Full green surrounded,
each shaded bank, where moss-lined,
torpid waters lap,
twilight stirring, surfaces
from below, an ancient carp
Monthly Archives: Apr 2019
Crimson’s Creative Challenge #21 #Tanka -Quarry
Filed under nature inspired, On the lines of romance, Otherworldly, Self compositions, Tanka
What do you see challenge: 2nd April
His laughter was as the echo
of a thousand crows
lined in serried ranks
upon the branches
of a hundred graceful pines,
each silent, standing sentinel
over the boundless plains.
I realised my folly
for had I not stroked
the curving brazen contours
and in one foul stroke, released
the fabled genie of the lamp
Sue Vincent’s Thursday photo prompt #Threshold (Dawn of disgrace) #Writephoto
We stood up on the cliff looking down at the scene of destruction below. The gale force wind so strong that we could hardly stand. Waves crashed over the bow of the stricken vessel. We could not keep our torches alight unless we lay upon the ground sheltering them from the driving rain with our curled bodies. The cries from below sounded English but there were also high-pitched screams in a language I couldn’t identify. Daniel beside me had toshout to make himself hard, “I s’pect tis them Frenchies they’ve been tellin about, poor buggers.” I only nodded in agreement. There was nothing we could do till the sea and wind settled. Then we would go down to the beach to see if anyone had got off to the shore. All we could was sit and wait.
At first light the wind had lessened. There was no sound. Fearing the worst we climbed down the fisherman’s path to the shingle beach. The ship had completely broken up overnight. There were rough, broken planks of timber, chests and casks scattered among the rocks. Much more numerous were the bodies. Some lying face down, arms outstretched as if scrabbling at the sand. Some face up, their faces white, fixed in fear, eyes dull and lifeless. The worst sight were a group of both men and women lying like rag dolls close to a cave entrance.
Going over to examine them we were stopped in our tracks at the sight. All were wearing leg-irons and neck-braces chained one to each other. It was obvious, they were slaves being transported to the colonies. The sailors hadn’t even freed them at the time of the wreck in order that they might have a chance of escape.
I believe it was that one act that turned us against our sea-faring brothers. Without a word being spoken the vow never again to help them was taken. Not only that, our loathing at their cowardice was so high that we were encouraged to start the act of wrecking and thus gaining benefit from their distress. Much to my shame I can safely say that was how and why our terrible, callous and cowardly acts of piracy started.
Heeding Haiku With Chèvrefeuille, April 3rd 2019, everlasting love
The language we shared
needed no words to be said.
Alphabet of love.
photo courtesy of Facebook
Filed under As you read it, faith, From the heart, Haiku, Self compositions
Flash Fiction 99 Word Challenge for Carrot Ranch Literary Community
It was only when we arrived in the basin that I read once more the ancient scroll that had been entrusted to my safekeeping. I realised that despite many years of poring over by student and fellow supposed expert alike we had based on our ideas on a mis-translation of the words. By carefully reordering the words finely etched on the copper plates I could see that our expedition was bound to end in failure. A disbelieving Lot had thought they could divert a river back to save his home but the ferocious heat had turned it to salt.
From my good friend the Exmoor bay
Rather eerie but this his tale for today.
British Summer Time, the evenings are lighter and the weather is colder. How apt. I love the lighter evenings as after work it’s possible to get out into the countryside, weather permitting, and do all the things you have been sitting in the lounge vowing you would do as soon as it was light enough after the day’s work is done. Today was such, my first foray out to try and capture a church spire in the evening gold. Sadly the church itself was closed but that is just a sad reflection of the times in which we live. Still, if you are looking for a little quiet contemplation and a moment away from traffic, hustle and bustle, a churchyard serves it’s purpose well. The church in question is in a little village called Wilby on the outskirts of Wellingborough and I was attracted to it’s spire with it’s magnificent ornate buttresses way up in the sky. Sources tell me that this church dedicated to St. Mary dates from the thirteenth century but was extensively rebuilt in 1879. The unique spire was built during the Decorated period and shows many features pleasing to the enthusiast.
Wilby church
One noticeable thing about this evening was the sighting of a bright, white grave marker close to the path leading to the porch. It is an official war-grave, probably the only one I have ever seen in all my years. It commemorates the death of a RAF pilot who died at the age of 22. Curiously it was dated on my birthday, but in 1944. So much has been said about their sacrifice but seeing a single marker like this lends a stark reality to the horror of war.
RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #247 Kind&Mind
Though all of one kind,
gladly not all of one mind.
That’s the spice of life.
Filed under As you read it, Factual, Haiku, Self compositions
When the pen takes control. 