How could I miss a chance like that? Write something weird is the request of Poets United Thursday Think Tank # 25. Hope this will do...

Spellcheck Nightmare

Writing flopsibitses
is what I do the best.
Ordnidapso poems
don't put you to the test,
but wofflynumblit dodits
of scrudabompy zest
will fill your squoozy moments
much better than the rest.
My keyboard lollyfrangles
and my brains get foglymessed
and my fingers danglycobble,
they really are a pest.
But underneath the splayjin
I'm absolutely sure
my no-pollipty nonsense
is no dafter than before.

Another Snowy Scene

That is Willow's Magpie Tales topical choice for this week of less than tropical weather we are experiencing in the UK - and elswhere, I guess!

The steps to your door,
even when covered with snow,
spread warmth in my heart.

Microfiction Monday # 59

Thanks to Stony River for today's picture prompt.

Don't give me that load of bull, son! 

Leopards don't change their spots - you two timed my daughter!

Bug's Poetry Bus

There are multiple destinations on offer this time, but I couldn't resist the one which gave me a chance to wax lyrical, so my ticket will be for her third choice of route, for a Bug's Eye View of the scenery!

Unadorned
A pallid sky provides a perfect backdrop
for silhouettes of leafless branches. Black
and finely etched, trees' spirits dance
in the shadows of imagination.
Their summer ballgowns have long disappeared
and naked now, their beauty stands unclothed
but no less vivid. They reveal their souls
in ghostly shapes whose underlying promise
of latent rebirth will have until the spring
to gather forces before burgeoning.

Monday's Child # 22

By Marjorie Torrey 1945

Thanks for this week's photo prompt go to 
B K M  at Monday's Child.

Oyez! Oyez! Oyez!

The palace issued a Royal Decree
to Draco the dragon. "Come to tea!
Make sure you're here by half past three.

The Queen would like to shake your hand."
"Now, you behave, you understand?
came the advice from his old Gran.

"Show her that you have good manners,
no 'Um's" or "Er's" or mumbled stammers -
and don't set fire to her banners!"

Princess Pearl was not a-frighted,
said that Draco should be knighted
and Queen replied "I'd be delighted.

Arise Sir Draco Goldengreen -
by Royal Appointment to the Queen!"

Microfiction Monday # 58

Thanks to Susan at Stony River for this fun photo prompt!

"To wear or not to wear school uniform?
The decision can put one on the horns of a dilemma."

And I've just thought of another MM...

"This is not how I expected my stag night to end."

Magpie Tales # 41

Countdown

The clock ticks.
We have to pick
our moments well
for who can tell
which may be our last?

When grains have passed
through their hour glass until
the very last is about to spill
onto the waiting heap,
then no last-ditch leap
will save us. Time will follow
its course until the last hollow
tock of the clock
will bring life to a stop.

Magpie Tales gave us this ticking time picture of a 'past its sell by date' clock face for this week, which inevitably lead to thoughts of the eleventh hour we will all have to face at some point! Let's hope next week's prompt will be a less decrepit picture, therefore slightly more upbeat in its automatic associations! Nil desperandum, folks!

Microfiction Monday# 57

Pablo was prepared for all weathers; Heat = sunhat: Cold = poncho: Rain = waders.
Could that be why he also sported a Boy Scout's kerchief?

Do go and visit Stony River to see other's who joined this jamboree.

Monday's Child #20

With bag and tail draped over wrist
and boa made of feathers,
Lady Rat would sally forth
in every kind of weather.

She always wore a fancy hat,
the times she came to call
on humble Mrs Churchmouse,
who was quiet, shy and small.

Together they would chat and laugh,
tell tales of hanky-panky,
but Lady Rat laughed till she cried
and needed a big hanky!

It's taken me for ever to get round to writing this Monday's Child  post! Better late than never?!

Poetry Bus for 15th November

A Tramp's Tale

When I chose to leave my home
and start out on life's road alone,
I knew I'd need some eating tools -
I was not a child of fools!
I had a knife, a dented spoon,
but I could tell that very soon
I'd seriously need a fork
to stab the lamb or beef or pork
bangers in my frying pan -
or juicy peaches from a can.
With worldly goods upon my back
I sauntered on by lonely track,
up rolling hills and grassy down,
until I reached a country town
full of shops and rushing people.
In a church with crumbling steeple
I stopped and said a little prayer.
and took a rest while I was there.
'Dear Lord, a fork is all I need...
I wonder if You're paying heed?'
Then came a voice inside my head;
these were the very words it said:-

'When you come to  a fork in the road, take it!'


Thanks go  to this week's Bus Driver, Karen at Keeping Secrets

Magpie Tales # 40

 In Absentia

The spaces in my day
leave holes in the sky
where tears fall through.
Your thoughts are absent,
and build a fence too high
for me to see beyond.
I grieve for a lost time,
for I do not understand
where it has gone,
nor yet why, but its pearls
remain strung about me.

Thanks to Willow for this Magpie Tales picture prompt.

Microfiction Monday # 56

Young feet walk the path;
life and lane stretch out ahead.
To where will they lead?

The final destinations
remain in the arms of Time.






My Tanka today is in response to this delightful photo prompt at Stony River.

Magpie Tales # 39

Headless chickens we may be,
but never without laughter.
Like the chicken and the egg
one has to follows after...

A chicken rushing round and round 
in circulatory motion,
is just like us in certain states
when, minus head or notion,
we chase our tails to no effect.
For we are doomed to meet ourselves
back where we had started-
once the circle is complete...

But, do not be downhearted!
Shrug your shoulders, give a laugh,
(He who laughs last, laughs longest!)
and  remember this old saw -
The devil take the hindmost!
Now, kindly close the door...

N.B. A 'saw' in this context is a saying! 


For more fowl feathers see Willow's  Magpie Tales this week.

Microfiction Monday # 55

Old head on young shoulders,
pumpkin moon in the sky,
black cat and besom show
Halloween's nigh!





For a few more leftover spells, all using less than 140 characters, go and visit Stony River.    

Monday's Child # 19

Rabbiting On

At Roger Rabbit's party,
we were waiting to begin.
We sat down at the table,
napkins tucked under the chin.

But - he made us listen,
as he read from rustling pages,
to rather boring speeches
that waffled on for ages.

He talked so long the tea got cold
the sandwiches grew limp
and Mrs Bunny fell asleep
over the potted shrimp.

We tried hard to be patient
while Roger Rabbit read,
though we started to get worried
it would soon be time for bed!

Thanks to Monday's Child for this weeks prompt.

Flash 55 for 29th October

Halloween's coming!
The witches draw nigh
on hovering besoms
high in the sky-
see,  cloak and hat?
How their silhouettes fly!
A familiar black cat
is often nearby,
perched on the handle,
ears all a-twitch,
long tail a-dandle,
mewling spells to the moon.
It's best you steer clear
of fast flying brooms
once Halloween's here!    

For more 55's go and visit Mr Knowitall.

But because I was concentrating on 55 words, this effort didn't please me! The re-worked, tidier version can be found HERE

Magpie Tales # 38

A Tanka

In Memoriam.

Chiselled stone bears the two dates

which span a whole life;

stories between birth and death

an unwritten legacy.

For more obituaries this week, see others who heard the call from Willow at Magpie Tales.

Monday's Child # 18

When Lucy had a birthday,
her cards came in the post.
But can you guess
which one of these
young Lucy like the most?
Why, the one which held some money
that she could go and spend
on lollipops and ice-cream
for all her favourite friends!



Thanks to Monday's Child and the choice  of Cameron L Browne's illustration for this week's prompt.

Microfiction Monday # 54

The boys were hoping to acquire a tan to cover their naked torsos while scoffing beer and sandwiches. Fat chance!


 To join the picnic today, visit Susan at Stony River and write your story in 140 characters or less.

Poetry Bus for 25th October

Chance Encounter

I had not thought to meet another
who sought a place of solitude that day,
but fate had other plans. Although we met
as strangers, yet, with conversation,
began a seedling friendship. We recognised
an understanding- not one rooted in words -
where she and I were in agreement
on many levels. Had the Universe planned
this happenstance? Did our auras call
to one another across time and space?
Did they mark this place as a possible
intersection of our pathways?
Was this a sign, a crossroad made to force
a change of direction in our lives? Who knows?
But friendship, offered and accepted,
is a double sided currency
which pays unimagined dividends.

For Poetry Bus tickets to other Meeting Places, go and see Argent's Bus Route this week.

Magpie Tales # 37

Duvet still retains
our lingering body heat
on this cold morning.

Mirror reflects your absence
while memory treasures warmth.



For more wake up calls, go and see Willow who has set the alarm...

And because I've got out of sequence, I'm going to add a Monday's Child poem here too. At least the bed theme is carried on! 


Three little kittens tucked up in bed;
"Tell us a story" the smallest one said.
"Sing us a lullaby" the second one pleaded
but the third interrupted "I know what is needed
just a kiss and a cuddle to wish us good night -
That would be best !" And you know - he was right!               

Poetry Bus for 18th October

NanU has asked us to climb aboard the bus with a ticket written far from our usual poet's corner. As my travelling has been restricted during the past week, thanks to an Autumnal affliction of the germy variety, my choice of venue has been limited, so this is a necessarily short offering which will probably only allow me to travel to the next stop, rather than the end of the line. Ting, ting! Any more fares, please?

I wrote a poem in my head
while lying in my comfy bed -
but it got lost inside my dreams
as I fell asleep, it seems!

Maybe by next week I shall be awake and firing on all cylinders.

Magpie Tales # 36

Knock, knock!

A door knocker is the first step-
ping stone which rep-
presents friendship on offer.
When we choose to proffer
a welcome smile to one
who has come,
for whatever reason
and in whichever season,
to our home, it can lead
to discovery of a friend in need.
Then we each to each may turn,
should others spurn
compassion, until we see
how a first step can be
what makes two lives flourish,
as both nourish
one another in ways
unimagined during dull days
of loneliness. A door open wide
lets us step outside
our normal sphere
as we say "You're welcome here."

Thanks to Willow at Magpie Tales who opens her door every week to a host of Bloglanders! Follow the link to knock on a few doors yourself.

Poetry Bus for October 11th

"Men perspire, women glow"
we've all heard this before, I know.
But now some Japanese
researchers, if you please,
are measuring the drips of sweat
that perspiring humans get
rid of during exercise.
It will come as no surprise
that men, who sweat the most,
are then able to boast
they are more efficient,
though possibly unpleasant,
due to nasty niffs,
should nearby noses sniff
too hard. Sweating helps bodies perform
well when exercising. That's the norm,
but women cool at a slower rate,
which saves them from dehydrat-
ing  (a strategy for survival
in hot climes) while their rival
men are better at working
hard and not shirking
when temperatures rise.
Now, would I tell you lies?     (thanks for this suggested edit, Doc!)

For source material, look here:- http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/health-11492897


The Bus this week is being driven by Nimh B, who asks us to take a news item for our inspiration.

Microfiction Monday # 51

Although in favour of carbon-free transport, Pegasus decided he'd have to charge a higher tariff, if the number of passengers kept growing.

Thanks to a prompt by Susan at Stony River.

Poetry Bus for 4th October

As TFE's Bus had a little difficulty leaving its garage this week, and produced more than one destination board (not to mention driver) I have chalked up two itineraries- one, thanks to Weaver, who suggested 'Anything' as a subject, the second, thanks to NanU, who chose 'Happiness'. You pays yer money and you takes yer choice of ticket!

Challenge...

To write about anything?
This could be fun -
but nothing is anything...
what a conundrum!
The hole in a doughnut,
the air that we breathe -
both of these subjects
are fair game, you see,
with an 'anything' label.

But, if anything goes,
then all I shall do
is follow my nose,
(or maybe my fingers)
as they dance over keys.
I'll type out some words
in the hope they may please
the other bus passengers
out for a ride on a mystery tour,
as they sit side by side.

I'm sure they'll not moan
at my 'anything' poem -
they'll all be far too busy
wishing they'd stayed at home!

Catch As Catch Can

Happiness is fleeting; grasp it while you may
but let go of it lightly - it will come another day.

Should you try to keep it, the faster it may flee.
Greet it gladly, say "Hello!"then simply let it be.

Each moment holds potential to yield a greater joy
than any you'd envisioned - one which no one can destroy.

Magpie Tales # 34

Forgotten
or
You get on my wick...

My amber oil is ready, laced with perfume, rich and heady,
but I'm a spectre at the feast -no use to man nor beast-
for I'm a lamp without a wick, and I need a new one. Quick!
One small strip of plaited cotton! How is it that you have forgotten
that without it, I am dim, cannot give the slightest glim
of gentle, mellow, warming light to illumine your winter's night?
Take pity on my wickless state and rectify this one mistake,
I beg you, help my light to shine, then the pleasure will be mine
to bathe you all from top to toe in my amber scented glow!

To get all lit up, pay a visit HERE , thanks to Willow.

And while on that subject, I'd like to say how sorry I was at missing Willow's Ball, and offer this as an apology! 

Well, I missed the ball! Quelle domage!
But in view of my Thursday's occupation,
I might have appeared in my birthday suit
which would have horrified the nation
no end. Therefore, it's just as well
that my invitation fell behind
the bureau, and lay forgotten,
by all except the spider
who spun his web wider
to catch any stray fly
buzzing by.
No doubt many a Prince Charming
spun a different web at the ball
in exactly the way the spider did,
hoping to restock his larder.

Big Tent Poetry -Come One Come All 1st October

Try Something New

It's years since I went to a Life Class
so when one was offered nearby,
I decided I'd like to attend it -
give old drawing skills a new try.

The model was young and a dancer,
Oh, how I wanted to draw!
But then a spanner was thrown in the works-
it was something I'd not seen before.

She had to be captured in motion!
No keeping still in one place,
our eyes had to become accustomed
to drawing as though in a race

to freeze frame the shape of a sequence
of steps she repeated in space,
as we focused, and made sure our pencils
were all of them moving in haste.

There was scant chance of getting a likeness;
most of the class were content
to produce a sketch which was merely a plan
of a body, unlike my intent.

But, right at the end of the session,
there was one whole five minute pose.
and I actually managed to draw me a foot -
complete with its five dancer's toes!

Visit Big Tent Poetry to find more performers this week.

Magpie Tales # 33

A Parma Violet Memory

An
ancient
pottery
flagon adorned
 Auntie's mantelpiece,
hand painted violets
flaunting their precious petals
to remind us of their perfume,
whose aroma lingered on, wraith-like,
long after the container was empty.

See more of Willow's flowers HERE

Poetry Bus For September 27th

Thanks to A A Milne

I'm a fan of Piglet, and naturally, of Pooh;
I grew up reading stories of Tigger, Kanga, Roo,
of Rabbit's odd relations in Hundred Acre Wood,
and I would go to join them, if I could...if I could.

With Christopher Robin I'd wander along,
in matching boots and braces,
together we'd sing a wandering song
as we visited faraway places...

We'd go to visit Eyore, in his shelter made of sticks,
then check to see if Tigger was up to his old tricks,
a-bouncing and a-bounding like an India rubber ball,
or climbing up a pine tree, and trying not to fall.

With Christopher Robin I'd wander along,
in matching boots and braces,
together we'd sing a wandering song
as we visited faraway places...

For more childhood favouites, see other passengers on Rachel's bus this week, and read all about how the Bus got its time table HERE , thanks to TFE.

Monday's Child #13

 Moontalk

Every night I dream the sky
has stars and planets rolling by
like marbles, jostling on the ground.
They spin, around, around, around...
Then, my Dog, my Ted and I,
fling up our arms - and we can fly!
We travel out through wide, wide spaces
before we find the moon whose face is
green, but always full of fun. He smiles,
"So glad that you have come!"
Together then, we go exploring,
until we wake up in the morning!

For more of BKM's children go HERE

Poetry Bus for 20th September

Tenderness

Come, let me hold you now
encircled in my arms
body's skin to warming skin
to create a sum of one.

Your head lies in the hollow of my shoulder
and your breathing plays a rhapsody of night,
music that will complement our dreaming
as we drift upon its currents of delight.

Come, let me hold you now,
keeping you from harm,
enfolded by the love we share            
until the day is come.



See more offerings HERE

Twelve Word Puzzle for Friday 17th

What Is Your Plea?

The judge declared, a little fraught,
"Silence in court! Silence in court!"
while in the dock the child stood crying,
twisting her skirt, there's no denying.
His chant, like a swarm of angry bees humming,
had set her temple pulse a-thrumming.
She clutched at her skirt, which was embellished
with debris from food she'd half-eaten with relish.
But while her eyes flashed with indignant light
she stood to give evidence from her short height
and gave her temporary answer -
"It wasn't me! It was my Aunt, Sir!"
Then straightening her backbone, despite her fear,
She added "Please, let me out of here?"


Okay, so I added and extra 'ed' - what are you going to do to me?! This is my offering for the Big Tent this week.

Memory Box

Locked Out

Rusted metal: a missing key:

both keep you away from me,

O treasured keepsakes, in a box

which time imprisons with its locks

on memory. No longer keen,

this dwells upon those things unseen

for many moons. Have I forgot?

Do I dream of what was not,

in mis-remembered pastel haze

of those distant glory days?

A Cautionary Tale

Thanks Willow, for Magpie #32


A Question Of Timing,
or
Too Little Too Late.

They say I've an hourglass figure, but I know this might end up a lie.
I think that my middle is growing and could be a bump, by and by.
A baby's a lovely addition to a family unit, they say,
but a possible solitary parent may think "Oh, no! Lack-a-day!"
(or similar phrases of horror) at losing their singleton state.
But I have a sneaking suspicion I've left all the choices too late,
for instead of "Goodbye", I said "Hello! Come in!"
Now I'm thinking I've earned me the wages of sin!

Poetry Bus for 13 September

Colour Therapy

On a red day
I painted poppies:
ate sweet strawberries:
pricked my finger.

On a yellow day
I picked celandines:
nibbled toasted cheese:
danced with sunbeams.

On a blue day
I tossed a kite in the sky:
bought blueberry muffins:
floated in the ocean.

Then on a grey day
I watched clouds gather,
tasted raindrops,
saw pavements glisten
as an arched rainbow
gathered each colour
into its outstretched arms,
making this the best of days.

The Poetry Bus will be hard to miss as it hoves into view this morning, splashed with all the colours of the rainbow thanks to Marion, this week's driver. After taking a leaf from my portfolio, already inscribed with the above lines, I turned back to my palette to create this panoply of paint, which rang my bell...

   Ding Dong

                                           

 red

yellow
 pink lime jade
 gold silver bronze
 blue burgundy rose
 orange tangerine rust
     lilac purple cobalt puce 
 mauve magenta veridian
 turquoise lavender cerulean
   ultramarine chartreuse chocolate brown

P.S. Nobody has spotted that the Bell is an etheree...

Big Tent Poetry Prompt - Come One Come All 10 Sep + A 55 for G-Man

Things I should have said?
Important words -'I love you'.
Instead, I said 'No'.

See more offerings HERE

As it seems to fit with this subject, I'm adding a Flash Fiction 55 for The G-Man, so this is a two-for-one Friday!

Argument

The words came out wrong; inside, anger roiled until, like a volcano, an eruption of emotion flung skywards, to fall as embers in my soul. What use was this whitehot passion with so much dark magma as its bedrock?
All the tears in the world would not be enough to cool such a heat.

P.S. I suddenly realised I had the 55 written out in five lines of ten words, plus five, to make counting easier  - Oh No! I inadvertently commited the crime against which Mrs T is adamant! It wasn't ever intended to be a 'poem', only prose. Editor is now on top of things.

Magpie Tales #31

Who Pays For Prayer?

The cloistered nun, content with contemplation,
turns her back upon the world of strife.
Her time is spent in prayer and meditation,
far removed from others' mundane life.

Not for her, to face the stress of living
as part of humdrum, secular pursuits.
Her mind is focused on a Higher Being,

but do her silent labours then bear fruit?

Who can judge how many prayers are heeded?
Do they have a value, quite unknown,
though Earth is full of millions who needed
a practical approach - one clearly shown?

How much will prayers help the sick and dying
in flooded lands, or those beset by drought,
where day by day folks constantly are trying
to stave off death, and keep diseases out?

Maybe elusive prayers send out vibrations
which resonate in rescue workers' hearts,
to travel past the boundaries of nations,
until, united, all can play their part...

For more Magpie Tales go HERE where Willow has let us see through the square window.

Poetry Bus for 6th September

Transformation

Once, a doorway opened in my mind,
perception altered by a secret key.
In meditative state, new worlds I found,
inhabited each one by shades of me.
They could not help but form a common bond,
thus I became who I was meant to be.

It seems I had a psychic link to the subject for this week, as I did a post here before the driver had announced what it was! Hence my second, much shorter offering above. To clip the tickets of other passengers, or to climb aboard yourself, go HERE.

Thanks to Trans4mind for the apt image!

Thursday 9 September.  I have just found this quote on Marion's delightful blog , and pray the originator understands why I needed to add it here!

""Sometimes I pretend to be normal, but it gets boring and I go back to being me"

Magpie Tales

Once Bitten

Minnie loved her Doctor,
so when she felt unwell
she trotted off to see him
in the hope that he could tell
which nasty bugs had bitten her
and made her feel like hell.

"Ah, yes, I see the problem"
said Doc, quite unperplexed.
But Minnie did not understand,
so went home feeling vexed.

She bit into an apple,
then remembered with dismay,
that if she ate one daily,
it might keep the Doc away!

What if she should need him
in the middle of the night,
should her symptoms escalate?
Would she be alright?
So she rushed to drop the apple
after taking just one bite!

Go HERE  to see more Magpies.

I think this video needs to be added here!

Friday 55

Overhead, stars circled the darkness as the Man pursued his
chosen route towards the mountain top. The incline steepened until his muscles trembled with the effort of each step. He must reach the pinnacle before sun-up or his endeavour would be wasted. 
Only human sacrifice to Helios could ensure the ultimate goal - his Tribe's safety.

For more Flash Fiction stories, go here to see The G-Man.

Poetry Bus At School 23 August

Chalk Ghosts 

Faded visions of the classroom linger.
A blackboard cowers, engrained with ancient dust,
remains of lessons that were never learned.
But a felt-pad wiper-block will rush to smear
chalk mistakes into oblivion, while floorboards
beneath the easel creak a protest at elusive
ghosts of teachers' calligraphic dances.
The battle-scarred desks, disfigured by generations
of rambunctious youth with tear-stained touch,
stand row on row, their lids poised for action.

Empty inkwell eyes challenge intruders -
"Only pencils allowed for budding authors!"

Paper scented, the air scribbles notes
to the nostrils," You will remember me."


This weeks bus driver is Karen of Keeping Secrets - Why not go and see other passengers who will be spilling the beans?

Night Thoughts

REM Sleep

Dreams like dandelion seed heads
drift across the acres of my mind,
flutter in the soft exhalation of breath
that leaves my lips, parted in sleep.

Who knows where the air currents
will carry them, or on which canvas
the colours of my mind will paint
another random, rainbow landscape?

Magpie Tales 29

The Lamp

I hold steadfast vigil at this window,
clothed in red, ceramic solitude,
waiting to light your way through the night;  
my only purpose being to keep you safe
and guide you home once more, to hearth and heart.






To see more Willow inspired tales, go HERE

The First Of Many - I Hope!

I decided I needed a place to call home for my poems to brave the world alone, with only the minimum of extraneous matter. To start the ball rolling, what better than this one, which appeared on a blog yesterday where I am one of a team. It is now destined to go it alone, as my introductory, trial run post. And we all know what a nightmare they can be, if we're not careful...

Pocketed

Red

shiny

snooker balls

cluster tightly

in a triangle.

Like ripe, juicy cherries

sitting plump on green baize ground

they wait for the game to commence.

Cannoning cue ball brakes formation;

one red sphere rolls to meet its destiny.

And as a two for one, special opening offer, here is a rhymed, double etheree to make you start to think of doing one yourself.

The Answer Is No

No
stalling;
rhyme’s calling,
begging my brain
to start work again
on yet another set
of rhyming couplets. So let
battle commence! Get brain in gear
choose words to make the enemy fear
the lash of tongue or mental cut and thrust
designed to conquer, though that be unjust
in what should be a friendly skirmish.
May each foray end as I wish
in compatible joining
of like with like, bringing
harmony to all.
forget the call
to arms. Smile!
Worthwhile,
No?