Our hope for magic
promised on the silver screen
is seldom fulfilled
Category Archives: Self compositions
RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #183 Magic&Hope
Filed under Haiku, Self compositions, Uncategorized
Sue Vincent’s weekly prompt #Writephoto – The secret of success
As I was cycling out of the village I couldn’t help but notice a little thatched cottage. Around the doorway and windows there bloomed a delightful rambling rose of deepest crimson. A woman was standing in the garden, a pair of secateurs gripped tightly in her right hand and she was doing battle with a large buddleia that filled one corner of her narrow strip of land.
I was astounded at the beautiful colours of the flowers that seemed to fill and cover every inch of space on both sides of the gravel path that led to the small lopsided front door. I plucked up courage and announced my presence to the lady. I complimented her on her lovely floral display and out of curiosity asked her if she had a secret to her success.
Smiling, she answered that she could only surmise that her home made fertiliser was the key. Continuing her explanation she mentioned that her husband had always tried to get a nice garden but since he had gone she had been very successful. He would never see it, though he had been a great influence. I persuaded her to tell me the secret ingredient and tapping the side of her nose, she said as if in confidence.
“Blood and bone my dear, plain old blood and bone.”
Filed under As you read it, Flash fiction, Self compositions
Colleen’s weekly poetry challenge #65 # Cinquain
Aspirations
the spurs
goading the flanks
of the reluctant beast
transformation
Filed under As you read it, Self compositions
Ronovan writes #182 #Haiku
Fiery arrows
singe deep furrows in my heart
a burning passion
Filed under Haiku, Inspired emotion, Self compositions
Off to the Highlands for Hogmanay
So we boarded the Northern train
in howling winds and stinging rain.
The guard, with duties now performed
gives one last cry of all aboard.
Green flag raised, his whistle blows,
checks the carriage doors all closed.
Whilst stowing cases overhead
released our snorting fiery steed
With metal and mesh racks overflowing
four bare round lamps, all gently glowing.
As we settle back on the velour seating
Our ankles warmed by piped steam heating.
So leaving the station far behind
we catch the rhythm of the lines.
Windows sealed against the chill
the rhythmic, rocking motion will
enfold us in it’s gentle arms
as we succumb to it’s lazy charms
After eight long hours the race is run
to our right the rising sun
our destination close ahead
reluctantly our journey’s end.
So sadly we depart the Northern train
Counting the days till we ride it again
Filed under General post, Self compositions, Singalong
Colleen’s weekly Tanka Tuesday poetry challenge #64 Experience & New (synonyms only)
Silent cry
There are those who say
dumb animals do not feel
they should look afresh
communication is found
alongside their sentience
Filed under Self compositions, Tanka, Uncategorized
December 28 – Flash Fiction – Wishing Star
She stepped out of the long white limousine onto the spotless red carpet. wearing her famous smile but little else she elegantly turned and striking a pose, first to the left and then to the right allowing her long elegant legs to peep out from the thigh-slit silk dress. Flashbulbs popped as they clamoured to take her photo, to be the first to get a risque shot of a slight wardrobe malfunction. Taking the arm of her tuxedo-clad companion the young star of many films entered the hall wishing for the ultimate accolade. To be given her first Oscar.
Filed under Flash fiction, Self compositions, Whimsical
RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #181
When dread darkness falls
enter the land of nightmare
in all it’s horror
Filed under Haiku, Self compositions, Uncategorized
MindloveMisery’sMenagerie #Photo Challenge #194
Gertrude looked down upon the plain below. Her mentor and familiar perched upon her shoulder as was befitting a Prince of Utgard in earthly form. His advice had previously been freely given but the time was approaching when he would require the service he had waited for since their first meeting. Had he not given her great beauty and power beyond her youthful dreams for the past decades. By his power and guidance and his alone, armies had been vanquished, alliances formed and the wealth of nations heaped upon his charge threefold. Now time was progressing and the old ones were stirring in their slumbers. Portents of future catastrophe had invaded his dreams. Long forgotten memories had commenced their slow return. When Krandeus whispered in Gertrude’s ear all but she could only hear a loud, rasping Kerrayk. To Gertrude it was the wisdom of the ages for she heard only the friendly advice that had served her so well in all aspects of her long, successful reign. Her furrowed brow and sidewise glances were uncharacteristic and alien to her proud measure, for he had sounded cautious to a high degree. For once Krandeus had advised her against impetuosity. Doubts of the soundness of his latest counsel immediately entered her mind. She did not argue but acquiesced to his suggestion of a meeting with the mysterious band of warriors the scouts had reported encamped in the Whispering woods on the Eastern shore of the White river. She rose and stamped back to the seven horsemen who stood guard, ensuring that no man could approach her in her lone meditation. “My horse,” she demanded and as they handed her the bridle, she announced, “I will go down tomorrow, there will be no feast for you tonight, you will all accompany me.” “We depart with the dawn.”
Being a brief extract from, “Tales of Emeralds and Queens.”
Sue Vincent’s Thursday prompt #Writephoto
Memories of an Exmoor boyhood.
I’ll tell you a story you won’t believe,
of the dreadful Winter of sixty-three,
when for three long months only white was seen.
apart from the waves and the rushing stream,
country and cities covered in snow,
no colour but white wherever you go,
the tarmac roads unsullied by tyres,
families huddled round smoking fires,
waves stood frozen at the waters edge,
with icicles hanging from every ledge,
while up on the moors where the snowdrifts rise,
their tall peaks reaching upward to the skies,
no fodder for the flocks of sheep,
frozen and buried under snow so deep,
with no road transport villagers said,
how can we live without milk or bread,
the peoples plight was soon relayed,
and a plan decided for their aid,
the only way to ease their plight,
was by using a helicopter’s flight,
daily trips were undertaken,
so the country folk were not forsaken,
on country roads many cars were buried,
but the snow and cold would not be hurried,
for twelve long weeks the cold steel hand,
firmly grasped our once fair land,
till one day late into the Spring,
the Sun had a re-awakening,
when Mother Earth the sun’s rays felt,
the covering began to melt,
the roads and trains were free again,
the melting helped by Springtime rain,
towns and villages now were free,
to lead their lives quite normally,
although the sun’s rays always burn,
we wait in dread for the cold return.
Filed under History, Self compositions, Uncategorized
