Category Archives: Inspired emotion

Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge 179 Flare / Steam

Each night the sun’s flare

is baptised in red oceans

but no steam rises

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Jane Dougherty’s Microfiction challenge, Invitation to my mind

I replaced the lid on the pot and taking my wooden bowl and spoon chose a place to sit cross-legged on the blanket laid on the ground by my kindly hosts. Their droning chants added a taut background to the calm, warm evening. I started to spoon the broth into my mouth, it was lukewarm and although not unpleasant tasting it had a faint wooden smell infused with how I imagined raw, wild mushrooms would taste. I was eagerly look round and watch the expressions on my companions’ faces but my eyes were drawn to the six totems that surrounded the slow-burning fire. The smoke drifted upwards seeming to form humanlike, silent dancing figures. The owl God totems in order from right to left started to turn to face me. I placed the now empty bowl upon the ground and tried to clear my mind in expectation of my promised message from the Gods.

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Friday fictioneers flash fiction challenge



I look out of the window to the old apple tree at the bottom of the garden. My inheritance you may call it for though valueless it has repaid me many times. Now it is a naturally decorated tree, the light shining and glinting on the frozen streamers. In Spring blossoms appear, pink snowdrifts in short-lived glory. Leaves slowly unfurl, changing hue as the sun passes overhead, food for marching caterpillars. Bright red apples form then wither and fall for hungry animals and birds to scavenge before in readiness for Winter, the leaves form falling, orange-brown carpets. My living calendar.

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Filed under Flash fiction, From the heart, Inspired emotion, Self compositions, Uncategorized

Spirit of the night

Clad in star-kissed robes
of finest shimmering silk
the moonbeam spirit
will keep her silent vigil
in universal splendour

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Three line tales #93.The wait

Here I am, standing on the dark, shining, rain-soaked shingle, looking out over the breaking surf to the cold, grey Channel.

The same sea, from the same beach where my grandfather and his comrades stood on that fateful day almost one hundred years ago, the remnants of the invincible but sadly ill-equipped, hastily assembled invasion force, our country’s answer to the threat of World domination by all conquering, arrogant, brown shirted, goose stepping, fascist troops.

Waiting, scanning the horizon, a very hell behind them as they waited to see if  they would ever be saved from the advancing Nazi onslaught.

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lament of the lark

The combine drives its lonely round
and leaves no speck upon the ground
agri-farmer’s pockets lined with plenty
whilst crop and gizzard remain empty
no butterfly, aphid nor yet a bee
to feed my growing family
no swarm of insects overhead
between the stalks the soil is dead
not long ago the farmers horse
leading on his steady course
would pull the plough, the hoe, the rake
leaving in his stately wake
mounds of dung which left to lie
would feed the beetle or the fly
each juicy grub a feast for me
and other dwellers on the leas
across the field at stately pace
to beat the weather was their race
in numbers ever exponential
no thought of problems consequential
now I fear those halcyon days
are lost forever in the haze
of time and deepest memory
set down in our planet’s story

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Ronovan Writes #171 #Haiku

calmly she swims in

the lake of oblivion

salt laden tears fall


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a sentinel stands
where the ancient dust settled
stranger wait awhile
rest your hand upon the stone
let it’s gentle guidance flow
voices from the past
words unwritten in their time
waiting to be heard
listen to your heart while minds
left open will surely find
bold revelations
answers to the mysteries 
innermost desires
Gaia will at last reveal
secrets hidden in our souls 

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The silent scream, (inspired by language of the heart)

She could not hide it

a tell-tale tear moved slowly

to her downturned lips

unsaid I read the meaning

of one sad, simple gesture

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Filed under Inspired emotion, Tanka