Mistakenly they sought protection in the shadow of the totem.
Mistakenly they sought protection in the shadow of the totem.
Filed under Flash fiction, Self compositions
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Your heart torn by emotion
trying to ignore
the bowls thrust out forlornly
expecting to get nothing
Filed under Self compositions, Tanka
Upon a branch a squirrel sat,
when far below he spied a cat
aha he said you can’t catch me
i know you cannot fly you see
but the foolish squirrel didn’t know
while teasing pussy far below,
an owl was hovering overhead,
heard the taunting words he said.
Thinking here’s a tasty snack
he swooped and gripped the squirrel’s back
with beating wings and talons full
that’s the last we’ll see of poor squirrel,
Filed under nature inspired, Self compositions, Whimsical
The mind of a child
will know no concept of safe
guidance essential
Filed under Factual, Haiku, Self compositions
Challenging Gods in all their glory
Remember poor Arachne’s story
compelled to weave eternally
threads on the loom of humanity
as a consequence of her vanity
Filed under Factual, History, Inspired by fable, Old knowledge, Self compositions
The strangers with her on the rooftop paused in unison. They seemed confused, unsure what to do next. They had got her this far and so far no hint of what their intentions for her were.
Her mind raced. Looking about her wildly she couldn’t, in fact refused to believe that twenty minutes ago she had been walking through the cobbled streets of the finely preserved National Trust show village.
There had been no sign that there was some form of medieval pageant but she had found herself grabbed bu a pair of swarthy, dark-skinned men in what looked like authentic peasant’s smocks. If the dirt was anything to go by.
Despite her protests the two men had grabbed her and speaking in a strange accent, at least it sounded like an accent but the words weren’t even recognisable, had put a rope round her waist and started to lead her towards the public house she had just passed, “The vine.”
It had seemed empty before but now she found it to be full of the costumed townsfolk. Baleful eyes were cast in her direction as she was roughly dragged through the door.
Still unable to make her captors understand what she was saying and in total confusion, tears started to form; they pulled her through an archway at the side of the old wooden bar. Despite her situation she found herself marvelling at the authenticity of the bar. It really was like stepping back in time as she noted the two large oak barrels standing on the dark brown, knotted, roughly sawn plank that doubled as a bar counter. Behind which there were a range of earthenware pots with unknown contents. There wasn’t even a price list. Then they started to ascend a granite staircase between two rough whitewashed walls.
The people had formed a procession behind them, there were giggles and shrieks of laughter but it was more at her than with her and there was no humour in their loud clamour. From the dark staircase they burst out into the light and she saw that they were on a wooden balcony that overlooked the street at least two storeys below. A rough shaped beam was crudely attached to the handrail and looking up she saw the rope that hung from it over the edge. It was knotted at the bottom with a noose.
Only then did she start to scream.
Filed under Alternative history, Flash fiction, Self compositions
With a lazy twitch
thin lace gently taps the glass
cooling Summer breeze
Filed under Haiku, Seasons, Temperatures rising
bathed in despair,
our hopes and wishes arid,
whilst traversing
the desert of ignorance
in the search for forgiveness
Filed under faith, Self compositions, Tanka
Nose twitching in bliss
watch the butcher slicing brawn
a treat for teatime
Filed under Factual, Haiku, Self compositions
Swollen scarlet shoals
swim in the pale blue waters
framed for an instant
the golden halo stretches
out it’s hands to cradle them
Filed under Otherworldly, Self compositions, Tanka
My writing, my books, my poetry and a bit of running.
Brett Kristian
Writing, reading, reflecting.
Independent Publisher of Poetry and Prose
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