Monthly Archives: January 2018

100 Word Wednesday: Week 56

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

Hermaphroditus

while hunting in the forest

is beset by thirst

Salmacis looks for his love

in an eternal embrace

 

 

 

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

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Finding a body

buried close to the surface

may suggest foul play

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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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MLMM Saturday Mix – Same Same But Different, 27 January 2018

Sit, stand, understand, grow, spend

I declined my host’s offer of a stool on which to squat,  instead choosing to eat while reclining on one of the sofas as was the custom in my home country. My slave, as he had been trained, remained within a few paces of me. I informed Valerian that it was time that he and his people should start their insurrection against the tyranny of our hated Emperor. He found it hard to comprehend that such a favoured nobleman as I could cultivate such revolutionary thoughts. I realised he was unaware that when I was a young tribune I had chosen to pay to the assembled nobles vast amounts of my father’s wealth, a form of insurance if anything should ever happen to him. Very timely as within one year he was condemned to exile in Sardinia, leaving my mother, brother and sisters at the mercy of our political foes. Now it was time for revenge or a honourable death in the attempt.

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

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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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Three Line Tales, Week 104 JANUARY 25, 2018 ~ SONYA

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“You’re not really thinking of going in there are you, that’s where the cats ate that old couple isn’t it?”

”Of course I am, you don’t believe that silly story do you, I mean can a couple of cats eat people, I ask you?”

”They may have been big cats.”

 

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

passage

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.

 

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The Word Forest Organisation

A writing contest with genuine purpose. After all is said and done, all writers owe a debt of gratitude to trees for providing the original medium to make their craft accessible and possible. Great idea.

Make Wealth History

The Word Forest Organisation is a project I came across recently that I rather like. It’s a tree planting charity with a neat funding premise behind it: a writing competition.

Writers pay a £5 fee to enter the Magic Oxygen Literary Prize, with winners sharing a prize pool of £3,000. But entrants also get a tree – one for every entry, with a certificate showing its GPS location in Bore, Kenya. The competition entry fees also paid for a new classroom at a nearby primary school.

The competition first ran in 2014, and it’s been growing. It’s now built five classrooms and planted a forest of 10,000 trees over 71 acres. The trees will in time provide food and timber, lock away CO2, and help to fight drought and erosion as the forest expands.

One of the clever things about the project is that weaves together environmental and social…

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Twittering Tales #68 – “The Village” – 23 January 2018

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Grendel woke up with a start. There was that awful sound again. Voices, high-pitched, whining, grating voices. Not the calming, soothing voice of his mother which he still missed after all these years. He was glad for now she couldn’t stop him going down to silence the town again  280 characters

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