RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #267 Marvelous&Terrific

ronovan-writes-haiku-poertry-challenge-image-20161

Weather marvellous,

having a terrific time,

postcard platitudes.

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Filed under As you read it, Factual, Haiku, Self compositions

Sammiscribbles weekend writing prompt

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I will tell you a tale,

it’s not very long,

about Teddy the tinker

who loved to sing songs,

while riding in his cart

as his pony towed them along.

The pony’s name was Ticker

but he had just one thing wrong

with him, though you couldn’t tell

as he trotted in time to his gong.

It wasn’t his heart though his name may suggest

but his very long appendage

which reached to his chest.

 

 

 

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Filed under Adult themes, As you read it, Comic verse, Self compositions, Whimsical

Sue Vincent’s popular Thursday photo prompt: Journey #writephoto

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Culloden was getting tired. For forty days he had been searching for the sacred mount. The burial place of his forefathers. He had no understanding that he was the last of his race although he realised he had met none of his kind for longer than he could remember and for a giant, memories are long. He had long ago learned how to conceal himself from the eyes of men. Although he and his kind had never meant or meaningfully done harm  to these strange, to his eyes, miniature replicas of himself, whenever the two races had met his people were attacked and despite friendly overtones they  had been forced to flee and hide. Hiding places were becoming scarce. Men had slowly but surely started to change the lands he had known, loved, walked and cherished since time immemorial. Fires were set across the land for reasons he could not fathom. The woodlands were shrinking, there were now vast open spaces which were left as bare earth for one half of the year and in which strange plants started to grow which were soon removed by men. The only secure hiding places were in the vast caves which time, wind and water had excavated in the deep gorges in the hills or at the edges of the sea. He was scared and slowly the thought had been building in his mind that his kind were no longer necessary. After much contemplation and with a resignation born of patient, peaceful, deliberation he had decided to return to the eternal resting  place of his forefathers.  There he would lie down and enjoy the sleep of the blessed which comes upon all living things. He would leave this realm in the hope that those who followed would maintain the eqilibrium thus far  enjoyed by Mother Earth.

 

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Filed under Alternative history, As you read it, Flash fiction, Inspired by fable, nature inspired, On the lines of romance, Otherworldly, Self compositions

TEN WORD PHOTO PROMPT: Care of houseplants

2D4DD822-8111-4259-AD58-639164FDBD96Gain mindfulness by talking to your plants on their level.

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Heroism and grief, a tale of the two.

Flood (8)The 15th August 1952, a night of tragedy for a small close-knit community on the wastes of Exmoor. Still remembered by many as one of the most tragic nights in living memory. Many tales of bravery have been told mixed with tales of woe, here is one such with a most poignant climax.

Grandfather Abe sat in his chair beside the old log fire. Stubborn, obstinate, he had refused to leave with his family when they had told him the house wasn’t safe and looked likely to collapse. The  rushing waters of the swollen river rising ever higher at its back door. He insisted that the river had served him all his long life and would never hurt him now, but he was wrong. He was just drifting off to sleep when the end came and only awoke when he found himself in the water, miraculously unharmed by the tumbling masonry, all that was left of his beloved cottage as it toppled backwards into the torrent.

His wife, watching from outside, where she had waited in the cold and driving rain shaking her head at his obstinacy, gasped as she saw the collapsing building, safe  from  her position across the road from their front garden. Fearing the worst for her husband she rushed back to what had now become the water’s edge. It was not yet completely dark and suddenly she saw a shape in the water, arms thrashing wildly. It was Abe struggling to escape the fast flowing stream. His wife cried out, “Here Abe,” and bracing herself against the railings that were previously the garden fence, leaned through and reached out her arms to him. This appeared to give him renewed strength and in two strokes he reached the railings but the effort took it’s toll. He started to roll over. With superhuman effort his wife managed to grab hold of his braces  and drag him towards her till he could grab the railings himself.

With one last heave she dragged him to the lowest bar. Exhausted she leaned her arm on the top rail but with the water around her feet she over balanced and with a loud cry toppled into the water to be swept away. Her body later recovered about half a mile downstream wedged under the remains of one of the many bridges destroyed by the flood. Old Abe never recovered from the shock of losing his wife in that way. He knew that it was only because of his attitude she had lost her life and was never the same again.

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Filed under As you read it, Factual, History, Short story, Stirring the memories, Uncategorized

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, First Line Friday: August 16th, 2019

The capitol grew rank in the summer heat, the humid streets clogged with sweating tourists and rats. Both were welcome, the tourists for the money they could put in the pockets of the traders, and the rats, the over-riding reason why there were so many tourists. The vast majority here to visit the Karni Mata temple, better known as  the Temple of the  Rats. What the vast  majority don’t realise is that  it is only the twenty thousand or so black rats who live within the temple precinct are sacred. The ones who they see scurrying around the streets while they browse for souvenirs of this wonderful if not stomach-turning experience, the ones lazing on the sun-bleached walls and roof and those who roam uninvited in their hotel rooms are just rats. 

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Filed under As you read it, Factual, faith, Self compositions

Crimson’s Creative Post #40

D90992D5-874E-4988-A439-66F5ABFE3059.jpegOne step, two steps, three steps four,

five steps, six steps, there isn’t any more,

we get to the top and have a look around

nothing to see so we go back down

only one thing left to do, this much is plain

as we skip down the steps we’ll sing our song again

 

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Filed under Comic verse, Self compositions, Singalong, Stirring the memories, Whimsical

Colleen’s 2019 Weekly #Poetry Challenge No. 140 #SynonymsOnly #Shadorma They lurk unseen

In unlit

corners, shadows creep

silently,

cold fingers

search for that which ends their life,

illumination

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RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #266 Twisted&Cross

A palm leaf, twisted

into the shape of a cross.

Sign of the faithful.

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Filed under Christian, Factual, faith, Haiku, Self compositions

Thursday photo prompt: What lies Within #writephoto ~Of dreams and death

 

dolmen

A place to rest, asleep yet not,

while others come to gaze

and wonder, in their reverie

proud fathers calling, deep

from within these hollow hills

they lie serene beneath this

sedentary chamber.

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Filed under Inspired by fable, Old knowledge, On the lines of romance, Otherworldly, Self compositions