Monthly Archives: Jan 2018

100 Word Wednesday: Week 56


The old department store had been standing at the junction for over a hundred years. With it’s tower and four storeys it had been hailed as the building of the century. The tenement buildings on either side with small shops and craftsmen’s dwellings on the ground floors and over-crowded apartments  above looked sadly on when the doors first opened on the bright, electrical illuminated concourse. But it was a foretaste of the nightmare to come. Thirty storey and higher skyscrapers now filled the skyline. The incessant drizzle only added to the mood when news of impending demolition was made public.


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Filed under Flash fiction, Inspired emotion, Self compositions

Colleen’s Weekly # Tanka Tuesday #Poetry Challenge No. 69, “BOND & SEEK”


while hunting in the forest

is beset by thirst

Salmacis looks for his love

in an eternal embrace





Filed under History, Inspired by fable, Self compositions, Tanka

Ronovan Writes Weekly Haiku Poetry Prompt Challenge #186 Body & Close


Finding a body

buried close to the surface

may suggest foul play


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

Lust for life

Impassive she sits

on her throne of silken thread

object of desire

my needs allay any fear

of her consuming passion


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#SoCS & #JusJoJan Daily Prompt, Jan. 27th, 2018


One of our earliest most memorable moments from watching wildlife programmes on the T.V. has got to be our introduction to the vast animal migrations across the African Plains. Wide expanses of bleak, dry, arid grasslands where the herds of wildebeest, antelope and zebras have exhausted the earth’s supply of fodder in one spot and have to follow the rains to another grazing area. A mass movement of animals that is now, sadly no longer to be seen due to the expansion of man’s domain and the diminshing resources left for the inigenous wildlife. In not too many years the only way we shall ever know what these migrations were like will be the remaining film footage. In case you aren’t sure to which piece of film I am referring the sight of a crocodile almost dragging a wildebeest into the water remains one of the most epic struggles of prey and predator witnessed and filmed by man. Once seen, never forgotten.

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Filed under Factual, From the heart, Self compositions

Sue Vincent’s regular Thursday photo prompt – Woodland #writephoto


Lupinus stopped and raised his right arm. He glanced to right and left  sniffing the warming morning air. There was nothing to see on both sides but a mass of dense forest. “I smell woodsmoke,” he explained, “but it may be from an old fire or perhaps more recent. It is quite strong however.” I knew better than to question his judgment, after all that is why he had been chosen to accompany me on the journey. A native of this strange land he seemed to have almost magical senses, hearing, eyesight and smell. His tastes left a lot to be desired, he abhorred fish oil, perhaps he found the smell rather overpowering. He was not averse to the meat from the pheasants that we had introduced though, declaring them to be good, much better than his native avian choices and took every opportunity to attend a meal where he knew pheasant would be on the menu. For this journey though we had brought very little of either, relying on our wineskins and small packs of bread and cheese. After all we would shortly be arriving in Camulodonum. The prefect of the town would be happy to provide sustenance for his unexpected guests from Gaul. We had important news to deliver concerning a local woman. Apparently a strikingly good looking woman but still obviously barbarian in speech and habit. Lupinus had spent the previous day trying to convince me that the women of this island had rights equal to the menfolk, they could even lead armies and make all the decisions that we Romans would not think of entrusting to anyone but members of our Senate. “Nonsense, ” I had scoffed, “they are only good for two things, keeping you fed by day and warm at night, oh, and producing sons of course.” Although even I am inclined to believe that they have a devious nature and are probably secretly laughing at our mistakes, occasionally offering advice that we should be foolish to ignore. It was my turn to feel slightly uneasy, I could smell nothing, let alone see more than ten metres to either side, the trees and undergrowth were so deep. Anyone could be lurking in there, I could even be walking into a trap, after all Lupinus was originally one of these barbarians, he had been hostaged when he was but a young boy and as far as I knew, had never expressed any desire to return to the home of his parents or contact his remaining brothers and sisters. No. I was being unnecesarily wary, I would trust him with my life, but? Anyway only another couple of hours and we would arrive in the town. I was looking forward to a hot bath, a change of clothes and an evening banquet………..
    I put the book back into my rucksack. It was a pleasure reading the story of Paulinus. The book was recommended to me as my landlord knew that I would be walking down the same old track that those two unfortunates had taken some two thousand years before. Ironic that the manuscript on which the book was based was recovered from the old cellars. A part of the town that survived the storming by the Iceni. Reading between the lines it appears that they were on the way to warn the Provincial governor that there was a stirring in the North and with the legions away in the far West they should think about shaking the dust off the uniforms and weapons of the local militia. Pity poor Paulinus arrived at about the same time as the good-looking red-haired woman who he thought incapable of anything but cooking and cuddling. That’s the way it goes. Anyway that’s my rest over, time to get walking again before it gets dark, you never know what’s lurking in these woods.



Filed under Flash fiction, History, Inspired by fable, Self compositions, Uncategorized

Colleen’s Weekly #Tanka Tuesday #Poetry Challenge No. 68, “Myth & Write,” #SynonymsOnly

On these fabled walls

a poet did once inscribe

visions of paradise

even now we search in vain

for these stately pleasure domes


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Ronovan Writes Weekly Haiku Poetry Prompt Challenge #185 Sing & Peace

If a lovely day

encourages me to sing

Peace will be shattered


Filed under Haiku, Self compositions, Whimsical

First Line Friday – January 19th, 2018

I found myself in the ruins again. I have been playing Sonic the Hedgehog for two years. I enjoy the silly little tune, the sight and sound of a cloud of rings bursting over my little blue friend’s head as yet another obstacle is not overcome and my tally reverts to zero. But whenever I get to the dizzy heights of stage 4, that’s it, I don my breathing head and under the water I feel my way around the ruins, bubbles surrounding me as I hunt down those elusive rings. It’s no good though, my mind feels pre-destined to lose, those evil little creatures always seem to gain the upper hand and suck those remaining lives out of me. Oh no! there I go again, arms outstretched I rise to the surface and plan my next attack on the evil doctor’s realm.

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Thursday photo prompt – Distant #writephoto


Nobody had seen anything like this before. For two days the thermometer had been steadily falling. The temperature in our valley was more the kind found in the frozen wastes of Siberia. The hills, which would normally be green and purple with heather in the Autumn sunshine were now covered with a thick coating of snow. So deep was it that there had been reports  that a steady stream of our local deer had been seen streaming down the lower slopes in long brown lines in their search for food. We drove up to the shores of the loch and instead of a flat sea of ice we were astonished to find that it had almost completely either evaporated or simply vanished into the earth. Only a few marshy pools surrounded the mass of weed that would normally act as food for the fish, visiting Northern geese and our own dabbling ducks. Surveying the area with my binoculars I started to laugh almost uncontrollably. I pointed out the reason for my moment of madness. A long line of what must have been ancient standing stones strectched out in a line across the dry bed. After all these years and sadly for our tourist industry I now had the secret of The Loch Ness Monster.


Filed under Flash fiction, Whimsical