Left Leg, Matterhorn Pose

Some streets sport water features
and some continue bare,
except for straggly grass, or weeds
that flourish unaware.
But here a paradox we see
for what looks like a fountain
is nothing but a metal plinth
for an Old Man of The Mountain
sporting naked chest and cap!
I dare you, gentlefolks, top that!

A bit of nonsense for Tess at The Mag,who provided us with the illustration today, and for which I've written a ditty as a late offering for IGWRT's Flash 55, as well.

Two for the price of one has to be good?

Grasping at Shadows?

Late yesterday I noticed last Sunday's challenge on IGWRT's , and this afternoon was tempted to let my imagination play along. What came from my finger-tapping was as much a surprise to my keyboard, no doubt, as it may be to any readers who happen by. Hahaha!


Aurora grasps at shadows. One gets caught
inside her net of mind. She studies him.
"My!  What arresting features this one's got.
See them slide from scintillating to dim
while his face flickers as if in the shade
of sorrow." Suddenly, his spectre goes
sprawling, falling down into a wood-glade
in which a curling stream of water flows,
snaking-fast. Heavily he lands, and lies
unmoving on a boulder-bed of stone.
She can but watch him. Painfully, he dies.
The water's song achieves a diff’rent tone,
as sympathetic notes console The Dawn.
Without this Shadow Lord she'll live alone…

Whatever the Weather

Today had me tapping away at the keys, after listening to IGWRT's recording of  Mr Cumberbatch reading 'Ode to a Nightingale', by Keats.  I can't compete, of course, but did feel intrigued enough to attempt to follow the rhyme scheme. We've had plenty of the 'sun versus rain' weather over the past few weeks, hence my choice of subject. 

When I have a few hours to spare, I may attempt to write more stanzas!

Capricious forces conjure sun and rain
into eternal conflict. Dark lords and bright
wage their wars as moon-tides wax and wane
throughout the universe's star drenched night,
until, by morning, rotund Earth's revolved
in deference to laws decreed long since.
Then sun-flame beams put shadow-clouds to flight,
their unshed tears like morning mists dissolved
as Helios, our hero, on his plinth
stands proud, the great defender of the light.

A Reflection on Reflections?

Take stand behind a mirror which reflects
others to themselves, and discover that
honesty is a gift few will accept.
The shadow being of self delusion
knows well how to hide within an image.

Beguiled by a mirage of misted Truth,
the silvered glass mocks one’s own perception.

Words and image inspired by Tess at Mag 266
and now linked to IGWRT's, too.

Sshhh!

Hot gossip is best shared undercover
of darkness, when dreamers keep their counsel
and sleep draws veils over the memory;
whispered confidences fly to Lady Moon
whose silence never betrays one's trust.
Her wisdom?  Learned through countless centuries
she listens, she forgets and she forgives.



Written for Tess and The Mag 258