Warring Factions?

In days of old when men were bold they carried swords and shields.
They marched and pillaged and plundered across both plains and fields.

But alongside male machismo, they never tried to hide
(though you may not believe it) their softer, feminine side.

For they lavished decorations on all their tools of war,
used curlicues and tassels like you'd never seen before.

With shiny metal studs and caps that twinkled in the sun,
they hoped to dazzle enemies until the war was won!

Tess came out fighting this week with her Magpie Tales Picture Prompt. To the victor the spoils! LOL. There's a second, serious attempt over on Napple Notes, by way of a change...

In The Beginning

I am enclosed in a bubble of clear water.

My being is transparent, but draws to itself
the living colours of Spring. Light and life
reflect within my soul their pastel beauty.
Edges soften, colours merge together.
I am replete; their nourishment feeds
each particle of my liquid form. I exist.

The Poetry Bus Driver, Uiscebot, this week asked us to go to a new place, and write  a non-rhyming poem from there. I went into a drop of water!

Green, But Not Cabbage Looking

Luck of the Irish?
A four-leaf clover will say
"Here's to Saint Patrick!"

Theme Thursday will be full of Irish Blarney this week!

Angel Dreams

Adrift in dreams, imagination whirls
and lilac angels' wings fly close at hand.
The flower scented air begins to swirl
and lulls us further. We can understand

concepts which, in daytime, make no sense.
For nigh time looses bonds of black or white,
sends technicolour shades in recompense
and melds the boundaries of wrong and right.

When waters of emotion lap the shores
of self expression, artists utilise the wave
of creativity, the swell of power. It draws
new sensibilities  from places they've

visited in Dream Time. Therefore
let us agree to sally forth. Explore!


More violets may be seen at Magpie Tales, thanks to Willow's pretty photo, and I've also linked this to The Poetry Pantry.

Up Above

A satellite bleeps out its sound
but there is nobody around
to heed its warning.

As the planet spins below -
see? - Shining silver forests grow!
The day is dawning.

But the people are now gone.
Because of all that they had done,
plant life is mourning.

This was sparked by the Themed Thursday  subject -'Space'-  I used the space betwen my ears to come up with an offering! LOL
The same inner space produced the following sonnet, which, if you visit  Hilary at The Smitten Image,  has the perfect photo to accompany it.

Together At Day's End

Everything stills as dusk approaches. Light
takes on a sullen hue and clouds gather
forces, ready to battle with the night.
Standing on shore, we two wonder whether
darkness will come between us, draw a veil
over our present joy, shroud it in mist
before morning, once the sky blushes pale
and the shy face of heaven makes a tryst
with daylight. But at this day's end, we find
perfection and peace. One beside the other
in silence we gaze, as though a greater mind
had suddenly taught us how we might discover
duality within a single being, an entity
newly birthed, but already linked with eternity.

Tale Of A Tail

The painting dominated the whole wall. To Tom's young eyes it spoke of dolphins and whales, splashing in waves, playing exactly the way he did with his friends in the swimming pool. He studied it carefully, admiring the graceful curves and colours on the canvas.
Then he noticed a strange sensation creeping through his body -  his arms and legs were turning into flippers and a tail! Suddenly, he was cavorting in the ocean too, a marine creature just like one of them. He raced through the water, leaped high in the air then dived down, down, down into the blue green deeps...
"Tom, Tom! Wake up, son. Breakfast is ready! "

Once again, thanks to Willow and her photoprompt, I had fun with Magpie Tales!

Look, A Book!

With your head in a book
as you take a look
at pictures and words
(serious or absurd)
you'll find ideas grow,
spread out in a row
like tendrils. Pale green
ones I mean!
See how they've grown
from seeds that were sown!
(As you take a look,
with your head in a book!)

With World Book Day barely off the shelf, how appropriate for Monday's Child to use Lissa's illustration this week! Who doesn't like reading in bed?

Poetry Bus For 7th March

The Stammering Poet, Peter Goulding  is going to be in the driving seat on Monday, and for my ticket I've attempted to write a kind of Rondeau though I'm not too sure if the metre is supposed to be as flexible as mine is! Anyhow, the rhyme scheme is as it should be - what more do you want - blood?!

Shrove Tuesday Cometh

Pancake day is fun! You must agree
whether they're for breakfast lunch or tea
both old and young enjoy a feast
of one or two at very least -
or maybe even three!

Imagine you can see
a hungry family -
an empty tummied beast...
Pancake day is fun!

I'm glad I learned to cook at mother's knee
this tried and trusted favourite recipe.
It doesn't include any yeast
or fragrant spices from the East,
only plenty love, for you from me!
Pancake day is fun!

And on the same subject, here's a Sunday 160 for Monkey Man!

The table top is bare, but for plates sticky with lemon slices (squeezed) and sugar grains (scattered). Their flavours enrapture our senses every pancake day.

More Microfiction #74

Never did like using conventional money boxes to save my pennies in...

The Old Woman Who Lived In A Shoe needed my Fairy Dust-Puffer to make this one habitable. Its last occupant had athlete's foot.

Two versions of the same thing for Susan's MFM today, because I like fairies...

And because Susan's Mr Linky List didn't seem to like the first time I put my name in, there's a third Napple Notes MFM today too - over HERE!

Short One For Sunday

At sunset, trees settle down for the night,
silhouettes darkened against the light
of a fireball brazier there in the sky
which overspills gold, for you and I.



  
Completed in 160 characters as Monkey Man requests!

Monkey Business

Illustration by Jessie Wilcox Smith 1941

What is Monkey Business?
It's not usual, you see,
to think a pretty lady
would ask a chimp to tea!

No, we mostly form an idea
of kids up to no good,
instead of little people
behaving as they should.

So when a child at table
begins to act the fool,
we tell them they're a monkey!
Perhaps that's rather cruel?
But on this day, as you can see,
that threat has surely come to be!


Thanks to Monday's Child for this prompt #34.

Magpie Tales # 54

Relentless power
of water engulfs humans.
Floods pay them no heed.

Their lungs cannot breathe
oxygenated bubbles
formed by the maelstrom.

Instead, these droplets
create thunder in our ears,
as their sounds combine.

Souls of water sprites
are drawn into the torrent
but remain silent.


Once I saw Willow's picture turned into the negative, it inspired  me to write this set of multiple haiku. For more pieces of the jigsaw. visit others at Magpie Tales.

#71 MFM

One door closes, and another one opens.
Doesn't it depend on which side of the door you're standing? 
Thoughts like this can drive one crazy!






For more Microfition Monday  gems of wisdom in 140 characters, go and visit Susan and her happy band of followers at Stony River!

Sorry about my Mr Linky links not working! If you've made it this far, I thank you for your patience!

Nature's Time Capsule

Amber buries time.
Warm-touch fire shadows flame
in eternal light.

No spider could ever weave
a tomb to endure so long.

120 Socks, driver of the Poetry Bus for 21st February, suggested the word 'Amber' for aspiring Ticket Holders, and I wrote this Tanka - a  poetic form using 5-7-5-7-7 syllables in its five short lines.

The last line started life as "a web which would last so long."  Then I changed it to 'a web of such brilliance', as it was the eternal light-flames that I had in my mind. 
But my dear mentor suggested the above amendment, 'a tomb to endure so long',  as it re-inforces the 'tomb' aspect of amber for the spider, as well as web for a fly! I can see his point, and thank him for the idea and the words with which he expressed it. If we change our collective mind again, there will be further edits! 

What The Eye Sees

He must be hallucinating. The chill had seeped through his clothing, as though the fabric was blotting paper, soaking up liquid cold.
The abandon chair had seemed like a refuge, when he first noticed it across the field. Surely, there would be habitation, human company and help nearby, or how would the chair have come to be there?
He struggled through deep drifts, squinting into the sun as he tried to make out signs of a settlement or buildings. No such luck. The chair was plumb in the middle of nowhere. But as he grew closer, he saw a vague outine of a body - surely a judge in robes and wig? The tapestry figure became more solid until his feverish mind saw it in 3D Technicolor, and he heard it speak! "How do you plead, guilty or not guilty?"

A very late ticket for the 14th February Poetry Bus, with apologies to Dana Bug for nearly missing the bus.

And if you still can't see my 'Judge' - here he is, in silhouette for you!

First Encounter

The alien creature gazed at me through slanting eyes, black beady almond shaped things, with a blank and menacing stare that added nothing to its charm. It was impossible to tell whether the crinkled surface of its face was its own skin, or that of some breathing-apparatus-cum-hood, designed to keep it alive in our polluted atmosphere.
Its features reminded me of an owl, for the outer tips of its eye sockets resembled the ears of one of those majestic birds, and the white triangle of its forehead ended in a rounded snout, or possibly, beak, although it gave no sign of incorporating a mouth.
Atop its head, a short, cylindrical dome might have been either headgear, or part of its strange anatomy, and from time to time, laser beams spiralled upwards from the small openings in the domed apex. The lower part of its body disappeared into the blackness which surrounded it...
I stood still and waited for it to make the first move.

Thus goes my offering for this week's Magpie Tales, thanks to Willow.

In The Pink?

As he sat alone, he realised that looking at the world through rose tinted glasses was not enough to make him feel one of the crowd.

Thanks to Susan at Stony River for this MFM #70 prompt!

Tall Tale For Tuesday

 

Winter Warning

When the moon hides in the heavens, and witches walk abroad,
the silent silver branches' ghostly glim can't be ignored.

For outside, in the gardens, all is not quite what it seems,
though inside foursquare houses, sleepy people dream their dreams,

Jack Frost flies with chill abandon, his colours stark and bright,
as he adds his touch of magic throughout the livelong night.

Shadows stretch and spread their cloaks before his dancing feet,
then loom and roll towards him as he passes down the street.

The witches zoom in circles, partners in his crazy dance,
but he quells their manic laughter with a single, frosty glance.

Be sure you heed the warning, should you hear your Elders shout -
'Look out, look out, my children when Jack Frost is about!'


Thanks to Magpie Tales for the picture that gave rise to this flight of fancy!

Less Than Sixty...

Characters! Never mind the minutes! With a mere Fifty Seven I have collect my daily dose of wisdom for Microfiction Monday's prompt-in-a-picture...

Let time fly out the window. Instead, just start to live!




Thank you, Stony River Susan.

Thursday Think Tank #34

*Poet's United Thursday Think Tank Prompt 3 February

A Pauper's Bequest

I leave you the laughs I haven't yet had
plus the love that I keep in my heart.

Thus will laughter increase!

(And my love will not cease
because I have fallen apart!)

*Click on the title below the picture to follow the link to more offerings!