steam clouds the motion
of the brass and steel engine
romance in motion
steam clouds the motion
of the brass and steel engine
romance in motion
I looked at my neighbour
and she looked at me
then she smiled, bowed her head
and asked if I could see
that we and all the the other posts
were painted quite brightly.
I asked her for the reason
and with a smile of glee,
she said tonight when the park is closed
we will dance round the old dead tree
I stand in silence exuding the dignity expected by my infrequent, reluctant visitors. Casting long shadows over the darkened windows, the black lace veils and dark suits so seldom aired. Offering comfort through familiarity to the grief-stricken, the respectful onlookers, the older ones knowing what best to say and do. Inwardly I smile for have I not, like many of my kind, stood guard at the cemetery gates for half of my two hundred year life.
she turns with a smile,
smooth white limbs
encased in mesh, not feathers
will she fly with me?
I’d like a photo in there said Anne
so off we went, camera in hand
but first I had to pee,
she held it for me
and that’s how our romance began
I stood at the side of the lake scanning all around the horizon, “yes, it’s all quiet, “I thought, “so I can get this awful costume off. I have collected what I came for, well, he did really,” suppressing a slight giggle at the un-intentioned pun. Reaching between my legs I released the carefully concealed catch and the smooth, dry-textured, false skin started to split open. With a little effort, due to the tightness of the fit, I was able to peel the head and torso over the top of my crest to hang like a deflated balloon around my waist before rolling the lower half down my legs to the ground. It lay on the bank, a shapeless, porcine mass. My whole body shuddered, “Yuk, ” I thought, “how do they look at themselves in this, it’s creepy. ”
The air felt cool against my scales and once more checking that the shore was deserted I picked up the bundle and walked down to the water’s edge. Eagerly slipping into the cold waters I prepared to swim down to the bottom where the committee, would be eagerly waiting. Once again I, like few others successfully, had completed my task and the technicians would be able to continue their work.
I thought about my encounter the previous evening with the one interesting looking specimen who sat alone looking rather bored. He did manage to raise a smile when he caught me looking at him, even more so when he imagined a welcoming smile in return. Perhaps he must have thought that his luck was in when he felt that I started coming on to him. It had been hard work trying to convince him that my intentions were purely to come out, have a few drinks and hopefully a good time with a little romance thrown in. In our carefully contrived conversation I had established his capacity to satisfy my needs. He had once been married with a family but now alone and in need of some company. He could never have guessed the real reason for my eagerness.
If he could see me now he would swear that it had all been a bad dream, very bad, after he had stopped retching of course. No doubt he would then have had a very long shower, alone this time, before throwing all the bedclothes in the machine to wash away any lingering memories. Even the funny video camera he had used, for reference purposes, his words not mine, would have been thrown away I’m sure.
I had been a little worried at one stage, wondering if the sample I needed would ever be collected but we eventually got a large enough amount deposited correctly. Now I was able to carry some more of this essential human sperm back to the colony where it would help in our next spawning. Not too many more trips and there would be enough of our hybrids, each spawning more successful and Earth-race like than the last. Then they would be able to break free from the waters. Their newly developed breathing organs would be strong enough to start the colonisation of the planet so meticulously planned and prepared for after our escape from Mars..
Not just Svarovski
in Nature, jewels are found,
Strings cannot withstand
the consummate elegance
of the wielded bow,
low tears wrenched from moistened eyes,
released by the cello’s mood.
From stagnant waters
tendrils of vapour carry
the howl of the loon
He came down from the mountains as autumn aged, before the paths could pile with snow and the bridges bowed with ice. After eighty-nine days he had still not found a trace of his goal. Every morning he had trekked the, by now familiar, circuit looking for any signs that his quarry had passed by, always with the same negative result. It had been the same for the past three years. his hunting skills had been slowly diminishing. He knew that he would not spend another season on these mountains. He had made friends with bears, the wild mountain goats, the eagles that swooped high over the mountain. He called them friends without receiving anything in return but the pleasure of fleeting sightings as armed only with camera and binoculars he had watched the parent beasts and their offspring, in their battles for life in this harsh territory. There were good and bad times but they had all given him the pleasure he craved. He had but one regret. With two more cameras to check, once again he was beginning to feel disheartened. He saw the red light blinking as he approached, at least it had caught something. Could this be the one he was looking for. He crouched down on the damp soil and removing his knapsack reached in to pull out his laptop. Releasing his fingers from the thick mittens he plugged a lead into the top of the box and crossing his fingers, once more waited for the picture to appear. The screen looked snowy at first. Interference providing it’s own blizzard conditions but as it started to clear he felt the usual tense stirrings of excitement. In the top corner were two dots of light, pinpointed in the infra-red beam. Could this be the one? Eyes, and they were coming closer. It was unmistakable, a round off-white, cat-like face, black whiskers trembling. His first snow-leopard. Proof that they were still in the area. He started to cry. Nothing else would or could ever compare to this moment.
a strong woman with superpowers
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I AIM TO PLEASE THE YOUNG AND YOUNG AT HEART WITH POEMS DESIGNED FOR KIDS. READ ALONG WITH YOUR SMALL TOTS FOR FUN.. LET'S MAKE RHYMING FUN AND EXCITING!!!
The writerly musings of Connie J. Jasperson, author, blogger and medieval renaissance woman.
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My Blog posts can be accessed chronologically by clicking the above link or by a category listed below. The Collections page contains samples of my photographic images displayed in "theme" galleries.
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Christian Fantasy Author
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Out of the Shadows
Life is make believe, fantasy given form
What the world needs now in addition to love is wisdom. We are the masters of our own disasters.
Poetry, short essays and other work showcased by a Scientist, Philosopher, and Adventurer. Posts on Monday and First Fridays.
THE DRIVELLINGS OF TWATTERSLEY FROMAGE
Our lives are a Christ-like fragrance rising up to God...2 Corinthians 2:15
The yearly literary festival in the heart of Buckinghamshire
First person stories: putting people first.
love each other like you are the lyric and they are the music